"Now," replied Lydia, curling up her nose, "do you suppose that when we sit at work all day we think of nothing but the cross-stitch. But it was ever clear to me, even as a child, that a totally different harmony and unison of mind was expressed in the two angels' heads on the Ruprechtsbau, than by any of the figures exhibited here by Master Colins, some of which he took from the cloister-school at Malines, the others from Italy, where you still remain semi-heathens."
"You are right, Signora, but in my home we are accustomed to this mixture."
"Your head is perhaps furnished in such a manner, Sir Artist," said she teasingly, "that the characters of the Bible and the Greek Gods meet each other therein as they do on Master Colins' façade!" Then she blushed at her own boldness, but Felice's boundless veneration was too great a temptation to a little naughtiness on the part of this young Thing just fresh from school, who missed not a little her daily scrimmages with the aristocratic young ladies of the Stift.
"When you speak of a want of harmony," said the Artist, a little excited at Klytia's want of veneration for his learning as a man, "you allude above all to the insipid German texts in monkish verse, which the deceased plump Count Palatine stuck under the Gods and Heroes, in place of which I would willingly read a classic epigram in the latin language. But you are quite right, the entire façade is an emblem of the contention which takes place in our mortal life. The beauties of Greece and the virtues of Christianity strive for mastery in our hearts. And not only are the figures in contradiction, but the Antique and Gothic forms are at variance with one another. The harmony of construction, which composes true classic architecture is wanting. How discordantly do the Gothic arms and shields contrast with the Antique lines of the portal. The highest beauty consists in the artistic blending of the red sandstone and the blue sky, and when the Kurfürst lately stated that he wished he could burn down the, to him, hated sculptured casket, I could not help involuntarily thinking, how beautifully the ruin would stand out, when the blue sky should be seen through the voided casements."
"Gracious powers," cried Lydia. "As long as we live up so high, do not try such an experiment; and now go on with your work; I do not want to hear any lecture which may end by your falling down and breaking your neck."
Pale and hurt Felix drew back. His hopes nevertheless stood higher than he thought; but Lydia had remarked, how the neighbours were craning their necks to look up at the scaffolding, on which Felix was carrying on his assault, and she heard the "red headed Frenz" say that Lydia's windows must have needed an extraordinary amount of repairing, as the Italian gentleman never seemed to leave them. "They will make a handsome couple," Herr Bachmann now asserted in no low tones, "the tall dark Italian, and the fair haired maiden. I shall be rejoiced, Frau Barbara, when they make their first appearance in church together." This then was the cause of her dismissing Felice in so summary a manner.
The beauteous morning was succeeded by a close afternoon. Since that dream the images of the brothers came up before her so continually that she could hardly tell them apart. But the present moment maintained its right. The gloomy priest disappeared in the joyous artist, and from the moment that Lydia had accustomed herself to the thought, that the Magister could never be hers, and that he had only played a sinful part towards her, she sadly compelled herself to find once more her idol in the happy trusty friend. Thus there remained much that was true in her unfaithfulness. In reality she only cared for Felix for Paul's sake. The artist in the meanwhile stood outside on his scaffold in a pensive manner. The oppressive heat, precursor of a storm weighed him down, and Lydia's dismissal had deeply affected him. He made no effort to resume his jokes of the morning, and could not even hum an air. "Could I have offended him?" thought the kind-hearted child within, "he has become so silent;" as she looked upwards at the streaky sky, a gust of wind blew the dust in her eyes, and whirled the loose leaves high up into the air. "May the storm not break forth before that he is safely down from his scaffold," thought she anxiously as a heavier gust burst forth. The windows rattled, the shutters blew to, slates fell from the roof, boards were carried off and crashed into the court beneath; slates, panes of glass, bricks, came tumbling from above, and noise and confusion were heard on all sides of the court. Lydia rushed to shut the window, and then saw Felice clinging convulsively to the shaking scaffold. "Come in here, in here," she cried in her fright to him. He shook his head sadly, and made a motion to show that he would slide down the poles so soon as the wind abated. A more violent gust caused the bricks to shower down from the roof and shook the whole scaffold. "Felix, Felix," cried the terrified maiden stretching out her arms towards him. A happy smile played over his features, and with one bound the active youth was at her side. As she closed the window, he had already folded her within his strong arms. "I have won thee by storm," he cried rejoicingly, but she was silent and loosed herself from his embrace. "You called me in, now keep me," he said earnestly, "you wished to save my life, save it in reality." She gazed on him long and earnestly. It was, as if the image of some departed friend was before her, and she was endeavoring to find some similitude. Then blushing she sank her head. Thoroughly happy he shouted for joy, laid his arms around her neck, his lips sought hers. The storm outside, which now burst forth, did not disturb his happiness. The rain streamed down into the court below. What mattered it to him? At every sheet of lightning he kissed her quivering eyelids, at every clap of thunder he pressed his lips to hers. "I have wooed thee by thunder and lightening, may it strike me if ever I prove unfaithful to thee." Suddenly her father's voice was heard outside, as he himself had likewise been driven home by the storm. Lydia drew back terrified, but Felice seized fast hold of her hand and thus went with her to meet the physician. Astonished Erastus drew back for a moment, and then said smilingly, "Ah, is this so," and kissed Lydia's pure forehead. She remained silent and blushingly laid her innocent head on her beloved father's breast. "You are welcome to me," said Erastus turning to Felice, "provided only that you abjure papistry." The Maestro bounded like a shying steed. "It cannot be your meaning, noble Sir," he said, "that I must confess a belief, which my heart does not admit."
"Such is not my meaning," answered the physician, "but when you stole my child's heart, you must have well known, that Erastus would never choose a papist for son-in-law. What I oppose here in Olevianus' church discipline, is the power of the priesthood, the subjugation of conscience, how could you therefore expect, that I should ever permit my child to confess to one of your priests?"
"That she shall never do, noble Sir. She shall live in her faith, as I in mine."
"Where could that be possible? Certainly not here in Heidelberg. You would never be accepted as citizen, and in your country my child would certainly be imprisoned by the Inquisition."