The girl exhorted him to take courage, and told his father of their conversation. The smith put on his Sunday clothes and went to the artist's house. The latter was in Brussels, but was expected home soon. From this time, every third day, Adam donned his best clothes, which he disliked to wear, and went to the artist's; but always in vain. In the month of February the invalid was playing chess with Ruth,-- she had learned the game from the smith and Ulrich from her,--when Adam entered the room, saying: "when the game is over, I wish to speak to you, my son." The young girl had the advantage, but instantly pushed the pieces together and left the two alone. She well knew what was passing in the father's mind, for the day before he had brought all sorts of artist's materials, and told her to arrange the little gable-room, with the large window facing towards the north, and put the easel and colors there. They had only smiled at each other, but they had long since learned to understand each other, even without words. "What is it?" asked Ulrich in surprise. The smith then told him what he had provided and arranged, adding: "the picture on the standard--you say you painted it yourself." "Yes, father." "It was your mother, exactly as she looked when....She did not treat either of us rightly--but she!--the Christian must forgive;--and as she was your mother--why--I should like.... perhaps it is not possible; but if you could paint her picture, not as a Madonna, only as she looked when a young wife...." "I can, I will!" cried Ulrich, in joyous excitement. "Take me upstairs, is the canvas ready?" "In the frame, firmly in the frame! I am an old man, and you see, child, I remember how wonderfully sweet your mother was; but I can never succeed in recalling just how she looked then. I have tried, tried thousands and thousands of times; at--Richtberg, here, everywhere--deep as was my wrath!" "You shall see her again surely--surely!" interrupted Ulrich. "I see her before me, and what I see in my mind, I can paint!" The work was commenced the very same day. Ulrich now succeeded wonderfully, and lavished on the portrait all the wealth of love, with which his heart was filled. Never had he guided the brush so joyously; in painting this picture he only wished to give, to give--give his beloved father the best he could accomplish, so he succeeded. The young wife, attired in a burgher dress, stood with her bewitching eyes and a melancholy, half-tender, half-mournful smile on her lips. Adam was not permitted to enter the studio again until the portrait was completed. When Ulrich at last unveiled the picture, the old man--unable longer to control himself--burst into loud sobs and fell upon his son's breast. It seemed to Adam that the pretty creature in the golden frame --far from needing his forgiveness--was entitled to his gratitude for many blissful hours.