"No Felix," said Paul in a determined tone. "As the choice lies open to me: rather no music, no pictures, not even laurel hedges and gardens of the Hesperides, than any return to the old pool of sulphur."
"And dost thou really wish to die a Calvinistic preacher?"
Paul was silent for a while, then modestly answered: "The moment I regained my consciousness I said daily to myself: Away with the cowl. A profession which requires us to appear better than other men, easily renders us much worse. Moreover I felt, that after the miseries which I have survived, many a temptation is left behind--and finally what otherwise should I become, dost thou think?"
"Teacher, Magister, Doctor," enumerated the artist quickly.
"I have experienced too much that is serious to be anything else than a preacher. Shall I mend up the mutilated verses of old poets? or tinker together the fragments of some forgotten sophist? or pile up some other learned dung-heap? Whosoever has experienced what I have, can no longer choose the embellishments of life as the centre of his existence. My thoughts cleave to the core of life, bitter as it may be; that will I make the substance of my labours. I will beg the Kurfürst to appoint me to some quiet parish, hidden away in the furthermost wooded valley of his dominions. There I will teach children to fold their little hands, advise parents how to guard their children's hearts, strengthen husbands and wives in their good intentions, sustain the weak, guide the erring into the ways of peace. And if I have watched over the smallest congregation in this land like a good shepherd, so that it returns after my preaching happier and better qualified to the work and burden of life, finding itself more reconciled and meek under trials, comforted in all sorrow, then I will have a fuller certainty that my life has not been lived in vain, than if boys were reading my edition of the poets, or doctors naming a dogma after me. I do not wish to be renowned but forgotten. The children and the neighbours only will know of me, and I feel certain that my bride longs for such a modest existence."
Klytia leant tenderly over him and gazed into his eyes, Felix alone did not seem to approve that the end of such a great beginning should be a hidden Hyperborean village. The Magister however leant his hand affectionately on his brother's shoulder and said: "My good Felix, be assured that the Parson Paul will be a happier man than ever the Magister Laurenzano was, and the fame of our noble race may be safely entrusted to thy artistic hands."
"See the creation of our new Michel Angelo," cried Herr Belier, unfolding a plan of the new house which was to replace the old gable house on the market. A shout of delight escaped them all.
"How grandly story is piled on story," said Erastus, "up to the proud gable, which shows the world the armour in the which our valiant friend fought so stoutly. And here is the shield of the Beliers and the faithful portrait of our host."
"Mon Dieu!" cried the little woman, "there is even my poor parrot on my wrist. The sacrificial lamb which redeemed the blood from our house."
"Here, Herr Belier," said the delighted Felix, "have I left an empty frieze for you to add in your device."