But could home really still be home to him after all that had happened, all he had experienced and suffered here? Why not, if he only saw it with the eyes with which he endeavored to see the rest of the world; if he wished to be nothing more than what, in his good hours, he believed himself to be--a true artist, living only in his ideal creations, behind whom everything that fetters other men lies like an unsubstantial vision, and for whom, when in evil plight, there is a God to whom he can tell what he suffers. Yes, his art, chaste and severe, had been his guiding-star in the labyrinth of his early days, his talisman in the misery and poverty of the years he had spent in Munich, his refuge at all times; and she should and would continue to be so--would cling loyally to him if he was faithful to her, and ever throned her reverently on high as his protectress, his adored goddess. The boys' song died away. Gotthold passed his hand over his eyes, and turned back into the room just as there was a loud knock at the door. "What, is it you, Jochen?" "Yes, Herr Gotthold, it is I," replied Jochen Prebrow, after putting the coffee-tray he had brought in as carefully on the table as if it had been a soap-bubble, which would break at the slightest touch. "Clas Classen, from Neuenkirchen, or, as they call him here, Louis, had just gone down cellar when you rang, and I thought the coffee would taste none the worse for my bringing it." "Certainly not; I am very much obliged to you." "And besides, I wanted to ask when I should harness the horses." "I shall remain here a few days," replied Gotthold. At these words a smile began to overspread Jochen's broad face, but it instantly vanished again as Gotthold continued: "So you must drive on alone, old friend." "I should like to stay here a few days too," said Jochen. "And you cannot unless I keep the carriage? Then I will, and, what is of more value to me, you; and we will go on at once to Dollan, which I suppose is what you want. Or do you think the horses ought not to be left so long?" Jochen had no anxiety on that score. His good friend, Clas Classen, whom the people here had the strange custom of calling Louis, would willingly undertake the care of them and see that they had all they needed, but why did Herr Gotthold walk when they had horses and carriage on the spot? "But I should prefer to walk," said Gotthold. "Well, what's one man's meat is another man's poison," said Jochen rubbing his thick hair. "But there's still another difficulty in the way: you will find the nest empty." "What do you mean?" "They passed through here an hour ago, both the gentleman and lady," replied Jochen. "I was sitting in the coffee-room and they stopped at the door."