“What I seek, what I yearn for,” she sighed, “is not to be found here below. Everything sooner or later passes away; the happiest home we may found on earth must in the end know tears and desolation. O eternity, eternity!”
Yet, strange to relate—and yet, no, not strange, but quite naturally enough—the moment Walburga emerged from this peaceful sanctuary and found herself once more in the noisy, airy, life-throbbing street, with the azure sky overhead and gladsome faces flitting to and fro, she felt very human again, ay, very human; and her craving for something human to love and be loved by grew none the less intense when presently she saw happy Ulrich and happy Moida advancing towards her arm-in-arm. It was not necessary for them to speak to tell that their hearts were throbbing in sweet harmony together, and that for them at least this world was all a paradise.
When Conrad and Ulrich found themselves back at Loewenstein again they talked of little else than their pleasant trip to Munich.
“The only harm ’twill do me,” said the artist, smiling, “is that I’ll lie awake a good while to-night thinking of Moida. The more I see of my betrothed, the more virtues do I discover in her. She is so full of common sense; she keeps store and keeps house too; nobody can make a better bargain when she goes to market, and it is a fortunate thing that Walburga has such a friend.”
“Miss Hofer is indeed a rare girl,” said Conrad, who was seated beside him watching the moon rise over the mountain; “and you have proved your own good sense in choosing her for your future spouse.” Then, assuming a graver tone: “But now let me tell you something which is of great concern to me. You remember that I spoke to you about a young lady whom I met with in the Pinakothek, and that it was in order to see her again that I went to-day to Munich. Well, she turns out to be your sister.”
“My sister! Walburga! Really!” exclaimed Ulrich, feigning surprise at this piece of news.
“And, Ulrich”—here Conrad took his hand in his—“I mean to try my best to win her heart.”
“And most sincerely do I hope you may succeed,” rejoined the youth.
“Well, is she quite free? Is any gentleman courting her?”
“Nobody, sir, is courting her.”