The old lady’s eyes were fixed on him, sparkingly. “What did you answer me, Joh, when I wanted to stop you on your way to Hel?” “I don’t remember.” “But I do, Joh! I still remember every syllable. You said: ‘I don’t hear a word you say—I only hear “Hel”! If I were to be blinded—I should still see Hel! If I were to be paralysed—with paralysed feet, I should still find my way to Hell—’ Freder is your son. What do you think, Joh, he would answer me were I to say to him: give up the girl you love...?” Joh Fredersen was silent. “Take care, Joh,” said the old mother. “I know what it means when your eyes grow cold, as now, and when you grow as pale as one of the stones of the wall. You have forgotten that lovers are sacred. Even if they are mistaken, Joh, their mistake itself is sacred. Even if they are fools, Joh, their folly itself is sacred. For where lovers are, there is God’s garden, and no one has the right to drive them out. Not even God. Only their own sin.” “I must have my son back,” said Joh Fredersen. “I had hoped you would help me, and you would certainly have been the gentlest means I could have chosen. But you will not, and now I must seek another means....” “Freder is ill, you say....” “He will get well again....” “So you will continue in your way?” “Yes.” “I believe, Joh, that Hel would weep were she to hear you!” “Perhaps. But Hel is dead.” “Well, come here to me, Joh! I will give you a word to take with you on your way, which you cannot forget. It is easy to retain.” Joh Fredersen hesitated. Then he walked up to his mother. She laid her hand on the bible which lay before her. Joh Fredersen read: ... _Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap...._ Joh Fredersen turned around. He walked through the room. His mother’s eyes followed him. As he turned toward her, suddenly, violently, with a violent word on his lips he found the gaze of her eyes set upon him. They could hide themselves no longer, and neither did they wish to—such an almighty love—such an almighty love, in their tear-washed depths that Joh Fredersen believed himself to see his mother to-day for the first time. They looked at each other for a long time, in silence. Then the man stepped up to his mother. “I am going, now, mother,” he said, “and I don’t believe I shall ever come to you again....” She did not answer. It seemed as though he wanted to stretch out his hand to her, but, halfway he let it drop again. “For whom are you crying, mother,” he asked, “for Freder or for me?” “For you both,” said the mother, “for you both, Joh....” He stood in silence and the struggle of his heart was in his face. Then, without giving his mother another look, he turned around and went out of the house, over which the walnut tree rustled. CHAPTER XIII