"And behind the curtain stands her lover, and bends across her, that he, too, may look upon the mad horseman, who is stretching out his neck to see his darling. And the clumsy fellow with the bull's neck wrinkles his silly brow, twirls his mustachio, strokes his beard, mutters _Mort de ma vie!_ and shakes his coarse fist. But she pouts, and giggles and bursts out laughing, and falls on the neck of the jealous one ... "No, no; it cannot be! You only want to hear from her lips that it cannot be. And then--away, away--ride out of the gate--to swift, honourable death. And God's blessing on thee, thou gentle, lovely, and beloved child!" He closed the window gently, and so to bed; to bed, but not to sleep. He could not find that repose he stood so much in need of. The brook murmured so loudly, or was it the hot bloody surging to his temples? And was he about to sink into slumber, he would start up again immediately; he seemed again, to be holding her by the hand, and she bent her forehead to be kissed by him. "No--no! Lead me not into temptation! Do not ask me what the one thing is! I would not say it, even, if--what God forbid!--it were so. I will not let you beguile me into a tragedy, any more than from one comedy into another." VI. This thought, which had at length quieted Bertram's, wildly tumultuous spirits, was also his first, when late next morning he awoke from deep and dreamless slumbers--neither tragedy nor comedy! Calm and clear observation, as best becomes a solitary individual who has done with life; who neither hopes nor fears anything from Fate for himself; maintaining a benevolent interest in the fate of others, where benevolence is merited and interest is justified; cherishing throughout the conviction that, after all, every one makes or mars his own life; that interference and advice are rarely of much use, and generally distinctly hurtful; and that, even under the most favourable circumstances, the task of mediator is ever, of all tasks, the most thankless. In the clear light of these contemplations and of the delicious morning which was resting in sunny radiance above the lovely landscape, last night's scenes appeared to Bertram like the confused darkness of a feverish dream; nay, he derived some comfort from the thought that he probably had been ill, and was therefore only partly responsible for his extraordinary demeanour. Still, he was gravely responsible for one thing--he ought sooner to have become conscious of his condition. He might well thank his stars that in his excited state he had not behaved even more strangely; above all, that to-day, for the first time since his last long and severe illness, he felt as fresh and strong as in his best days. Assuredly with the morning all things seemed to have become better--much better than he could have expected--than he deserved!