front of the house, which, with its balconies full of bright
red geraniums, lay prettily concealed behind the evergreen pines under
the starry September sky, her heart beat as though she had run much too
far and too quickly. At last! She drew a deep breath--now she
was with him again.

But he did not come running to meet her. How strange that he had not
watched for her.

"They'll be sitting in the veranda at the back," said her husband.
"They always sit there in the evening." He remained behind a little.
Let Kate see the boy alone first.

And she hurried through the hall past the beaming cook and without
seeing Friedrich, who had donned his livery after decorating all the
rooms with the flowers he had raised himself; she neither admired
his successes in the garden nor the cake the cook had placed on
the festive-looking table. She ran from the hall into her small
sitting-room and from thence through the dining-room, the door of
which led to the verandah. The door was open--now she stood on the
threshold--those outside did not see her.

There was only one of the shaded lamps on the veranda table that was
burning, but it was bright enough to light up the space around it. But
Cilia was doing nothing. The stocking she was to darn lay in her lap;
her right hand in which she held the long darning-needle rested idly on
the edge of the table. She was leaning back a little; her face, which
looked more refined and prettier in the twilight, was raised; she
seemed to be lost in thought with her mouth half open.

Nothing was to be seen of Wolfgang. But now his mother heard him
speak in a tone full of regret: "Don't you know any more? Oh!" And then
urgently: "Go on, Cilia, go on, it was so beautiful."

Ah, now she saw him too. He was sitting at the girl's feet, on quite
a low footstool, leaning against her knee. And he was looking up at her
imploringly, longingly at that moment, looking at her with eyes that
gleamed like dark polished agate, and speaking to her in a
tone his mother thought she had never heard from him before: "Sing,
Cillchen. Dear Cillchen, sing."

The girl began:

"Quoth she with voice subdued, 'Cease from quaking--

"Oh no.

"Not in wrath am I before thee standing--

"No, not that, either.

"Only why did I, weak one, believe thy vows--

"No, I don't know any more. Well, I never! And I've sung it
so often when I was at home. At home in the village when me and my
sweetheart