"You are my Wilhelm's godfather; pray adopt him. You always said he had a talent for drawing, so take him under your care. If possible, be reconciled to uncle Petrowitsch, perhaps he will do something for my children when I am gone; and I tell you again, and certainly I tell you the truth at such a moment as this, he likes you in reality, and you may become good friends yet. He has a kind heart, far more so than he wishes to have thought—my poor mother often and often said so. My wife.... I will say nothing of her. If my children do well, then you can say all kind of things to her from me, one day. I have been obliged to hear, and to say, what I could never have believed possible. Oh! world! what are you? I am in prison, and must make my escape. I have lived through days and nights that seemed like years. I am weary; weary to death; I can go no single step farther. For months past, when I close my eyes and try to sleep, I see nothing but horrors, and they pursue me by day also. As for the money I owe you, the watch I wear is your property, it will beat on your faithful heart, after mine beats no more—and when my things are sold, buy my father's file, and keep it for my Wilhelm. I have nothing to leave him; but don't fail to tell him often that his father was not a bad man. He inherits my unfortunate disposition: try to drive it out of him, and make him strong and energetic. And the little girl——
"It seems hard, hard indeed, that I must part with my life while I am still so young, but it is best it should be so. The Doctor will see that my body is not sent to the students at Freiburg. Greet him, and all his family, in the kindest manner from me. He has long seen that I was declining in health and happiness, but it was beyond the power of any doctor to cure me. Say farewell from me to all my good comrades, particularly to Faller, and the Schoolmaster. I fancy I have still much to say, but my eyes are dim and dizzy. My beloved friend and brother, good night! Farewell, for ever!
"Your faithful
"LENZ."
He folded up the letter, and wrote on the back "To my much loved brother, Pilgrim."
Day was dawning. He extinguished the light, and still holding the letter in his hand, Lenz looked out of the window, as his last greeting to the wide world outside. The sun is rising over the hill; first a pale yellow line, then a dark cloud stretches itself along, contrasting with the clear, deep blue sky; the whole plain, covered with snow, trembles in the pale, flickering light; a bright red glow steals over the surface of the cloud, but the centre remains dark; when suddenly—the cloud is rent asunder, in bright yellow shreds, the whole sky is golden, till it gradually catches a rosy hue, and then all at once the whole extent of the heavens becomes a mass of brilliant, glittering crimson; this is the world—the world of light, of bright existence; it will be seen but once more, before you leave it for ever!
Lenz concealed the letter, and went out round the house; he plunged almost up to his knees in snow. He returned into the sitting room. Annele had not yet risen, he therefore breakfasted alone with his children; and when the bells began to ring, he desired the maid to take Wilhelm to Pilgrim's. He first thought of giving the maid his letter with her, but he took it again out of her hand and put it in the girl's frock. When they undressed her at night, they would find it, and by that time all would be over.
"Go to Pilgrim," said he to the maid again, "and wait in his house till I come; and, if I don't come, stay there till night." He kissed the boy, and then turned away, and laid his head on the table. He remained thus a long time. Nothing stirred in the house. The bells in the valley below were sounding for church; he waited till the last note had died away, and then locked the house door, and came back into the room, crying in despair of heart, "Heavenly Father! forgive me; but it must be so!"
He sank on his knees, and tried to pray, but could not:—"Annele, too, used to pray often; and yet scarcely was the last word of prayer uttered by her lips, than strife and discord, scorn and mockery, broke loose again; she has transgressed both against heaven and earth. And yet I cannot die without seeing her once more."
He rushed into the next room, and drew aside the bed curtains. "Father!" cried the little girl, who was sitting on her mother's bed; and Lenz sunk down almost lifeless.