ation and a desire to laugh contended within him, but admiration
conquered. A man of such an appearance must have overcome much in
himself to be able to express himself in this way. He went with Knopf
to the village, telling him that he ought to have come to see him at
the villa, and that he would have found him quite alone, if he wished
to avoid the family, for they had gone with Herr von Pranken to the
convent, to bring Manna home.

"Ah, poor girl!" said Knopf, pityingly. "I can venture to say, that I
have already had more than fifty lovely noble maidens as pupils, and
not one-half, no, not one-quarter of them have married as I should have
wished. Ah, Herr Colleague, you see I have never in my life repeated in
one house what happened in another, and you can understand that it has
been a difficult duty. Mothers always want to find out what goes on
here and there, but I have refrained, on principle, from telling
anything. Whoever gossips to me will gossip about me, my mother always
said. I have taken heed of that, and so have got on very well."

Eric was delighted with the true-hearted man, and he quickly drove away
the thought that Pranken was going to bring the rich bride for himself
from the convent. What was the maiden to him?

He left his horse at the village inn, and Knopf conducted him to a spot
under the lindens on the hill-top, and there explained his views about
Roland.

"I must, like a child," he began, "tell you of my last observation, and
my last trouble. You are not in a hurry? I must honestly confess to
you, that nothing in our time vexes me so much, as to find people
always in a hurry."

Eric set his mind at rest, by telling him that he had the whole day at
his disposal, concluding,--

"Now, go on."

"Then for my last trouble. As I walked hither over the mountain, past
the forest-chapel yonder, all was fresh with dew, the birds were
singing undisturbed, heedless of the ringing of the matin bell in the
chapel above, and of the railroad bell below. What did self-sufficing
nature, in this season of early spring love, care for these sounds? But
that isn't exactly what I meant to say to you," he interrupted himself,
placing his hand upon his tablets, which undoubtedly contained a poem
in this strain. "Only this--as I was walking along the wood-path, I
heard children's voices, clear and merry, and a mild and gentle one
seemed to have control over them. There came up the mountain a
beautiful maiden--no