Thus it happened; and the wife too, in the old house, which then was new, took the very place which he awarded her in the same speech; “But besides the children,” he had said, “it is to the woman, to the mistress of the house, that the house belongs. There indeed the man may often command or rebuke, but there the woman rules. The husband will live there, but the wife will work there, will govern and provide. Her heart, her eye and her mouth are the true homes of domestic peace, that beautiful jewel of a happy home. As was said of old, she is the ‘house honor;’[101] that is, upon her rests the honor of the house, and to her is due the honor of the house. The proverb says ‘Every wise woman buildeth her house.’ That has been a true saying in this case, for many times has the whole plan passed through the sieve of her wisdom, and each time it has come out finer. Therefore it is just that we should lay the foundation stone exactly here, under the future room of the housewife, as the corner-stone of the house’s honor and the house’s peace.” The children and friends were attracted to the new home in Kleist Street as they had been to the old, and it gave Lepsius special gratification to build a studio, as an annex to the family dwelling, for his son Reinhold, who had meanwhile developed into a very promising portrait painter. In the evening of his days Lepsius saw his two eldest sons lead home as brides the daughters of two of his friends. Grandchild after grandchild grew up beside the pair who were now waxing old. The wife had many things to attend to and to watch over, now here and now there; during the last lustrum, too, she had to care for her husband, whose vigorous body had been spared by serious illness until the slight apoplectic attack, already mentioned, impaired the use of his hand. In November, 1883, when we last visited our revered teacher and dear friend, we found him and his wife animated and cheerful in spite of the many terrible blows of destiny which they had encountered. His letters, which, after the apoplectic attack, had been written with a trembling hand, had long since exhibited almost the same firm strokes of the pen as in earlier days, and the writings which date from his latter years show that his mind had retained its old elasticity and depth. But soon after our farewell visit a disorder of the stomach began to undermine his vigorous health, and at the same time his mind was greatly disturbed by the severe illness of his beloved wife.