k no further. He sank back upon his couch, and
turned his face to the wall. His bitter sobs betrayed the struggle
within him.

"'Wolfframb was greatly startled and surprised at that which Heinrich
had disclosed to him. He sat with his eyes fixed on the ground, and
considered how his friend might be rescued from the dominion of this
mad and foolish passion, which must infallibly lead him to his
destruction.

"'He tried to speak words of comfort, and even to induce Heinrich to go
back to the Wartburg, and return--with hope in his heart--into the
sunshine which Mathilda shed around her. He even said that it was only
by virtue of his songs that he himself had found favour in her eyes,
and that Ofterdingen might well reckon upon equal good fortune. But
poor Heinrich gazed at him sadly, and said:

"'"You will never see me, I think, at the Wartburg any more. Would you
have me cast myself into the flames? I shall die a happier death afar
from her--the sweet death of longing."

"'Wolfframb departed, leaving Heinrich in Eisenach.

"'WHAT HAPPENED FURTHER TO HEINRICH OF OFTERDINGEN.

"'It sometimes comes to pass that the love-pain in our hearts, which at
first threatened to tear them asunder, grows habitual after a time, so
that we even come to cherish it with care; and the sharp cries of
anguish which the nameless torture at first made us utter, turn to
melodious plaints of gentle sorrow, which tone back like sweet echoes
into our souls, laying themselves, like balm, on our bleeding wounds.

"'And thus it was with Heinrich of Ofterdingen. His love was as warm
and longing as ever, but he looked no more into the black, hopeless
abyss. He lifted his eyes to the shimmering clouds of spring, and then
it seemed to him as if his beloved was looking down at him with her
beautiful eyes, inspiring him with the most glorious songs he had ever
sung. He took his lute down from the wall, strung it with fresh
strings, and went forth into the fair spring weather which had just
commenced. Then he felt powerfully impelled towards the region of the
Wartburg; and when he saw the towers of the castle shining in the
distance, and reflected that he would never see Mathilda more--that his
life would never be anything but a hopeless longing; that Wolfframb had
won the peerless lady by the power of song--all his lovely visions of
hope sank away into gloomy night, and the deathly pangs of despair and
jealousy pierced his heart. Then he