As there were three heavens in this letter--one for each of the party--kind remembrances for Lenette, the programmes for Peltzstiefel, the letter itself for Siebenkæs--I shouldn't have been astonished if the terzetto of them had danced for joy. The Schulrath, intoxicated with delight--for the glad blood rose to his sober head--opened the papers sent him upon the square patterned supper-cloth (which was laid already), and hungrily began to devour his three printed "relishes before supper," and literary petits soupers, upon the tin plate without even saying grace, until an invitation to stay and have some supper reminded him that he must be off. But before leaving, he petitioned that, by way of fee for having acted as middleman and court of arbitration between them, or as an alkali to promote the blending of his oil with her water--he might have a new profile of Lenette. The old one cut out by Leibgeber (which the letter brought to his recollection), and which, as we may remember, Leibgeber let him have, happened to have been put into the pocket of his dressing-gown and sent to the wash with it (being of much the same colour, moreover). "It shall be put on the stocks to-night," said Siebenkæs. When the Schulrath was going, as he could see that the ring upon Lenette's finger didn't squeeze it so uncomfortably as it had done (and gave _himself_ credit for having been the means of filing it smoother and padding it softer), he shook her hand with much warmth, and said-- "I shall always be delighted to come whenever there's the slightest thing the matter with you two charming people." Lenette answered, "Oh yes, do come very often." And Siebenkæs added, "The oftener the better." And yet, when he had gone, the ring seemed to be not quite so comfortable again, and medical students who may be working at psychology may be a little surprised that during supper the advocate said very little to his wife, and she very little to him. The reason was that he had Leibgeber's letter lying by his plate in the place where the bread normally is, and the image of his beloved friend shone bright before his mental vision from Bayreuth all athwart the far misty darkness between--their first happy meeting to come floated magically before him. Hope shot down a pure clearing ray into the dark mephitic cave where he was panting and toiling now--and the coming spring stood like some cathedral tower all hung with lamps lofty and bright in the distance, beaming through the dark night sky.