"Down over that hill," replied Henry, "where the road loses itself in the distance."
"You must have seen some fair landscapes."
"We travelled through an almost uninterrupted series of beautiful ones."
"Perhaps your native town is pleasantly situated?"
"The country is varied enough; it is rude, however, and a noble river is wanting. Streams are the eyes of a landscape."
"Your account of your journey," said Klingsohr, "agreeably entertained me last evening. I have indeed observed that the spirit of poesy is your kind companion. Your friends have unobservedly become its voices. Where a poet is, poetry everywhere breaks out. The land of poetry, romantic Palestine, has greeted you with its sweet sadness; war has addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history have met you in the forms of a miner and a hermit."
"You forget the best, dear master, the heavenly appearance of love. It depends upon you, whether this appearance shall forever remain with me."
"What do you think," cried Klingsohr as he turned to Matilda who was just approaching; "would you like to become Henry's inseparable companion? Where you are, I remain also."
Matilda was terrified. She flew into her father's arms. Henry trembled with infinite joy. "Shall he then be with me forever, dear father?"
"Ask him for yourself," said Klingsohr with emotion.