The ex-countess and the former Christus, both divested of their temporary dignity, verified his words, attaining in humility true dignity! Freyer rallied under the care of his beloved wife, and they used the respite allotted to them by leading a life filled with labor, sacrifice, and grat.i.tude toward G.o.d.

"You ask me, dear friend," the countess wrote a year later to the Duke of Barnheim, "whether you can a.s.sist me in any way? I thank you for the loyal friendship, but must decline the n.o.ble offer. Contentment does not depend upon what we have, but what we need, and I have that, for my wants are few. This is because I have obtained blessings, which formerly I never possessed and which render me independent of everything else. Much as G.o.d has taken from me. He has bestowed in exchange three precious gifts: contempt for the vanities of the world, appreciation of the little pleasures of life, and recognition of the real worth of human beings. I am not even so poor as you imagine. My faithful old Martin, who will never leave me, helped me out of the first necessity. Afterwards the Wildenaus" were induced to give up my private property, jewels, dresses, and works of art, and their value proved sufficient to pay Martin for the little house he had purchased for me and to establish for my husband a small shop for the sale of wood-carving, so that he need not be dependent upon others. When he works industriously--which he is only too anxious to do at the cost of his delicate health--we can live without anxiety, though, of course, very simply. I know how many of my former acquaintances would shudder at the thought of such a prosaic existence! To them I would say that I have learned not to seek poetry in life, but to place it there. Yes, tell the mocking world that Countess Wildenau lives by her husband"s labor and is not ashamed of it! My friend! To throw away a fortune for love of a woman is nothing--but to toil year in and year out, with tireless fidelity and sacrifice, to earn a wife"s daily bread in the sweat of one"s brow, _is_ something! Do you know what it is to a woman to owe her life daily to her beloved husband? An indescribable happiness! You, my friend, would have bestowed a princ.i.p.ality upon me, and I should have accepted it as my rightful tribute, without owing you any special grat.i.tude--but the hand which _toils_ for me I kiss every evening with a thrill of grateful reverence.

"So do not grieve for me! Wed the lovable and charming Princess Amalie of whom you wrote, and should you ever come with your young wife into the vicinity of the little house surrounded by rustling firs, under the shadow of the Kofel, I should be cordially glad to welcome you.

"Farewell! May you be as happy, my n.o.ble friend, as you deserve, and leave to me my poverty and my _wealth_. You see that the phantom has become reality--the ideal is attained.

"Your old friend

"Magdalena Freyer."

When the duke received this letter his valet saw him, for the first time in his life, weep bitterly.

CONCLUSION.

FROM ILLUSION TO TRUTH.

For ten years G.o.d granted the loving wife her husband"s life, it seemed as if he had entirely recovered. At last the day came when He required it again. For the third time the community offered Freyer the part of the Christus. He was still a handsome man, and spite of his forty-eight years, as slender as a youth, while his spiritual expression, chaste and lofty--rendered him more than ever an ideal representative of Christ G.o.d bestowed upon him the full cup of the perfection of his destiny, and it was completed as he had longed. Not on a sick-bed succ.u.mbing to lingering disease--but high on the cross, as victor over pain and death. G.o.d had granted him the grace of at last completing the task--he had held out this time until the final performance--then, when they took him down from the cross for the last time under the falling leaves, amid the first snow of the late autumn--he did not wake again.

On the cross the n.o.ble heart had ceased to beat, he had entered into the peace of Him Whom he personated--pa.s.sed from illusion to truth--from the _copy_ to the _prototype_.

Never did mortal die a happier death, never did a more beautiful smile of contentment rest upon the face of a corpse.

"It is finished! You have done in your way what your model did in His, you have sealed the sacred lesson of love by your death, my husband!"

said the pallid woman who pressed the last kiss upon his lips.

The semblance had become reality, and Mary Magdalene was weeping beside her Redeemer"s corpse.

On the third day after the crucifixion, when the true Christ had risen, Freyer was borne to his grave.

But, like the ph[oe]nix from its ashes, on that day the real Christ rose from the humble sepulchre for the penitent.

"When wilt thou appear to me in the spring garden, Redeeming Love?" she had once asked. Now she was--in the autumn garden--beside the grave of all happiness.

When the coffin had been lowered and the pall-bearers approached the worn, drooping widow, the burgomaster asked: "Where do you intend to live now, Madame?"

"Where, except in Ammergau, here--where his foot has marked for me the path to G.o.d? Oh, my Gethsemane!"

"But," said the pastor, "will you exile yourself forever in this quiet village? Do you not wish to return to your own circle and the world of culture? You have surely atoned sufficiently."

"Atoned? No, your Reverence, not atoned, for the _highest happiness_ is no atonement--expiation is beginning _now_." She turned toward the Christ which hung on the wall of the church, not far from the grave, and extending her arms toward it murmured: "Now I have _nothing_ save _Thee_! Thou hast conquered--idea of Christianity, thy power is eternal!"----

The cloud of tears hung heavily over Ammergau, falling from time to time in damp showers.

Evening had closed in. Through the lighted windows of the ground floor of a little house, surrounded by rustling pines, two women were visible, Mary and Magdalena. The latter was kneeling before the "Mother" whose clasped hands were laid upon her head in comfort and benediction.

The lamps in the low-roofed houses of the village were gradually lighted. The peasants again sat in their ragged blouses on the carvers"

benches, toiling, sacrificing, and bearing their lot of poverty and humility, proud in the consciousness that every ten years there will be a return of the moment which strips off the yoke and lays the purple on their shoulders, the moment when in their midst the miracle is again performed which spreads victoriously throughout a penitent world--the moment which brings to weary, despairing humanity peace and atonement--_on the cross_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: "Chips from a German Workshop." Vol. I. "Essays on the Science of Religion."]

[Footnote 2: A dish made of flour and water fried in hot lard, but so soft that it is necessary to serve and eat it with a spoon.]

[Footnote 3: A drama. Hamerling is better known in America as the author of his famous novel "Aspasia."]

[Footnote 4: Part of these lines of Caedmon were put into modern English by Robert Spence Watson.]

[Footnote 5: Frey is the G.o.d of peace. When its Mythological significance was lost, it became an epithet of honor for princes and is found frequently applied to our Lord and G.o.d the Father.]

THE END.