"Yes, Maria, farewell forever."

"If it is God's will, we shall see each other again. I know what is
driving you away from here. You are good and noble, Georg, and if there
is one thing that lightens the parting, it is this: We can now think of
each other without sorrow and anger. You will not forget us, and--you
know that the remembrance of you will be cherished here by old and young
--in the hearts of all--"

"And in yours also, Maria?"

"In mine also."

"Hold it firmly. And when the storm has blown out of your path the poor
dust, which to-day lives and breathes, loves and despairs, grant it a
place in your memory."

Maria shuddered, for deep despair looked forth with a sullen glow from
the eyes that met hers. Seized with an anxious foreboding, she
exclaimed: "What are you thinking of, Georg? for Christ's sake! tell me
what is in your mind."

"Nothing wrong, Maria, nothing wrong. We birds now sing differently.
Whoever can saunter, with lukewarm blood and lukewarm pleasures, from one
decade to another in peace and honor, is fortunate. My blood flows in a
swifter course, and what my eager soul has once clasped with its polyp
arms, it will never release until the death-hour comes. I am going,
never to return; but I shall take you and my love with me to battle, to
the grave.--I go, I go--"