And now they had a fresh surprise. No one had noticed that the Major had not been among those who had bid them goodbye. He now emerged from the cabin with his wife. He was now making his wedding tour, and accompanied the wanderers as far as the Lower Rhine. It seemed as if they had with them a goodly portion of the home.
There was music on board, and the Major soon brought up the steward and stewardess, to whom he introduced himself and his wife, and Eric and Manna, as newly-married couples.
"Yes," said he to Eric, "you know I have been a drummer. I'll tell you the story some time or other. Yes, when you come back you shall have it."
At the station before the Island, the Major and wife disembarked. Here they had dwelt in the first days of their union, and here they wished to be again for a day, and to show themselves as married people to those who had then been friendly toward them. The Major still waved his hand from the row-boat, and strove to show a cheerful countenance, but the tears ran down his cheeks, and as he bent over the side of the skiff, they flowed into the Rhine.
Silently they glided on, and, as they passed the Cloister Island, a flock of white doves were winging their way over it. The nightingales were singing so loud as to be heard, in spite of the continual plash of the paddle-wheels. The children of the Island were walking along the shore, two by two, and singing.
Manna sighed deeply, and wafted a greeting over to them.
No one imagined, who was passing by, away, away to the New World.
When, at evening, the vessel stopped for the night, Eric remembered a sheet of paper which Weidmann had given him. He read it. It contained words from the close of Humboldt's Cosmos:—
"There are some races more civilized, more highly ennobled by culture than others, but there are no races nobler by nature. All are equally destined for freedom."