Blanden had looked on at the scene in a divided frame of mind; the reporter's remarks had roused his indignation, but the Italian's brutality not less so, and indeed he had always felt the most decided aversion for the amber merchant. Especially odious did the man appear, because he stood in some dark relation to Giulia, as the violence proved with which he had maltreated one of her opponents.
As Blanden stood there lost in thought, and weighed his intention of questioning the Signora about this person, who even on the Lago Maggiore had followed her like a shadow, Kätchen stepped up to him, and whispered she had now a moment's time, he should go with her.
They groped their way along a gloomy corridor into the yard, whose dark square was not illuminated by any reflection of light from out the dull little windows, which opened into it on four sides. Kätchen looked like a night-goblin in the dim snow-light, she sprang on in advance, and danced as if in insane gladness.
Suddenly she moved the pump handle: some time elapsed before the pump awoke out of its winter sleep. Kätchen then, however, did not merely wash her hands, she bent down and let the icy cold water trickle over her head, and dried herself with the shawl which she had thrown about her neck. Then she led her companion up the stairs of the building at the back, it was a break-neck staircase, uneven steps, unusual windings; she counted the steps, gave her hand to Blanden, and he remarked that she squeezed his, and pressed it to her heart, and in one of the narrow bends nestled up to him, and her still dripping hair wetted his bosom.
They ascended three flights; he had to stoop beneath the beams of the sloping roof. Kätchen opened a creaking door that moved with difficulty upon its hinges. Then she begged Blanden to wait until she had struck a light, yet she hesitated in doing so, nestled beseechingly against him, stroked his hair until he shook the caressing witch angrily from him.
"Wait a moment longer," said she, "not in the light shall you see where the locket is hidden."
A pause ensued, and Blanden perceived that her laced bodice became looser.
Soon the dreary ray of a tallow candle, whose wick was but meagrely fed by some guttered masses of fatty substance, lighted the tiny room in which by the window alone Blanden could find one spot on which to stand uprightly beneath the sloping roof. That attic with the moss overgrown beams was a melancholy sight; the melting snow penetrated the badly closing windows, into the wood were nails driven, on which some clothes and a fishing net hung. The bed was most peculiar, of a shape resembling a boat, the coarse straw mattress seemed to be bedded in a skiff.
And in the midst of these poverty-stricken surroundings stood the sea-maiden banished into the country, with dripping hair, her bosom half bared, and gazing at her guest with her protruding eyes, while she held the locket in one hand.
"The paper--the paper," cried Blanden impatiently.