t cities. "Now I have got what I want,"
he thought, and he settled himself comfortably in a corner of the
coach, as it drove onward into the wide world.

For two years Peter drove about everywhere, gazing to left and right
from his coach at the houses as he passed them, and at the signboards
of the inns at which he stopped, afterwards wandering about the towns,
where everything that was worthy of note was shown to him. But he
found pleasure in nought;--no picture, no building, no music, no
dance,--nothing could move his heart of stone; his eyes and ears could
no longer convey to him any sense of the beautiful. Nothing remained
for him but to take what joy he could in eating, drinking, and
sleeping; and thus he lived; travelling aimlessly about the world,
eating, drinking for his sole entertainment, and sleeping his only
escape from ennui. Now and then he would recollect how he had been
happier when he was poor and had to work for his living. Then every
beautiful vista over hill and vale had enchanted him, music and song
had always delighted him, and he had found lasting enjoyment in the
simple fare brought him by his mother as he sat by the charcoal pile.
And as he pondered on the fact, he thought it very strange that now he
could laugh at nothing, whereas, formerly, he had been wont to roar
over the smallest joke. Now, when others laughed, he, for politeness'
sake, distended his mouth, but there was no laughter in his heart. He
perceived then that this outward tranquility of his brought no
contentment. In the end it was not homesickness or melancholy which
drove him homeward, but a depressing sense of solitude and joylessness.

As he drove over from Strasburg and came within view of the dark forest
which was his home; when he saw for the first time since his departure
the powerful frames, the friendly, trusty faces of the Black Foresters;
as his ears caught the old familiar homely sounds, he put his hand to
his heart, for his pulse beat more quickly, and he was sure that in
another moment he must either rejoice or weep--but, how was it possible
for him to be so foolish; had he not a heart of stone?

His first visit was to Dutch Michael, who welcomed him with all his old
friendliness.

"Michael," he said to the latter, "I've been on my travels, and have
seen everything; but it is all trash and humbug, and has only succeeded
in boring me. Certainly, this stony thing of yours, which I bear in my
bosom, saves me from m