There was only a tiny cosey-hole down among the blankets, which was yet warm when I thrust my hand within it.
But it was empty and the top a little fallen in, as if the occupant had set her knee on it when she crawled out.

A baby stocking lay outside it on the floor.
"Little maid!" I cried, "where are you ?" But I heard nothing except a hissing up on the roof, and then a great slithering rumble down below, which boomed like the distant cannons the Margraf sent to besiege us.

I listened and shuddered; but it was only the snow from the tall roof of the Red Tower which had slipped off and fallen to the ground.

Then I had a vision of a slender little figure clambering on the leads and the treacherous snow striking her out into the air, and then--the cruel stones of the pavement.
"Little maid, little maid!" I cried out again, beginning to weep myself for pity at my thought, "where are you?
Speak to me.

You are my playmate." Then I ran to the roof, and, though the stones chilled me to the bone and the frost-bitten iron hasps of the fastenings burned me like fire, I opened the trap-door and looked out.