It seemed to him that all the new purpose and strength that he had built up within him, all the tenderness and truth were falling in ruins. Nothingness stretched before him.
"The best thing I can do, then," he said sadly, "is to pack my bundle as quickly as may be and go back to America."
Ulrich came and laid his hand on his shoulder. "No, you won't do that, dear boy," he said. "Look over there across the stream. There lie your acres; your fields full of flourishing rye; the turnips waiting to be transplanted; even the wheat springing above the soil. And now God's blessed gift of rain has come to make all green and fruitful. You are responsible for every tiny growth, so don't talk of running away to waste and rot where you can do no good and reap no harvest."
"If you give me up," said Leo, bitterly, "nothing is any good."
"But I am not going to give you up. I shall watch over you and yours from afar, and rejoice in all that gives you joy. I shall count the ears of corn in your fields, and your children I will cherish in my heart as if they were my own."
"My children?" muttered Leo.
Ulrich smiled. "Do you imagine I haven't kept my eyes open?" he asked. "I don't know whether you feel yet that you have come through the furnace of what has been, sufficiently cleansed.... But take my advice and don't keep the dear girl waiting too long. Be happy; you have good cause; for you it is spring, inside and out."
Leo felt tears start to his eyes. He turned away, and put his hands over his face.
"And what about you, Ulrich?" he asked, controlling his emotion.
A gleam of patient hopelessness shot over the tired sallow face, like the presage of a tranquil death.