not; with drooping head, with arms folded over her breast, she walked
down across the farmyard:

Then when death shall claim me,
I must die alone.

An old song surged in Reinhard's ears, he gasped for breath; a little
while only, and then he turned away and went up to his chamber.

He sat down to work, but his thoughts were far afield. After an hour's
vain attempt he descended to the parlour. Nobody was in it, only cool,
green twilight; on Elisabeth's work-table lay a red ribbon which she
had worn round her neck during the afternoon. He took it up in his
hand, but it hurt him, and he laid it down again.

He could find no rest. He walked down to the lake and untied the boat.
He rowed over the water and trod once again all the paths which he and
Elisabeth had paced together but a short hour ago. When he got back
home it was dark. At the farm he met the coachman, who was about to
turn the carriage horses out into the pasture; the travellers had just
returned.

As he came into the entrance hall he heard Eric pacing up and down the
garden-room. He did not go in to him; he stood still for a moment, and
then softly climbed the stairs and so to his own room. Here he sat in
the arm-chair by the window. He made himself believe that he was
listening to the nightingale's throbbing music in the garden hedges
below, but what he heard was the throbbing of his own heart.
Downstairs in the house every one went to bed, the night-hours passed,
but he paid no heed.