"I know what I know, dear Reginchen," replied the printer sadly. "What will be done _when_ he is again well and strong, and whether that will ever come to pass--who can tell? But I should be a scoundrel, if I caused him who has already suffered so much, even the shadow of a grief that I could spare him. Oh! Reginchen, if you knew him thoroughly, the noblest, loftiest soul that ever dwelt in a fragile body--you could not help loving him as I love him, more than myself, and you would rather bear and suffer everything, than cloud even an hour of his life." Both fixed their eyes on the floor. An anxious, oppressive pause followed. "So you really think--" Reginchen began; but she did not finish the sentence. "I'm as sure of his love as of my own," Franzelius faltered. "If I could have cherished any doubt, everything would have been proved and made plain half an hour ago. I have no right to persuade you to anything against which your heart rebels. But I'm sure that now you know his secret, it will be impossible for you not to become attached to him; he is far more lovable than I, whom only your heavenly goodness--perhaps through mistake or accident--" "No," she eagerly exclaimed, almost ready to cry, "now I must speak frankly; there was no special goodness about it except your own, and as to Herr Walter's being more lovable--dear me it's possible, but I can't help it--I'd rather have _you_; didn't you notice it when you tried on the boots, spoke of the stockings--wait, I'll get them right away, they've been finished a long time, I hurried so because I thought you'd have to go away, though not forever! Dear me, to think I must help you now, besides making the stockings." "Girl!" he exclaimed, "you would really--It's too much--oh! now I see for the first time how happy we might have been." "Who knows what may happen yet," she said, consoling herself as she wiped her eyes with her apron; "but wait here five minutes; I've got them in my work table. I'll be back again directly. They will certainly fit you and keep you warm." As she passed close by him and went out of the door, he was strongly tempted to hurry after her, clasp the beloved form in his arms, and imprint his thanks for her gift on her fresh lips. But he was so sincere in his purpose of resigning her to his friend, that he did not trust himself even to touch her, precisely because he felt that she would not have resisted. When she had gone, he sank down on a bench like a heavily burdened man and pressed his hands to his eyes. Amid all his sorrow, he revelled in the bliss of knowing that she loved him, and each word which had assured him of the fact still echoed in his soul. He was suddenly roused from this happy reverie by a loud cry in the courtyard, close to the door that opened into the back building. He recognized Reginchen's voice, and in mortal terror started up, tore open the door, and was about to rush across the entry into the courtyard. But a terrible sight checked him.