, it was evident,
even at that early hour of the morning, that he had been drinking.
Roland was much shocked, but the Major said,--

"Oh, you should not think anything of that. The man drinks too much,
but only too much for his own stomach. Where is the harm? If a man is
made happy by a glass of wine too much, do let him enjoy it."

The Major's words and Roland's inward happiness soon effaced all
recollection of this first meeting. From Claus's they went to
Sevenpiper's, where was rejoicing beyond measure.

Roland said, again and again, that this day was the happiest he had
ever passed; and the Major impressed upon him that he must not throw
his good deeds into the empty air, but accept the good wishes and
blessings of those he had relieved from suffering and care.

"Fraeulein Milch," he added, "has a good saying, which should be
inscribed in the temple: The happiest hour is that which follows the
performance of a good deed. Write that in your heart, my boy."

The dogs jumped about the wagon, and Roland cried out to them,--

"Do you too know that this is my happiest day? You poor beasts, I can
give you nothing but food; you want neither clothes nor money."

Out of one house Roland came flying, pale as death.

"What has happened to you?" asked the Major.

"Oh, let us get away from here, away!" urged the youth in terror. "I
tremble all over, now, at what was done to me. If I had been attacked
by robbers, I could not have been more frightened."

"But what was it? Tell me what it was!"

"The old man, whom I brought the clothes and money for, wanted to kiss
my hand; that old man--my hand! I thought I should die, I was so
frightened. And are you laughing at it?"

"I am not laughing; you were quite right."

The Major looked upon this sensitiveness as one of the results of the
nervous fever, and said after a while,--

"Your father has planted a great many trees, and when one thrives he
calls it a grateful tree. Do you know what the most grateful tree is?
The tree of knowledge and good works."

While Roland's heart was thus swelling with the joy of health and
well-doing, Eric was in great depression. He had given his mother
Professor Einsiedel's letter, and, sitting beside her, told her how
this had comforted him for a while, but that now he was again in a
state of great uncertainty, because his relation to Sonnenkamp must
henceforth be one of painful dependence; till now he had occupied a
free and equal positi