h a basket well filled with food and
wine, her husband, who had watched her steps, rushed out on her, and
demanded in high wrath what she was carrying; that, in her fear of
him, she replied, "Roses which I have plucked in the garden;"
whereupon he dragged the cover off of her basket, and lo! a miracle
was worked in favour of the charitable lady, for the wine and bread,
and everything in the basket, lay turned into roses.

Thus old Anthon's thoughts wandered to the heroine in history whom he
had always so much admired, until her image seemed to stand before his
dimming sight, close to his humble pallet in the poor wooden hut in a
foreign land. He uncovered his head, looked in fancy into her mild
eyes, and all around him seemed a mingling of lustre and of roses
redolent with sweet perfume. Then he felt the charming scent of the
apple blossom, and he beheld an apple tree spreading its blooming
branches above him. Yes, it was the very tree, the seeds of which he
and Molly had planted together.

And the tree swept its fragrant leaves over his hot brow, and cooled
it; they touched his parched lips, and they were like refreshing wine
and bread; they fell upon his breast, and he felt himself softly
sinking into a calm slumber.

"I shall sleep now," he whispered feebly to himself. "Sleep restores
strength--to-morrow I shall be well and up again. Beautiful,
beautiful! The apple tree planted in love I see again in glory."

And he slept.

The following day--it was the third day the booth had been shut
up--the snow drifted no longer, and the neighbours went to see about
Anthon, who had not yet shown himself. They found him lying stiff and
dead, with his old nightcap pressed between his hands. They did not
put it upon him in his coffin--he had also another which was clean and
white.

Where now were the tears he had wept? Where were these pearls? They
remained in the nightcap. Such precious things do not pass away in the
washing. They were preserved and forgotten with the nightcap. The old
thoughts, the old dreams--yes, they remained still in _the old
bachelor's nightcap_. Wish not for that. It will make your brow too
hot, make your pulses beat too violently, bring dreams that seem
reality. This was proved by the first person who put it on--and that
was not till fifty years after--by the burgomaster himself, who was
blessed with a wife and eleven children. He dreamt of unhappy love,
bankruptcy, and short commons.

"How warm