eakfasted in the open air, and entered the carriages
quietly from the street, without returning to the house.

Professor Einsiedel was among those who came to take leave, and,
drawing Manna a little apart, he said to her in a low voice,--

"I told you in my last lecture--I beg your pardon, my dear child; I
forgot I was speaking only to you. I have already told you of my desire
to enter a convent, but a free convent, now that I have grown weary of
life in the world, am solitary, and am inclined to finish in retirement
whatever I may still be able to accomplish. But whether you, my dear
child, before you have done with life, should withdraw yourself from
it, is a question you ought very seriously to consider; there can be no
more terrible fate than to feel your soul filled with all manner of
unrest when you have taken the vow to consecrate yourself to the
noblest thoughts. Consider it seriously, dear child; I speak only from
my interest in your welfare, my heartfelt interest," said the little
man, in a voice, broken with emotion.

"I know it, and I believe you," answered Manna. The tears stood in her
eyes, and two big drops fell upon the flowers she held in her hand.

Roland came up to them and took off his hat to the Professor, who,
laying his hand on the boy's head, said,--

"Keep on well, and remember that you too have a friend in me."

Roland was too much moved to speak; he could only kiss the old man's
delicate childlike hand. The people at a distance looked on in
amazement. The postilion blew his horn till he started the echoes in
mountain and valley. With no decisive point gained, they left the place
where they had experienced so much that was painful and pleasant.

The carriage rolled on for a long time without a word being spoken; at
last Roland said softly to Eric:--

"Now I have a grandfather too."

Eric remained silent. Roland's attention was attracted by the flowers
that strewed the road; not only withered flowers, but fresh bunches
also that had been thrown after the departing guests, and now lay in
the street to be crushed under the carriage wheels. He was reminded of
Manna's complaint at the waste of flowers here, and thought how just it
was.

Manna sat buried in thought. She had come to the Baths only for the
sake of being with her family, yet in no one of the party had such a
vital change been effected. But she did not own it yet even to herself.
She silently folded her hands and prayed.

Th