“He loves me!” said she to herself; “loves me; and is married to another, whom he loves not! and dares to tell me this!  O, never,—­ never,—­never!  And yet he is so friendless and alone in this unsympathizing world,—­and an exile, and homeless!  I can but pity him;—­yet I hate him, and will see him no more!”

This short reverie of love and hate was brokenby the sound of a clear, mellow voice, which, in the universal stillness of the hour, seemed almost like the voice of a spirit.  It was a voice, without the accompaniment of any instrument, singing those sweet lines of Goethe;

“Under the tree-tops is quiet now!

In all the woodlands hearest thou

Not a sound!

The little birds are asleep in the trees,

Wait! wait! and soon like these,

Sleepest thou!”

Emma knew the voice and started.  She rushed to the window to close it.  It was a beautiful night, and the stars were shining peacefully over the mountain of All-Saints.  The sound of the Neckar was soft and low, and nightingales were singing among the brown shadows of the woods.  The large red moon shone, like a ruby, in the horizon’s ample ring; and golden threads of light seemed braided together with the rippling current of the river.  Tall and spectral stood the white statues on the bridge.  The outline of thehills, the castle, the arches of the bridge, and the spires and roofs of the town were as strongly marked as if cut out of pasteboard.  Amid this fairy scene, a little boat was floating silently down the stream.  Emma closed the window hastily, and drew the curtains close.

“I hate him; and yet I will pray for him,” said she, as she laid her weary head upon that pillow, from which, but a few months before, she thought she should never raise it again.  “O, that I had died then!  I dare not love him, but I will pray for him!”

Sweet child!  If the face of the deceiver comes so often between thee and Heaven, I tremble for thy fate!  The plant that sprang from Helen’s tears destroyed serpents;—­would that from thine might spring up heart’s-ease;—­some plant, at least, to destroy the serpents in thy bosom.  Believe me, upon the margin of celestial streams alone, those simples grow, which cure the heartache!

And this the silent stars beheld, looking downfrom heaven, and told it not again.  This, likewise, the Frau Himmelhahn beheld, looking from her chamber-window, and was not so discreet as the silent stars.

CHAPTER VI.  GLIMPSES INTO CLOUD-LAND.

“There are many things, which, having no corporeal evidence, can be perceived and comprehended only by the discursive energies of reason.  Hence the ambiguous nature of matter can be comprehended only by adulterated opinion.  Matter is the principle of all bodies, and is stamped with the impression of forms.  Fire, air, and water derive their origin and principle from the scalene triangle.  But the