o not bring love."

"And I will learn a great deal from you," said Manna, gently caressing
and kissing his hands. "Ah, keep on talking; say what you will; it is
music to me, you cannot think how like music it is to hear you. And do
you know that I have heard you sing too? Twice. Once in the great
festival, and once here on the Rhine."

"And do you know," he replied, "that I saw you in the twilight at the
convent?"

"Yes. You looked at me in this way." She tried to imitate his look.

"And at that time, when we returned from the festival, a dozen of the
pupils were in love with you; but I was afraid of you, and yet I cannot
now imagine it. What will they say in the convent? They will look upon
me as a hypocrite in regard to you, and--oh, Eric, how much I renounce,
but I renounce it willingly. And oh, how rejoiced Roland will be!"

"But your parents?"

"Yes, my parents!" said she. "My parents!" Her voice became fainter,
her countenance turned suddenly pale, and she drew closer to Eric, as
if she were cold. He put his hand upon her head, and played with her
tresses, while she held his other hand closely pressed to her lips. No
words were needed, they could not speak, for each wanted to say to the
other: Do you know what I would say?

"Why do you tremble so, all at once?" asked Manna.

"Ah, I wish you were not rich."

"I wish so too," said she, in a drowsy tone. "Let us be quiet. So--let
me sleep here only half a minute. Oh, how like music is the beating of
your heart!" She reclined her head for a few moments against his
breast, and then said:--

"A hundred years have passed over me, a blissful hundred years. Now I
am strong and fresh and wide-awake; now forget all I have done and
said, all except one thing, that I am yours, and I love you so long as
I breathe, and you are mine."

"You wanted to become a nun, and I--I wanted also to renounce the
world."

"But are you not a Huguenot."

"I did not mean that, my Manna. I wanted to renounce what is called the
world, and be wholly devoted to a life of thought."

"And can you not do that if I am yours?"

"No. But why speak of this now? I am no longer alone, I am myself and
you too!"

"And I too am you as well as myself," repeated Manna. "Now I must go to
my mother," she said, raising herself up; "no one is to know about us,
neither your mother nor mine, no one."

"Shall I see you this evening in the garden?"

"No, it will be better not to see each other unt