that he should be unable to control his words. He glided
cautiously past with noiseless steps and opened the door leading into
the courtyard. He had intended to go up to the tun, an uncontrollable
longing drew him toward the old room. Every thing here was the same;
the bare, grey back building, the arbor overgrown with bean vines, the
shade loving plants, the acacia tree, which it is true was now wholly
dead, and did not even put forth one puny leaf--but what was that lying
among the dry branches like a little heap of last winter's snow? A cat?
Was it she herself, Balder's old friend, sunning her weary limbs on
this lofty perch, or was it a descendant, which bore such a striking
resemblance to its ancestress? He could not decide, his eyes grew dim
with tears and his feet seemed paralysed; in spite of his longing, he
could not cross the courtyard and mount the steep stairs. So he stood
leaning against the door post with closed eyes. Just at that moment
voices became audible in the workshop, and starting as if he feared to
be caught here like a thief, he tore himself away and with a beating
heart fled back into the street.

For a long time he walked on like a drunken man. He took no heed of the
people who passed by, the glittering shops, the throng of carriages,
the motley stir and bustle of life around him. But by degrees the
painful agitation of his soul subsided, isolated words recurred to his
mind involuntarily blended together, before he remembered that they
composed an old song of Balder's, which suddenly echoed from the depths
of his memory and soothed him with its mysterious magic:

Soul how thou roamest!
On wings of the wind,
Through high and through low,
Thy way thou dost find.

Though thou art poor,
What riches are thine!
Ceaselessly restless
What calmness divine!

Free above all,
Close, close thou art bound;
Soul, say, where hast thou
Thy resting place found?

Among stars and suns,
Thy wing circleth wide,
Yet with rapture,
Mid violet beds doth abide.

Where the lightning is cradled
Thy home thou hast made;
To the cloud's ample dwelling
As well hast thou strayed.

Yet in narrowest circle,
By joy art possessed,
And dost tende