Kate did not leave him; she stood close to his bed. The golden, invincible, eternal light was just rising gloriously out of the waves when he stammered something once more. She bent over him as closely as she had once done over the sleeping boy, when she had longed to give him breath of her breath, to mould him anew for herself, to give him life of her life. She had not that wish any longer. She let him go now. And if she bent over him so closely now, hung on his lips so affectionately, it was only to hear his last wish. "Mo-ther?" There was such a question in his voice. He said nothing further. He only opened his eyes once more, looked round searchingly, sighed and then expired. * * * * * * * * * * * * * The sun laughed in at the windows. And the woman, who, with dry eyes, was now standing at one of them looking out at the splendour, at the refreshing, glorious morning that was more sparkling than ever before, felt vanquished by the power of nature. It was too great, too sublime, too irresistible--she must bend the knee admiringly before nature, however veiled her eyes were. Kate stood a long time in deep thought. Outside was life, here in the room was death. But death is not the greatest evil. She turned round with a trembling sigh and stepped back to the bed: "Thank God!" Then she sank on her knees before the dead boy, folded his cold hands and kissed him. She did not hear that someone tapped softly at the door. "Madame." The chambermaid stuck her head in. And a man's head was visible above the chambermaid's. "Madame." Kate did not hear. "Here is somebody--the gentleman--the gentleman has arrived." "My husband?" Paul Schlieben had pushed the girl aside and had entered, pale, hurriedly, in great agitation. His wife, his poor wife. What a lot she had had to go through alone. The lad dead! They had met him with the news as he arrived unsuspectingly to surprise them at their breakfast. "Paul!" It was a cry of the most joyful surprise, the utmost relief. She fled from the cold dead into his warm arms. "Paul, Paul--Wolfgang is dead!" Now she found tears. Streaming tears that would not cease and that were still so beneficial. All the bitterness she had felt whilst her son was still alive disappeared with them. "Poor boy--our poor dear boy." These tears washed him clean, so clean that he again became the little innocent boy that had lain in the blooming heather and laughed at the bright sun with transparent eyes. Oh, if she had only left him there. She would always reproach herself for not having done so. "Paul, Paul," she sobbed aloud. "Thank God, you are here. Had you any idea of it? Yes, you had. You know how miserable, how unhappy I feel." The elderly woman clasped her arms round the elderly man with almost youthful fervour: "If I had not you--oh, the child, the poor child."