that Eric had assumed, and he might have thought that it would be
better for Roland to be angry with an absent one, than with him in
whose hands he had to remain. In the meanwhile Roland glanced over
towards Eric, to see whether he wasn't on the point of beginning to
explain everything to him; but Eric was silent; he had also shut his
eyes.

In the bright day, through a landscape full of life, they both rode on
wrapt in their own reveries.

Overcome with fatigue, Eric sat as if sunk in a half sleep, in which
the rattle of the carriage sounded like a demoniacal rumble. At times,
when they were descending, and the locked wheels squeaked and grated,
he would look up, catch a glimpse of the Rhine in the distance, then
shut his eyes, and in his half dream pierce through the view of water
of mountain; and it seemed to him, as if everything was flooded over,
and in the midst of the waves stood two men on rocks, far from, and
still beckoning to, each other. On one stood Clodwig, speaking of a
Roman relic which he held in his hand, and on the other stood Weidmann,
talking of life insurance, and between whiles they were talking about
Eric and Roland. And just as he woke up he heard quite distinctly, as
if both had shouted out to each other, "Eric and Roland have reached
home safely!"

"Here there are," they had shouted; "here they are," shouted a voice
from without.

The horses stopped; Fraeulein Milch was standing at the garden hedge;
they were at the Major's. Eric greeted her, and taking it for granted
that they had not come to see her, Fraeulein Milch called out:--

"The Major drove over to the Villa more than an hour ago, and left word
with me, that he would not be back to dinner."

Eric got out; he asked Fraeulein Milch about his mother, and whether she
knew what was going on at the villa. He learned that there must be
something unusual, for everything was in happy confusion; to-day,
undoubtedly, the betrothal of Von Pranken and Manna would be
solemnized.

Eric allowed Roland to go home alone; he had to shape his course anew.

"The whole world is a masquerade," said Fraeulein Milch.

Eric, who honored the good old lady sincerely, did not, however, feel
in the mood for discussing generalities about mankind; and when
Fraeulein Milch tried to get out of him what he had learned at
Mattenheim, he approached the limit of impoliteness in answer to her
repeated inquiries. He did not suspect that Fraeulein Milch, who knew