her when sought in my way, I shall not
forbid her to seek it in another; but I think she's still too young to
clearly perceive the right path, and therefore I would rather leave her
for a time without a guide, than see her moving along a road I think
dangerous. Nevertheless, I shall always be grateful to you for having
so kindly devoted your time to her. My daughter, who desires to be
respectfully remembered to you, begs you to accept the accompanying
specimen of her work--the forfeit of the wager you perhaps still
remember. A book, in which she was in the habit of keeping an account
of her progress with you, I will beg you to take charge of for a time,
as I do not wish her to return to these studies at present, and cannot
expect her to entirely give up the pages which are precious in her
eyes. And now farewell, dear Herr Doctor. May you ever be prosperous
and remember with the old affection,_

"_Your sincerely grateful_

"Philipp Koenig."

Enclosed in another envelope was a sum of money, not very large in
itself, but munificent considering the circumstances of the man who
lived in the little house on the lagune. Edwin instantly sat down at
the table, sealed up the money again and wrote the following lines:

"Honored Friend and Patron:

"_Deeply as I regret that my visits to your house which had become so
pleasant must be so suddenly discontinued, I cannot help respecting the
motive which prompted your letter, and in all friendship bid you and my
dear pupil farewell--until we meet again! Thank your daughter most
warmly for her beautiful work of art, which affords me the greatest
delight. But I do not understand how you imagine yourself to be in my
debt. You cannot expect me to accept a fee for my small beginning at
teaching, any more than you would call upon a customer to pay for a
half finished picture._

"_With kindest regards, yours_,

"E."

"There," said he to Balder, "we've done with that too! I can put the
little bottle of violet perfume on this painted plate--two frail
mementoes of a life and memories quite out of place in our tun. Come,
child! We'll get to work again. Everything flows steadily on; ought not
certain memories to find their way also to the great ocean?"

BOOK III.