The men were still standing on the steps, and Eric was the first to speak, saying:—
"Mother, you here? And from your sick-bed? This may cause your death."
"No, my son, it has given life to me, to you, to all, and purity to all. I am ill no longer; a great and beautiful and fortunate deed has saved me."
Sonnenkamp, taking off his cloak, wrapped the Professorin in it, and they led the old lady, whose eyes shone wonderfully, into the great hall, where she sat down, while they all stood around her as about a saint.
Manna, kneeling before her, took her hands, and wept copious tears upon them.
"Now I only beg for quiet," said the Professorin. "I am calm; give me no further excitement now. I heard it, I know not how; I came hither, I know not how. Something called and impelled me, and it has ended well. Oh, believe that everything will yet turn out for the best. Herr Sonnenkamp, give me your hand. I have something to say to you."
"I will fulfil whatever you may command."
"You must do something, although I do not yet know what, in order to pacify the minds of these people."
"I will. I will summon a jury, in the choice of which you must assist me. To them I will unfold my life, and into their hands I will leave the decision of what is to be done."
"That is a happy idea. To-morrow we will carry it out. Now it is enough," said the Professorin, in a tone soothing to the others and to herself. "Manna, go to your mother," added she.