Two years later, on a bright morning in June, the red-painted gate of the prison opened and let out a prisoner, who, with a laugh on his face, was blinking his eyes in the bright sun, as if trying to learn to bear the light again. He swung the bundle which he carried to and fro, and looked carelessly to the right and the left, like one who was not decided which direction to follow, but for whom, on the whole, it was unimportant whither he strayed. When he passed the front of the prison building he saw a carriage standing there which appeared known to him, for he stopped and seemed to be reflecting. Then he turned to the coachman, who, in his tasselled fur-cap, nodded haughtily from the box. “Is anybody from Helenenthal here?” he asked. “Yes; master and the young lady. They have come to fetch Mr. Meyerhofer.” And directly after was heard from the steps, “Hey, holloa! there he is already--Elsbeth, see! there he is already.” Paul jumped up the steps, and the two men lay in each other’s arms. Then the heavy folding doors were opened softly and timidly, and let out a slender female figure, clad in black, who, with a melancholy smile, leaned against the wall and quietly waited until the men unclasped each other. “There, you have him, Elsbeth!” shouted the old man. Hand in hand they stood opposite each other and looked in one another’s eyes; then she leaned her head on his breast and whispered, “Thank God that I am with you again!” “And in order that you may have each other all to yourselves, children,” said the old man, “you two shall drive home, and I will meanwhile drink a bottle of claret to the health of my successor. I am well off, for I retire from business this day.” “Mr. Douglas!” exclaimed Paul, terrified. “_Father_, I am called--do you understand? Let me be fetched towards evening. You are now master at home. Good-bye.” With that he strode down the steps. “Come,” said Paul, gently, with downcast eyes. Elsbeth went after him with a shy smile, for now when they were alone neither dared to approach the other. And then they drove silently out onto the sunny, flowery heath.... Wild pinks, bluebells, and ground-ivy wove themselves into a many-colored carpet, and the white meadowsweet lifted its waving blossoms, as if snow-flakes had been strewn on the flowers. The leaves of the weeping-willow rustled softly, and like a net of sparkling ribbons the little streams flowed along beneath their branches. The warm air trembled, and yellow butterflies fluttered up and down in couples. Paul leaned back in the cushions, and gazed with half-shut eyes at this profusion of charming sights. “Are you happy?” asked Elsbeth, leaning towards him. “I don’t know,” he answered; “it is too much for me.” She smiled; she well understood him. “See there, our home!” she said, pointing to the White House, which stood out clear in the distance. He pressed her hand, but his voice failed him.