Eckhof looked down upon his young friend.  When he gazed upon the fair and ashy countenance, the glassy eyes staring without expression in the distance, the blue lips convulsively pressed together, he became suddenly silent.

“Lupinus, you are ill! you suffer!” he said, opening his arms and trying to clasp his friend once more to his breast.  But the touch of his hand made Lupinus tremble, and awakened him from his trance.  One wild shriek rang from his bosom, a stream of tears gushed from his eyes, and he sank almost insensible to the floor.

“My friend, my beloved friend!” cried Eckhof, “you suffer, and are silent.  What is it that overpowers you?  What is this great grief?  Why do you weep?  Let me share and alleviate your sorrow.”

“No, no!” cried Lupinus, rising, “I do not suffer; I have no pain, no cause of sorrow.  Do not touch me; your lightest touch wounds!  Go, go! leave me alone!"”

“You love me not, then?” said Eckhof.  “You suffer, and will not confide in me? you weep bitterly, and command me to leave you?”

“And he thinks that I do not love him,” murmured Lupinus, with a weary smile.  “My God! whom, then, do I love?”

“If your friendship for me were true and genuine, you would trust me,” said Eckhof.  “I have made you share in my happiness, and I demand the holy right of sharing your grief.”

Lupinus did not reply.  Eckhof lifted him gently in his arms, and laying him upon the sofa, took a seat near him.

He laid his arms around him, placed his head upon his bosom, and in a soft, melodious voice, whispered words of comfort, encouragement, and love.  The young man trembled convulsively, and wept without restraint.

Suddenly he raised himself; the agony was over; his lips slightly trembled, but he pressed them together; his eyes were full of tears, but he shook his head proudly, and dashed them from him.

“It is past, all past! my dream has dispersed.  I am awake once more!”

“And now, Lupinus, you will tell me all?”

“No, not now, but to-morrow.  To-morrow you shall know all.  Therefore, go, my friend, and leave me alone.  Go to her you love, gaze in her eyes, and see in them a starry heaven; then think of me, whose star is quenched, who is bowed down under a heavy load of affliction.  Go! go! if you love me, go at once!”

“I love you, therefore I obey you, but my heart is heavy for you, and my own happiness is clouded.  But I go; to-morrow you will tell me all?”

“To-morrow.”

“But when, when do we meet again?”

“To-morrow, at ten, we will see each other.  At that time I am to receive my diploma.  I pray you, bring Fredersdorf with you.”

“So be it; to-morrow, at ten, in the university.  Till then, farewell.”

“Farewell.”

They clasped hands, looked deep into each other’s eyes, and took a silent leave.  Lupinus stood in the middle of the room and gazed after Eckhof till he had reached the threshold, then rushed forward, threw himself upon his neck, clasped him in his arms, and murmured, in a voice choked with tears:  “Farewell, farewell!  Think of me, Eckhof! think that no woman has ever loved you as I have loved you!  God bless you!  God bless you, my beloved!”