nd bearers. She came
suddenly back and said to Henry, "truly, is it not a fine thing to be a
poet?"

Henry did not trust himself to take advantage of this question. Excess
of joy and the earnestness of first love were contending in his breast.
The charming Veronika was joking with the others, and in the meanwhile
he found time somewhat to quench his joy. Matilda told him that she
played the guitar. "Ah!" said he, "how I should love to learn it from
you. I have for a long time desired it."

"My father instructed me; he plays it matchlessly," said she blushing.

"I believe, however," said Henry, "that I can learn it more easily from
you. How delighted I should be to hear you sing."

"Do not expect too much."

"O!" said Henry, "what may I not expect, since your speech merely is
song, and your form is expressive of heavenly music."

Matilda was silent. Her father commenced a conversation, in which Henry
spoke with the most lively spirit Those who were near wondered at the
fluency of the young man's speech, and the richness of his imagery.
Matilda gazed upon him with silent attention. She seemed to delight in
his words, which were still more clearly explained by his speaking
features. His eyes appeared unusually brilliant. He turned at times
towards Matilda, who was astonished by the expression of his face. In
the warmth of conversation, he involuntarily seized her hand, and she
could not but sanction much of what he said, with a gentle pressure.
Klingsohr knew how to keep up his enthusiasm, and gradually drew his
whole soul from his lips. At last all rose. There was a general
confusion. Henry remained by the side of Matilda. They stood apart
unobserved. He clasped her hand and kissed it tenderly. She suffered
him to hold it without opposition, and looked upon him with unspeakable
kindness. He could not restrain himself, bent towards her, and kissed
her lips. She was taken unawares and involuntarily returned his ardent
kiss. "Sweet Matilda,"--"Dear Henry,"--this was all they could say to
each other. She pressed his hand, and then mingled with her companions.
Henry stood as if in Heaven. His mother came to him. He told her all
concerning his love.

"Is it not a good thing that we have visited Augsburg?" said she. "Does
it not in truth please you?"

"Dear mother," said Henry, "I had not represented it to myself thus. It
is most glorious."

The remainder of the evening passed away in infinite pleasure. The old
peopl