A breath of spring penetrated even the dark labyrinth of the Jewish town on that day, making the anxious forget their anxieties, and the sick their sufferings. The bright warm sunshine spread hope and joy around. Bocher David found nearly all of his patients better and more cheerful. He talked longer than usual with each of them, and promised almost solemnly to see them next day.
After that he went to the castle. The fat porter told him that the Frau Gräfin was waiting for him in the summer-house in the park. He went there, and entered with his usual expression of gentle gravity.
She hastened to meet him, and putting her hand in his, said:
"Thank you, Friedrich! Thank you for coming. I have looked forward to this day, and have hoped so much from it. All will be well now."
She paused, as though expecting him to speak.
"I have come, Frau Gräfin," he answered, gravely and quietly, "because you entreated me to do so. And, as circumstances have brought us together again so strangely, I owe you an explanation regarding my dress and my former life. You have a right to it...."
Her eyes filled with tears when she heard him speak so coldly and gravely.
"No, no, Friedrich," she exclaimed; "you are cruel. You are angry with me, and you have just cause for anger. But I have suffered so terribly ever since the day when I wrote that dreadful letter.... Forgive me for the sake of my sorrow and repentance! Oh, forgive me, and don't look at me so sternly!"
"I forgave you long ago," he said, more gently.