Henry remained with Matilda. A young relative seated herself at his left, and Klingsohr sat opposite him. If Matilda said but little, his other neighbor, Veronika, was so much the more talkative. She immediately played the familiar with him, and soon made him acquainted with all present. Henry lost much of her conversation. He was still with his partner, and wished to turn much oftener to the right. Klingsohr made an end to their talking. He asked about the band with the strange devices, which Henry had fastened to his coat. He told him with much emotion of the girl from the holy land. Matilda wept; and now Henry could scarcely hide his tears. For this reason he entered into conversation with her. All were enjoying themselves, and Veronika joked and laughed with her acquaintances. Matilda described Hungary, where her father often dwelt, and the mode of life in Augsburg. The enjoyment was at its height. The music put all restraint to flight, and all the affections into a joyful play. Baskets of flowers in all their splendor exhaled their odors upon the table, and the wine danced about between the dishes and the flowers, shook its golden wings, and formed many varied pictures between the guests and the world. Henry now understood for the first time what was meant by a festival. A thousand happy spirits seemed to gambol around the table, and to live in silent sympathy with the joys of the happy people, and to intoxicate themselves with their pleasures. The enjoyment of life stood before him, like a tinkling tree full of golden fruits. Pain had vanished, and it seemed impossible that ever human inclination should have turned from this tree to the dangerous fruit of knowledge, the tree of strife. He now learned what were wine and food. They tasted very richly to him. A heavenly oil seasoned them for him, and from the beaker sparkled the splendor of earthly life. Some of the maidens brought a fresh garland to the old Swaning. He put it on, and kissing them, said, "You must bring one also to our friend Klingsohr, and for thanks he will teach you a couple of new songs. You shall have mine immediately. He beckoned for the music to commence, and sang with a clear voice:-- "Surely life is most distressing, And a mournful fate we meet! Stress and need our only blessing, Practised only in deceit; And our bosoms never daring To unfold their soft despairing. "What the elders all are telling, To the youthful heart is waste; Throes of longing are we feeling The forbidden fruit to taste; Would the gentle youths but deign us, And believe that they could gain us! "Thinking so then are we sinning? All our thoughts are duty-free. What indeed to us remaining, Wretched wights, but fantasy? Do we strive our dreams to banish, Never, never will they vanish.