The carriage having been sent to the valley in advance, Count Eberhard walked down with Irma, until they came to the apple-tree which he had planted on the day of his daughter’s birth.  He stopped, and picked up a fallen apple.  “Let us part here,” he said.  “Take this fruit from your native soil.  The apple has left the tree because it has ripened; because the tree cannot give any more to it.  So man leaves home and family.  But man is more than the fruit of a tree.  Come, my child, I hold your dear head; don’t weep—­or weep!  May you never weep for yourself, and only for others!  Remain faithful to yourself!  I would give you all my thoughts; remember but the one:  Yield only to such pleasures as will be pleasure in recollection.  Take this kiss.  You kiss passionately.  May you never give a kiss that does not leave your soul as pure and full as it is now.  Farewell!”

III.—­Walpurga Returns Home

Twelve months had passed since Walpurga’s arrival at court.  Her trunks were now packed; she had given a last kiss to the boy prince; and now she asked her Hansei, who had brought a carriage from the village to take her home, to wait in the corridor while she took leave from Countess Irma.  She found Irma still in her bed, very pale, with her hair in loose strains on the pillow.

“I wanted to give you a souvenir,” said Irma, “but I think money will be best for you.  Look on the table, and take it all.  I don’t want any of it.  Take it, and don’t be afraid; it is real money, won honestly at the tables.  I always win, always!...  Take your kerchief and wrap it up.”  The room was so dusky that Walpurga looked around in superstitious fear.  The money might be evil; she quickly made the sign of the Cross over it, and put it into her ample pocket.  “And now, farewell,” said Irma.  “Be happy.  You are happier than any of us.  If ever I don’t know where to go, I shall come to you.  You’ll have me, won’t you?  Now go—­go!  I must sleep.  And don’t forget me, Walpurga.  Don’t thank me, don’t speak!”

“Oh, please let me speak, just one word!  We both can’t know which of us will die, and then it would be too late.  I don’t know what’s the matter with you.  You are not well, and you may get worse.  You often have cold hands and hot cheeks.  I wronged you that day, soon after I arrived.  I’ll never think bad of you again, no one shall say evil of you; but, please, get away from the castle!  Go home, to——­”

“Enough,” exclaimed Irma, thrusting forth her hands as though Walpurga’s words were stones thrown at her.  “Farewell; and don’t forget me.”  She held out her hand for Walpurga to kiss; it was hot and feverish.  Walpurga went.  The parrot in the ante-room screamed:  “Good-bye, Irma.”  Walpurga was frightened, and ran away as though she were chased.