‘Is that you, Frau Luise?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ answered the same voice, ‘’Tis I, my fine young man.’ The old
woman led me up a steep staircase, and stopped on the third floor. In
the feeble light from a tiny window, I saw the wrinkled visage of the
burgomaster’s widow. A crafty smile of mawkish sweetness contorted her
sunken lips, and pursed up her dim-sighted eyes. She pointed me to a
little door; with an abrupt movement I opened it and slammed it behind
me.