the gardener had brought to adorn the coffin did not satisfy her. She
knew all that grew in the woods and fields near Nuremberg, and no one
could dispose bouquets more gracefully. Her mother had been especially
fond of some of them, and was always pleased when she brought them home
from her walks with the abbess or Sister Perpetua, the experienced old
doctress of the convent. Many grew in the forest, others on the brink of
the water. The beloved dead should not leave the house, whose guide and
ornament she had been, without her favourite blossoms.

Eva arranged the flowers brought by the gardener as gracefully as
possible, and then asked Sister Perpetua to go to walk with her, telling
her father and sister that she wished to be out of doors with the nun for
a short time.

She told no one what she meant to do. Her mother's favourite flowers
should be her own last gift to her.

Old Martsche received the order to send Ortel, the youngest manservant in
the household, a good-natured fellow eighteen years old, with a basket,
to wait for her and Sister Perpetua at the weir.

After the thunderstorm of the day before the air was specially fresh and
pure; it was a pleasure merely to breathe. The sun shone brightly from
the cloudless sky. It was a delightful walk through the meadows and
forest over the footpath which passed near the very Dutzen pool, where
Katterle the day before had resolved to seek death. All Nature seemed
revived as though by a refreshing bath. Larks flew heavenward with a low
sweet song, from amidst the grain growing luxuriantly for the winter
harvest, and butterflies hovered above the blossoming fields. Slender
dragon-flies and smaller busy insects flitted buzzing from flower to