ss,
nor of the dangerous operation, till it was over. He hastened to Jena,
and found her in intense suffering. Her physician, one far famed for
his ability, could allow them to hope only for a very slow recovery, if
indeed she should survive. He was obliged to repeat the operation, and
feared that she would want strength to support her through the healing
process. With lofty courage and indescribable fortitude, Sophia bore up
against all her sufferings. Novalis was there to console her; his
parents offered up their sympathetic prayers; his two brothers had
returned and strove to be of service to the sorrowing one, as well as
to the suffering. In December Serbia desired to visit Grueningen again.
Novalis requested Erasmus to accompany her on her journey. He did so,
together with her mother and sisters, who had attended her at Jena.
After having accompanied her to her place of residence, he returned to
his residence in Franconia.

Novalis was now by turns in Weissenfels and Grueningen. With great
grief, however, he was obliged to confess, that he found Sophia worse
and worse at every visit. Towards the end of January, 1797, Erasmus
also returned to Weissenfels very sick, and the expected deaths of two
beings, so much beloved, filled the house with gloom.

The 17th of March was Sophia's fifteenth birthday, and on the 19th,
about noon, she fell asleep in the arms of her sisters, and faithful
instructress Mademoiselle Danscour, who loved her tenderly. No one
dared bring the news to Novalis, until his brother Charles at last
undertook the mournful office. For three days and nights, the mourner
shut himself up from his friends, weeping away the hours, and then
hastened to Arnstadt, that he might be with his truest friends, and
nearer to the beloved place, which contained the remains of her who was
dearest to him. On the 14th of April, he also lost his brother Erasmus.
Novalis writing to his brother Charles, who had been obliged to travel
to Lower Saxony, says, speaking of the death of Erasmus, "Be consoled;
Erasmus has conquered; the flowers of the lovely wreath are dropping
off, one by one, to be united more beautifully in Heaven."

At this time Novalis, living as he did only for suffering, naturally
regarded the visible and the invisible world as one, and regarded life
and death as distinguished only by our longing for the latter. At the
same time life was transfigured before him, and his whole being flowed
together as in