"I pitied the unhappy man; for I felt now only how very dearly I loved him. I told him all I knew about Maria's flight. Contrary to my expectation, he remained quite calm! 'It amounts all to the same,' he said, 'whether she is dead or not. She is dead for me; she could not help herself; she had to leave me; she was too proud to suffer herself to be treated like a dog,--I have treated her like a dog, worse than a dog,--wretch that I am!' "He beat his forehead with his closed hand; then he threw himself into an arm-chair, put his head in his hands and sobbed. 'And yet I loved her! And I love her still! Oh my God, my God!' "It was a fearful sight to see wild Harald weep! I lifted up his head; he put it against my bosom and wept, as he had often wept there when he was a boy. I begged him to calm himself. I told him what Marie's last words had been: 'I forgive him all!' "'And if she has forgiven me, I shall never forgive myself,' he cried. 'Go to bed, old one; we will talk about it tomorrow.' "But when old Jake came into his room next morning, Harald was lying in high fever. That lasted seven days, seven terrible days. Then it was all over with Harald Grenwitz!" The old woman paused, smoothed the sock she was knitting over her knee, folded it up and said: "Well, young master, now you go home. I have to look after the children, who are sleeping in the other room on Jake's bed. It does not rain just now, but it is going to rain worse. Therefore don't stop on the way. Good-by!" "Come!" said Oswald to Albert, who had just risen from his hard couch and was yawning and stretching his arms. "It is high time, if we mean to reach the château in time for supper. Good-by, Mother Claus." "Good-by, good-by, young master," said the old woman. When the young men found themselves in the muddy village street, Albert pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the hut they had just left, and said: "Odd old lady that! Was not that a famous story, dottore?" "You were not asleep, then?" "Not a bit! At first I wanted to sleep, but you did not let me sleep, and then when she commenced the story about Baron Harald I could not sleep. But I remained quietly where I was, and snored from time to time to reassure the old lady, who evidently did not want anybody to hear it but her young master. Why does she always call you her young master, dottore?" "I do not know," said Oswald. "Or you do not mean to know," replied Albert; "well, no harm done. We must not wish to know everything. Why did Baron Harald want to know what had become of that pretty girl Marie? Without that quite superfluous curiosity he might have drunk his Burgundy to-day. Strange that a sensible man should have had such absurd romantic notions in his head! Can you understand it, dottore?" "Well, perhaps I can," said Oswald; "but let us speak of something else." "As you like it, my dear sir. What do you think of immortality?" CHAPTER VIII.