Two men from the village have, under old Baumann's superintendence, removed the snow in the park of Berkow at a place close to the edge of the beech forest, and where in summer a beautiful view may be had over the meadow, which slopes gradually down to the garden and the castle. They have dug a grave there in the black earth, and in the deep grave the gypsy woman sleeps now the deep, eternal sleep, weary from her restless wandering through this checkered, restless life, which has brought her so little happiness. When the weather cleared up, a few days later, and the store-houses filled with snow seemed to have been emptied for a time, and when it had been possible to clear the walks through the garden and the park down to the forest itself, Melitta might often be seen, with Julius and Czika by her side, walking down to the grave of the gypsy, which is now marked by a large lock of granite, bearing simply the name of _Xenobia_ on its one smoothly-polished side. Melitta is almost always holding the brown child by the hand, and speaks more frequently to her than to her son, who in his turn waits on the child with almost chivalrous tenderness. "When the roads are a little better I will drive you in my sleigh, Czika. Oh, I have a beautiful sleigh; I'll show it to you when we get back. And we will go out quite alone. The pony knows me better than any one else; I have only to clack my tongue, and off he goes like lightning; and when I say: Brr, Pony! he stands as quiet as a lamb. Don't you think, mamma, I can go out quite alone with Czika?" "If Czika is willing to go with you, why not?" Czika's dark face had brightened up a little while Julius was speaking, but now a cloud was passing over it once more. "Czika would like to have Hamet back again," she said, looking with her gazelle eyes into the far distance. "Who is Hamet, Czika?" inquired Julius. "Hamet? Hamet is Czika's donkey!" "Pshaw; a donkey!" cries the boy, curving his upper lip contemptuously; but a glance from his mother's eye makes a sudden blush of shame to rise on his cheek. "Where is your donkey, Czika?" he asks, with kindly sympathy. "Hamet is dead, Mother and I buried him in the forest." "Why, that's a pity. Well, never mind, Czika; I will buy you another one. You know, mamma, Mr. Griebenow, the gamekeeper at Fashwitz, has a big donkey, with such immense ears. Oh, Czika! the pony always shies when we meet him. But that does not matter. He must get accustomed to it, or else"--and Julius threatened him with his switch--"I'll soon teach him better. Wont you, mamma, wont you let me go over with Baumann and buy the donkey? Griebenow has offered him to me several times. Wont you, dear mamma?" "Certainly," said Melitta; "and his name shall be Hamet."