d shaken by his cough he
burst forth with: "It will soon be over--I feel it within me, and yet I
am no nearer to the goal. All the elements of nature I have called to
my aid--all the spirits 'twixt Heaven and Earth over whom necromancy has
any power have I made subject to my will and have commanded them to help
me--to what end? There stands the elixir and is hardly more valuable
than the small beer with which the servant down-stairs quenches his
thirst, indeed it is less useful for who derives any benefit from it? I
shall quit this world an unhappy man who has wasted his life and talents
in untold efforts from his school-days until now--and yet, if the spirit
would only reveal to me the missing substance which should give to
this liquid in my hand the power that it once possessed, gladly would
I sacrifice twenty lives! Oh! you faithful old soul, you can never
understand it, I know. But this world, where lying and deceit flourish,
would be changed into a Paradise, and it would be an Ueberhell whom
mankind would have to thank for the great blessing. And now--now!"

Here he buried his face in his hands like one in despair. Frau Schimmel
regarded the sorrowful man with deep sympathy, and as it was in her
nature to try and comfort those who wept rather than to join in their
lamentations, she cast about her for something that would console him.

She had not far to seek, for there in the bay-window was perched little
Zeno, carefully picking the green leaves off a rose bough that he had
been told to gather from his mother's grave to take home to his father.
The whole stem was now bare but the white blossom at the end was
untouched, and still beautiful.

She beckoned to the boy, and in a low voice bade him rouse his father
and give him the rose from the churchyard; little Zeno obeyed and walked
straight towards Melchior; opposite the sofa his courage failed him
for a moment, but he took heart again and laying his little hand on the
prematurely gray hair of the disheartened sage said, with all the sweet
charm peculiar to a child when it speaks to comfort one who is its
natural guardian and support:

"Father, little Zeno brings you a rose. It comes from the churchyard.
Mamma sent it to you with her love."

The doctor, deeply touched, sat up suddenly, grasped the child's hand
that held out the rose to him and tried to draw the boy towards him in
order to embrace him. But Zeno, instead of answering the loving words
addressed to