Klingsohr embraced him tenderly. Matilda brought them the breakfast, and Henry asked her with a tender voice, whether she would be kind enough to receive him as fellow pupil, and her own scholar. "I shall probably be your scholar forever," said he, as Klingsohr turned away. She nodded slightly towards him. He threw his arms around the blushing maiden, and kissed her soft lips. Gently she retreated from him, yet handed him with childish grace a rose which she wore in her bosom. She then busied herself about her basket. Henry watched her with silent rapture, kissed the rose, fixed it on his breast, and walked to Klingsohr's side, who was gazing down at the city. "By what road, did you come here," asked Klingsohr. "Down over that hill," replied Henry, "where the road loses itself in the distance." "You must have seen some fair landscapes." "We travelled through an almost uninterrupted series of beautiful ones." "Perhaps your native town is pleasantly situated?" "The country is varied enough; it is rude, however, and a noble river is wanting. Streams are the eyes of a landscape." "Your account of your journey," said Klingsohr, "agreeably entertained me last evening. I have indeed observed that the spirit of poesy is your kind companion. Your friends have unobservedly become its voices. Where a poet is, poetry everywhere breaks out. The land of poetry, romantic Palestine, has greeted you with its sweet sadness; war has addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history have met you in the forms of a miner and a hermit." "You forget the best, dear master, the heavenly appearance of love. It depends upon you, whether this appearance shall forever remain with me." "What do you think," cried Klingsohr as he turned to Matilda who was just approaching; "would you like to become Henry's inseparable companion? Where you are, I remain also." Matilda was terrified. She flew into her father's arms. Henry trembled with infinite joy. "Shall he then be with me forever, dear father?" "Ask him for yourself," said Klingsohr with emotion. She looked upon Henry with the most heart-felt tenderness. "My eternity is indeed thy work," cried Henry, whilst the tears rolled down his blooming cheeks. They embraced each other. Klingsohr caught them in his arms. "My children," he cried, "be faithful to each other unto death! Love and constancy will make your life eternal poesy." CHAPTER VIII. In the afternoon Klingsohr led to his room his new son, in whose happiness his mother and grandfather took the tenderest interest, honoring Matilda as his protecting spirit, and made him acquainted with his books. Afterward they spoke of poetry.