They were left alone in the long, low room; against the windows the leaves of the old apricot-trees rustled dreamily, and the air was fragrant with the scent of the last flowers of summer. The portraits of Fritz's parents and of their Imperial Majesties looked down from the wall, their outlines rather vague in the darkened apartment, and on the old door-jamb, scored with the children's names a prismatic sunbeam was playing. "Now tell me, Fritz, what is the matter? You know there is no need of any beating about the bush between us," said Oswald leaning towards the sick man, "speak low, I can hear you." Fritz fixed his gaze upon the door-jamb where among the old names two new ones had been written, 'Pipsi five, Franzi three years old.' "God knows, I have no reason to cling to life," he said with a sigh, "and yet my heart is sore at the thought that next year I shall--make no mark there!--Poor children!--who will care for them when I am gone?" His voice broke, and it was with difficulty that he kept back the tears. "I have taken a great deal of pains with them, and hitherto they have been good little things,--at least so they seem to me ...." "Your children are charming," was Oswald's warm assurance. "Are they not?" gasped Fritz, and his hollow eyes sparkled, "but they are still so little--when I am dead they will run wild. Capriani will not let them starve--assuredly not; but _how_ will he provide for them?--and my wife agrees with him in everything--that is the worst of it;--Ossi, in my will I have expressed a wish that my children should be separated from their mother. She does not care for them very much; I think she would be glad to be rid of the burden of bringing them up .... and I have begged you--you will not take it ill of me, Ossi,...." he hesitated. "Would you like me to be their guardian?" "Ah, Ossi!" "Then that is settled," said Oswald, holding out his hand, "and, moreover, my mother told me to tell you that when I am married she should have nothing more to do, and would take pleasure in attending to the education of your little ones. You can hardly ask anything better for them." "Ah, Ossi, your mother is an angel!" "Indeed she is," said Oswald gravely. "She is well?" "No, she was very weary to-day at dinner, she had a sleepless night from anxiety on my account--my poor mother! And now since your mind is easy on all points, old fellow, it is to be hoped that you'll torment yourself no longer with gloomy forebodings, but do your best to get well and strong. Let us recall our poor exiled Georges, shall we not--_ca_! who's there? some one knocked!" "Come in!" said Fritz. Conte Capriani entered, a roll of parchment in his hand. Oswald winced. "For Heaven's sake stay," panted Fritz, holding his friend fast by the wrist.