"Listen: all sorts of things have happened since we last met. Don't you notice any change in me? I thought I must have grown ten years younger." Felix looked at him searchingly. "That could make no one happier than it would me, old Dædalus. And, since we are on the subject, it has somewhat depressed me to find--I must out with it--a different man from the friend I left ten years ago. I always thought it must be my fault that made you so much more reserved and distant toward me than you used to be. If you would only be the same old fellow again--but mayn't I know what has brought this about?" "Not yet," answered the sculptor, seizing the hand Felix held out to him, and pressing it with evident emotion. "I haven't got permission yet, much as the secret burns in my breast. But, take my word for it, my dear fellow, all will come right now. I tell you miracles and wonders still happen; a withered staff burgeons and flourishes, and is filled once more with green sap and white blossoms. The winter was a little long, and no wonder that even you felt the cold." A knock on the door interrupted him. They heard the voice of the battle-painter outside, eagerly demanding admission. Jansen drew the bolts which, in his disgust, he had fastened behind the æsthetical professor, and let Rosenbusch in. "Well!" cried he to his friend, "what do you say to this divine creature? Hasn't she been making herself agreeable to you too? A woman of the gods, by my life! How she hits the nail on the head with every word, draws out the most secret thoughts of the soul, so that one has only to keep his ears and mouth open, and always nod an affirmative! There isn't a horseshoe in all my Battle of Lützen about which she didn't show a profound knowledge; and if she remains in Munich any length of time, she says she shall visit me often, so as to watch me at my work. I am on the only true road, she said; art is action, passion, excitement--a battle for life and death, and other things of the sort, which she actually seemed to snatch from my mouth. A devilish smart woman, and her traveling companion also seems to be a first-rate judge of art. Of course you have been invited to the musical _soirée_ this evening. She wants me to bring my flute with me; but I sha'n't be such a fool as to expose myself before this northern Semiramis. What are you laughing at?" "We are only laughing at the rapid progress of this friend of art in discovering what fits the occasion. Down here she declared that true art was repose. A flight higher and the sight of the Battle of Lützen caused a new light to be thrown on the subject, and she finds that art is nothing but turmoil and excitement. Yon have effected a speedy conversion, Rosenbusch. If it is only as permanent as speedy!" For once the battle-painter failed to see the humor of the thing.