"Here, here!" said Carl Obers, as he gazed on the scene, with mournful sensations, "_here_ were my youthful visions conceived and embodied--_here_ did I form vows, to break the bonds of enslaved mankind--_here_ did I dream of grateful thousands, standing erect for the first time as free men--_here_ did I brood over, the possible happiness of my fellow men, and in attempting to realise it, have wrecked my own." "My kind friend!" replied Delmé, "your error, if it be such, has been of the head, and not the heart. It is one, natural to your age and your country. Far from being irreparable, it is possible it may have taught you a lesson, that may ultimately greatly benefit you. This is the first time we have conversed regarding your prospects. What are your present views?" "I have none. My friends regard me as one, who has improvidently thrown away his chance of advancement. My knowledge of any _one_ branch of science is so superficial, that this precludes my ever hoping to succeed in a learned profession. I cannot enter the military service in my own country, without commencing in the lowest grade. This I can hardly bring my mind to." "What would you say to the Hanoverian army?" replied Delmé. "I would say," rejoined Carl: "for I see through your kind motive in asking, that I esteem myself fortunate, if I have been in any way useful to you; but that I cannot, and ought not, to think, of accepting a favour at your hands." Sir Henry said no more at that time: and they reached the inn in silence. Delmé retired for the night. Carl Obers sought his old chums; and, exhilarated by his meershaum, and the excellent beer--rivalling the famous Lubeck beer, sent to Martin Luther, during his trial, by the Elector of Saxony--triumphantly placed "young Germany" at the head of nations. Early the following morning, they were again en route. They passed through Manheim, where the Rhine and Neckar meet,--through Erpach,--through Darmstadt, that cleanest of Continental towns,--and finally reached Frankfort-on-the-Maine, where it was agreed that Sir Henry and Thompson were to part from their travelling companions. Sir Henry in his distress of mind, felt that theirs was not a casual farewell. On reaching the quay, he pressed the student's hand with grateful warmth, but dared not trust to words. On the deck of the steamer, assisting Thompson to arrange the portmanteaux, stood Pietro Molini. The natural gaiety of the old driver had received a considerable check at George's death. He could not now meet Sir Henry, without an embarrassment of manner; and even in his intercourse with Thompson, his former jocularity seemed to have deserted him. "Good bye, Pietro!" said Delmé, extending his hand. "I trust we may one day or other meet again."