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In two corners of the hall, against pillars, stood two musical

clocks in locked cases; the queer old fellows, long at odds with

the sun, often indicated noon at sunset. Gerwazy had not

undertaken to repair the machines, but he would not give up

winding them; he turned the key in the clocks every evening, and

the time for winding had just come. While the Chamberlain was

occupying the attention of the parties interested in the case, he

drew up the weight; the rusty wheels gnashed their broken teeth;

the Chamberlain shuddered and interrupted his dissertation.

"Brother," he said, "postpone a bit your faithful toil;" and he

went on with his plan of an exchange; but the Warden, to spite

him, pulled still more strongly the other weight, and suddenly

the bullfinch perched on the top of the clock began to flap its

wings and pour forth one of its melodies. The bird, which had

been artistically made, but was, unfortunately, out of order,

began to moan and whistle, ever worse and worse.