“‘And the fetters fell from me, I awoke, and my first glance met thy faithful, weeping eye,’ cried the fair Emma. ‘I thanked God, on whose name I again thought, for my deliverance; and then I thanked Him that it was thou, and not that dark man, that had delivered me.’ “The young knight became thoughtful. ‘I fear,’ said he, ‘that all the mysterious wonders of this wood stand in connexion with Peter. I fear that on this day, when I have gained my love, I have lost my friend. What can have become of him?’ “The youthful pair started from each other, for they saw in the water at their feet, between their own blooming heads, an icy gray, aged one reflected. ‘Here he is,’ said a trembling, stooping old man, with hair as white as snow, who stood behind them. He wore the new black cloak of the student. “‘Yes,’ said the old man, with weak, faint voice, ‘I am thy friend, Peter of Stetten. I have stood long behind you, and I have heard your converse, and our fates are clear enough. It is still the day of Peter and Paul, on which we met and parted on the highway, which is scarcely a thousand paces from here, and since we parted, perhaps an hour may have elapsed, for the shadow which yonder hedge casts upon the turf, is but a little increased. Before that hour we were four-and-twenty years of age; but during that hour you have become sixty minutes older, and I sixty years. I am now four-and-eighty. Thus do we see each other again; indeed I did not think it.’ “Conrad and Emma had arisen. She clung timidly to her lover, and said softly: ‘It is a poor madman.’ But the old man said: ‘No, fair Emma, I am not mad. I have loved thee; my spell influenced thee, and thou mightest have been mine, had I been permitted to kiss thy rosy lips in God’s name--the only benediction by which fair love may be awakened. Instead of this, I was forced to go in quest of the yew-bough, and to keep the wind and weather out of the owl’s cave. All has happened of necessity. He has gained the bride, I have gained--death.’ “Conrad had been looking with fixed eyes at the countenance of the old man, to see if he could detect among the wrinkles one former lineament of the friend of his youth. At last he stammered forth: ‘I entreat thee, man, tell us how this transformation was brought about, lest our brains be turned, and we do something frightful.’ “‘Whoever tempts God and nature shall behold sights, the presence of which shall quickly wither him,’ replied the old man. ‘Therefore, man, even if he see the plants grow, and understand the discourse of birds, remains as simple as before, allows a foolish magpie to pass off upon him fables of a princess and a spider-king, and takes ladies’ veils for cobwebs. Nature is a curtain, no magical word can remove it--it will only make thyself an old fable.’