With trembling heart, scarcely knowing what he thought or did, the student reached his room and closed the door, and throwing himself upon his knees, he cried out in tones of anguish:  “Oh, my God!  I have seen Eckhof:  he is young, he is glorious in beauty, unhappy that I am!” With his hands folded and still upon his knees, he gazed dreamily in the distance; then springing up suddenly, his eyes glowing with energy and passion, he cried:  “I must go, I must go!  I will return to Halle, to my books and my quiet room; it is lonely, but there I am at peace; there the world and the voice of Eckhof cannot enter.  I must forget this wild awakening of my youth; my heart must sleep again and dream, and be buried at last under the dust of books.  Unhappy that I am, I feel that the past is gone forever.  I stand trembling on the borders of a new existence.  I will go at once—­perhaps there is yet time; perhaps I may yet escape the wretchedness which threatens me.  Oh! in my books and studies I may forget all.  I may no longer hear this voice, which is forever sounding in my enraptured ears, no longer see those fearful but wondrous eyes.”

With feverish haste and trembling hands he made up his little parcel.  A few hours later the post-wagon rolled by Eckhof’s dwelling.  A young man with pale, haggard face and tearful eyes gazed up at his windows.

“Farewell, Eckhof,” murmured he; “I flee from you, but may God bless you!  I go to Halle; there I shall never see you, my heart shall never thrill at the sound of your eloquent voice.”

Lupinus leaned sadly back in the carriage, comforting himself with the conviction that he was safe; but fate was too strong for him, and the danger from which he so bravely fled, followed him speedily.

CHAPTER XII.

Superstition and piety.

The goal was at last reached.  The black ram for the propitiatory offering was found, and was now awaiting in Berlin the hour of sacrifice.

With what eager impatience, with what throbbing pulses, did Fredersdorf wait for the evening!  At last this sublime mystery would be explained, and rivers of gold would flow at his command.  Happily, the king was not in Berlin—­he had gone to Charlottenburg.  Fredersdorf was free-lord of himself.

“And after to-morrow, it will be ever the same,” said he to himself joyfully.  “To-morrow the world will belong to me!  I will not envy the king his crown, the scholar his learning, or youth and beauty their bloom.  I shall be more powerful, more honored, more beloved than them all.  I shall possess an inexhaustible fountain of gold.  Gold is the lord and king of the world.  The king and the philosopher, youth, beauty, and grace, bow down before its shrine.  Oh, what a life of gladness and rapture will be mine!  I shall be at liberty.  I shall wed the woman I adore.  The sun is sinking; the moon will soon ride triumphantly in the heavens, and then—­”