ngue, and by the movement of a sweet and tender mouth; the soft lips
might unlock and the simple harmony unfold in unending melodies.
The journey was now ended. It was towards evening when our travellers,
in safety and good spirits, arrived at the far-famed city of Augsburg,
and, full of expectation, rode through the high streets to the spacious
mansion of the old Swaning.
The surrounding country had already appeared delightful to the eyes of
Henry. The animated bustle of the city, and the great houses of stone
affected him strangely, yet agreeably. He experienced a real pleasure
in thinking of his future abode. His mother was very much pleased to
see herself in her native city after her wearisome journey, soon to
embrace again her father and old acquaintances, to introduce Henry to
them, and for once be able quietly to forget all household cares in the
cordial remembrances of her youth. The merchants hoped by the pleasures
there to indemnify themselves for the discomforts of their journey, and
to do a profitable business.
Lights gleamed from the house of the old Swaning, and joyous music
swelled towards them. "What will you bet," said the merchants, "that
your grandfather is not giving a merry party? We came as if invited.
How much his uninvited guests will astonish him. He is not dreaming
that now the true festivity is about to commence." Henry felt
embarrassed, and his mother was only anxious about their dress. They
alighted; the merchants remained with the horses, and Henry and his
mother entered the splendid mansion. Not a soul belonging to the house
was to be seen below. They were obliged to ascend the lofty stairs.
Some servants ran past them; they asked them to inform the old Swaning
of the arrival of some strangers who wished to speak with him. The
servants made some objection at first, for the travellers did not
appear in very good condition as to dress, yet finally they announced
them to the master of the house. The old Swaning came out. He did not
know them at first, and asked them their names and business. Henry's
mother wept and fell upon his neck.
"Do you not know your own daughter?" she exclaimed weeping. "I bring
you my son."
The aged father was extremely moved. He pressed her long to his bosom.
Henry sank upon his knee and tenderly kissed his hand. He raised him to
himself and held both mother and son in his embrace.
"Come right in," said Swaning, "I have only my friends and
acquaintances
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