But this world, where lying and deceit flourish,
would be changed into a Paradise, and it would be an Ueberhell whom
mankind would have to thank for the great blessing. And now--now!"
Here he buried his face in his hands like one in despair. Frau Schimmel
regarded the sorrowful man with deep sympathy, and as it was in her
nature to try and comfort those who wept rather than to join in their
lamentations, she cast about her for something that would console him.
She had not far to seek, for there in the bay-window was perched little
Zeno, carefully picking the green leaves off a rose bough that he had
been told to gather from his mother's grave to take home to his father.
The whole stem was now bare but the white blossom at the end was
untouched, and still beautiful.
She beckoned to the boy, and in a low voice bade him rouse his father and
give him the rose from the churchyard; little Zeno obeyed and walked
straight towards Melchior; opposite the sofa his courage failed him for a
moment, but he took heart again and laying his little hand on the
prematurely gray hair of the disheartened sage said, with all the sweet
charm peculiar to a child when it speaks to comfort one who is its
natural guardian and support:
"Father, little Zeno brings you a rose.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53