At the same time that Nanna was seated in her room looking towards the large tree near the spring, Carl was rocking in his chair, gazing with his peculiar expression at a brown earthen vase, which was standing upon the table before him.  The vase contained two freshly plucked lilacs, one blue and the other white, which emitted a fragrant odor.  After Carl had sufficiently regarded these objects, he slowly jerked his chair towards the table, and at each pause his mouth widened into a simple simper.  At length he arrived so near the table that by bending forward he could have easily touched the flowers with his nostrils.  To accomplish this movement, which was his evident intention, he proceeded with as much gravity and carefulness as he had evinced in approaching the table.  He bowed down his head inch by inch, until he could no longer withstand the desire of his senses.  With one plunge he thrust his nostrils amidst the fresh leaves of the fragrant flowers.

Suddenly, however, he raised his head, a thought struck his mind—­his face lengthened and his brow became cloudy.

And yet a few moments ago he appeared supremely happy.

* * * * *

Nanna’s pretty face was pressed against the window pane.  Her little world had never before appeared so fresh and beautiful.  So great was her abstraction that she did not hear the door open, as Carl with his peculiar lofty strides entered the room.

“Thank you, Nanna,” said Carl.  Nanna did not hear him.  His voice was lost in her recollection of the words of the strange youth, she had met the day before.

“Thank you, Nanna,” repeated Carl.

Nanna started.  “What for?” said she.

“Do you not know?” replied Carl, “why for the flowers!”

“Flowers?”

“O,” said Carl smiling imbecilely and gazing vacantly around the room.

“If you found lilacs in your room, I did not place them there,” said Nanna.

“Ah! then perhaps little Christine sent them to me.”

“No, dear Carl,” replied Nanna, “the flowers were sent by one who is better than even myself or Christine.”

“Who can it be?”

“Magde, of course.”

“Ah!” Carl slowly stepped towards the door.  “Magde, yes, I ought to have known that!”

“Ask her, and then you will know certainly,” said Nanna.

“O, no, but they are beautiful flowers.  I hope I will not break them, they smell so sweetly!”

Thus saying Carl strode across the floor to his own chamber where he again seated himself upon his chair and resumed his former occupation; but he did not profane them with his nostrils, for now he regarded them in a holier light.  They were Magde’s gift.