entered a large and lofty hall; larger and loftier than any church she had ever seen. The walls were spread all over with sparkling glass, and all around were bright shining places, as if of pure silver, where there was an incredible number of holes filled with little silver jars; so many were there that the simple shepherdess could never have counted them. The hall was beautiful indeed, but it was cold and full of terrors. Suppressed cries of pain and agonising sighs came from the little jars under which the Water Demon kept the lost souls of the drowned imprisoned. A frightful prison for the unhappy spirits: they moaned and sobbed in despair, as if laden with heavy and grievous sins. Full of both fear and hope, Dorothy began to knock at the little jars with her bent finger.
"Are you here, my son Yanechek?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"I am Veit, condemned to everlasting torments here for having sought relief from a bad wife by death in the water. Another woman won my love."
"Are you here, my son Yanechek?"
"I am called Voyteh. I cheated the orphan children committed to my charge: I could not longer endure the reproaches of my conscience, and drowned myself from despair."
"Are you here, my son Yanechek?" asked the widow
