Dog-days' Vacation.--Visits.--An Indigent of Quality.
Egidius Zebedaeus Fixlein had just for eight days been Quintus,[36] and
fairly commenced teaching duties, when Fortune tabled out for him four
refreshing courses and collations, besprinkled with flowers and sugar.
These were the four canicular weeks. I could find in my heart, at this
hour, to pat the cranium of that good man who invented the Dog-days'
Vacation. I never go to walk in that season, without thinking how a
thousand down-pressed pedagogic persons are now erecting themselves in
the open air; and the stiff knapsack is lying unbuckled at their feet,
and they can seek whatsoever their soul desires; butterflies,--or roots
of numbers,--or roots of words,--or herbs,--or their native villages.
The last did our Fixlein. He moved not, however, till Sunday,--for you
like to know how holidays taste in the city; and then, in company with
his Shock and a Quintaner, or Fifth-Form boy, who carried his Green
nightgown, he issued through the gate in the morning. The dew was still
lying; and as he reached the back of the gardens, the children of the
Orphan Hospital were uplifting with clear voices their morning hymn.
The city was Flachsenfingen, the village Hukelum, the dog Schil, and
the year of Grace 1791.
"Manikin," said he, to the Quintaner, for he liked to speak, as Love,
children, and the people of Vienna do, in diminutives, "Manikin, give
me the bundle to the village; run about, and seek thee a little
bird, as thou art thyself, and so have something to pet too in
vacation-time." For the manikin was at once his page, lackey,
room-comrade, train-bearer, and gentleman in waiting; and the Shock
also was his manikin.
He stept slowly along, through the crisped cole-beds, overlaid with
colored beads of dew; and looked at the bushes, out of which, when the
morning wind bent them asunder, there seemed to start a flight of
jewel-colibri, so brightly did they glitter. From time to time he
drew the bell-rope of his--whistle, that the manikin might, not skip
away too far; and he shortened his league and half of road, by
measuring it not in leagues, but in villages. It is more pleasant for
pedestrians--for geographers it is not--to count by wersts than by
miles. In walking, our Quintus furthermore got by heart the few fields
on which the grain was already reaped.
But now roam slower, Fixlein, through His Lordship's garden of Hukelum;
not, indeed, lest thy coat sweep away any tulip-stamina, but that thy
good mother may have time to lay her Cupid's-band of black taffeta
about her smooth brow. I am grieved to think my fair readers take it
ill of her, that she means first to iron this same band; they cannot
know that she has no maid; and that to-day the whole Preceptorial
dinner--the money purveyances the guest has made over to her three days
before--is to be arranged and prepared by herself, without the aid of
any Mistress of the Household whatever; for indeed she belongs to the
_Tiers Etat_, being neither more nor less than a gardener's widow.
You can figure how this true, warm-hearted mother may have lain in wait
all morning for her Schoolman, whom she loved as the apple of her eye;
since, on the whole populous Earth, she had not (her first son, as well
as her husband, was dead) any other for her soul, which indeed
overflowed with love; not any other but her Zebedaeus. Could she ever
tell you aught about him, I mean aught joyful, without ten times wiping
her eyes? Nay, did she not once divide her solitary Kirmes (or
Churchale) cake between two mendicant students, because she thought
Heaven would punish her for so feasting, while her boy in Leipzig had
nothing to feast on, and must pass the cake-garden like other gardens,
merely smelling at it?
"Dickens! Thou already, Zebedaeus!" said the mother, giving an
embarrassed smile, to keep from weeping, as the son, who had ducked
past the window, and crossed the grassy threshold without knocking,
suddenly entered. For joy she forgot to put the heater into the
smoothing-iron, as her illustrious scholar, amid the loud boiling of
the soup, tenderly kissed her brow, and even said Mamma; a name
which lighted on her breast like downy silk. All the windows were open;
and the garden, with its flower-essences, and bird-music, and
butterfly-collections, was almost half within the room. But I
suppose I have not yet mentioned that the little garden-house, rather a
chamber than a house, was situated on the western cape of the Castle
garden. The owner had graciously allowed the widow to retain this
dowager-mansion; as indeed the mansion would otherwise have stood
empty, for he now kept no gardener.
But Fixlein, in spite of his joy, could not stay long with her; being
bound for the Church, which, to his spiritual appetite, was at all
times a king's kitchen; a mother's. A sermon pleased him simply because
it was a sermon, and because he himself had once preached one. The
mother was contented he should go; these good women think they enjoy
their guests, if they can only give them aught to enjoy.
In the choir, this Free-haven and Ethnic Forecourt of stranger
church-goers, he smiled on all parishioners; and, as in his childhood,
standing under the wooden wing of an archangel, he looked down on the
coifed _parterre_. His young years now enclosed him like children in
their smiling circle; and a long garland wound itself in rings among
them, and by fits they plucked flowers from it, and threw them in his
face. Was it not old Senior Astman that stood there on the pulpit
Parnassus, the man by whom he had been so often flogged, while
acquiring Greek with him from a grammar written in Latin, which he
could not explain, yet was forced to walk by the light of? Stood there
not behind the pulpit-stairs the sacristy-cabin, and in this was there
not a church-library of consequence--no school-boy could have buckled
it wholly in his book-strap--lying under the minever cover of pastil
dust? And did it not consist of the Polyglot in folio, which he,
spurred on by Pfeiffer's _Critica Sacra_, had turned up leaf by leaf,
in his early years, excerpting therefrom the _literae inversae majusculae
minusculae_, and so forth, with an immensity of toil? And could he not
at present, the sooner the more readily, have wished to cast this
alphabetic soft-fodder into the Hebrew letter-trough, whereto your
Oriental Rhizophagi (Rooteaters) are tied, especially as here they get
so little vowel hard-fodder to keep them in heart?--Stood there not
close by him the organ-stool, the throne to which, every Apostle-day,
the Schoolmaster had by three nods elevated him, thence to fetch down
the sacred hyssop, the sprinkler of the Church?
My readers themselves will gather spirits when they now hear that our
Quintus, during the outshaking of the poor-bag, was invited by the
Senior to come over in the afternoon; and to them it will be little
less gratifying than if he had invited themselves. But what will they
say, when they get home with him to mother and dinner-table, both
already clad in their white Sunday dress; and behold the large cake
which Fraeulein Thiennette (Stephanie) has rolled from her peel? In the
first place, however, they will wish to know who _she_ is.
She is,--for if (according to Lessing), in the very excellence of the
Iliad, we neglect the personalities of its author; the same thing will
apply to the fate of several authors, for instance, to my own; but an
authoress of cakes must not be forgotten in the excellence of her
baking,--Thiennette is a poor, indigent, insolvent young lady; has not
much, except years, of which she counts five-and-twenty; no near
relations living now; no acquirements (for in literature she does not
even know _Werter_) except economical; reads no books, not even mine;
inhabits, that is, watches like a wardeness, quite alone, the thirteen
void, disfurnished chambers of the Castle of Hukelum, which belongs to
the Dragoon Rittmeister Aufhammer, at present resident in his other
mansion of Schadeck; on occasion, she commands and feeds his soccagers
and handmaids; and can write herself By the grace of God--which, in the
thirteenth century, the country nobles did as well as princes,--for she
lives by the grace of man, at least of woman, the Lady Rittmeisterinn
Aufhammer's grace, who, at all times, blesses those vassals whom her
husband curses. But, in the breast of the orphaned Thiennette, lay a
sugared marchpane heart, which, for very love, you could have devoured;
her fate was hard, but her soul was soft; she was modest, courteous,
and timid, but too much so;--cheerfully and coldly she received the
most cutting humiliations in Schadeck, and felt no pain, and not till
some days after did she see it all clearly, and then these cuts began
sharply to bleed, and she wept in her loneliness over her lot.
It is hard for me to give a light tone, after this deep one, and to
add, that Fixlein had been almost brought up beside her, and that she,
his school-moiety over with the Senior, while the latter was training
him for the dignities of the Third Form, had learned the _Verba
Anomala_ along with him.
The Achilles'-shield of the cake, jagged and embossed with carved work
of brown scales, was whirling round in the Quintus like a swing-wheel
of hungry and thankful ideas. Of that philosophy which despises eating,
and of that high breeding which wastes it, he had not so much about him
as belongs to the ungratefulness of such cultivated persons; but for
his platter of meat, for his dinner of herbs, he could never give
thanks enough.
Innocent and contented, the quadruple dinner-party--for the Shock with
his cover under the stove cannot be omitted--now began their Feast of
Sweet Bread, their Feast of Honor for Thiennette, their Grove-feast in
the garden. It may truly be a subject of wonder how a man who has not,
like the King of France, four hundred and forty-eight persons (the
hundred and sixty-one _Garcons de la Maisonbouche_ I do not reckon) in
his kitchen, nor a _Fruiterie_ of thirty-one human bipeds, nor a
Pastry-cookery of three-and-twenty, nor a daily expenditure of 387
Livres 21 Sous,--how such a man, I say, can eat with any satisfaction.
Nevertheless, to me, a cooking mother is as dear as a whole royal
cooking household, given rather to feed upon me than to feed me.--The
most precious fragments which the Biographer and the World can
gather from this meal consist of here and there an edifying piece of
table-talk. The mother had much to tell. Thiennette is this night, she
mentions, for the first time, to put on her morning promenade-dress of
white muslin, as also a satin girdle and steel buckle; but, adds she,
it will not sit her; as the Rittmeisterinn (for this lady used to hang
her cast clothes on Thiennette, as Catholics do their cast crutches and
sores on their patron Saints) was much thicker. Good women grudge each
other nothing save only clothes, husbands, and flax. In the fancy of
the Quintus, by virtue of this apparel, a pair of angel pinions were
sprouting forth from the shoulder-blades of Thiennette; for him a
garment was a sort of hollow half-man, to whom only the nobler parts
and the first principles were wanting; he honored these wrappages and
hulls of our interior, not as an Elegant, or a Critic of Beauty, but
because it was not possible for him to despise aught which he saw
others honoring. Further, the good mother read to him, as it were, the
monumental inscription of his father, who had sunk into the arms of
Death in the thirty-second year of his age, from a cause which I
explain not here, but in a future Letter-box, having too much affection
for the reader. Our Quintus could not sate himself with hearing of his
father.
The fairest piece of news was, that Fraeulein Thiennette had sent word
to-day, "he might visit Her Ladyship to-morrow, as My Lord, his
godfather, was to be absent in town." This, however, I must explain.
Old Aufhammer was called _Egidius_, and was Fixlein's godfather; but
he--though the Rittmeisterinn duly covered the cradle of the child with
nightly offerings, with flesh-tithes and grain-tithes--had frugally
made him no christening present, except that of his name, which
proved to be the very balefullest. For, our _Egidius_ Fixlein, with his
Shock, which, by reason of the French convulsions, had, in company with
other emigrants, run off from Nantes, was but lately returned from
college--when he and his dog, as ill-luck would have it, went to walk
in the Hukelum wood. Now, as the Quintus was ever and anon crying out
to his attendant: "Coosh, Schil" (_Couche Gilles_), it must apparently
have been the Devil that had just then planted the Lord of Aufhammer
among the trees and bushes in such a way, that this whole travestying
and docking of his name--for Gilles means Egidius--must fall directly
into his ear. Fixlein could neither speak French, nor any offence to
mortal; he knew not head or tail of what _couche_ signified; a word,
which, in Paris, even the plebeian dogs are now in the habit of saying
to their _valets de chiens_. But there were three things which Von
Aufhammer never recalled,--his error, his anger, and his word. The
provokee, therefore, determined that the plebeian provoker and
honor-stealer should never more speak to him, or--get a doit from him.
I return. After dinner he gazed out of the little window into the
garden, and saw his path of life dividing into four branches, leading
towards just as many skyward Ascensions; towards the Ascension into the
Parsonage, and that into the Castle to Thiennette, for this day; and
towards the third into Schadeck for the morrow; and lastly, into every
house in Hukelum as the fourth. And now, when the mother had long
enough kept cheerfully gliding about on tiptoe, "not to disturb him in
studying his Latin Bible" (the _Vulgata_), that is, in reading the
_Litteraturzeitung_, he at last rose to his own feet; and the humble
joy of the mother ran long after the courageous son, who dared to go
forth and speak to a Senior, quite unappalled. Yet it was not without
reverence that he entered the dwelling of his old, rather gray than
bald-headed, teacher, who was not only Virtue itself, but also Hunger,
eating frequently, and with the appetite of Pharaoh's lean kine. A
schoolman that expects to become a professor will scarcely deign to
cast an eye on a pastor; but one who is himself looking up to a
parsonage as to his working-house and breeding-house, knows how to
value such a character. The new parsonage--as if it had, like a _Casa
Santa_, come flying out of Erlang, or the Berlin Friedrichs-strasse,
and alighted in Hukelum--was for the Quintus a Temple of the Sun, and
the Senior a Priest of the Sun. To be Parson there himself was a
thought overlaid with virgin honey; such a thought as occurs but one
other time in History, namely, in the head of Hannibal, when he
projected stepping over the Alps, that is to say, over the threshold of
Rome.
The landlord and his guest formed an excellent _bureau d'esprit_;
people of office, especially of the same office, have more to tell each
other, namely, their own history, than your idle May-chafers and
Court-celestials, who must speak only of other people's.--The Senior
made a soft transition from his iron-ware (in the stable furniture), to
the golden age of his Academic life, of which such people like as much
to think, as poets do of their childhood. So good as he was, he still
half joyfully recollected that he had once been less so; but joyful
remembrances of wrong actions are their half repetition, as repentant
remembrances of good ones are their half abolishment.
Courteously and kindly did Zebedaeus (who could not even enter in his
Notebook the name of a person of quality without writing an H. for Herr
before it) listen to the Academic Saturnalia of the old gentleman, who
in Wittenberg had toped as well as written, and thirsted not more for
the Hippocrene than for Gukguk.[37]
Herr Jerusalem has observed that the barbarism, which often springs up
close on the brightest efflorescence of the sciences, is a sort of
strengthening mud-bath, good for averting the over-refinement wherewith
such efflorescence always threatens us. I believe that a man who
considers how high the sciences have mounted with our upper
classes,--for instance with every Patrician's son in Nuernberg, to whom
the public must present 1000 florins for studying with,--I believe that
such a man will not grudge the Son of the Muses a certain barbarous
Middle-age (the Burschen or Student Life, as it is called), which may
again so case-harden him that his refinement shall not go beyond the
limits. The Senior, while in Wittenberg, had protected the one hundred
and eighty Academic Freedoms--so many of them has Petrus Rebuffus
summed up[38]--against prescription, and lost none except his moral
one, of which truly a man, even in a convent, can seldom make much.
This gave our Quintus courage to relate certain pleasant somersets of
his own, which at Leipzig, under the Incubus-pressure of poverty, he
had contrived to execute. Let us hear him. His landlord, who was at the
same time Professor and Miser, maintained in his enclosed court a whole
community of hens. Fixlein, in company with three room-mates, without
difficulty mastered the rent of a chamber, or closet. In general their
main equipments, like Ph[oe]nixes, existed but in the singular number:
one bed, in which always the one pair slept before midnight, the other
after midnight, like nocturnal watchmen; one coat, in which one after
the other they appeared in public, and which, like a watch-coat, was
the national uniform of the company; and several other _ones_,
Unities both of Interest and Place. Nowhere can you collect the
stress-memorials and siege-medals of Poverty more pleasantly and
philosophically than at College; the Academic burgher exhibits to us
how many humorists and Diogeneses Germany has in it. Our Unitarians had
just one thing four times, and that was hunger. The Quintus related,
perhaps with a too pleasurable enjoyment of the recollection, how one
of this famishing _coro_ invented means of appropriating the
Professor's hens as just tribute, or subsidies. He said (he was a
Jurist), they must once for all borrow a legal fiction from the Feudal
code, and look on the Professor as the soccage tenant, to whom the
usufruct of the hen-yard and hen-house belonged; but on themselves as
the feudal superiors of the same, to whom accordingly the vassal was
bound to pay his feudal dues. And now, that the Fiction might follow
Nature, continued he--"_fictio sequitur naturam_,"--it behooved them to
lay hold of said Yule-hens, by direct personal distraint. But into the
court-yard there was no getting. The feudalist, therefore, prepared a
fishing-line; stuck a bread-pill on the hook, and lowered his
fishing-tackle, anglewise, down into the court. In a few seconds the
barb stuck in a hen's throat, and the hen, now communicating with its
feudal superior, could silently, like ships by Archimedes, be heaved
aloft to the hungry air-fishing society, where, according to
circumstances, the proper feudal name and title of possession failed
not to be awaiting her; for the updrawn fowls were now denominated
Christmas-fowls, now Forest-hens, Bailiff-hens, Pentecost and
Summer-hens. "I begin," said the angling lord of the manor, "with
taking _Rutcher-dues_, for so we call the triple and quintuple of the
original quitrent, when the vassal, as is the case here, has long
neglected payment." The Professor, like any other prince, observed with
sorrow the decreasing population of his hen-yard, for his subjects,
like the Hebrews, were dying by enumeration. At last he had the
happiness, while reading his lecture--he was just come to the subject
of _Forest Salt and Coin Regalities_--to descry through the window of
his auditorium a quitrent hen suspended, like Ignatius Loyola in
prayer, or Juno in her punishment, in middle-air. He followed the
incomprehensible direct ascension of the aeronautic animal, and
at last descried at the upper window the attracting artist, and
animal-magnetizer, who had drawn his lot for dinner from the hen-yard
below. Contrary to all expectation, he terminated this fowling sport
sooner than his Lecture on Regalities.
Fixlein walked home, amid the vesperal melodies of the steeple
sounding-holes; and by the road courteously took off his hat before the
empty windows of the Castle. Houses of quality were to him like persons
of quality, as in India the Pagoda at once represents the temple and
the god. To the mother he brought feigned compliments, which she repaid
with authentic ones; for this afternoon she had been over, with
her historical tongue and nature-interrogating eye, visiting the
white-muslin Thiennette. The mother was wont to show her every
spare-penny which he dropped into her large empty purse, and so raise
him in the good graces of the Fraeulein; for women feel their hearts
much more attracted towards a son, who tenderly reserves for a mother
some of their benefits, than we do to a daughter anxiously caring for
her father; perhaps from a hundred causes, and this among the rest,
that in their experience of sons and husbands they are more used to
find these persons mere six-feet thunder-clouds, forked waterspouts, or
even reposing tornadoes.
Blessed Quintus! on whose Life this other distinction, like an order of
nobility, does also shine, that thou canst tell it over to thy mother;
as, for example, this past afternoon in the parsonage. Thy joy flows
into another heart, and streams back from it, redoubled, into thy own.
There is a closer approximating of hearts, and also of sounds, than
that of the _Echo_; the highest approximation melts Tone and Echo into
_Resonance_ together.
It is historically certain that both of them supped this evening; and
that instead of the whole dinner fragments which to-morrow might
themselves represent a dinner, nothing but the cake-offering or pudding
was laid upon the altar of the table. The mother, who for her own child
would willingly have neglected not herself only, but all other people,
now made a motion that to the Quintaner, who was sporting out of doors
and baiting a bird instead of himself, there should no crumb of the
precious pastry be given, but only table-bread without the crust. But
the Schoolman had a Christian disposition, and said that it was Sunday,
and the young man liked something delicate to eat as well as he.
Fixlein--the counterpart of great men and geniuses--was inclined to
treat, to gift, to gratify a serving housemate, rather than a man who
is for the first time passing through the gate, and at the next
post-stage will forget both his hospitable landlord and the last
postmaster. On the whole, our Quintus had a touch of honor in him, and
notwithstanding his thrift and sacred regard for money, he willingly
gave it away in cases of honor, and unwillingly in cases of
overpowering sympathy, which too painfully filled the cavities of his
heart, and emptied those of his purse. Whilst the Quintaner was
exercising the _jus compascui_ on the cake, and six arms were
peacefully resting on Thiennette's free-table, Fixlein read to himself
and the company the Flachsenfingen Address-calendar; any higher thing,
except Meusel's _Gelehrtes Deutschland_,[39] he could not figure; the
Kammerherrs and Raths of the Calendar went tickling over his tongue
like the raisins of the cake; and of the more rich church-livings he,
by reading, as it were levied a tithe.
He purposely remained his own Edition in Sunday Wove-paper; I mean, he
did not lay away his Sunday coat, even when the Prayer-bell tolled; for
he had still much to do.
After supper he was just about visiting the Fraeulein, when he descried
her in person, like a lily dipped in the red twilight, in the Castle
garden, whose western limit his house constituted, the southern one
being the Chinese wall of the Castle.... By the way, how I got to the
knowledge of all this, what Letter-boxes are, whether I myself was ever
there, &c., &c.--the whole of this shall, upon my life, be soon and
faithfully communicated to the reader, and that too in the present
Book.
Fixlein hopped forth like a Will-o'-wisp into the garden, whose
flower-perfume was mingling with his supper-perfume. No one bowed
lower to a nobleman than he, not out of plebeian servility, nor of
self-interested cringing, but because he thought "a nobleman was a
nobleman." But in this case his bow, instead of falling forwards, fell
obliquely to the right, as it were after his hat; for he had not risked
taking a stick with him; and hat and stick were his proppage and
balance-wheel, in short, his bowing-gear, without which it was out of
his power to produce any courtly bow, had you offered him the High
Church of Hamburg for so doing. Thiennette's mirthfulness soon unfolded
his crumpled soul into straight form, and into the proper tone. He
delivered her a long, neat Thanksgiving and Harvest sermon for the
scaly cake; which appeared to her at once kind and tedious. Young women
without the polish of high life reckon tedious pedantry, merely like
snuffing, one of the necessary ingredients of a man; they reverence us
infinitely; and as Lambert could never speak to the King of Prussia, by
reason of his sun-eyes, except in the dark, so they, I believe, often
like better--also by reason of our sublime air--if they can catch us in
the dark too. _Him_ Thiennette edified by the Imperial History of Herr
von Aufhammer and Her Ladyship his spouse, who meant to put him, the
Quintus, in her will; _her_ he edified by his Literary History, as
relating to himself and the Subrector; how, for instance, he was at
present vicariating in the Second Form, and ruling over scholars as
long in stature as himself. And thus did the two in happiness, among
red bean-blossoms, red May-chafers, before the red of the twilight
burning lower and lower on the horizon, walk to and fro in the garden;
and turn always with a smile as they approached the head of the ancient
gardeneress, standing like a window-bust through the little lattice,
which opened in the bottom of a larger one.
To me it is incomprehensible he did not fall in love. I know his
reasons, indeed. In the first place, she had nothing; secondly, he had
nothing, and school-debts to boot; thirdly, her genealogical tree was a
boundary tree and warning-post; fourthly, his hands were tied up by
another nobler thought, which, for good cause, is yet reserved from the
reader. Nevertheless--Fixlein! I durst not have been in thy place!
I should have looked at her, and remembered her virtues and our
school-years, and then have drawn forth my too fusible heart, and
presented it to her as a bill of exchange, or insinuated it as a
summons. For I should have considered that she resembled a nun in two
senses, in her good heart and in her good pastry; that, in spite of her
intercourse with male vassals, she was no Charles Genevieve Louise
Auguste Timothe Eon de Beaumont,[40] but a smooth, fair-haired,
white-capped dove; that she sought more to please her own sex than
ours; that she showed a melting heart, not previously borrowed from the
Circulating Library, in tears, for which in her innocence she rather
took shame than credit.--At the very first cheapening, I should, on
these grounds, have been out with my heart.--Had I fully reflected,
Quintus! that I knew her as myself; that her hands and mine (to wit,
had I been thou) had both been guided by the same Senior to Latin
penmanship; that we two, when little children, had kissed each other
before the glass, to see whether the two image-children would do it
likewise in the mirror; that often we had put hands of both sexes into
the same muff, and there played with them in secret; had I, lastly,
considered that we were here standing before the glass-house, now
splendent in the enamel of twilight, and that on the cold panes of this
glass-house we two (she within, I without) had often pressed our warm
cheeks together, parted only by the thickness of the glass,--then had I
taken this poor gentle soul, pressed asunder by Fate, and seeing, amid
her thunder-clouds, no higher elevation to part them and protect her
than the grave, and had drawn her to my own soul, and warmed her on my
heart, and encompassed her about with my eyes.
In truth, the Quintus would have done so too, had not the
above-mentioned nobler thought, which I yet disclose not, kept him
back. Softened, without knowing the cause,--(accordingly he gave his
mother a kiss,)--and blessed without having had a literary
conversation; and dismissed with a freight of humble compliments, which
he was to disload on the morrow before the Dragoon Rittmeisterinn, he
returned to his little cottage, and looked yet a long while out of its
dark windows, at the light ones of the Castle. And then, when the first
quarter of the moon was setting, that is, about midnight, he again, in
the cool sigh of a mild, fanning, moist, and directly heart-addressing
night-breeze, opened the eyelids of a sight already sunk in
dreaming....
Sleep, for to-day thou hast done naught ill! I, whilst the drooping,
shut flower-bell of thy spirit sinks on thy pillow, will look into the
breezy night over thy morning footpath, which, through the translucent
little wood, is to lead thee to Schadeck, to thy patroness. All
prosperity attend thee, thou foolish Quintus!--