“I don’t believe I can,” said Christian, as he put his hand into one of the pockets. “But what a little hand she must have had, to go into such a small place as that.”
“And you as well, it seems!”
“Yes, but I can’t draw mine out again. Stay, what’s this! Why, a note!”
“Let’s see, let’s see!” cried the doctor of laws; “that must be very curious!”
“No,” said Christian, “we ought not to read it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know—it seems like a profanation.”
“In that case, I have been guilty of a great many—it’s part of my trade to rummage secret family archives.”
And M. Goefle seized the old yellow paper, and read as follows:
“My dearly beloved Hilda: