it, and--to that poor
little drawing of mine it was given to work a miracle--gradually, but
surely, it rent asunder the veil that obscured my dear Magister's mental
vision.

It was not till long afterwards that I learnt what had happened on that
critical day. The Magisterin told me all as we sat on a stone bench in
the garden at the back of their house. It was a hot day and the Magister
was in shirt-sleeves, pruning and tending his rose-trees, perhaps
removing the blight that had settled on some leaf to warp and waste it.
For once in the way the good Hausfrau vouchsafed to stop knitting, and
took my hand as she began:--

"Your drawing came in the morning, my Lixchen. It was as I had fancied
it, for Frida had well described it in her letters. It touched me
deeply, but I could not even give a stray thought to my own feelings.
'Try it,' you had said, and a wild rush of conflicting emotions quite
overcame me. How should I try it? I wished you were there, you or
Reclam, to tell me what would be best. Might it not give him a shock and
do him harm? I never felt as utterly helpless as all that morning. I
waited. At one o'clock he was lying on the sofa and resting; he seemed
to slumber more peacefully than usual. You know he had the desk with the
little Mendelssohn bust sent from Leipsic; it was the only thing he had
asked for. I stood the drawing up against it. He would be sure to see it
when he awoke.

"Then I sat down and prayed.

"He rose as usual and seated himself at the table. Hours passed. His
face was turned away from me, but I could see his hands as they lay
clasped before him. At last he got up and went to the bookcase. 'They
have changed everything,' I heard him say to himself. 'Where is my
Sophocles? Ah! to be sure, to be sure.'

"He sat down, but got up again directly, found paper and pen, and laid
out everything, just as he used to do at the old writing-table before
beginning work. He took up the pen, but he did not write; occasionally
he passed the quill over his forehead. I dared not move or speak. Oh,
how long the hours seemed!

"The daylight was fading. Martha came home with the cows, and old
Guenther made his rounds and bolted the front gate. After that all was
quiet. Yes--all was quiet,--quite quiet for a while.

"Suddenly he rose. He turned round and stood still. He looked at me,--a
look I knew. My heart beat fast and the clock ticked so loud.

"He looked, and, ach, mein Lixchen, he smiled at me,