ular bench surrounding a
big tree, which had the mighty word GOETHE cut deeply into its rugged
bark. When the others began to return to the Malkasten, Adelaide,
turning to Arkwright, said:

"Harry, will you go in and leave my sister and me here, that's a good
boy? You can call for us when the play is over."

"All right, my lady," assented he, amiably, and left us.

Presently Adelaide and I moved to another seat, near to a small table
under a thick shade of trees. The pleasant, cool evening air fanned our
faces; all was still and peaceful. Not a soul but ourselves had remained
out-of-doors. The still drama of the marching stars was less attractive
than the amateur murdering of "Die Piccolomin" within. The tree-tops
rustled softly over our heads. The lighted pond gleamed through the
low-hanging boughs at the other end of the garden. A peal of laughter
and a round of applause came wafted now and then from within. Ere long
Adelaide's hand stole into mine, which closed over it, and we sat
silent.

Then there came a voice. Some one--a complaisant _dilettantin_--was
singing Thekla's song. We heard the refrain--distance lent enchantment;
it sounded what it really was, deep as eternity:

"Ich habe gelebt und geliebet."

Adelaide moved uneasily; her hand started nervously, and a sigh broke
from her lips.

"Schiller wrote from his heart," said she, in a low voice.

"Indeed, yes, Adelaide."

"Did you say good-bye to von Francius, May, yesterday?"

"Yes--at least, we said _au revoir_. He wants me to sing for him next
winter."

"Was he very down?"

"Yes--very. He--"

A footstep close at hand. A figure passed in the uncertain light, dimly
discerned us, paused, and glanced at us.

"Max!" exclaimed Adelaide, in a low voice, full of surprise and emotion,
and she half started up.

"It is you! That is too wonderful!" said he, pausing.

"You are not yet gone?"

"I have been detained to-day. I leave early to-morrow. I thought I would
take at least one turn in the Malkasten garden, which I may perhaps
never see or enter again. I did not know you were here."

"We--May and I--thought it so pleasant that we would not go in again to
listen to the play."

Von Francius had come under the trees and was now leaning against a
massive trunk; his slight, tall figure almost lost against it; his arms
folded, and an imposing calm upon his pale face, which was just caught
by the gleam of a lamp outside the trees.

"Since this