The appendix to the fourth day of joy has just come in.--Pausing only to breathe the sigh wherewith one usually says, on the day after festal days, that he is burying them, I come back again before the blooming bed of my friend, and open the living-green curtain; not till toward nine o'clock did a ground-sparrow twittering close to his hands draw him with difficulty out of a deep sea of dream. But the shadowy shapes, which the concave mirror of dream had erected in the air, were all forgotten; only the tears, which they had wrung from them, still stood in his eyes, and he could no longer remember why he had shed them. To-day was Ember-day, which, like other changes of moon and weather, makes the echo of our dreams louder and more polysyllabic.--In a singular lassitude he opened his eyes before the white twilight of the canopy of apple-blossoms, before the maze of the green web,--his hand chased the ground-sparrow through the bushes,--it was sultry around this shade, the tree-tops were mute and all the flowers erect,--bees bent down from grains of sand into the springs around him and sipped water,--white flocks dropped from the willows, and all the smelling-bottles of the blossoms and the censers of the flowers diffused over his place of slumber a sweet, sultry steam.... He raises his right hand to his moist eye and sees therein, to his astonishment, a white hyacinth, which some one must have placed there.... He suspected Clotilda; and she it had really been. Half an hour before she had stepped up to this bed of flowers,--had gently let the bushes immediately close again,--but then, however, drawn them apart again, because she saw the tears of the forgotten dream run down the face of the glowing sleeper,--her whole soul became now a tender look and blessing of love, and she could not refrain from laying the memorial of her morning-visit, the flower, on his hand,--and then hastened softly back to her chamber.