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upon extension, and a very soft ticking.
    “You can look now,” she said.
    With some shame I admit that, at first, I did not know what I beheld. Giselle’s telescope was mounted by the window as usual, but beneath it was a large metallic dome, rotating almost imperceptibly, the base of the telescope’s tripod having been fused to its center. Scattered round this new device were several of Giselle’s charts of the night sky, with circled reference points and hastily scribbled pencil notes.
    “What is this?” I finally asked.
    “I mounted it on a rotating base,” she said. “I attached one of Father’s old clock motors to it so it will follow anything it’s focused on.”
    “I see,” I said, though I did not. I did not wish her to think her excitement was lost on me.
    She was not fooled. “Liar. Here, look.” She gently took my hand and placed it on the dome. I could just barely feel it moving beneath my hand. “You see? This will let me track things in the sky. I told you, I think I found a new comet, but I have to follow its movement to be sure.”
    “Now I understand. You are nearing a discovery, then?”
    She smiled. “I think so. Do you want to see it? The comet, I mean?”
    “Yes.”
    “Come here, then.” She shut off the faint gaslight in the room and peered into the eyepiece, mumbling “mm-hmm” to herselfseveral times, until she had zeroed in on what she sought. “There it is. Have a look.”
    I leaned close, pressing my marble eye up against the lens. I saw only the faint white dots of stars, one perhaps slightly brighter than the others, which I assumed was the one to which she referred.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
    “Magnificent.” (Her enthusiasm was so great I felt it wrong to tell her I could make no distinctions between all the faint, flickering dots in the sky.)
    We spent the next hour trading glances into the telescope, silent but for the occasional scratching of pencil on paper. My primary interest was watching her gazing intently through the lens; it is my belief that, in these moments, Giselle is happiest, and I derive much satisfaction from her joy. We remained there until the Master called up and reminded Giselle it was time to go to bed.
    I will miss moments such as this, should Giselle marry and start a family of her own. Herr Gruber has often speculated about the day she leaves his home, and has said he would like nothing better than to keep her here as his assistant forever. But this, he says, is a fool’s fantasy, and much as he might like to keep it from happening, it is inevitable. Giselle is a beautiful, intelligent girl, and will no doubt be much sought after by young men of quality.
    I find this thought vaguely disturbing, even if Giselle will, doubtless, still visit frequently. Herr Gruber has willed me to her upon his death, and when that day comes I will happily place myself in her service, and that of her children.
    But, as the Master often says, she is only sixteen, and there is still a little time left.
    I apologize for meandering in personal matters, for there is much else to report. In two days the Master will host a pair of distinguished American visitors who wrote several months ago asking to view me, a visit about which he has been most excited for some time—so much so, that he fabricated a business appointment in Berlin so Frau Gruber might leave earlier. (The Master dearly loves his mother; however, around guests she has a tendency to be somewhat abrasive, and he admires these visitors too much to risk embarrassment.) Then, soon after, I will accompany him on a long train trip to survey sites for new commissions, and to service some of his existing models. He has determined that in light of my miscalculated rescue in front of the taxidermist’s shop, it might be a sound idea for me to spend some time away from this place, so that the population might forget their nervousness around me. (I also accompany him for practical reasons; some of his clocks