When the Sovereign passed through the hall to the carriage he stopped and looked round. The master of the hounds gave the Proprietor a hint. Ilse was called and again made her obeisance, and the Sovereign in a few words thanked her for her hospitable reception. Before the carriage had disappeared from the farm-buildings the Sovereign again looked back to the house, and this civility was fully appreciated. "He turned quite round," said one of the laborer's wives, who had placed herself with the working people near the evergreen arch by the barns. All were contented and rejoiced in the graciousness and civility which had been given and received in good part. Ilse praised the Sovereign's attendants, who had made everything so easy; and the judicious questions of the ruler had pleased the Professor much. When the Proprietor returned in the evening, he related how well the chase had gone off, and that the Sovereign had spoken most kindly to him and had wished him joy of his son-in-law before everybody. The last day that the maiden was to pass in her father's house came. She went with her sister Clara down to the village, stood by the window of the poor Lazarus, stopped at every house and committed the poor and sick to the care of her sister. Then she sat a long time with the Pastor in his study. The old man held his dear child by the hand and would not let her go. On departing, he gave her the old Bible which his wife had used. "I meant to take it with me to my last abode," he said, "but it will be better preserved in your hands." When Ilse returned she seated herself in her room and the maids and workwomen of the house entered one after another. She took leave of each of them separately and spoke to them once more of what each had most at heart, gave comfort and good advice, and a small keepsake from her little store. In the evening she sat between her father and lover. The tutor had taught the children some verses; Clara brought the bridal wreath, and the little brother appeared as a guardian angel; but when he began his speech he burst out sobbing, concealed his head in Ilse's lap and would not be comforted. When at bed-time they had all left. Ilse for the last time sat in her chair in the sitting room. When her father prepared to retire, she handed him a candle. The father put it down and paced up and down without speaking. At last he began: "Your room, Ilse, shall remain unchanged. Should you return to us you shall find it as you left it. No one can replace you here. No one can be what you have been to your brothers, sisters, and to your father. I give you up with sorrow to enter upon a life which is unknown to us both. Good night, my beloved child. Heaven's blessing upon you. God guard your noble heart. Be brave. Ilse, for life is full of trials." He drew her to him and she wept quietly on his breast.