th of my soul, I sprang up and
hastened into the open air. In the street I was met by the major, who
held me fast while he said: 'I congratulate you, lieutenant! To tell
you the truth, I scarcely gave you credit for so much courage and
resolution; you outstrip your master.' Glowing with rage and shame,
incapable of uttering a single word, I freed myself from his grasp and
pursued my way. The major laughed behind me, and I could detect the
scornful laughter of Satan. In the road near those fatal ruins, I
perceived a veiled female form, who, lying under a tree, seemed
absorbed in a soliloquy. I approached her cautiously, and overheard
the words: 'He is mine, he is mine--Oh! bliss of heaven! Even the last
trial he has withstood. If men are capable of such love, what is our
wretched existence without it?' You may guess that it was Aurora whom
I found. She threw back her veil, and love itself cannot be more
charming. The delicate paleness of her cheeks, the glance that was
sublimed into the sweetest melancholy, made me tremble with unspeakable
pleasure. I felt ashamed of my dark thoughts; yet at the very moment
when I wished to throw myself at her feet, she had vanished like a form
of mist. At the same time I heard a sound in the hedges, as of one
clearing one's throat, and out stepped my honest Eulenspiegel, Paul
Talkebarth. 'Whence did the devil bring you, fellow?' I began.

"'No, no,' said he, with that queer smile which you know, 'the devil
did not bring me here, but very likely he met me. You went out so
early, gracious lieutenant, and had forgotten your pipe and tobacco,
and I thought so early in the morning, in the damp air--for my aunt at
Genthin used to say--'

"'Hold your tongue, prattle, and give me that,' cried I, as I made him
hand me the lighted pipe. Scarcely, however, had we proceeded a few
paces, than Paul began again very softly, 'My aunt at Genthin used to
say, the Root-mannikin (Wurzelmaennlein) was not to be trusted; indeed,
such a chap was no better than an incubus or a chezim, and ended by
breaking one's heart. Old coffee Lizzy here in the suburbs--ah,
gracious sir, you should only see what fine flowers, and men, and
animals she can pour out. Man should help himself as he can, my aunt
at Genthin used to say. I was yesterday with Lizzy and took her a
little fine mocha. One of us has a heart as well as the rest--Becker's
Dolly is a pretty thing, but then there is something so odd abo