"Ernestine, do you know me now?" said Johannes. "See, this is the second time that God has placed me by your side to rescue you from a self-sought peril, and, as when I then brought you down from the broken bough, so now I open wide my arms to you, and pray you, 'Seek refuge and safety here!' Oh, little dryad, you are the same as then, for all that you have grown so tall and beautiful! There are the same mysterious dark eyes, the same strange, lonely spirit imprisoned in the delicate frame, bewailing its Titan descent. I knew then that there was only one such creature in the world,--and I should have recognized you among thousands as I recognized you when you stood alone upon this hill. Wondrous and fairy-like creature that you are, if you do not dissolve in air at the touch of a mortal, come to this heart; if an earth-born being may approach you with earthly love, take mine and learn to love a mortal. Yes, pure, aspiring spirit, for whom this earth has never been a home, I am only a man,--and yet a faithful, true, and loving man. Can you love me again?" Ernestine stood immovable. She had raised her hands to her forehead, as one is apt to do at hearing the mysterious, the incomprehensible. "You do not speak; have you no words for me? Look, Ernestine, do you not remember the boy about whose neck you once clasped your trembling arms so willingly?" At last she stretched out both hands to the earnest speaker, with a look of unrestrained delight. "Johannes," she cried, as tear after tear coursed down her cheek, "Johannes Möllner,--my childhood's friend,--I know you now." He hastened to her side, and opened his arms to clasp her to his heart, but she recoiled with such a burning blush, with such childlike alarm painted upon her face, that Johannes controlled himself, and only pressed her delicate hands to his lips. Her maidenly reserve was sacred to him. CHAPTER X. NOWHERE AT HOME. On this very evening there was a social meeting of the Professors at the Staatsräthin's. Johannes had entirely forgotten it. As the afternoon passed and evening approached without bringing him, the Staatsräthin grew really anxious about him, apart from the embarrassment which his absence caused with regard to her guests, to whom she knew not what excuse to make. She was walking to and fro in her garden behind the house, where her guests were to assemble and enjoy the lovely twilight in the open air.