Meanwhile the storm, which had circled muttering around the horizon half the night, approached in its might, spread itself over the forest, and then paused. The wind was still. A crash of thunder burst in upon Mary's sleep. Half dreaming she sprang up; she knew not what she sought or thought, a nameless anxiety forced her to rise, her pillow was so hot. Now she stood by the side of her bed and heard the strong rain rushing down without. But it cooled not her feverish brow. She tried to collect herself and think, but found nothing within her soul but the miserable thought with which she had fallen asleep. A strange determination arose within her. She would go to Clement now he was alone; what prevented her from putting an end to her uncertainty, and seeing both herself and him? She thought but of this alone, and every word of the doctor was forgotten; so she went unhesitatingly, just as she had arisen from her couch, towards the door which stood half open, found the end of the bed, crept on her little bare feet, to the side of the sleeping boy, and bending over him, with bated breath, tore the bandage hastily from her eyes. But she started when all remained dark as before. She had forgotten that it was night, and that she had been told that in the night all people were blind. She had fancied that a light streamed from an eye that saw, and lighted both itself and what it looked upon. Now she felt the boy's breath soft upon her cheek, but she could distinguish no form. Already terrified, and in despair, she wished to go back. There flamed through the now uncovered window-panes a flash one second long--then another and another--the air waved to and fro with the intensity of light--thunder and rain-stream without increased in roar; but she gazed for one short moment on the curly brow that lay softly pressed on the pillow before her--then the vision vanished into the darkness, her eyes gushed with tears, and, overcome with unspeakable terror, she rushed to her room, replaced the bandage, and sank upon her bed, feeling, with a sense of unalterable conviction, that she had seen for the first and the last time. CHAPTER III. Weeks have passed away. For the first time, the young powers of the eyes are to be tested by light. The doctor, who had, in the meantime, directed the simple treatment of the children from the town, arrived at the village on a cloudy day, in order to be present himself and to enjoy the fruit of his cure with them. Instead of the curtains, they had weaved garlands of boughs before the windows, and decked both rooms gaily with green branches and flowers. The baron himself, and all in the village who were connected with either of the families, had arrived to wish both parents and children happiness, and to enjoy the surprise of the healed ones.