"And, besides, you feared the Freiherr's anger," he went on. "I can easily conceive it, and of course I must save you the dreaded explanation. In a day or two I will drive over to the Ebersburg and confess my sins myself." "Oh, for heaven's sake don't do that!" exclaimed Gerlinda, in dismay. "You do not know my papa; his principles are so strict in this respect, and he never would permit----" "The bourgeois Hans Wehlau to come to his house, or to visit his daughter. That may be. But the only question is whether you, Fräulein von Eberstein, will permit it?" "I?" asked the young girl, in extreme confusion. "I can neither forbid nor permit." "And yet I ask for an answer from you, and you only! Why have I come hither, do you think? Not for the sake of my relations in Tannberg. I could not stay in town, although I have lately had so much to gratify me there. The first recognition of an artist by the public has something intoxicating in it, and this I have had in fuller measure than I had ventured to hope for. It came from all quarters, and yet I was besieged by one memory, one longing that would not be banished, that left me no repose, and that at last drew me away to where alone it could be stilled." Gerlinda sat with downcast eyes and glowing cheeks. Young and inexperienced as she was, she yet understood this language. She knew whither his longing had drawn him. He was standing beside her, and as he bent over her there was again in his voice the gentle, fervent tone that was but rarely heard from the gay young artist. "May I come to the Ebersburg? I should so like to have another sunny morning hour on the old castle terrace, high above the green sea of forest. There, beside you, the poetry of the past, the splendour of the world of fairy-lore, were first revealed to me. If I might but gaze again into Dornröschen's dark dreamy eyes! I have not forgotten those eyes; they sank deep into my heart. May I come, Gerlinda?" The crimson on the girl's cheek deepened, but the downcast eyes were not raised, and her reply was almost inaudible: "I always hoped you would come again,--all through the long winter,--but always in vain." "But I am here now!" exclaimed Hans, "and I will not leave you until my happiness is assured. Ah, sweet little Dornröschen, did I not tell you that the day would come when the knight would appear and break through the thick hedge, and rouse the Sleeping Beauty with a kiss? And all the while, deep in my heart, I cherished the hope that the knight's name might be--Hans Wehlau." He put his arm around her waist as he uttered the last words. Gerlinda shrank, but did not withdraw from his clasp; she slowly raised the 'dark dreamy eyes' to his, and said, softly, very softly, but with the fervour of intense happiness, "So did I."