“Oh Jena, beloved Jena! There are blissful days in May and June, when only light clouds float in the sky, and all the leaves and flowers are so fresh and green, that one would think--they probably think so themselves--that they could never fade and wither; such days in human existence are the period of joyous German student life. You can believe it. Leonhard has told you enough of Jena. He understood how to unite work and pleasure; I, on the contrary, learned little on the wooden benches, for I rarely occupied them, and the dust of books certainly didn’t spoil my lungs. But I read Ariosto again and again, devoted myself to singing, and when a storm of feeling seethed within my breast, composed many songs for my own pleasure. We learned to wield the sword too in Jena, and I would gladly have crossed blades with the sturdy fencing-master Allertssohn, of whom you have just told me. Leonhard was older than I, and when he graduated with honor, I was still very weak in the pandects. But we were always one in heart and soul, so I went to Holland with him to attend his wedding. Ah, those were days! The theologians in Jena have actively disputed about the part of the earth, in which the little garden of Paradise should be sought. I considered them all fools, and thought: ‘There is only one Eden, and that lies in Holland, and the fairest roses the dew waked on the first sunny morning, bloom in Delft!’” At these words Georg shook back his waving locks and hesitated in great embarrassment, but as no one interrupted him and he saw Barbara’s eager face and the children’s glowing cheeks, quietly continued: “So I came home, and was to learn for the first time, that in life also beautiful sunny days often end with storms. I found my father ill, and a few days after my return he closed his eyes in death. I had never seen any human being die, and the first, the very first, was he, my father.” Georg paused, and deeply moved, passed his hand over his eyes. “Your father!” cried Barbara, in a tone of cordial sympathy, breaking the silence. “If we can judge the tree by the apple, he was surely a splendid man.” The Junker again raised his head, exclaiming with sparkling eyes: “Unite every good and noble quality, and embody them in the form of a tall, handsome man, then you will have the image of my father;--and I might tell you of my mother--” “Is she still alive?” asked Peter.