VIII + 

By this time the music below had come to an end. The young folks, laughing and talking noisily together, were climbing upwards along the sloping road that wound along the steep cliff. + 

Edward and Agnes walked slowly homeward. There was a sweet delicate fragrance of eglantine in the air, pale peonies fluttered their rosy double petals, the first poppies crimsoned and flamed on the long beds under the windows. Over the straggling dark green of the wild vine on the terrace was borne the fragrance of stocks. Wonderful tuberoses dreamed unceasingly, exhaling an infinite fragrance of happiness immeasurable and of love without end. + 

On the threshold of their home Edward Roggenfeldt paused for a moment and said: + 

“Yes, he is right. These wooden musicians are terrible. I’m glad we can’t hear them playing any longer. But you and I, Agnes, have not played our part in life without inspiration!” + 