he must be dreaming; but after having examined them again and
again, he could no longer doubt their perfect resemblance. He could
hardly trust his senses, when in one of the pictures he discovered the
cave, the hermit, and the old man by his side. By degrees he found
among the pictures the girl from the holy land, his parents, the count
and countess of Thuringia, his friend the court chaplain; and many
others of his acquaintance; yet their dress was changed, and seemed to
belong to another period. There were many forms he could not call by
name, but which nevertheless seemed known to him. He saw the exact
portraits of himself, in different situations. Towards the end he
appeared larger and nobler. The guitar rested in his arms, and the
countess handed him a wreath. He saw himself at the imperial court, on
shipboard, now in warm embrace with a beautifully formed and lovely
girl, now in battle with fierce-looking men, and again in friendly
conversation with Saracens and Moors. He was frequently accompanied by
a man of grave aspect. He felt a deep reverence for this august form,
and was glad to see himself arm in arm with him. The last pictures were
obscure and incomprehensible; yet some of the shapes of his dream
surprised him with the most intense rapture. The conclusion of the book
was wanting. Henry was very sorrowful, and wished for nothing more
earnestly than to be able to read and thoroughly understand the book.
He looked over the pictures repeatedly, and was almost abashed when the
company returned. A strange sort of shame overcame him. He did not
suffer himself to make known his discovery, and merely asked the Hermit
generally about its title and language. He learned that it was written
in the Provence tongue.

"It is long since I have read it," said the Hermit; "I do not now
remember its contents very distinctly. As far as I recollect, it is a
romance, relating the wonderful fortune of a poet's life, wherein the
art of poesy is represented and extolled in all its various relations.
The conclusion is wanting to the manuscript, which I brought with me
from Jerusalem, where I found it left with a friend, and took it, away,
an a memorial of him."

They now took leave of each other. Henry was moved to tears; the cave
had become so remarkable and the hermit so dear to him.

All embraced the hermit heartily, and he himself seemed to have become
attached to them. Henry thought that he noticed his kind and
penetrating