Those were his words: I have written them down with my own hand. Could I, at that time, have believed that I would ever be able to do this! But to this day, I cannot tell what rent my heart and crazed my brain. All that I can recollect is that I felt as if a bullet were piercing my brain, and found it strange that I knew even that much of what was going on. I remember Richard's throwing his arms about my neck, and crying, "Father! Dear father!" and all was over. When I recovered consciousness my first thought was, "Why live again? Death has been conquered." The next thought that flashed upon me was, "But my wife!--She foresaw it all, yet how will she bear this burden?" Annette came up to me and seemed to guess at my thoughts, for with a voice choked with tears she said: "Do not tell your wife of this to-night. In the morning, when day approaches, if you wish me to tell her of this, I am at your service. But how cold your hands are!" She knelt down and kissed my hands. The director handed the newspaper to Richard. I noticed how his hand trembled while he held it. I asked to have it handed to me, and read the proclamation of my son's dishonor and the order for his arrest. When I at last started to return home, I was obliged, for the first time in my life, to lean on my son Richard for support. Annette had asked permission to accompany me. We declined her proffered aid. The kind-hearted, impulsive creature was all gentleness and desire to assist me. I arrived in front of the house. There stands the large and well-ordered house,--but no joy will ever enter there again. The wind from the valley was swaying the red beech to and fro; the fountain swelled and roared while its waters glistened in the broad moonlight. All this to be seen again and again, and yet--"daily suicide"-- "What are you saying, father? What do you mean by those words?" asked Richard. It was not until then that I became aware of my having uttered them. For Ernst, for my poor child, no day would ever more begin with the love of life. "Daily suicide"--in this phrase his deed and its consequences seemed to concentrate themselves. I was obliged to sit clown on the steps, and not until then was I able to shed tears. How often Ernst had run up and down there! I could yet remember the first time that he climbed those steps on all fours, turning his pretty head with its light curls towards me when I called out to him, and waiting quietly until I would come and take him up in my arms! But now he had conjured up a restless demon whom no cry or supplication could exorcise. At this very moment I can distinctly remember how I wished that all the sorrow and pain might descend on my own head and be gathered up into my own heart, in order that I might bear them for others.