"'You flee! and yonder on rockiest strand, In nurse's familiar house by the sea, There falls in a moment the hampering band That bound you before, and there is he! There love in a thousand fiery brooks, Breaks forth in caresses and tenderest looks In Nurse's familiar house by the sea. "'You flee! and alas 'tis not to the port, Where spies are no more nor watching eyes! Oh flee to the safe, to the only resort, Where wait for you milder and happier skies! Oh flee to the banks of the beautiful Seine, Where love is at freedom, amain! amain! And free from society's hateful lies!'" The professor folded up the paper again, pocketed it, and said: "This poem troubled me sorely, for I know the way my wife makes her poems. She takes the subject from actual life. But I was much more startled yet, when I went on using a husband's right and examined the papers that were scattered all over her table. I found this little note [here the professor put his hand in his waistcoat pocket]. Do you know the hand-writing, Baron Cloten?" "That is my wife's hand," cried the young nobleman, casting a glance at the paper. "What does she say? Let me see! 'All remains as agreed upon, dear Primula. Everything is ready. We meet at Mrs. Lemberg's. Tomorrow at this hour a world divides us. Shall I be able to embrace you once more? I shall be at home at three. I should like to see you so much, but--can you venture to come without rousing suspicion? I leave the matter to you. Good-by, good-by, dearest! Free to-day! Oh, I can hardly conceive such happiness! Good-by--a thousand farewells!' By the Almighty!" cried the happy husband, crumpling up the paper and pushing it into his pocket. "Now I see it all! I never could understand why she was all the time going to see that old woman in Ferrytown! But I'll spoil the fun; I'll----" As the happy man did not exactly know what he was going to do, he broke down, and walked up and down, like a man suffering with a furious toothache. Professor Jager looked at him, his head inclined on his right shoulder, and folding his hands in sympathetic emotion; but he had the air of an ear-owl, gazing with big, staring eyes at a poor foolish bird that has been caught in a snare.