e told you all
this. You shall not pass a single night, even, with a bad opinion of me
in your mind. Sit down again; I beg it as a favour. See, here is still
another bottle of my oldest wine; Spangenberg was too much offended to
taste it. Sit, and stay but a few minutes longer."

Paumgartner was surprised at Master Martin's friendly insistance, which
was not in his usual nature. It seemed as if something lay heavy on his
mind which he felt eager to be clear of. When Paumgartner had resumed
his seat, and taken some of the wine, Master Martin commenced as
follows:

"You are aware, dear sir, that my beloved wife died soon after Rosa's
birth from the effects of a difficult confinement. My own grandmother
was still alive at a great age (if one can call it being 'alive,' to be
stone deaf, quite blind, scarcely able to speak, paralysed in every
limb, and completely bedridden). My Rosa had been baptized, and the
nurse was sitting with her in the room where the old grandmother lay. I
was so sorrowful, and (when I looked at the child) so wonderfully
happy, and yet so sad--I was so deeply touched that I found it
impossible to do any work, and I was standing, sunk in my thoughts,
beside my grandmother's bed, envying her, and thinking how well for her
it was that she had done with earthly pain. And as I was so looking
into her pale face, all at once she began to smile in the strangest
way; her wrinkled features seemed to smooth out, her pale cheeks took
on a colour; she sat up in her bed and stretched her powerless arms as
she had not been able to do for a long time, and, as if suddenly
inspired by some miraculous power, she called out distinctly, in a
soft, sweet voice, 'Rosa! darling Rosa!' The nurse gave her the child.
She took it and dandled it in her arms. But now, my dear sir, picture
my amazement, nay, my terror, when the old lady began, in a strong,
clear voice, a song, in the lofty, joyful 'manner' of Herr Hans
Berchler,[5] host at the sign of the Spirit, in Strasbourg, to the
following effect:--

"'Little maiden, with cheeks of roses,
Rosa, hear The decree.
Never yield thee to dread or doubting,
Set God fast in thy heart.
Let not vain longings deride thee.
He prepares thee a brightsome dwelling,
Streams, of sweet savour, flowing therein,
Beauteous angels, singing full sweetly.
Pious of soul,
List to the truest of wooing,
Loveliest promise of love.