Just as the Christmas bells rang out along the streets of the city the joyful tidings "Christ is born" a sharp cry rang through the rooms of The Three Holy Kings and Melchior knelt beside his blighted flower that now was whiter even than the lily, for the last shimmer of red had faded forever from her wan cheeks, and he wrung his hands in utter despair.
The funeral train that followed the young Italian, who had appeared among them like a fleeting vision of Paradise, would have done honour to the wife of the Chief Justice.
Every one who was respectable and aristocratic in Leipsic followed her, as well as many humbler folk on whom Bianca's glance had rested but once.

People were now so open-hearted, and seemed to wish to give to the dead what they had withheld from the living.

Hot tears were shed, for though not one of all the mourners had ever really known Bianca, they felt that they had lost something beautiful.
The only member of the family of Ueberhell who did not make part of the funeral train was the chief mourner, the bereaved Doctor Melchior himself.
Alone and tearless he paced the chamber that Bianca had occupied.

He denied himself to all who wished to see him or to comfort him, he even refused to admit the notary Winckler.
That the flower of his life was crushed, and that he carried a death-wound in his heart was all that he felt or thought.
Frau Schimmel began at last to fear that he too would die.

If the vision that showed her Frau Bianca on her death-bed had come true, why should not the other one concerning the doctor?
He ate and drank less than a Carthusian on a fast-day, he offended all the good people who had shown his wife such honour, he went neither to mass nor to his work in the laboratory, and consequently her husband, too, was idle and threatened to become unbearable once more.
How would it all end?
The burghers exhibited great indulgence towards him.