red pinks for her and Lienhard in the landlady's little garden by the
shimmering starlight. The flowers, whose fragrance was too strong, yet
which she had not the strength to remove, lay on the coverlet before her.
They were intended for Lienhard, and as she stretched her slender fingers
toward them and tried to clasp them she succeeded. She even found
strength to hold out her right hand to him with a beseeching glance.
And lo! ere her arm fell again the proud man had seized the flowers.
Then she saw him fasten the pinks on the breast of his dark doublet,
and heard the thrill of deep emotion in his voice, as he said:

"I thank you, dear Kuni, for the beautiful flowers. I will keep them.
Your life was a hard one, but you have borne the burden bravely. I saw
this clearly, and not I alone. I am also to thank you and give you very
friendly remembrances in the name of Doctor Peutinger, of Augsburg,
little Juliane's father. He will think of you as a mistress of your art,
a noble, high-minded girl, and I--I shall certainly do so."

He clasped her burning hand as he spoke; but at these words she felt
as she had probably done a few hours before, when, hidden behind the
oleander, she listened to the conversation in which he mentioned her
kindly. Again a warm wave of joy seemed to surge upward in her breast,
and she fancied that her heart was much too small for such a wealth of
rapture, and it was already overflowing in hot waves, washing all grief
far, far away.

Her gift had been accepted.

The red pinks looked at her from his doublet, and she imagined that
everything around was steeped in rosy light, and that a musical tinkling
and singing echoed in her ears.