Frederick's voice became animated as he sang. His oppressed heart felt some relief, and his tears flowed with less bitterness. The evening breeze rustling among the leaves of the young lindens, the mysterious echoes which inhabit the woods, brought to his ear accents as sweet as animated words; and the horizon, fringed with purple and gold, seemed to invite him towards pleasant paths in the future.
Frederick, a little consoled, arose and descended the flowery hill in the direction of the village. He recalled in thought the evening when he and Reinhold followed the same road; he recalled his promises of eternal friendship. But when he thought over the story that Reinhold had related to him of the two Italian painters, his eyes were opened as if by enchantment. The past became clear to him like a painful certainty. He persuaded himself that Reinhold had formerly loved Rosa; that this love had brought him back to Nuremberg, to master Martin's house; and the narration of the friendly rivalry of the two painters, for the golden laurel, appeared to him an emblem of the love rivalry of which Rosa was to be the prize. All of Reinhold's words came back to his remembrance, and took an entirely different sense from what he had ever attached to them. "Between two friends," exclaimed he, "there can exist neither hate nor envy. It is to thee, then, friend of my heart—to thee, even, that I will go to ask if the time is already come for one to renounce all hope."
This reverie lasted Frederick until he reached the door of Reinhold's apartment. The rising sun lighted with its joyous rays the little chamber. A profound silence reigned there. The young man pushed the door, which was not closed, and entered softly; but hardly had he taken a step, than he remained fixed to the floor, as immoveable as a statue. Rosa, in all the brilliancy of her charms, appeared to him admirably painted, the size of life. Near the easel, the painter's maulstick and pallet, all prepared, announced a recent labor.
"Rosa! Rosa! oh heaven!" sighed Frederick.
At this moment Reinhold touched him on the shoulder, and
