"Dear brother," answered Reinhold, "that is what your jealousy has led
you to imagine. It has turned out that Rosa would have married me, from
mere filial obedience, but that there is not a single spark of
affection for me in that ice-cold heart of hers. Ha, ha! I should have
been a celebrated cooper! Shaven hoops on week-days with my
apprentices, and taken my worthy housekeeper-wife on Sundays to St.
Catherine's or St. Sebald's to service, and then to the meadow in the
evening, one year after another, all my life long."

"Well, you needn't jest over the simple, innocent life of the good
townspeople," cried Friedrich, interrupting Reinhold in his laughter.
"It's not Rosa's fault if she does not really love you. You are so
angry--so wild!"

"You are right," said Reinhold; "it is only my stupid way of behaving
like a spoilt child when I feel annoyed. You will understand that I
told Rosa of my love for her, and of her father's good-will. The tears
streamed from her eyes; her hand trembled in mine; she turned away her
face, and said, 'Of course I must do as my father wishes.' That was
enough. This strange vexation of mine cannot but have enabled you to
read my inmost heart. You see that my efforts to gain Rosa were the
result of a deception, which my mistaken feeling had prepared for
itself. As soon as I had finished her portrait, my heart was at rest;
and I often felt, in an inexplicable manner, as though Rosa had really
been the picture, and the picture the real Rosa. The mean, wretched,
mechanical handicraft grew detestable to me; the common style of life,
and the whole business of having to get myself made a Master-Cooper,
and marry, depressed me so that I felt as if I were going to be immured
in a prison and chained to a block. How could that heavenly child whom
I have worn in my heart--_as_ I have worn her in my heart--ever become
my wife? Ah, no! she must for ever be resplendent in the master-works
which my soul shall engender; in eternal youth, delightsomeness, and
beauty. Oh, how I long to be working at them! How could I ever sever
myself from my heavenly calling! Soon shall I bathe once more in thy
fervid vapours, glorious land! home of all the arts!"

The friends had reached the point where the road which Reinhold meant
to follow turned sharp off to the left. "Here we part!" he cried. He
pressed Friedrich warmly to his heart, sprang into the saddle, and
galloped away.

Friedrich gazed after him, in silence, a