‘What have I done to deserve such kindness?’ she said tremulously, and profoundly moved. And indeed, what is there that should move a human soul more than such a discovery as this—the discovery of a friend? Schiller felt it when he sang in that great ode, which never has been and never can be translated without being ruined: ‘Wem der grosse Wurf gelungen, _Eines Freundes Freund zu sein_, Wer ein holdes Weib errungen, Mische seinen Jubel ein! Ja, wer auch nur _eine_ Seele _Sein_ nennt, auf dem Erdenrund. Und wer’s nie gekonnt, der stehle Weinend sich aus diesem Bund.’ ‘It is not kindness so much as selfishness,’ said he, gently. ‘Do we not all try to grasp that which seems very desirable to us?’ ‘It is a kind of selfishness I like,’ said Sara, recovering, and flashing a bright glance upon him through the mist which still veiled her eyes. ‘I should like to take you to one or two places here—Lotte Buff’s house, and Goethe’s Well, and some others, if you would care to go,’ he said, as if to put aside her still unspoken thanks. ‘I should, immensely. Shall we have time before the others come back? Where are they gone, by-the-way?’ ‘They are gone to a celebrated restauration on the top of that hill, the Kalsmund, which you see opposite, with the ruined tower upon it. At this restauration they are famed for their _Bowle_—pineapple _Bowle_; and I heard young Lemde, and the count, and Arthur Eckberg arranging to take the ladies there and have a large bowl of the said _Bowle_, in the garden of the restauration,’ said Falkenberg, with an imperturbable gravity which the light in his eyes belied. Sara laughed. ‘Should we not rather go and find the countess, and ask her to come with us? I am sure she will be dull.’ Accordingly they went to the house, and found the countess nothing loath to accept their invitation that she would accompany them. They had a very delightful tour of discovery; and Sara noticed that wherever they went, their companion appeared to be known, and that he was greeted with smiles and a pleasant word. When it was time they returned to the house, and found the rest of the party there, all in the highest good-humour, and all pitying them for having missed the treat they had had—the walk, the view, the ruins, and the _Bowle_. It was time to go to the railway station, and after a railway journey of one hour and a drive of another, they found that their _Landpartei_ was over, and they were again at Schloss Trockenau. [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. OF THE WELLFIELDS.