It is, I believe, by a certain Kosegarten, who bore a very well-known and much promising name, but, alas! was a parson, somewhere near some large waters, whence he drew his poetry. Then comes Heine, and calls the sunset an 'old piece;' capital, and how the scales fall from our eyes. That is the man for me! Do not you rave about 'Lorelei,' too, my Fräulein? Should you not like to be a 'Lorelei?'" "Papa would first have to buy me a golden comb." "And what will you give for my secret?" "Still nothing, Herr Salomon." "Well, I am disinterested, my Fräulein! 'My blossoming life thou hast poisoned, And made it hateful to me.' But I revenge myself nobly! I know that my communication will cause you pleasure; and, besides, I know that I shall be grieved at your pleasure; I know that I cannot reckon upon the least reward as messenger--and yet--I will make the communication--Herr von Blanden has just arrived." The effect of the news was, indeed, greater than even Salomon had expected. Rath and Räthin started up from the bench, with countenances radiant with pleasure! Eva stood as if transfigured with blissful delight in the last gleam of the evening's glow, and folded her hands. Yes, she even vouchsafed a kindly smile and a word of thanks to the head scholar. The latter had greeted Herr von Blanden immediately upon his arrival, as he drove up to the inn, and informed him where he should find the Kalzow family. Therefore, it was decided to await him up here. Eva's heart beat violently; she did not listen to her parents' remarks, which suddenly spent themselves in Blanden's praise, his punctuality and reliability, still less to Salomon's recitals, which scattered abundant daring allusions and poetical quotations, in order to console himself for the fresh triumphs which his rival celebrated. "Did I not say that I should give you pleasure? 'To all, its arms doth Mirth unfold, And every heart forgets its cares-- And Hope is busy in the old.' But I bear a striking resemblance to Cassandra, and wander like her-- 'Unjoyous in the joyful throng.' It is so charming to be so watched for, greeted with such delight! This Blanden! But one must console oneself-- 'With careless hands they mete our doom, Our woe or welfare, Hazard gives Patroclus slumbers in the tomb.' And still it is melancholy-- 'Gleams my love in beauty's splendour, Like the child of ocean's foam, As his bride my mistress tender Is a stranger taking home.'" Eva would have been best pleased to hasten down the footpath to meet her beloved one, if she had been free to follow her heart's impulses.