pposition and with
far more patience than usual, and he even, often as a loving word to
Edwin or Reginchen hovered on his lips, strictly observed the
prohibition against speaking. He would lie half the day in a reverie,
his eyes fixed upon the sorrowful plaster mask of the prisoner opposite
him, composing verses which he hastily wrote down as soon as Edwin's
back was turned. Even his old regret that he could not make up his mind
to confess his secret to his brother, who never had one from him, no
longer troubled him. When he had grown strong again and could at last
go out into the world and cast aside all his premature renunciation of
self, he would pour out his happiness, and compensate Edwin tenfold for
what he had lost.

All these thoughts had passed through his mind, while the leaves of the
acacia were falling off, and Edwin wandered about with a wound that
would not heal. The oppressive stillness that pervaded the tun, seemed
to have affected the other lodgers in the house as well; they appeared
to be in that uncomfortable, chilly autumn mood, in which man, like
nature, gradually becomes silent, until the crackling flames in the
stove beget encouragement and the lips of human beings once more
unclose. Christiane's piano emitted no sound. The head journeyman,
whose grumbling and scolding often echoed in the air as long as the
windows of the work shop remained open, was no longer heard. In the
rooms occupied by the old couple no one opened a window to look at the
thermometer, which hung on the shady side of the house. They well knew
it was no weather for a once famous tenor to expose his throat to the
air. Even Herr Feyertag was in a bad humor, although an unusual number
of jack-boots were ordered and business was very prosperous. His son,
who had imbibed from Franzelius all sorts of wild communistic ideas,
caused him a great deal of anxiety, and out ran with seven league boots
that worthy citizen and man of progress, his father. All such cares
seem doubly threatening in the autumn rain, and we are the more
inclined to believe the end of the world is coming, when the summer
sunlight has long lulled us into forgetfulness of all anxiety.

But suddenly this consoler seemed inclined to return for a time to
celebrate another festival. When Edwin opened his eyes one morning, the
brightest blue sky was smiling into the tun, and the atmosphere was as
still and soft as if ashamed of all the stormy misdemeanors of the last
f