t Clodwig had been
talking about. He could only answer in general terms, and begged to be
allowed to go into the open air for refreshment.

Eric went into the garden. The November wind was raging, and the rain
driving fiercely. Eric wrapped himself in his cloak, and went into the
wood: it did him good to walk in the midst of the uproar of the
elements. He went through the park and the wood, by the game path which
he had followed on the morning after telling the story of his life to
his newly-won friend Clodwig. Now he could not stride on in exultant
mood, as if borne onward by an external force; now he must battle with
the storm which roared over him through the tree-tops. Now, as then, he
stood under the covered pavilion; but in the wide landscape he could
see nothing but clouds of driving rain. Close to the wall of the
building there was still one beautiful blue-bell: unconsciously he
broke it off, and, as he returned to the house, it occurred to him to
carry the flower to the invalid. He entered the sick-chamber, and
Clodwig cried,--

"Ah, the blue flower! You gather it and bring it to me. We have dreamed
of them often in my youth. Youth, youth!" repeated the sick man often.

He seized the flower, then leaned far out of bed, and smelled of Eric's
clothes, saying,--

"Ah I my son, why do the Bible pictures come up before me now? The
patriarch Isaac said to his son as he came to his sickbed, 'The smell
of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed.' Yes,
Eric, you bring all the free air of the fields into my sick-room. When
I am no more, remember that you have done me good."

Eric wept.

"Yes, weep, it is well, it will do you no harm that I make your heart
heavy. You will be happy and active on the earth whose clods will soon
rest on me. Only, I pray you, stay by me when I die; and when I am
dead, and they prepare me for the grave, take something from my heart
which must stay there till it has stopped beating. Stay with me, Eric,
I will not think of petty, individual interests. I will not leave the
world in hatred and anger--no, not in hatred and anger against any man.
Help me to attain to the universal, the grand: in those I will live and
die."

He lay back on his pillows; and, as Eric leaned over him, his breath
came quietly, and on his face was a gentle smile. What thoughts might
now be stirring this soul?

Eric wanted to send a messenger to Villa Eden, to say that he must
remain where