She stopped, her eyes sparkled, a rosy, almost maidenly blush tinted her cheeks; she had grown wonderfully young again. Then she saw that he had fallen asleep, and sadly relapsed into silence. When he awoke, Paul said, “It seems to me, mother, that you were telling me something.” “You must have been dreaming,” she said, smiling; but her thoughts meanwhile had been wandering back through her whole life, seeking in every corner of her memory for the remnants of joy which lay concealed there. “I don’t really know,” she said, “why I have been so sad all my life. When I come to think of it, a great misfortune has never really happened to ne. Of course it was not nice when we had to leave Helenenthal, and when I saw the room lit up blood-red by the burning barn, it gave me a bad enough fright, but, on the whole, life has treated me tolerably well. I have reared all you children, I have not lost one by death-we have always had food and drink, too. Father has sometimes grumbled, it is true, but that is always the case in married life; you will find it so yourself some day. You children have always loved me. You boys have grown up able men, and the girls will be able women, if God wills it, and you keep your eye upon them. What more do I want?” And so this poor woman, who was gradually being harassed to death, worried herself to discover _what_ was harassing her to death. Slowly Dame Care lifted the veil from her head that Death might breathe in her face. And one evening she died.... Her eyes closed; she scarcely knew how herself. The doctor who was called in spoke of weakness, anæmia. It is only sentimental people who say in such cases, “She died of a broken heart.” The twins knelt at her bedside, crying bitterly; their father, who had been carried in in his chair, sobbed aloud, and tried to bring her back forcibly to life.... Paul stood at the head of the bed biting his lips. “I was right, after all,” he thought; “she died before luck came. She has had to get up hungry from the table of life, just as I said.” He wondered that the pain he felt was not so great as he had fancied it would be. Only the confused thoughts about all sorts of stupid things flitting through his head like bats at dusk showed him the state of his mind. It struck midnight; then his father said, “We will go to rest, children; let him sleep who can!... Hard days lie before us.” He embraced the twins, shook hands with Paul, and had himself carried to his room. “How good father is to-day!” thought Paul; “he was never like that while she was alive.” His sisters clung to his neck, sobbing, and implored him to watch near them, they were so afraid. Paul spoke to them consolingly, took them to their room, and promised to come and look after them within an hour. When at the end of this time he stepped to their bedside with a candle in his hand he found them fast asleep. They lay locked in a close embrace, and on their rosy cheeks the tears were still wet.