CHAPTER XIV.
"Man seems to me a foolish being; he drives along over the waves of time, endlessly thrown up and down, and descrying a little verdant spot, formed of mud and stagnant moor and of putrid green mouldiness, he cries out, Land! He rows thither, ascends--and sinks and sinks--and is no more to be seen."-- The Golden Fleece of GRILLPARZER.
Old Rosalie was pouring out coffee when Otto came down the next morning.
Peace and resignation to the will of God lay in her soft countenance.
Otto was pale, paler than usual, but handsomer than Rosalie had seen him before: a year had rendered him older and more manly; a handsome, crisp beard curled over his chin; manly gravity lay in his eyes, in which, at his departure, she had only remarked their inborn melancholy glance.
With a kind of satisfaction she looked upon this beautiful, melancholy countenance, and with cordial affection she stretched forth her hand toward him.
"Here stands thy chair, Otto; and here thy cup.

I will drink to thy welcome.

It seems to me long since I saw thee, and yet it is, now I have thee again, only a short time.

Were that place only not empty!" and she pointed to the place at the table which the grandfather had used to occupy.
"If I had only seen him!" said Otto.
"His countenance was so gentle in death," said Rosalie.

"The severity and gravity which had settled in his eyes were softened away.