splashed, and laughed, and cooed, calling to its parents and then to Frau
Schimmel. When it tried to pronounce her name, her heart overflowed and
she answered absently, for she was saying a silent Paternoster for the
health and welfare of this blessed child who somehow seemed even lovelier
than Melchior had once been, though in his time she had considered him
"the sweetest baby that had ever lived."

When the child was in bed the mother folded its hands and murmured what
Frau Schimmel knew to be a prayer, but the father touched, its forehead
and the place about the heart with an essence, speaking at the same time
some incomprehensible words. Whatever they meant, they seemed to agree
well enough with the incomparable child.

The young wife was tired after her long journey and went early to bed,
and when the housekeeper was finally left alone with Melchior, he begged
her to tell him how things had gone with his father, after his departure.

The son of her late master had, then, brought back from Italy his tender
and affectionate heart, however stern and anxious his long and colourless
face might seem; and when he heard of the old man's longing to see him,
and death, his eyes were wet with tears.

He interrupted the course of her narrative but seldom; when she came to
his father's last hours, however, and the success of the experiment which
had been made on her with the elixir, he plied her with question upon
question until he was satisfied as to what he wished to know. Then he
suddenly stood still in the middle of the room and lifting his eyes and
arms on high cried aloud, like one in an ecstasy:

"Eternal Truth, holy Truth! Thy kingdom come!"