Little Rosebud execrated the old sorcerer pretty thoroughly, for
Hyacinth was altogether absorbed in his conversation, and paid no heed to
anything else, hardly even to the swallowing of a mouthful of food. At
length the man took his departure, but left with Hyacinth a little book
which no man could read. Hyacinth gave him fruit, and bread, and wine to
take with him, and accompanied him a long way. Then he came back sunk in
thought, and thereafter took up a quite new mode of life. Rosebud was in a
very sad way about him, for from that time forward he made little of her,
and kept himself always to himself. But it came to pass that one day he
came home, and was like one born again. He fell on his parents' neck and
wept. "I must away to a foreign land!" he said: "the strange old woman in
the wood has told me what I must do to get well; she has thrown the book
into the fire, and has made me come to you to ask your blessing. Perhaps I
shall be back soon, perhaps never more. Say good-bye to Rosebud for me. I
should have been glad to have a talk with her; I do not know what has come
to me: I must go! When I would think to recall old times, immediately come
thoughts more potent in between; my rest is gone, and my heart and love
with it; and I must go find them! I would gladly tell you whither, but do
not myself know; it is where dwells the mother of things, the virgin with
the veil; for her my spirit is on fire. Farewell!" He tore himself from
them, and went out.
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