THE MALADY OF THE CENTURY

BY

MAX NORDAU

Author of "THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT, " "HOW WOMEN LOVE, " Etc. , Etc. 

CONTENTS. 

 I. Mountain and Forest II. Vanity of Vanities III. Heroes IV. It was not to be V. A Lay Sermon VI. An Idyll VII. Symposium VIII. Dark Days IX. Results X. A Seaside Romance XI. In the Horselberg XII. Tannhauser's Plight XIII. Consummation XIV. Uden Horizo

THE MALADY OF THE CENTURY

CHAPTER I. 

MOUNTAIN AND FOREST. 

"Come, you fellows, that's enough joking. This defection of yours, melancholy Eynhardt, combines obstinacy with wisdom, like Balaam's ass!Well! may you rest in peace. And now let us be off. "

The glasses, filled with clear Affenthaler, rang merrily together, thesmiling landlord took up his money, and the company rose noisily fromthe wooden bench, overturning it with a bang. The round table was onlyproof against a similar accident on account of its structure, whichsome one with wise forethought had so designed that only the mosttremendous shaking could upset its equilibrium. The boisterous groupconsisted of five or six young men, easily recognized as students bytheir caps with colored bands, the scars on their faces, and theirrather swaggering manner. They slung their knapsacks on, steppedthrough the open door of the little arbor where they had been sitting, on to the highroad, and gathered round the previous speaker. He was atall, good-looking young man, with fair hair, laughing blue eyes, and abudding mustache. 

"Then you are determined, Eynhardt, that you won't go any further?"asked he, with an accent which betrayed him as a Rhinelander. 

"Yes, I am determined, " Eynhardt answered. 

"A groan for the worthless fellow; but more in sorrow than in anger, "said the tall one to the others. They groaned three times loudly, alltogether, while the Rhinelander gravely beat time. An unpracticed earwould very likely have failed to note the shade of feeling implied inthe noise; but he appeared satisfied. 

"Well, just as you like. No compulsion. Freedom is the best thing inlife--including the freedom to do stupid things. "

"Perhaps he knows of some cave where he is going to turn hermit, " saidone of the group. 

"Or he has a little business appointment, and we should be in the way, "said another. 

They laughed, and the Rhinelander went on:

"Well! moon away here, and we will travel on. But before all things betrue to yourself. Don't forget that the whole world is as much aphantom as the brown Black Forest maiden. And now farewell; and think agreat deal about us phantom people, who will always keep up the ghostof a friendship for you. "

The young man whom he addressed shook him and the others by the hand, and they all lifted their caps with a loud "hurrah, " and struck outvigorously on the road. The sentiment of the farewell, and the tenderspeeches, had been disposed of in the inn, so they now parted gayly, inyouth's happy fullness of life and hope for the future, and without anyof that secret melancholy which Time the immeasurable distils intoevery parting. Hardly had they turned their backs on the friend theyleft behind them when they began to sing, "Im Schwarzen Walfisch zuAskalon, " exaggerating the melancholy of the first half of the tune, and the gayety of the second, passing riotously away behind a turn ofthe road, their song becoming fainter and fainter in the distance. 

This little scene, which took place on an August afternoon in the year1869, had for its theater the highroad leading from Hausach to Triberg, just at the place where a footpath descends into the valley to thelittle town of Hornberg. The persons represented were young men who hadlately graduated at Heidelberg, and who were taking a holiday togetherin the Black Forest, recovering from the recent terrors of examinationin the fragrant air of the pine woods. As far off as Offenburg they hadtraveled by the railway in the prosaic fashion of commercial travelers, from there they had tramped like Canadian backwoodsmen, and reachedHasslach--twelve miles as the crow flies. After resting for a day theyset out at the first cockcrow, and before the noontide heat reached thelovely Kinzigthal, which lies all along the way from Hausach toHornberg. Over the door of a wayside inn a signboard, festooned withfreshly-cut carpenter's shavings, beckoned invitingly to them, and herethe young men halted. The view from this place was particularlybeautiful. The road made a kind of terrace halfway up the mountain, onone side rising sheer up for a hundred feet to its summit, thicklywooded all the way, on the other side sloping to the wide valley, wherethe Gutach flowed, at times tumbling over rough stones, or againspreading itself softly like oil, through flat meadow land. Below laythe little town of Hornberg, with its crooked streets and alleys, itsstately square, framing an old church, several inns, andprosperous-looking houses and shops. Beyond the valley rose a high, steep hill, with a white path climbing in zigzags through its woodedsides. On the summit a white house with many windows was perched, seeming to hang perpendicularly a thousand feet above the valley. Itswhitewashed walls stood out sharply against the background of greenpine trees, clearly visible for many miles round. A conspicuousinscription in large black letters showed that this audacious andpicturesque house was the Schloss hotel, and a glance at the grayruined tower which rose behind it gave at once a meaning to the name. Behind the hill, with its outline softened by trees and encircled bythe blue sky, were ridges of other hills in parallel lines meeting thehorizon, alternately sharp-edged and rounded, stretching from north tosouth. They seemed like some great sea, with majestic wave-hills andwave-valleys; behind the first appeared a second, then a third, then afourth, as far as one's eye could see; each one of a distinct tone ofcolor, and of all the shades from the deepest green through blue andviolet to vaporous pale gray. 

The sight of this picture had decided Wilhelm Eynhardt not to go anyfurther. The others had resolved to push on to Triberg the same day, and above all, not to turn back till they had bathed in the Boden-see. As every persuasion was powerless to alter Eynhardt's decision, theyseparated, and the travelers started on their walk to Triberg. Eynhardt, however, stayed at Hornberg, meaning to climb to the Schlosshotel again from the other side. 

Wilhelm Eynhardt was a young man of twenty-four, tall and slim offigure, with a strikingly handsome face. His eyes were almond-shaped, not large but very dark, with much charm of expression. Thefinely-marked eyebrows served by their raven blackness to emphasize thewhiteness of the forehead, which was crowned by an abundant mass ofcurling black hair. His fresh complexion had still the bloom of earlyyouth, and would hardly have betrayed his age, if it had not beenshaded by a dark brown silky beard, which had never known a razor. Itwas an entirely uncommon type, recalling in profile, Antinous, and thefull face reminding one of the St. Sebastian of Guido Roni in themuseum of the Capitol; a face of the noblest manhood, without a singlecoarse feature. His manner, although quiet, gave the impression of keenenthusiasm, or, more rightly speaking, of unworldly inspiration. Allwho saw him were powerfully attracted, but half-unconsciously felt aslight doubt whether even so fine a specimen of manhood was quite fitlyorganized and equipped for the strife of existence. At the universityhe had been given the nickname of Wilhelmina, on account of a certaingentleness and delicacy of manner, and because he neither drank norsmoked. Such jokes, not ill-natured, were directed against his outwardappearance, but had a shade of meaning as regards his character. 

As Wilhelm walked into the courtyard of the Schloss hotel he stopped amoment to regain his breath. Before him was the stately new house, whose white-painted walls and many windows had looked down on thehigh-road; to the left stood the round tower inclosed within a ruinedwall, shading an airy lattice-work building, in which on a raisedwooden floor stood a table and some benches. Several people, evidentlyguests at the hotel, sat there drinking wine and beer, and eying thenewcomer curiously. The burly landlord, in village dress, emerged fromthe open door of the cellar in the tower, and wished him "good-day. " Hehad a thick beard and a sunburned face, with good-natured blue eyes. With a searching glance at the young man's cap and knapsack, he waitedfor Wilhelm to speak. 

"Can I have a room looking on to the valley?" asked the latter. 

"Not at this moment, " the landlord answered, clearing his throatloudly; "there is hardly a room free here, and that only in the topstory. But to-morrow, or the day after, many people are leaving, andthen I can give you what you want. "

Wilhelm's face clouded with disappointment, but only for a moment, thenhe said: "Very well, I will stay. "

"Luggage?" said the landlord, in his short, unceremonious way. "Myluggage is at Haslach. It can come up to-morrow. "

"Bertha, " called the landlord, in such a strident tone that themountains echoed the sound. The visitors drinking in the kiosk smiled;they were well accustomed to the man. A neat red-cheeked girl appearedin the doorway. "Number 47, " shouted the landlord, and went off to hisother duties. 

Bertha led the new guest up three flights of uncarpeted woodenstaircase, down a long passage to a light, clean, but sparely-furnishedroom. The girl told him the hours of meals, brought some water, andleft him alone. He hung his knapsack on a hook on the wall, opened thelittle window, and gazed long at the view. Underneath was the openspace where he had been standing, to the left the tower, and behind, over the ruined walls, he could see the old, neglected castle yard fullof weeds and heaps of rubbish--a picture of decay and desolation. 

"I have chosen well, " thought Wilhelm, for he loved solitude, andpromised himself enjoyable hours of wandering in the ruins in companywith luxuriant flowers and singing birds. 

He barely gave himself time to freshen his face with cold water, and tochange his thick walking shoes for lighter ones; immediately hurryingout to make acquaintance with the castle. Before he could get there hehad first to find in the tumbledown wall a hole large enough to enablehim to get through. He shortly found himself in a fairly large squarespace, the uneven ground being formed of a mass of rubbish, mounds ofearth, and deep holes. Woods protected the greater part of it, most ofthe trees stunted and choked by undergrowth and shrubs, withoccasionally a high, solitary pine tree, and near to the west and southwalls half-withered oaks and mighty beeches stood thickly. Here andthere from the bushes peeped up bare pieces of crumbling stone andbroken pieces of mortar, in whose crevices hung long grasses, and whereyellow, white, and red flowers nestled. Climbing, stumbling, andslipping, he worked his way through this wilderness, the length andbreath of which he wished to inspect so as to discover a place where hecould rest quietly, when he suddenly came to a precipitous fall of theground, concealed from him by a thick curtain of leaves. Startled andtaken by surprise, the ground seemed to him to sink under his feet. Heinstinctively caught hold of some branches to keep himself fromfalling, pricking his hands with the thorns, and breaking a slenderbough, finally rolling in company with dust and earth, torn-out bushesand stone, down a steep declivity of several feet to a little grassplot at the bottom. He heard a slight scream near him, and a girlishform sprang up and cried in an anxious voice:

"Have you hurt yourself?"

Wilhelm picked himself up as quickly as he could, brushed the earthfrom his clothes, and taking off his cap said, "Thanks, not much. Onlya piece of awkwardness. But I am afraid I have frightened you?" headded. 

"A little bit; but that is all right. "

They looked at each other for the first time, and the lady laughed, while Wilhelm blushed deeply. She stopped again directly, blushed also, and dropped her eyes. She was a girl in the first bloom of youth, ofparticularly fine and well-made figure, with a beautiful face; twodimples in her cheeks giving her a roguish expression, and a pair oflively brown eyes. A healthy color was in her cheeks, and in thewell-cut, seductive little mouth. Her luxuriant, golden-brown hair, inthe fashion of the day, was brushed back in long curls. She had as heronly ornament a pale gold band in her hair, and wore a simple dress oflight-flowered material, the high waistband fitting close to thegirlish figure. Conventionality began to assert its rights over nature, and the girl too felt confused at finding herself in the middle of aconversation with a strange man, suddenly shot down at her very feet. Wilhelm understood and shared her embarrassment, and bowing, he said:

"As no doubt we are at the same house, allow me to introduce myself. Myname is Wilhelm Eynhardt. I come from Berlin, and took up my abode anhour ago at the Schloss hotel. "

"From Berlin, " said the girl quickly; "then we are neighbors. That isvery nice. And where do you live in Berlin, if I may ask?"

"In Dorotheenstrasse. "

"Of course you do, " and a clear laugh deepened the shadow of herdimples. 

"Why 'of course?'" asked Wilhelm, rather surprised. 

"Why, because that is our Latin quarter, and as a student--you are astudent, I suppose?"

"Yes, and no. In the German sense I am no longer a student, for I tookmy degree a year ago; but the word in English is better and truer, asthere 'student' is used where we should say scholar (gelehrter). Scholars we are, not only learners. In the English sense then I am astudent, and hope to remain so all my life. "

"Ah, you speak English, " she said, quickly catching at the word; "thatis charming. I am tremendously fond of English, and am quite accustomedto it, as I spent a great part of my time in England when I was veryyoung. I have been told that I have a slight English accent in speakingGerman. Do you think so?"

"My ear is not expert enough for that, " said Wilhelm apologetically. 

"My friends, " she chattered on, "nearly all speak French; but I thinkEnglish is much more uncommon. Fluent English in a German is alwaysproof of good education. Don't you think so?"

"Not always, " said Wilhem frankly; "it might happen that one had workedas a journeyman in America. "

The girl turned up her nose a little at this rather unkind observation, but Wilhelm went on:

"With your leave I would rather keep to our mother-tongue. To speak ina foreign language with a fellow-country-woman without any necessitywould be like acting a charade, and a very uncomfortable thing. "

"I think a charade is very amusing, " she answered; "but just as youlike. Opportunities of speaking English are not far to seek. Most ofthe visitors at the hotel are English. I dare say you have noticed italready. But they are not the best sort. They are common city people, who even drop their h's, but who play at being lords on the Continent. Of course I have learned already to tell a 'gentleman' from a 'snob. '"

Wilhelm smiled at the self-conscious importance with which she spoke. His eyes wandered over her beautiful hair, to the tender curve of herslender neck and beautiful shoulders, while she, feeling perfectlysecure again, settled herself comfortably. Her seat was a projectingpiece of stone, which had been converted by a soft covering of mossinto a delightful resting-place. An overhanging bush shaded itpleasantly. In front lay a corner of the castle; across a smooth pieceof turf and through a wide gap in the wall they caught a view of themountains, as if painted by some artist's brush--a perfect compositionwhich would have put the crowning touch to his fame. The girl had beentrying to make a sketch of the view in a well-worn sketchbook which laynear. 

"You have given a sufficient excuse for your sketches by your feelingfor natural beauty, " remarked Wilhelm. "May I look at the page?"

"Oh, " she said, somewhat confused, "my will is of the best, but I cando so little, " and she hesitatingly gave him her album. He took it andalso the pencil, looked alternately at the mountains and on the page ofthe book, and without asking leave began to improve upon it, strengthening a line here, lightening a shadow and giving greaterbreadth, and then growing deeply interested in his work, he sat downwithout ceremony on the mossy bank, took a piece of india-rubber, anderasing here, adding lines there, sometimes laying in a shadow, givingstrength to the foreground and lightness to the background, he ended bymaking a really pretty and artistic sketch. 

The girl had watched him wonderingly, and said as he returned thealbum, "But you are a great artist, " and without letting him speak shewent on, "and by your appearance I had taken you for a student! But youare not in the least like a student, nor in fact like a German either. I have often met Indian princes in society in London, and I think youare very much like them. "

Wilhelm smiled. "There is a grain of truth in what you say, althoughyou overrate it a little. A great artist I certainly am not, nor even alittle one, but I have always observed much and painted a good dealmyself, and originally I thought of devoting myself to an artist'scareer; and if I have nothing in common with Indian princes, and ammerely a plebeian German, I very likely have a drop of Indian blood inmy veins. "

"Really, " she said, with curiosity. 

"Yes, my mother was a Russian German living in Moscow, and whosefather, a Thuringian, had married a Russian girl of gypsy descent. Through this grandmother, whom I never knew, I am related by remotegenealogical descent to Indians. But you do not look like a Germaneither, with your beautiful dark hair and eyebrows. "

She took this personal compliment in good part as she answered quickly:

"There is some reason for that too. Just as you have Indian, I haveFrench blood in my veins. My father's mother was a Colonial, her maidenname was Du Binache. "

So they gossiped on like old acquaintances. Young and beautiful as theywere, they found the deepest pleasure in one another, and the coldfeeling of strangeness melted as by a charm. They were awakened to theconsciousness that half an hour earlier neither of them had an idea ofthe other's existence, by the appearance of a girl in the gap in thewall, who seemed very much surprised at the sight of their evidentintimacy. The young lady stood up rather hastily and went a few stepstoward the newcomer, a servant-maid, who had brought a cloak for hermistress, and took charge of her album, sunshade, and large straw hat. 

"Is it so late already?" she said, with a naive surprise, which left noroom for doubt even to Wilhelm's modesty. 

"Certainly, fraulein, " said the maid, pointing with her hand to thedistant mountain, whose peaks were already clothed with the orange hueof twilight; then she looked alternately at her young mistress and thestrange gentleman, whose handsome face she inwardly noted. 

"Do you think of making any stay here?" asked the young lady ofWilhelm, who followed slowly. 

"Yes, certainly, " he answered at once. 

"Then we may become good friends. My parents will be glad to make youracquaintance. I did not tell you before that my father is Herr Ellrich. "

As Wilhelm merely bowed, without seeming to recognize the name, shesaid rather sharply, and slightly raising her voice:

"I thought as you came from Berlin you would be sure to know myfather's name--Councilor Ellrich, Vice-President of the 'Seehandlung. '"

The name and title made very little impression on Wilhelm, but hispoliteness brought forth an "Ah!" which satisfied Fraulein Ellrich. They left the ruins by an easy path which Wilhelm had not noticedbefore, and walked together to the entrance of the hotel, where shetook leave of him by an inclination of her head. He betook himself tohis room in a dream, and while he recalled to his mind the picture ofher beautiful face, and the clear ring of her voice, he thought howgrateful he was to this chance, that not only had he become acquaintedwith the girl, but that he had avoided in such a glorious fashion thediscomfort of a formal introduction. Also Wilhelm knew himself well, and felt sure that, badly endowed as he was for forming newacquaintances, he could never have become friends with Fraulein Ellrichapart from the accident of his fall in the castle yard. 

Dinner was served at separate tables where single guests might take itas they pleased, and Wilhelm was absentminded and dreamy when he satdown. He scarcely glanced at the large, cool dining-room, ornamentedwith engravings of portraits of the Grand Dukes of Baden and theirwives. Six large windows looked into the valley of the Gutach with itslittle town of Hornberg, and the mountains lying beyond. He hardlynoticed the rather silent people at the other tables, in which theEnglish element predominated. He had come in purposely late in the hopeof finding Fraulein Ellrich already there. She was not present; but hewas not kept long in suspense before a waiter opened the door, and thelovely girl appeared accompanied by a stately gentleman and a stoutlady. They seemed to be known to the servants, for as soon as theyappeared the headwaiter and his subordinates rushed toward them, andwith many bows and scrapes took their wraps from them and ushered themto their places. 

Wilhelm, who possessed very little knowledge of society, was somewhatat a loss. Ought he to recognize the young lady? If he followed hisinclination, he certainly would do so. But her parents! They seemed tobe cold and reserved-looking. Happily all fell out for the best. TheEllrichs walked straight to the table where he was sitting, and in amoment Wilhelm was greeting his lovely acquaintance with a low bow. Herquick eyes had already recognized him from the doorway. She returnedhis greeting smiling and blushing, and as her father nodded kindly, theice was broken. Wilhelm introduced himself, and the councilor gave himthe tips of his fingers and said: "If you have no objection we will sitat your table. " His wife, who gazed at Wilhelm through a gold"pince-nez" with hardly concealed surprise, took her place next to him;on the other side sat her husband, and opposite the daughter's facesmiled at him. 

The councilor was a well-preserved man of about fifty, of good height, dressed in a well-made gray traveling suit, with a light gray silk tieadorned with a pin of black pearl. His closely-cut hair was very thin, and had almost disappeared from the top of his head. His chin wasclean-shaven, but his well-brushed whiskers and closely-cut mustacheshowed signs of gray. His light blue eyes were cold and rathertired-looking, at the corners of the mouth were evident signs ofindolence, and his whole appearance gave an impression ofself-consciousness mixed with indifference toward the rest of mankind;his wife, stout, blooming, and tranquil, appeared to be a kindly soul. 

The conversation opened trivially on the circumstances of Wilhelmmeeting with Fraulein Ellrich, and on the beauty of the neighborhood, which Herr Ellrich glorified as not being overrun. 

"I would much rather recommend it for quiet than Switzerland with itscrowds, " he said. 

Wilhelm agreed with him, and related how he was induced by the romanticaspect of the place to give up his original plans, and to anchorhimself here. When they questioned him, he gave them some informationabout Heidelberg and his journey to Hornberg. Frau Ellrich complimentedhim on his sketch, and while he modestly disclaimed the praise, sheasked him why he had not devoted himself to art. 

"That is a peculiar result of my development, " answered Wilhelmthoughtfully. "While I was still at the gymnasium I sketched andpainted hard, and after the final examination I went to the Art Academyfor two years; but the further I went into the study of art, and themore attentively I followed in the beaten track of art-studies, theclearer it was to me that he who would secure an abiding success in artmust be a blind copyist of nature. Certainly the personal peculiaritiesof an artist often please his contemporaries. It is the fashion to dohim honor if he flatters the prevailing direction of taste. But thoseof the race who follow after, scorn what those before them haveadmired, and exactly what those of one time have prized as progressiveinnovations, they who come after reject as mere aberration. What theartist has himself accomplished, I mean his so-called personalcomprehension or his capricious interpretation of nature, passes away;but what he simply and honorably reproduces, as he has truly seen it, lives forever, and the remotest age will gladly recognize in suchart-work its old acquaintance, unchanging nature. "

Fraulein Ellrich hung on his words in astonishment, while her parentscalmly went on eating their fish. 

"So, " went on Wilhelm, speaking chiefly to his opposite neighbor, "so, I tried when I drew or painted to reproduce nature with the greatesttruth; but at a certain point I became conscious of a perception that ahidden meaning in an unintelligible language lay written there. Theform of things, and also every so-called accident of form, appeared tome to be the necessary expression of something within, which was hiddenfrom me. The wish arose in me to penetrate behind the visible face ofnature, to know why she appears in such a way, and not in another. Iwanted to learn the language, the words of which, with no understandingof their sense, I had been slavishly copying; and so I turned to thestudy of physical science. "

"So your two years at the Art School were not wasted, " remarked HerrEllrich. 

"Certainly not, for to an observer of natural objects it is mostvaluable to have a trained eye for form and color. "

"Yes, and beside, drawing and painting are such charmingaccomplishments, and so useful to a young man in society. "

"Playing the piano and singing are still more so, " put in Frau Ellrich. 

"But dancing most of all, " cried Fraulein Ellrich. "Do you dance?"

"No, " answered Wilhelm shortly. 

The words jarred upon him, and a silence ensued. 

The councilor broke this with the question:

"Then you are a doctor of physical science?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What is your particular department? Zoology, botany?"

"I have principally studied chemistry and physics, and I think ofdevoting myself to the latter. "

"Physics, oh yes. A wide and beautiful sphere. So much is included init. Electricity, galvanism, magnetism--those are all new faculties verylittle known; and as regards submarine telegraph the knowledge cannotbe too useful. "

"These sides of the question have not hitherto interested me. I ask ofphysics the unlocking of the nature of things. It has not yet given methe key, but it is something to know on what insecure, weak, andlimited experiments our vaunted knowledge of the existence of the worldof energy, of matter and their properties, depend. "

Frau Ellrich looked at him approvingly. 

"You speak beautifully, Herr Eynhardt, and it must be a great enjoymentto hear you lecture. "

"You will soon have a professorship, I suppose?" remarked Herr Ellrich, turning around to the blushing Wilhelm. 

"Oh, no!" said he quickly, "I do not aspire to that; I believe inFaust's verse: 'Ich ziehe. .. Meine Schuler an der Nase herum--Und sehedass wir nichts wissen konnen;' and I also bilde mir nicht ein, Ichkonnte was lehren. ' I wonder at and envy the men who teach such thingswith so much influence and conviction, and I am very grateful to themfor initiating me into their methods and power of working properly. Butthere has never been a likelihood of my venturing to approach young menand saying to them, 'You must work with me for three years earnestlyand diligently, and I will lead you to knowledge, so that at last, through the contents of a book, you may get a flying glimpse of thephantom which has so often eluded you. '"

"Your opinions are very interesting, " said Herr Ellrich; "but aprofessorship is still the one practical goal for a man who studiesphysics. Forgive me if I express my meaning bluntly; there is money tobe made in physics through a professorship. "

"Happily I am in a position which makes it unnecessary for me to workfor my bread. "

"That is quite another thing, " said the councilor in a friendly way, while his wife cast a quick glance over Wilhelm's clothes, unfashionable and rather worn, but scrupulously clean. 

"One can see that this idealist neglects his outward appearance, " hergood-natured glance, half-apologetic, half-compassionate, seemed to say. 

Herr Ellrich changed the conversation to the management of the hotel;discussing for a time the Margrave's wines, the south German cookery, the Black Forest tourists, and a variety of other minor topics. He thenasked his daughter:

"Now, Loulou, have you made a programme for tomorrow yet? She is ourmaitre de plaisir, " he explained to Wilhelm. 

"A frightfully difficult post, " exclaimed Loulou. "Papa and mamma lovequiet; I like moving about, and I endeavor to harmonize the two. "

Wilhelm thought that the opposing tasks would very soon be harmonizedif Loulou subordinated her inclinations to her parents' comfort; but hekept his thoughts to himself. 

"I vote that to-morrow morning we go for a little drive. As to theafternoon, we can arrange that later. Perhaps Dr. ---" She stoppedshort, and her mother came to her help and completed the invitation. 

"It would be very kind of you to join us. "

"I am only afraid that I might be in the way. "

"Oh, no; certainly not, " said the mother and daughter together, andHerr Ellrich nodded encouragingly. 

Wilhelm felt that the invitation was meant cordially, and his fear ofobtruding himself overcome, he accepted. 

Circumstances at the castle very greatly favored Wilhelm's intercoursewith the Ellrich's, or rather with Loulou. In this house on the summitof the hill they met constantly in close companionship. Frau Ellrichenjoyed nothing better than walking on the arm of this handsome youngman up and down the wooded slopes, as till now she had been obliged togo without such escort. Herr Ellrich liked to take his holiday in adifferent way from the ladies. If he felt obliged to take exercise hewould borrow the landlord's gun and dogs and shoot. At other times hewould lie down anywhere on a plaid on the grass, smoke a cigar, andread foreign papers like the Times from beginning to end. The afternoonwas taken up by a nap, and in the evening he would be ready to hear anaccount of how his family had spent the day--perhaps in a long carriageexcursion through the neighboring valleys. 

Frau Ellrich was in the habit of appearing at the first table d'hote, and then doing homage to the peaceful custom of afternoon sleep. In thefirst cool hours of the morning she walked a little in the perfumed airof the pine woods, and the rest of the time she devoted to a voluminouscorrespondence, which seemed to be her one passion. Thus Loulou wasalone nearly always in the morning, and frequently in the afternoon aswell, and quite contented to ramble with Wilhelm through the woods, orto sit with him in the ruins, where they learned to know each other, and chattered without ceasing. 

The subject of conversation mattered not. They had the story of theirshort lives to relate to one another. Loulou's was soon told. Hernarrative was like the merry warbling of birds, and was from beginningto end the story of a serene dream of spring. She was the only child ofher parents, who in spite of outward indifference and apparent coldnessadored her, and had never denied her anything. The first fifteen yearsof her life were spent in her charming nest, in the beautiful house inthe Lennestrasse, where she was born. "When we return to Berlin youshall see how pleasant my home is. I will show you my little bluesitting-room, my winter garden, my aviary, my parrots and blackbirds. "A heavy trial had befallen her--the only trial that she had yetexperienced. She had been sent to England for the completion of hereducation, and had to suddenly part from all her home surroundings. Shestayed there for three years with an aunt who had married an Englishbanker. The visit proved delightful, and she grew to love Englandenthusiastically. She drove and rode, and even followed the hounds. Inwinter there was the pantomime at Drury Lane, the flights to St. Leonards, Hastings, Leamington, the mad rides across country throughfrosted trees behind the hounds in full cry; in summer during theseason there were parties, balls, the opera, the park; then in theholidays splendid travels with papa and mamma, once to Belgium, France, and the Rhine, another time to Switzerland and Italy, then toHeligoland and Norway. No, she could never have such good times again. In the following year she went back to Berlin, and had spent a veryagreeable winter, a subscription ball, several other balls, innumerablesoirees, a box at the opera, lovely acquaintances, with naturally manysuccesses--the envy of false friends, but she did not allow herself tobe much disturbed by them. 

Wilhelm listened to this chatter with mixed feelings. If she seemedsuperficial, he reconciled himself by a glance at her beautiful silkenhair, at her laughing brown eyes, at her roguish dimples, and instantlyhe pleaded with his cooler reason for pardon for the lovely girl--hefor nineteen years had had other things beside pleasure to think of!These charms seemed enough to work the taming magic of Orpheus over thewild animals of the woods. 

"And you were never, " he asked timidly as she paused, "a little bit inlove?"

"I can look after myself, " she answered, with a silvery laugh, andWilhelm felt as if an iron band had been lifted from his heart, likethe trusty Henry's in the story. 

"That points to marvelous wisdom in a child of society--seeing so manypeople--so attractive! You are indifferent then to admiration?"

"I did not say that. My fancy has been often enough touched, but--"

"But your heart has not?"

"No. "

"Really not?" continued he, in a tone of voice in which, he himselfdetected the anxiety. 

She shook her head, and looked down thoughtfully. But after a shortpause she raised her rosy face and said, "No--better die than speakuntruths--I was rather in love with our pastor who confirmed me. He wasthin and pale with long hair, much longer than yours. And he spoke verybeautifully and powerfully--I felt sentimental when I thought of him. But I soon got to know his wife, who was as pointed and hard as aknitting needle, and his children, whose number I never could countexactly, and my youthful feelings received a severe chill. " Shelaughed, and Wilhelm joined her heartily. 

It was now his turn to relate his story. He was as to his birthplacehardly a German, but a Russian, as he first saw the light in Moscow, inthe year 1845. 

"So you are now twenty-four?"

"Last May. Are you frightened at such an age, fraulein?"

"That is not so old, twenty-four--particularly for a man, " sheprotested with great earnestness. 

His father, he went on, was from Konigsberg, had studied philology, andwhen he left the university had become a tutor in a distinguishedRussian family. He was the child of poor parents, and had to take thefirst opportunity which presented itself of earning his living. So hewent to Russia, where he lived for twenty years as a tutor in privatefamilies, and then as a teacher in a Moscow gymnasium. He married latein life, an only child of German descent, who helped her middle-agedhusband by a calm observance of duty and a mother's love for hischildren. "My mother was a remarkable woman. She had dark eyes andhair, and an enthusiastic and devoted expression in her face, whichmade me feel sad, as a child, if I looked at her for long. She spokelittle, and then in a curious mixture of German and Russian. Strangelyenough, she always called herself a German, and spoke Russian like aforeigner; but later, when we went to Berlin, she discovered that shewas really a Russia, and always wished she were back in Moscow, neverfeeling at home amid her new surroundings. She was a Protestant likeher father, but had inherited from her Russian mother a lingeringaffection for the orthodox faith, and she often used to go to theGolden Church of the Kremlin, whose brown, holy images had a mysticaleffect on her. She loved to sing gypsy songs in a low voice. She wouldnot teach them to us. She was always very quiet, and preferred beingalone with us to any society or entertainment. "

When Wilhelm was four years old there came a little sister, a bright, light-haired, blue-eyed creature after her father's heart. She wasnamed Luise, but she was always called Blondchen. She was his onlyplayfellow, as the irritable father in Moscow cared for noacquaintances. His father's one wish was to return to his home, but fora long time the mother would not have it so. At last, in the year 1858, he accomplished his wish. He was then sixty-three years old, and herepresented to his wife that after his life of unremitting work, now inits undoubted decline, he had a right to spend the last few years inpeace in his native land. He possessed enough for his family to liveon; the children would grow and get a better education than in Russia, and above all he wished to keep his Prussian nationality. The motheryielded, and so they came to Berlin, where the father bought a modesthouse near the Friedrich-Wilhelm gymnasium. This house was nowWilhelm's property. "We children liked Berlin very much. I soon becameindependent and self-reliant, after school hours wandering in thestreets as much as I pleased, and used to make eager explorations inall directions, coming home enraptured when I had found a beautifulneighborhood, a stately house, a statue of some general in bronze ormarble. I used to take Blondchen by the hand, and show her mydiscovery. The Friedrichstadt with its straight streets interested usvery much; I had a fancy that the houses were marshaled in battalions, as if by an officer on parade, and that when he gave the word 'March, 'they would suddenly walk away in step, like the soldiers on the paradeground. I explained this to my sister, and often when we were in ourown street she would call out 'March!' to see if the long row of houseswould not begin to move. However, we liked the old part of Berlinbetter, where the streets, with their capricious and serpent-likewindings, reminded us of the crooked alleys of Moscow. The streamletsof the Spree exercised a powerful attraction over us. Blondchen thoughtthey played hide-and-seek with children, who would run through thestreets to search for them. They came suddenly into sight where onewould least expect to see them, in the yard of a house in theWerderschen Market, behind an apparently innocent archway on theHausvogtei Platz, at the backs of houses whose fronts betrayed noexistence of any water near. My sister so often longed to catch sightof the oily satiny sheen of the river's light in unsuspected placesthat she would drag me off to note her discoveries. She wanted all thevarying sights of the Spree, which showed itself at the ends of alleys, or in courtyards or behind houses, suddenly to appear to her, so thatshe might have the right to first name her discovery. "

He was silent awhile, deep in memories of the past. Then he said: "If Ihave lingered over these childish reminiscences it is because I havenot my Blondchen any longer. On one of our wandering excursions we werecaught in a heavy shower of rain, and became wet through. My sister wastaken ill with rheumatism, and eight days afterward we buried her inthe churchyard. "

The mother soon followed Blondchen. Sorrow over the child, andhomesickness, combined with weak health, proved too great a strain. Wilhelm remained alone with the dispirited and sorrowful old father, whom he never left except for his three years' military service in thefield. Then the father, to shorten the time of separation, accompaniedthe army (in spite of his seventy years) as an ambulance assistant. Thefollowing year he died, and Wilhelm was left alone in the world. 

Loulou was not wanting in heart, and she had as much feeling as it isproper for an educated German girl to show. By an involuntary movement, she held out her hand, which Wilhelm caught and kissed. They both grewvery red, and she looked wistfully at him with her eyes wet. Had heunderstood the look, and been of a bold nature, he would have claspedthe girl to his breast and kissed her. Her red lips would have madescarcely any resistance. But the confusion of mind passed quickly, thelight afternoon sunshine and the sight of the people passing throughthe breach in the castle wall brought him to full consciousness, andthe dangerous step was not taken. Loulou recovered her sprightliness, and going back to his story asked him, "So you have been in a campaign?"

"Certainly. "

"Did you become an officer?"

"No, fraulein, only a 'vize-Feldwebel. '"

"Have you fought in a battle?"

"Oh, yes, at Burkersdork, Skalitz, Koniginhof, and Koniggratz. "

"That must have been frightfully interesting. And have you ever killedone of the enemy?"

"Happily not. It does not fall to the lot of every soldier to kill aman. He does his duty if he stands up in his place ready to be killed. "

"Have you any photographs of yourself in uniform?"

He looked at her surprised and said:

"No, why?"

A roguish smile, which at the last question had curled at the cornersof her mouth, broke into a merry laugh. 

"I wanted to know whether you marched into battle with your curls, orwhether you sacrificed them to the fatherland?"

Wilhelm was not offended, but said simply:

"Dear young lady, appearances give you the right to make fun--"

"Ah, don't be angry, I am ill-mannered. "

"No, no, you are quite right; but, believe me, I only wear my hair longso as to save myself the trouble of going to the hairdresser's. If Idared imagine that I should be less insupportable with a tonsure--"

"For heaven's sake, don't think of it, the curls suit you very well. "She said this with a frivolity of manner which she immediatelyperceived to be unsuitable, and to get over her embarrassment, shejumped at another subject of conversation. "So you live quite alone?That strikes me as being very dreary. Still you must have many friends?"

"Yes, so-called friends--comrades from the gymnasium, from the academy, and the university. But I do not count much on these superficialacquaintances--I have really only one friend. "

"Who is she"

"He is called Paul Haber, and is Assistant of Chemistry at theAgricultural College. "

"A nice man?"

"Oh, yes. "

"How old is he?"

"About a year older than I am. "

"What is he like?"

Wilhelm smiled. 

"I believe he is very good-looking, strong, not very tall, with a fairmustache, otherwise closely shaved, and with short hair, not like me!He thinks a good deal of appearance, and always knows what sort of tiesare worn. He dances well, and is very pleased if people take him for anofficer in civilian's clothes. But he is a true soul, and has a heartof gold. He is clever too, practical, and would do for me as much as Iwould do for him with all my heart. "

"Hardly one unpleasant word for an absent friend. That is scarcely asmy friends speak of me, " and she quietly added: "Nor as I speak of myfriends. You make me curious about Herr--"

"Haber. "

"You must introduce him to us. "

"He would be most happy. "

Loulou now knew more about Wilhelm than she had hitherto known of anyman in the world. Only on one point was she unenlightened, and this shehastened to clear up on the following day, when they were looking forberries in the wood. 

"You asked me if my heart had been touched yet. Would it be right if Iwere to ask you the same question?"

"The question seems very natural to me--I can truthfully assure you Ihave never been in love, not even with a pastor with long hair. "

"And has no one been in love with you?"

Wilhelm looked at the distance, and said dreamily:

"No; yet once--"

She felt a little stab at her heart, and said:

"Quick, tell me about it. "

"It is a wonderful story--it happened in Moscow. "

"But you were only a child then?"

"Yes, and she who loved me was a child too. She was four years old. "

"Ah, " said Loulou, with an involuntary sigh of relief. 

"When I was about ten years old I was sitting one sunny autumnafternoon in the yard of our house on a little stool, and was deep in astory of pirates. Suddenly a shadow fell on my book. I looked up, andsaw a wonderfully beautiful child before me, a long-haired, rosy-cheeked little girl, who looked at me with deep shining eyes, half-timidly, and shyly held her hand before her mouth. I smiled in afriendly way, and called to her to come nearer. She sprang close to me, at once threw her arms joyfully round my neck, kissed me, sat down onmy knee, and said, 'Now tell me what your name is. I am a little girl, and my name is Sonia. I am not going away from you. Let me go to sleepfor a little. ' An old servant who had followed her came up and said inastonishment, 'Well, young sir, you may be proud of yourself, the childis generally so wild and rough, and with you she is as tame as akitten. ' I learned from her that little Sonia lived in theneighborhood, and that her aunt had come to look for her in our house. She would not go away from me, and the old servant had to call hermother, who only persuaded her to return home with great difficulty. She wanted to take me with her, and she was miserable when they toldher that my mamma would not allow me. The next morning early she wasthere again, and called to me from the threshold, 'I am going to staywith you all day, Wilhelm, the whole day. ' I had to go to school, however, and I told her so. She wanted to go with me, and cried andsobbed when they prevented her. Then her relations took her home, and Idid not see her again. Later I heard that the same afternoon she wastaken ill with diphtheria, and in her illness she cried so much for methat her mother came to mine to beg her to send me to her. My mothersaid nothing to me about it, fearing I might catch the disease. Soniadied the second day, and my name was the last word on her lips. I criedvery much when they told me, and since then I have never forgotten mylittle Sonia. "

"A strange story, " said Loulou softly; "such a little girl to fall inlove so suddenly. Yes, " she went on, "if she had grown up--"

She could not say more, as Wilhelm, who had come near her, looked ather with wide-open, far-seeing eyes, and suddenly threw his arms roundher. She cried out softly, and sank on his breast. "Loulou, " "Wilhelm, "was all they said. It had happened so quickly, so unconsciously, thatthey both felt as if they were awaking from a dream, as Loulou a minutelater freed herself from his burning lips and encircling arms, andWilhelm, confused and hardly master of his senses, stood before her. They turned silently homeward. She trembled all over and did not dareto take his arm. He inwardly reproached himself, yet he felt very happyin spite of it. Then, before they had reached the summit of the castlehill, he gathered all his courage together and said anxiously:

"Can you forgive me, Loulou? I love you so much. "

"I love you too, Wilhelm, " she answered, and stretched out her hand tohim. 

"Dare I speak to your mother, my own Loulou?" whispered he into her ear. 

"Not here, Wilhelm, " she said quickly, "not here. You do not know myparents well enough yet. Wait till we are in Berlin. "

"I will do as you like, " sighed he, and took leave of her with aneloquent glance, as they reached the hotel. 

On this evening a quantity of curious things happened, which Wilhelm sofar had not observed in spite of his studies in natural science. Hecould not touch his dinner, and Herr and Frau Ellrich's voices, againstall the laws of acoustics, seemed to come from the far distance, andseveral minutes elapsed before the sounds reached his ears, although hesat close to the speakers. The waiters and hotel guests looked odd, andseemed to swim in a kind of rosy twilight. In the sky there seemed tobe three times as many stars as usual. When the Ellrichs had withdrawnhe went toward midnight alone into the fir woods, and heard unknownbirds sing, caught strange and magic harmonies in the rustling of thebranches, and felt as if he walked on air. He went to bed in the grayof early dawn, after writing from his overflowing heart the followingletter to his friend Haber in Berlin:

"MY DEAREST PAUL: I am happy as I never thought of being happy. I lovean unspeakably beautiful sweet brown maiden, and I really think sheloves me too. Do not ask me to describe her. No words or brush could doit. You will see her and worship her. Oh, Paul, I could shout and jumpor cry like a child. It is too foolish, and yet so unspeakablysplendid, I can hardly understand how the dull, stupid people in thishouse can sleep so indifferently while she is under the same roof. Ifonly you were here! I can hardly bear my happiness alone. I write thisin great haste. Always your

"WlLHELM. "

Four days later the post brought this answer from his friend:

"Well, you are done for, that is certain, my dear Wilhelm. Confound it, you have gone in for it with a vengeance! I always thought that whenyou did catch fire, you would give no end of a blaze. So all yourphilosophy of abnegation, all your contempt for appearance go fornothing. What is your sweet brown maiden but a charming appearance!Nevertheless you have fallen completely in love with her, for which Iwish you happiness with all my heart. I do not doubt that she lovesyou, because I should have been in love with you long ago if I had beena sweet brown maiden, you shockingly beautiful man. One thing is verylike you, you say no word on what would most interest a Philistine likemyself, viz. , the worldly circumstances of the adored one. I must knowher name, her relations, her descent. For all this you have naturallyno curiosity. A name is smoke and empty sound. Now don't let your lovego too far--sleep, and take care of your appetite, and keep a corner inyour perilously full heart for your true

"PAUL"

Wilhelm smiled as he read these lines in the strong symmetricalhandwriting of his friend, and hastened to send him the news hedesired. In the meanwhile his happiness was continual and increasing, and nothing troubled it but the thought of the coming separation. Thesetwo innocent children could hide their love as little as the sun hislight. They were always together, their eyes always fixed on oneanother, their hands as often as possible clasped in each other's. Allthe people in the hotel noticed it, and were pleased about it, sonatural did it seem that this handsome couple should be united by love. The chambermaid, rosy Bertha, saw what was going on with her slypeasant's eye, and by way of making herself agreeable used to whisperto him where he could find the young lady when she happened to meet himon the staircase. Wilhelm good-naturedly forgave the girl herobtrusiveness. Only Herr Ellrich saw nothing. In his foreignnewspapers, in the blue smoke from his cigars, in the clouds of powderfrom his gun, he found nothing which could enlighten him as to the twoyoung people's beautiful secret. 

Frau Ellrich certainly had more knowledge than that. In spite of hercorrespondence and her long afternoon naps, she retained enoughobservation to see the condition of things pretty clearly. She waitedfor a confession from Loulou, and as this did not come soon enough forthe impatience of her mother's heart, she tried a loving question. After a warm embrace from the girl, a few tears, a great many kisses, the mother and daughter understood each other. Wilhelm had pleased FrauEllrich very much, and she had no objection to raise, but she couldmake no answer on her own responsibility, as she knew the views of herhusband on the marriage of his only child, and after a few days shemade him a cautious communication. Herr Ellrich did not take it badly, but as a practical man of the world he wished to give the feelings ofthe young people opportunity to bear the trials of separation, and forthe present thought a decision useless. The projected visit to Ostendwas hastened by some ten days. At dinner he made his decision known, adding, "You have pleased yourselves for three weeks, and now I wantyou to wait so long to please me. " Wilhelm felt bitterly grieved thatno one invited him to go to the fashionable watering-place, and Louloueven did not seem particularly miserable. The fact was, that at thebottom of her not very sentimental nature, she did not take the leavingof the Schloss hotel as a matter of great importance, and Ostend withits balls and concerts, its casino and lively society, was not in theleast alarming to her. She found the opportunity that evening ofconsoling Wilhelm, and promised him always to think about him, and towrite to him very often, and said she could not be very miserable abouttheir separation, as she felt so happy at the thought of meeting himagain in Berlin. The following morning they made a pilgrimage to thecastle, the woods, the neighboring valley, to all the places where theyhad been so happy during the last fortnight. The sky was blue, the pinewoods quiet, the air balmy, and the beautiful outline of the mountainsunfolded itself far away in the depth of the horizon. Wilhelm drank inthe quiet, lovely picture, and felt that a piece of his life was woveninto this harmony of nature, and that these surroundings had becomepart of his innermost "ego, " and would be mingled with his dearestfeelings now and ever. His love, and these mountains and valleys, andLoulou, the mist and perfume of the pine trees, were forever one, andthe pantheistic devotion which he felt in these changing flights of hismind with the soul of nature grew to an almost unspeakable emotion, ashe said in a trembling voice to Loulou:

"It is all so wonderful, the mountains and the woods, and thesummer-time and our love. And in a moment it will be gone. Shall weever be so happy again? If we could only stay here always, the samepeople in the midst of the same nature!"

She said nothing, but let him take her answer from her fresh lips. 

They left by the Offenberg railway station in the afternoon. Loulou'seyes were wet. Frau Ellrich smiled in a motherly way at Wilhelm, andHerr Ellrich took his hand in a friendly manner and said:

"We shall see you in Berlin at the end of September. "

As the train disappeared down the Gutach valley, it seemed to Wilhelmas if all the light of heaven had gone out, and the world had becomeempty. He stayed a few days longer at the Schloss hotel, and cherishedthe remembrance of his time there with Loulou, dreaming for hours inthe dearly-loved spots. In this tender frame of mind he receivedanother letter from Paul Haber, who wrote thus:

"DEAREST WILHELM: Your letter of the 13th astonished me so much that ittook me several days to recover. Fraulein Loulou Ellrich, and you writeso lightly! Don't you know--that Fraulein Ellrich is one of the first'parties' in Berlin? That the little god of love will make you apresent of two million thalers? You have shot your bird, and I am mosthappy that for once fortune should bring it to the hand of a fellowlike yourself. In the hope that as a millionaire you will still be thesame to me, I am your heartily congratulatory

"PAUL. "

Wilhelm was painfully surprised. What a mercy that the letter had notcome sooner. It might have influenced his manner so much as to spoilhis relations with Loulou. Now that the Ellrichs were gone, it couldfor the moment do no harm. 

CHAPTER II. 

VANITIES OF VANITIES. 

A brilliant company filled the Ellrichs' drawing-rooms. These loftyrooms, thrown open to the guests, were more like the reception-rooms ina great castle than those of a bourgeois townhouse in Berlin. 

The councilor's drawing-rooms occupied the first floor of the largesthouse in the Lannestrasse. The carpeted staircase was decorated withplants and candelabra, and the guests were shown into a well-lightedanteroom, and on through folding doors into the large squaredrawing-room. The walls were covered with gold-framed mirrorsreflecting the great marble stove, with its Chinese bronze ornaments;the Venetian glass chandelier, the painting on the ceiling representingApollo in his sun chariot, while the rows of pretty gilt chairs in redsilk, the palm trees in the corner, and the wax candles in the brasssconces on the walls were repeated in endless perspective. On the rightwas a little room not intended for dancing, thickly carpeted, with oldGobelin tapestry on all the walls and doors; inlaid tables, ebonytables, and silk, satin, and tapestry in every conceivable form. Aglass door, half-covered by a portiere, gave a glimpse into awell-lighted winter garden, full of fantastic plants in beds, bushesand pots. On the left of the large drawing-room was the dining-room, with white varnished walls divided into squares by gold beading, anddecorated by a number of bright pictures of symbolic female figuresrepresenting various kinds of wine. A gigantic porcelain stove filledone end of the room, and a sideboard the other. Through the dining-roomwas a smoking-room furnished with Smyrna carpets, low divans, chairs inmother-of-pearl, and from the ceiling hung a number of colored glasslanterns. This was intended for old gentlemen who wished to enjoy thelatest scandal, and a card table was arranged for them with an open boxof cigars. 

The decoration of these rooms was handsome without being overloaded, and tasteful without being odd or obtrusive, qualities which one doesnot often find in Germany, even in princes' palaces. A fine perceptionwould perhaps have felt the want of similarity in style in the numerousrooms, giving them the character of a museum or curiosity shop, ratherthan that of the harmonious dwelling of educated people of a particularperiod, and in a certain country. Herr Ellrich was, however, quiteinnocent of this imperfection. He had not chosen anything himself. Everything had come from Paris, and was the selection of a Parisiandecorator, and one of the proudest moments in the councilor's life wason the occasion of the ball he gave on his daughter's return fromEngland, when Count Benedetti, the French ambassador, said to him: "Onewould imagine oneself in an historical house in the Faubourg St. Germain, c'est tout a fait Parisien, Monsieur, tout a fait Parisien. "

The Ellrichs' party was to celebrate the New Tear. Even the richest ofthe members of the German bourgeoisie is obliged to be educatedgradually to the cultured usages of society, and are still far fromaccomplished in the art of easy familiarity. It finds in its homelyculture no hard-and-fast traditions by which it can regulate itsconduct, and by a deficiency of observation, or by the want ofdevelopment of the finer feelings, is only imperfectly helped byforeign or aristocratic manners. Herr Ellrich, who loved splendor andexpense, felt that the New Year must be celebrated by rejoicings, andhe had therefore invited his whole circle of acquaintances to this NewYear's party to rejoice with him. 

In the third room the councilor's wife sat near the fireplace in aclaret-colored silk dress, ostrich feathers in her hair, andresplendent with diamonds. Nevertheless there was nothing stiff in herdemeanor, and she was friendly and good-natured as ever. Grouped aroundher in armchairs were several ladies, who in their own judgment hadpassed the age of dancing. Among them were the wives of civil officers, in whose dresses a practiced and capable eye might detect a simplicityand old-fashioned taste, while the wives of certain financiers weregorgeous in then fashionable costumes and the brilliancy of theirornaments. The former felt compensated by the consciousness of theirrank and worth for any deficiency in mere outward signs of grandeur, the latter tried by the glitter of their pearls, diamonds, silks, andlaces to appear easy and fearlessly familiar. Among the men, thesoldiers had everything in their favor. The orders which the civilianswore fastened on the lapels of their dress coats were hopelessly thrownin the shade by the epaulettes of the officers, and the medalsdecorating their colored uniforms. 

Herr Ellrich made a good host, passing quickly but quietly from onegroup to another. His blight blue eves were cold and tired-looking asever, and took no part in the rather banal smile which played over hislips, as if the accustomed expression of indifference could never beobliterated. The indolent lines about his mouth were not those oftemperament, because if he spoke to a Finance Minister or othernotability, although there was no arrogance in his manner, it might benoticed that the instinctive consciousness of his own millions neverleft him. He had a naturally honorable disposition, which showed itselfin every line, and made any cringing an impossibility. The guestspraised everything, especially the costly refreshments handed by theservants in faultless liveries. 

The dancing-room was a cheerful sight. Girls and young married womenflew round over the polished floor on the arms of well-dressed men, mostly officers, spinning and whirling round to Offenbach's dancemusic, led with bacchanalian fire by a small but distinguishedconductor from a red covered platform. It was exciting to watch therows of couples as they waltzed wildly round, and to the dazzled sightit seemed like a glimpse in a dream into Mohammed's Paradise; as if inhis wonderful mirror he had reflected the slim figures of the dancers, with their flashing blue or black eyes, their burning cheeks, theirparted lips, their bosoms rising and falling, the scene moving inever-changing perspective; a sight gay and wonderful as the freakishgames of a crowd of elves. 

The untiring energy of the dancers was wonderful. During the pauses agirl could hardly sit for a moment to rest, but a strong arm wouldwhirl her away again in the vortex of the dance. A few old gentlemenstood in the recesses of the windows and in the doorways, with thequiet enjoyment of those who look on, and among them was WilhelmEynhardt. He stood with his back against a window-frame, almostenveloped in the flowing red silk curtain, so that scarcely any onenoticed him. His curls had been shorn, and his thick dark hair onlyjust waved, otherwise nothing was changed in his appearance since theHornberg days. His black eyes wandered thoughtfully over the changingpicture before him. The expression on his face, now slightlymelancholy, bore more resemblance to that of a young Christian devoteethan to that of the beautiful Antinous, and the intoxication of thegayety around him appealed so little to him, that not once did he beathis foot, nod his head, or move a muscle in time to the satanic musicof the Parisian enchanter. 

For the first time in his life Wilhelm found himself in fashionablesociety, and for the first time he wore evening dress. Certainly tolook at him no one would have guessed it, for there was no awkwardnessin his manner, not a trace of the anxiety and inability to do the rightthing, which in most men placed amid new surroundings and inunaccustomed dress would have been so apparent. He wore his eveningdress with the same natural self-possession as one of the gray-haireddiplomats. The secret of this demeanor was the sense of equality hefelt toward the others. It never occurred to him to think, "How do Ilook? Am I like everyone else?" and so he was as free from constraintin his dress coat as in his student's jacket. He had even thegracefulness which every man has in the flower of his age, if he allowsthe unconscious impulses of his limbs to assert themselves, and doesnot spoil the freedom of their play by confusing efforts to improvethem. The company did not disconcert him either, in spite of theirepaulettes and orders, and titles thick as falling snowflakes. Animpression received in his boyhood came back to him, in which he, amongstrange people in a foreign land, had been accustomed by his father toconsider himself as an onlooker. In Moscow he had often metaristocratic people, with as thick epaulettes, and more orders thanthese, but at the sight of them he had always thought, "They are onlybarbarous Russians, and I am a German, although I have no gold lace onmy coat. " From that time he had always in his mind connected the use ofuniforms, as outward signs of bravery, with the conception of anostentatious and showy barbarism which a civilized European mightafford to laugh at. He had gone further; he regarded rank and titles asonly a kind of clothing of circumstances, which the State lends tocertain persons for useful purposes, just as the wardrobe-keeper at atheater gives out costumes to the supers. He was so convinced on thispoint that he felt sure it was only the stupid yokel at the back of thegallery who could look with any admiration on a human being merelybecause he struts about the stage in purple and gold tinsel. 

Wilhelm did not give the impression of a man who was enjoying himself. His discontented gaze persistently followed one dark head adorned witha yellow rose. 

Loulou, for of course it was she, wore a cream-colored silk crepondress. Her little feet in pale yellow satin shoes played athide-and-seek under her skirt. She looked charming, and seemed veryhappy. She danced with a magic lightness and gracefulness, and sheshowed an endurance which had elicited applause and acknowledgmentsfrom her partners. People were delighted with her, and she hardlyallowed herself time to breathe, for as the privileged daughter of thehouse, she wandered from one partner to another, trying hard to offendas few of her admirers as possible by a refusal. But Wilhelm had nocause for jealousy, as her sparkling eyes continually sought his, andas often as she danced near him she gave him an electrifying glance anda sweet smile, telling him that he might now hold his head high like aconqueror, or humble himself with languishing sentiment, that for herthere was only one man in the room, one man in all the mirrors, thehandsome youth in the window recess between the red silk curtains. Inthe short pauses she came over to him and spoke a word or two, alwaysthe same sort of thing: "Ah! how So-and-so worries me. What a pity thatyou don't dance, it would be so lovely. Oh! if only you knew howFraulein S----admires you, and how angry all the ladies are that youwon't be introduced to them. " And Wilhelm thanked her with the samequiet smile, took her fingers when he could and pressed them, andstayed in his window corner. 

Presently Loulou went toward someone in the room, who looked back atthe same time toward Wilhelm. It was his friend Paul Haber, for whom hehad obtained an invitation. Paul looked at him proudly and gayly. Hisshort hair was beautifully cut and brushed, his thick blonde mustachecurled in the most approved fashion. In his buttonhole he wore thedecoration of the 1866 war medal, and when he saw himself in the glasshe could say with perfect self-satisfaction, that he looked just asmuch like an officer as the men in uniform, not even excepting those ofthe Guard. Since the campaign of 1866, in which Paul had served in thesame company as Wilhelm, they had been firm friends, and on thisevening he wished to offer his respects before the manifest possessorof her heart, to one of the greatest heiresses in Berlin, also hisgratitude for his introduction to this splendid house, and his tenderfeelings for his comrade. In spite of being occupied with his partnershe had time to observe Wilhelm, and the sight of him standing alone inthe window recess immediately cooled the nervous excitement wrought bythe crowd of strangers. These society gatherings were what he delightedin, and he thought it his duty to try to model his friend in the sameway. It was not without a struggle with himself that he let a dance goby and went over to where Wilhelm stood. 

"What a great pity it is that you don't dance. "

"Fraulein Ellrich has just said the same thing, " answered Wilhelm, smiling a little. 

"And she is quite right. You are like a thirsty man beside a deliciousspring, and are not able to drink. It is pure Tantalus. "

"Your analogy does not hold good. What I am looking at does not give methe sensation of a delicious spring, and does not make me thirsty. "

Paul looked at him surprised. "Still you are a man of flesh and blood, and the sight of all these charming girls must give you pleasure. "

"You know I am engaged to only one girl here, and her I have seen undermore favorable circumstances. "

"Well! She probably does not always wear such beautiful dresses, and ifshe were not excited by the music and dancing her eyes might possiblynot sparkle so much; that is what I mean about its being a pity thatyou don't dance. "

"That is not it. I have seen this beautiful girl on other occasionsengaged in the highest intellectual occupation, and I am sorry to seeher sink to this sort of thing. "

"Now the difference is defined. I was silly enough till now to thinkthat even in a drawing-room one saw something of the highest form ofhumanity, and that aristocratic society is the flower of civilization. "

"Those are opinions which are spread by clever men of the world toexcuse their shallow behavior in their own eyes and in the eyes ofothers. What these people come here for is to satisfy their lowerinclinations--you must see this for yourself; if you do not allowyourself to be influenced by these pretentious, ceremonious forms, atleast try to discover the reality that lies beneath them. What you callthe height of civilization seems to me the lowest. Do you understand? Ifeel that cultured people in their drawing-room society are in thecondition of savages, and even allied to animals. "

"Bravo, Wilhelm! go on; this is most edifying. "

"You may jeer, but in spite of you I believe that this is so. Try todiscover what is going on in the brains of all these people at thismoment. Their highest power of activity of mind, which makes men ofthem, slumbers. They do not think, they only feel. The old gentlemenenjoy themselves with cigars, ices, the prospect of supper; the youngmen seek pleasant sensations in dancing with beautiful girls. Theladies seek in their partners and admirers to kindle feelings anddesires--vanity, self-seeking, pleasure of the senses, gratification ofthe palate, in short, all the grosser tastes. All that is not only likesavages, but like animals. They are merry and contented at the prospectof a savory meal, and they are fond of playing tricks on eachother--both sexes chaff and tease constantly. I believe that thedevelopment of our larger brain is the intellectual work of man duringhundreds and thousands of years, and it would gratify me to see itraised to a still greater state of activity. "

"I am listening to you so quietly that I don't interrupt you--even whenyou talk absurd nonsense. How can one look doleful and disagreeable ifhonest, highly constituted men indulge in conversation with each otherfor a few hours after hard work? I delight in this harmless enjoyment, in which people forget all the cares of the day. Here people shake offthe burdens of their vocation and the accidents of their lot. Here amI, a poor devil enjoying the society of the minister's friends, andadmiring the same beautiful eyes as he does. "

"The harmless enjoyments of which you speak are exactly the signs bywhich one may recognize the vegetative lives of the savage and theanimal. A serene enjoyment is what naturally appertains to the lowerforms of life when they are satiated, and in no danger of being trackedfor their lives. The oldest drawings on the subject always representmen with a foolish serene smile. So the privilege of development is torejoice in a satisfied stomach and untroubled security, and all throughhis life to know no other care or want but comfort of body. "

"At last I understand you. The artist's ideal is the 'Penseroso, ' andin order to recognize the highly developed man he must be furnishedwith a proof of his identity, so that the meaning of the creature maynot be lost to sight for a moment. "

"You may put it in the joking way, but I really mean it. I don't forgethow much of the animal is still in us. Of course one wants relaxation. But I don't want to look on while animals feed. Recovery after hardintellectual work means, in your sense, the return for some hours toanimal life. Now I prefer the painful ascent of mankind to thecomfortable, backward slide into animal nature. If I wished to pose asa statue for you it would have to be 'Penseroso' while eating ordrinking, or with a foolish, smiling mask indicating animalcontentment. "

"Very well. Let us also abolish the public announcement of eating, drinking, dancing and other performances, as the remnants of barbarismor of original animal nature, and let us introduce the universal dutyof philosophy. A soiree of Berlin bankers--sub specieoeiernitatis--that would do very well, and you must take out a patentfor it. "

"Students' jokes, my friend, are not arguments. I am quite in earnestin what I say, and I feel melancholy when I see Loulou and the othersplaying about like thoughtless animals. "

"I am going to speak seriously about the joke now, and show you anotherside to the question. Is it not in the highest degree foolish of ayoung man without position, to set against him men who carry the signof recognition from their king, and the esteem of theirfellow-citizens? Cannot the example of the consideration they enjoyspur us to endeavors to attain the same? Cannot your acquaintance withthem be made useful?"

Wilhelm shook his head. "No, I prefer all these distinguished men whenthey are doing their own work. They do not interest me here, becausethey have laid aside all the characteristics which make distinguishedpeople of them. I think they lower their dignity when I see thesestatesmen, heroes of campaign, representatives of the people, laughing, joking, and playing together like any little shopkeeper after closinghours. "

Paul could not give an immediate answer, and he had not time to thinkof one; as the music stopped the dance ended, and many people movedtoward them, making further conversation impossible. The gentlemen cameout of the drawing-room and smoking-rooms and mingled with the dancers. Paul made his way neatly through the crowd toward a fresh, pretty, butotherwise insignificant-looking girl, to whom he had paid a great dealof attention, and with whom he wished to dance again. Wilhelm lookedfor Loulou, whom he found near her mother. Frau Ellrich spoke to him ina friendly way. "Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked, with a kind, almost tender expression on her melancholy face. Wilhelm would not havegrieved her for worlds, so for all answer he took her soft hand andkissed it. To keep himself from speaking the truth he was silent. Fromthe four doors of the room servants now appeared bearing large silvertrays covered with glasses of champagne. Loulou stood by thechimney-piece and gave several forced and absent-minded answers to theyoung man. She followed with her eyes the minute-hand on the clock, andat a slight sign from her little hand a servant came up to her. Shetook the glass in which the wine sparkled, and at the same moment, thehands of the clock pointing to twelve, she cried loudly like a child, "Health to the New Year! Health to the New Year!" Every guest took aglass, crying joyfully, "Health to the New Year!" and clinked his glassagainst his neighbor's. Loulou went in search of her father to drinkwith him; after he had given her a friendly kiss on her rosy cheek, heregarded her with fatherly pride. She went to her mother, taking her inher arms and kissing her on both cheeks. The third person whom shesought was Wilhelm. They could not exchange words, but her eyes soughthis and they both flashed a mutual and joyous recognition. Her browneyes had said to his black ones, "May this be a year of happiness forus, " and the black eyes had understood the brown ones in their flightand thanked them. The gay tumult lasted for several minutes, the buzzof talking, the clatter of glasses, and the coming and going ofservants. Then suddenly an invisible hand seemed to lay hold of thegeneral disorder, ruling and directing it, dissolving groups who hadchanced together, here driving them forward, there arranging thembackward. According to some fixed law, without delaying or waiting, anorderly procession was formed into the dining-room. The invisiblespirit hand which possessed all this power was thrice-holy etiquette;the law which brought order out of confusion, and gave to everyone hisplace, was that of precedence. Paul and Wilhelm, these strangers todrawing-room customs, were new to the performance. A smile flitted overWilhelm's face, over Paul's came a reverent expression. What he sawmade a distinct impression of wonderment on him. The constraint ceasedimmediately the guests had taken their places at the table. The scentof the flowers vied with the perfumes worn by the women and could notovercome them. The crystal glasses sparkled in the light of the waxcandles, the jewels, and the bright eyes round the table. The servantspoured out the noble Rhine wine, the celebrated Burgundy, the elegantBordeaux, and the mischievous Champagne, whose colored embodiment wasreflected on the white hands of the guests, and carried theirimaginations away in its flight from gray reality to the immortal landof rosy dreams. 

The meal lasted a long time, then a few of the guests rose; the olderones, who had principally chatted, played, and smoked before midnight, now withdrew, if they had no daughters to chaperon; the young people, however, went back to the dancing-room, the musicians fiddled anew asif they were possessed, and an hour's cotillion was begun, the prettyquick-moving figures being led by a lieutenant of the Guards, whoseemed as proud of the honor as if he were commanding on a battlefield. Loulou, who had gone back to the dance, had begged Wilhelm in vain totake part at least in the cotillion, where he need not dance much. Shehad assured him that he would be more decorated than any other man inthe room, and would have more orders, ribbons, and wreaths given himthan all the lieutenants put together; but even the prospect of such atriumph could not make him ambitious, and for the first time thisevening the beautiful excited girl left him looking out of humor, andglanced at him in a way which was not merely sorrowful but reproachful. Paul, on the other hand, was happy. He kept more than ever near thepretty insignificant girl with whom he had danced so much, and thegood-hearted fellow did not feel in the least jealous when, in the longpause of the cotillion, his partner went to speak to his friend who hadstood lonely for so long, and had hardly enjoyed himself at all. Paulwas sufficiently decorated; he got a sufficient number of glances fromgirls' bright eyes to be quite contented, he paid a sufficient numberof compliments, great and small, for which he was thanked by sweetsmiles, and perhaps with tiny sighs, and he had the feeling that he hadlived in every fiber of his being, and that his time had beenmarvelously well employed. He could have stayed for several hourslonger, and was quite astonished when toward four o'clock the tirelessyoung people's parents put an end to the evening by their departure. 

As Wilhelm came up to Loulou she had ceased to look cross. Near herstood the hero of the cotillion, the lieutenant of the Guards, coveredwith the little favors the ladies had given him. But that did notprevent her saying in quite a tender voice, "I shall see you soonagain, shall I not?" and Wilhelm pressed her little hand warmly. 

In the hall Wilhelm and Paul had to distribute gratuities to thewaiting servants, a custom (unknown in France and England) whichdishonors German hospitality, and a minute later they found themselvesoutside in the starlit night. It blew icy cold over the Thiergarten;across the darkness the snow-laden trees and the closely-cropped grasslooked feebly white. Wilhelm, shivering, wrapped himself in his furcoat. Paul, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the cold; he wasstill too hot with the excitement of the evening. The waltz rang soclearly in his ears that he could have danced over the snow-coveredpavement, and the lights and mirrors of the ballroom shone so clearlybefore his eyes, and enveloped the dancers with such reality that thedesert of the silent, faintly-lit Koniggratzer Strasse was alive as ifby ghosts. He recalled to his mind the whole evening, and in thefullness of his heart exclaimed, "Wilhelm, I hope never to forget thisNew Year's Eve. " Wilhelm looked at him astonished. "I do not share inyour feelings. How can a glance at such vanity in thinking men give oneany feeling except that of pity?"

"I am not hurt at the hardness of your judgment, because you don'tunderstand what I am saying. You know very well I am not frivolous, andthat I have learned long ago the seriousness of life. But at the sametime I value the entree into the best society of Berlin for what it isworth. Now the opportunity has come, and I shall make it useful. "

"Paul, you grieve me. A tuft-hunter talks like that. "

"What do you call a tuft-hunter?--if you mean a man who does not wantto hide his light under a bushel, I say yes, I am one, and I think thatis entirely honorable. I don't want to get on by means of any falsepretenses, but by honest work. What is the use of capability if no onenotices it? If I can inspire the right people with this conviction, Iam in luck. There is no injustice in that. "

"I thought you had more pride. "

"Dear Wilhelm, don't speak to me of pride. That is all right for you. If my father had left me a house in the Kochstrasse, I would snap myfingers at everyone, and go my own way, as it pleased me best. Or putit the other way round, if you were the middle son in a Brandenburgfamily of nine, I tell you that you would attribute a certainimportance to seeking the favor of influential people. You would becomeas frivolous as I, " added he after a little pause, in which he gave agentle clap on Wilhelm's shoulder. 

"You ought not to throw my father's house in my teeth; you know how Ilive. "

Paul tried to interrupt him. 

"Let me finish. A man of your capability can nowadays allow himself theluxury of independence and manly self-reliance, even if he is one ofthe nine children of a poor farmer; if one has few wants, one is richwhatever one's fortune. "

"That is all very well. I know your philosophy of abnegation, and it isa matter of temperament. I am not in favor of starving myself whenthere is a steaming dish before me. The world is full of good things, and I have a taste for them; why should I not reach out my hand?"

"And so you would dance in the present for what it would win you in thefuture. "

"Why not? It is a very usual way to gain a usual end. "

"And the modern society household is the result. "

"What would become of a poor fellow without these merciful arrangementsfor introductions to nice girls? Is one to advertise?"

"So you thought of this in the midst of your poetical soiree?"

"Certainly. You are provided for. Don't think ill of me if I followyour example. "

Wilhelm felt the blood flow to his cheeks. He perceived his friend'sevident meaning. 

"Paul! A fortune-hunter!"

"You may talk. Luck flew to you without your lifting a finger toattract it. Other people must help themselves. Fortune-hunter! Thatname was invented by hysterical girls whose heads are turned by sillynovels. These absurd creatures wish in their childish vanity to bemarried merely for their beautiful eyes. I should like to ask such agirl whether she would marry a man merely for his beautiful eyes! Ihave no patience with such nonsense. Suppose a poor man, who is capableand clever, acknowledges in a straightforward way that he is trying towin the hand of a rich woman. He need not upbraid himself aboutanything, for he gives as much as he receives. What do people want fromthe world? Happiness. That is the aim of my life, just as it is the aimof the rich woman's. She has money, and for happiness she lacks love; Ihave love, and for happiness I lack money. We make an equal exchange ofwhat we own. It is the most beautiful supplement to a dualincompleteness. "

"It is in this way then that you would offer what you call love to arich girl! A love cleverly conducted, carefully mapped out--a lovewhich one could control, and on no account offer to a poor girl. "

"Rubbish! The love of every man who is in his right mind is carefullyplanned. Would you be in love with a king's daughter? It is to be hopednot. You could keep out of the way of the king's daughter. Why can Inot keep out of the way of the poor girl?"

"That means that the princess' rank is as much a hindrance to love asthe poverty of the work-girl. "

"I swear to you, Wilhelm, that if I were as rich, or as independent asyou, I would not think of a dowry. But I am a poor devil. If I were sounfortunate as to fall in love with a poor girl, I would try to get thebetter of the feeling. I would say to myself, better endure a shorttime of unhappiness and disappointment than that she and I should becondemned through life to the keenest want, which, with prosaiccertainty, would smother love. "

While Paul argued with such ardor and earnestness, he was thinking allthe time of Fraulein Malvine Marker, the pretty girl with whom he haddanced so often, and he fondled tenderly with his right hand the ribbonand cotillion order hidden under his waistcoat. He did not notice thatWilhelm's expression of face was painfully distorted, nor that hiswords wounded him deeply. They had come to the Brandenburger Thor, andwere walking over the Pariser Platz. Under the lindens they weresurrounded at once by noise and bustle. The streets were full of rowdybands of men who sang and shouted all together, now pushing one anotherin violent rudeness, now shouting "Health to the New Year, " hereknocking off an angry Philistine's hat, there surrounding and embracingsome honest man who was wearily making his way homeward; insulting thepolice by imitating their military ways, laying hold of their sticks, talking pompously to the night-watchman, and otherwise playing thefool. After the silence of the Koniggratzer Strasse, the drunkenturmoil of this noisy mob was doubly unpleasant, and the two friendshastened to escape into the Schadowstrasse. At Wilhelm's doorstep theytook leave of each other; Paul went off humming a snatch of Offenbachup the Friedrichstrasse to his home near the Weidendamme. 

Wilhelm was tired, but much too excited to sleep. He lived over againin thought the last few months, and, as often happened lately, helapsed into painful meditation on his relations to Loulou. After herdeparture from Hornberg she had not written to him for eight days. Thencame a letter from Ostend, in which she called Wilhelm "Sie. " She saidshe was very sorry for this, that it would be painful if she called him"Du" and he did not return it, but it would be safer not to do so, ashis answer would certainly be read by her mother, and perhaps by herfather also, and they would not wish them to say "Du" to each other. Already this change of tone between them cut Wilhelm to the heart, butalmost more still the contents of Loulou's letter. She spoke a littleof the sea, whose breakers continually sounded in her soul, and herthoughts, which accompanied them like an orchestra; she seldommentioned the delightful time in the mountains of the Black Forest, which remembrance he carried always with him; but a great deal aboutthe Promenade, the concerts, the Casino balls, her own charming bathingand society toilettes, and those of extravagant Parisians, who tried byincredible mixtures of colors and style to outstrip each other. Shewrote particularly about her acquaintances with celebrated people, andher personal following, and for the rest she hardly missed expressingin any of her letters her regret that he was not with her, and enjoyingher varied life. Often in the letter there was a flower, or a piece ofwild thyme, which betrayed an undercurrent of feeling beneath theshallowness of the words, and once she sent him her photograph with thewords "Loulou to her dearest Wilhelm. " So he gathered from herfrivolous letters much that was unspoken, and through signs andindications believed that her feeling for him was there and gainedstrength. His answers were short and rather compressed. The knowledgethat they would be seen by her prosaic parents, and that Loulou herselfwould hardly trouble to read anything in the midst of her whirl ofgayety, deprived him of words, stopped the flow of his feelings, andturned his expressions into mere Philistinisms. But, on the other Land, Loulou's mother was delighted to have another correspondent, and so shewrote to him often. These perfumed letters from Ostend refreshed him bythe remembrance of the lovable face with the dimples, bringing backagain the whole charm of the Hornberg days. 

At the end of September came the announcement that the Ellrichs hadleft Ostend, and were going to pay a visit for a fortnight to friendsin England, and toward the middle of October a letter, bearing theBerlin postmark, arrived in Loulou's handwriting. It said:

"DEAREST WILHEM: We came home to-day. I cannot sleep until I havewritten to you. Come to see me quite soon. Will you not? How glad I am!Are you glad too? A thousand greetings. LOULOU. "

He would like to have gone directly to the Lennestrasse, but etiquettestood between him and his fiancee, and showed him in its cold fashionthat they were now in the city and not in the forest, that nature hadnothing to do with them here, and had handed them over to the laws ofsociety. However, as soon as he dared venture, he went and rang at thedoor-bell. This first visit was a combination of painful feelings forWilhelm, for while his heart beat, that now he was near the dearest oneon earth, he was conscious that here he was a stranger. A servantdressed in black who opened the door did not seem to expect him, andasked him whom he wanted. When Wilhelm asked for Frau Ellrich, he saidshortly that she was not at home. In spite of this Wilhelm took out hiscard, and holding it out said, "Will you kindly announce me, as I amexpected. " The man left him in an anteroom, and after a short pausetook him into the drawing-room. He soon returned, with a mannerentirely changed, and submissively asked Wilhelm to follow him to alittle blue boudoir, where Loulou received him with a joyfulexclamation, but the first greetings, owing to the servant's presence, were exchanged without an embrace, and when they were alone Wilhelmonly found sufficient courage to kiss her hand. 

It was quite different now from the old times at the Scloss hotel, andin the woodland paths at Hornberg. Wilhelm had to keep to visitinghours, and was seldom alone with Loulou. He took courage then to say"Du, " but it was forbidden before other people. To kiss her in thosedrawing rooms with their betraying mirrors, and their portieres, andcarpets was hardly possible. He was frequently asked to lunch ordinner, and he often went with Frau Ellrich and Loulou to the opera ortheater, but all these opportunities were not favorable for younglovers. Loulou wore beautiful frocks, which made her much admired; thepeople were formal, and tolerated nothing that was not ultra polite andpolished, in short, it was impossible to be true and natural as thingshad been in the forest, where the birds and the happy little squirrelsserved for playfellows. 

Loulou was the first to have pity on Wilhelm's discomfort, and to findmeans to give their intercourse in Berlin at least a little of thebeautiful unconstraint of the old times. Under the pretext that shewished to improve herself in drawing, she obtained many precious hoursspent in the blue-room or in the winter garden, where their hands oftenfound opportunities to clasp, and their lips to seek each other's. Onthe strength of Loulou's English education, which had made herindependent and self-reliant, and had freed her from any affectation ofshyness, she often walked with Wilhelm to parts of the town which shedid not know, or which she had only seen from the windows of acarriage. On one of these voyages of discovery, as she called them, shesaw Paul for the first time. He met them in the Konigstrasse, as theystood on the Konigsmauer, Loulou looking half-fearfully down the narrowstreet. Paul looked very much astonished, and seemed as if he were notgoing to notice the pair of lovers, but Wilhelm nodded and asked him tojoin them. So he went home with them, and as soon as he was alone withhis friend he fell into rapturous admiration of the lovely girl, asWilhelm had predicted in his letter from Hornberg. One thing Paul couldnot understand, and he said so: why had not Wilhelm formally asked forLoulou's hand, why he was not properly engaged to her, and how could animpulsive man bear such a constrained position, which would cease theinstant that he was Fraulein Ellrich's declared fiance?

Wilhelm had at first no explanation to give his friend, but he knewvery well that he delayed, and that he put off from day to day going toLoulou's parents. His was a sensitive, dreamy nature, and much toothoughtful to allow himself to act from passion. He was accustomed tomake his impulses subordinate to his reason, and to ask himself severequestions as to the where, how, and why of things. He was not clearhimself as to the condition of things between him and Loulou. Did shelove him? There were many answers to that. She seemed pleased when shesaw him, and displeased if he appeared to forget her for a day. Butwhat he could not understand was that her head seemed as full as everof her usual acquaintances, and that she was capable of spending sometime in theaters, concerts, and society without looking for him. Fulltoo of talk of her frocks and neighbors, without wishing to interruptthe empty gossip with a look or a kiss to let him know that she wasconscious of his presence, and in the middle of her idle talk to saynevertheless that her heart was with him. On the other hand, she showedthe tenderest sympathy for him. She longed for a picture of his roomsin the Dorotheenstrasse, where he lived and thought of her. She hadbeen to see his house in the Kochstrasse from the outside. She wasapparently proud of him, and repeated to him all the flattering remarkswhich people made on his appearance and cleverness, with as muchsatisfaction, as if she spoke of one of her own people. Still all thiswas only on the surface, and he often had the impression that herfeeling for him was weakened at its foundation both by her coldintelligence, and by her pleasure in worldly things. 

And he? Did he love her as he should, before he had the right to bindher to him for life? His earnestness and exalted morality looked uponmarriage as a rash adventure full of alarming secrets. Was it possiblethat their two lives should be so blended together that they shouldwithstand every accident of fate? He meant to give himself entirely, tokeep nothing back, and to be true in body and soul. Was he sure that hecould keep the vow, and that no sinful wishes should come to break it?Already he was thinking that he might not be always happy with her. Certainly her beauty, her wit, the attraction of her fresh, healthyyouth charmed him, and when she spoke to him with her sweet voice, hehad to shut his eyes and hold himself together, not to fall at her feetand bury his head in her dress. But he feared for himself, for hishonor, that a sensual attraction should hardly outlast possession. Hisinnermost being was painfully troubled. Never an elevated word fromher! Never a deep and serious thought! Often he reflected that thefaults of her upbringing were the inevitable results of her life in themidst of idle people, and that it would be possible to deepen and widenher mind and sensations. If he could only go with her to a desertisland, alone with the loneliness of nature, and could live between theheavens and the sea! How soon then could he inspire her thoughts andbring her to his own standpoint. Then the fear would take hold of himthat she could not do without theaters, frocks, soirees, and balls, andunder the recent impression of the New-Year's party he becamedespondent, and said to himself, "No. The life of show and appearancehas too great a hold on her, and I shall never be able to give her whatshe wants, and what seems necessary to her happiness. " Paul's opinion, which he gave on the way home, struck him sorrowfully. One of therichest "parties" in Berlin! Would not people say he was marrying herfor her money? What people said was really nothing to him, and heconsidered himself free to act as his innermost judgment counseled. Butmight not Loulou herself believe that her father's money addedsomething to her attractions? He recognized that this feeling indicateda weakness, a want of self-reliance, but the idea that she might becapable of such a thought made him angry. Her money did not attracthim! On the contrary, it was an obstacle between them. Why was she nota Moscow gypsy girl? Just as young, and pretty, and charming, butuncultivated, and therefore ready for cultivation and capable of it;poor as a beggar, and therefore free from pretensions, but withoutknowledge of the world, and therefore without desire for it. How happythey might both be then! Such thoughts ran riot in his brain, and hefell asleep only when the late winter sun shone through the curtains onhis tired white face. 

The winter went quickly by under amusements of all kinds. Loulou hadnever known it so pleasant. The theater season was brilliant, theweather for skating lasted longer than usual, and balls succeeded eachother in her father's and friends' houses in rapid succession. Wilhelmonly went once or twice, and then he firmly declined any more, to thegreat astonishment of Frau Ellrich, and the vexation of Loulou, whosepretty face always lit up with pleasure when she saw his dark eyeswatching her from the doorways or window recesses while she danced. Hesaid that the sight of social frivolity bored him, and she thought inher naive way, "It is always like that. Men must have some fad. " Paulwas just the other way. He accepted every invitation, and he had agreat many. He had always some new acquaintances to tell Wilhelm of, and often spoke of Fraulein Malvine Marker, who appeared to be Loulou'sdearest friend, and no feeling of jealousy prevented him from repeatingto Wilhelm that the pretty girl had often inquired about him, alwaysregretting his absence from the Ellrichs' dances. 

The beautiful time of the year drew near. Outside the gates of thecity, where open places were free to her, the spring triumphed in thebudding trees of the Thiergarten. Arrangement of plans for the summerwas the chief occupation with most people. The Ellrichs talked ofSwitzerland, and Wilhelm thought timidly of the charms of the BlackForest. He longed to be back at Hornberg, and he spoke often of beingthere together in the near future. He did not mention marriage, however, and his formal offer had not yet been made. Loulou thoughtthis very odd, and one day she spoke to her mother about it. FrauEllrich, however, caressed her pretty child, and kissing her on theforehead said:

"It is nothing but modesty. I think it is very nice of him to leave youin freedom for the whole season. "

"I am not free, however. "

"I mean before the world, dear child. You are both so young that itwould not matter if you did not take the cares of marriage upon you foranother year. "

And to Loulou that was evident. 

CHAPTER III. 

HEROES. 

All over Germany the corn stood high in the fields, ripe for thesickle. Then suddenly the threatening shadow of war rose in the westlike a black thundercloud in the blue summer sky, filling the harvestgatherers with anxious forebodings. For fourteen days the people waitedin painful suspense, not knowing whether to take up the sword or thescythe. Then the cry of destiny came crashing through the country, terrifying and relieving at the same time: "The French have declaredWar!"

That was on July 15, 1870, on a Friday. Late in the afternoon thedismal news was spread in Berlin that the French ambassador at Ems hadinsulted the king, who had retired to the capital, and that a combatwith the arrogant neighbors on the Rhine was inevitable. Before nightthe street Unter den Linden, from the Brandenburger Thor to theSchlossbrucke, was packed with men overflowing with intense excitement. Without any preconceived arrangement, all the inhabitants decoratedtheir windows with banners and lights, and the streets assumed thefestal appearance of rejoicings over a victory. The crowd looked uponthis spectacle not as an undecided beginning, but a gloriousconclusion. There was no fear in any face, no question as to the futurein any eye, but the certainty of triumph in all; as if they had seenthe last page turned in the book of fate, with victory and its gloriousresults written thereon. 

Toward nine o'clock a thunderbolt broke over the Brandenburger Thor, and rolled like the breaking of a wave to the other end of the street. The king had left the Potsdam railway station a quarter of an hour ago, and the crowd greeted him with a tremendous shout as his carriageappeared. The people wished by this acclamation, springing from thedepths of their hearts, to show their ruler that they were prepared tofollow him even to death. But the king was so much absorbed in thoughtthat he scarcely seemed to hear or notice the enthusiasm of the crowd. He saluted and bowed to right and left as a prince is accustomed to dofrom his childhood, but it was a mechanical action of the body, and hismind had little part in it. His eyes were not looking at the sea ofuncovered heads, but seemed fixed, under knitted brows, on thedistance, as if they endeavored to decipher there some indistinct, shadowy form. Did the king perceive in this moment the responsibilityof one human being to carry such a load? Did he wish in his innermostheart that he might share the weight of the decision with others--therepresentatives of the people--and not alone be forced to throw thedice deciding the life or death of hundreds and thousands? Who can say?At all events the powerful features of the king's face betrayed no suchuneasy doubt--only a deep earnestness and an immovable steadiness ofexpression. Belief in the divine right of his kingship gave him powerover the minds of men, and he took his duties on him in this hourwithout weakness or failing, grasping with his human hand the obscurespiritual web of man's destiny, and with his limited intelligencetrying to unravel the dark threads here and there, on which hung thehealing and destruction of millions. In such moments a whole peoplewill become united into one being, swayed by the mastery of a singlemind, and await the commands of a single will. It comes, no one knowsfrom whom--all blindly follow. In spite of the superficial differenceswhich men find in one another under similar conditions, the powerfuleffect of unconscious imitation is surprisingly apparent, and under itsoperation personal peculiarities disappear. 

Wilhelm and Paul that same evening sat at one of the windows ofSpargnapani's, looking on the Lindens. The small rooms were filled tooverflowing, and the guests were crammed together in the open doorways, or on the stone staircase, where their loud talking mingled with thenoise of the people in the street. The king's carriage had hardlypassed, when several young men sprang shouting into the room, threw aquantity of printed leaflets, still damp from the press, on the nearesttable, and rushed out again. These were the proofs of an address on thewar to the king. No one knew who had written it, who had had itprinted, who the people were who had distributed it, but everyonecrowded excitedly round it, and begged for pens from the counter to addtheir signatures to it. A few specially enthusiastic souls even put atable with inkstands and pens out on the pavement, and called to thepassers-by to sign the paper. Paul was among the first to fulfill thisduty of citizenship, and then handed the pen to his friend. But Wilhelmlaid it down on the table, took Paul's arm, and drew him out of thecrowd into the quiet of the Friedrichstrasse. 

"Are you a Prussian?" cried Paul angrily. 

"I am as good a Prussian as you are, " said Wilhelm quietly, "and readyto do my duty again, as I have done it before, but these sillyeffusions don't affect me at all. "

"Such a manifesto gives the government the moral force for the sternestfulfillment of duty. "

"I hope you are not in earnest when you say that, my dear Paul. Thegovernment does what it has to do without troubling itself about ourmanifestoes. It is repugnant to me to have my approval of the wardragged from me without being asked for it. I may not appear to say'yes' willingly, but at the same time may not have the right to say'no. '"

Paul followed silently, and Wilhelm went on:

"You deceive yourself as to your duty like all these people, whoimagine that they are still separate individuals, and that they cansanction or forbid as they will the declaration of war. I, however, know and feel that I have no longer a voice in the matter. I have onlyto obey. I am no longer an individual. I am only an evanescentsubordinate unit in the organism of the State. A power over which Ihave no control has taken possession of me, and has made my will of noavail. Is there still a part of your destiny which you have the powerto guide as you will? Is there such for me? We shall be forced to joinsimply in the united destiny of one people. And who decides this? Theking, no doubt, thinks that he does; the Emperor Napoleon thinks hedoes. I say that these two have no more influence over the capabilitiesof their people than we two have over the capabilities around us. TheState commands us, the whole evolution of mankind from its beginningcommands them. All of the race which has gone before holds them fast, and compels them as the wheels of the State compel us. The dead sternlypoint out the way to them, as the living do to us. We all of us knownothing, kings and ministers as little as we, of the real forces atwork. What these forces will do, and what they strive to attain to, ishidden from us, and we only see what is nearest to us, without anyconnection with its causes and final operation. That is why it seems tome better to do what one sees as one's duty at the moment, rather thanto give ourselves the absurd appearance of being free in our movements, and certain as to our goal. " Paul pressed his hand at parting, andmurmured:

"Theoretically you are right, but practically I do not see why thetyrant at the Tuileries need begin with us. He could at least leave usin peace. "

The order for mobilization was issued. Wilhelm was surprised to receivehis appointment again as second lieutenant, and was nominated to the61st Pomeranian Regiment. His duties during the next few days took upthe whole of his time, and left him hardly a moment to himself. He wasfree only for a few hours before the march to the frontier, and then hemade all the haste he could to say good-by at the Lennestrasse. Hisheart beat quickly as he hurried along, and now that the time ofseparation was near, he reproached himself for the irresolution of thelast few weeks. He was going to the front without leaving a clearunderstanding behind him. He tried to convince himself that perhaps itwas better so--if he fell she would be free before the world. But atthe bottom of his heart this reasoning did not satisfy him, and helingered over the idea of taking his weeping betrothed to his heartbefore all the world, and kissing the tears off her cheeks, instead ofbidding farewell to her at the station, and holding her to him from adistance by an acknowledged tie. Was not their love alone enough? No, he knew that it was not, and he felt with painful surprise that hiscontempt for outward appearances, his impulse after reality, werevigorous in him as long as he followed his inmost life alone; but whenhe came out of himself, and wished to unite another human destiny withhis own, these things had become a painful weakness. Through this otherlife, the world's customs and frivolities began to influence him, andhis proud independence must be humbled to the dust, or he mustpainfully tolerate his own weakness. These reflections brought anotherwith them--it was quite possible that an opportunity might occur at thelast moment. He painted the scene in his own imagination; he foundLoulou alone, embraced her fervently, asked her if she would be his forlife; she said "Yes;" then her mother came in, Loulou threw herself onher neck; he took her hand and asked her in due form if she wouldaccept him as a son-in-law, as he had already gained Loulou's consent. If the councilor was at home, his consent was also given, if not theymust wait until he came, and the time could not seem long, even if itlasted an hour. He did not doubt that they would all consent. Thingsmight very likely have happened just as he dreamed of, if he had onlycome to his determination at the right time, and had not hazardedsuccess on the decision of the last moment, when there was hardly timefor a weighty decision. 

As he approached the red sandstone house, with its sculpturedbalconies, and its pretty front garden, he had a disagreeable surprise. At the iron gate two cabs were standing, evidently waiting for visitorsat the house. He was shown, not into the little blue-room, but into thelarge drawing-room near the winter garden, and found several peoplethere in lively conversation. Beside Loulou and Frau Ellrich there wereFraulein Malvine Marker, with her mother, and also Herr von Pechlar, the lieutenant of hussars of cotillion fame. 

"Have you come too to say good-by?" cried Loulou, going to meet Wilhelm. 

Her face looked troubled, and her voice trembled, and yet Wilhelm feltas if a shower of cold water had drenched his head. The insincerity oftheir relations, her distant manner before the others, but above allthe unfortunate word "too, " including him with the lieutenant, put himso much out of tune that all his previous intentions vanished, and hesank at once to the position of an ordinary visitor. 

Herr von Pechlar led the conversation, and took no notice of the newguest's presence. He oppressed Wilhelm, and made him feel small by thesmartness of his uniform, his rank as first lieutenant, and hiseyeglasses. Wilhelm tried hard to fight against the feeling. After all, he was the better man of the two, and if human nature alone had beenput in the scale--that is to say, the value both of body and mind--Herrvon Pechlar would have flown up light as a feather. But just now theydid not stand together as man to man, but as the bourgeois secondlieutenant in his plain infantry uniform, against the aristocraticfirst lieutenant--the smart hussar, and the first place was not to becontested. 

In Fraulein Malvine's kind heart there lurked a vague feeling that shemust come to Wilhelm's help, and overcoming her natural shyness, shesaid to him:

"It must be very hard for you to tear yourself away under thecircumstances. "

She was thinking of his attachment to Loulou, which in her innocenceshe quite envied. 

Oppressed and distracted as his mind was, he found nothing to say butthe banal response:

"When duty calls, fraulein. " But while he spoke he was conscious of thekindness of her manner, and to show her that he was grateful he wenton, "My friend Haber wishes to say good-by to you before he leavesBerlin. He thinks a great deal of you, and is very happy in having madeyour acquaintance. "

Malvine threw him a quick glance from her blue eyes and looked downagain. 

"What a good thing that I was here when you came, " he said softly; "Imight certainly not have seen you but for this chance. "

"The fact is, gnadiges Fraulein, " he stammered, "our duties demand somuch of our time. "

"Is Herr Haber in your regiment?" she asked. 

"No; he has remained with our old Fusilier Guards. "

"Ah, what a pity! It would have been so nice for you to be side by sideagain, as in 1866. "

"How much she knows about us, " thought Wilhelm, wondering. 

"I often think of Uhland's comrades. It must be a great comfort in warto have a friend by one. "

"Happily one makes friends quickly there. "

"On that point we are better off than the poor reserve forces, "remarked Herr von Pechlar, not addressing himself to the speaker, butto Frau and Fraulein Ellrich. "We regular officers pull together likeold friends in danger and in death, while the others come among usunknown. I imagine that must be very uncomfortable. "

Wilhelm felt that he had no answer to make, and a silence ensued. Loulou broke it by moving her chair near Wilhelm, and began to chatterin a cheerful way over the occurrences of the last few days. Howdreadfully sudden all this was! Just in the midst of their preparationsto go away. That was put aside now. They must stay behind and do theirduty. Mamma had presided at a committee for providing the troops withrefreshment at the railway station; she herself and Malvine were alsomembers. There were meetings every day, and then there was runningabout here, there, and everywhere, to collect money, enlist sympathy, make purchases, and finally to see to the arrangements at the departureof the troops. 

"It is hard work, " sighed Frau Ellrich; "I have dozens of letters towrite every day, and can hardly keep up with the correspondence. "

Herr von Pechlar said he regretted that he was obliged to take to thesword; he would much rather have helped the ladies with the pen. 

Wilhelm felt that the moral atmosphere was intolerable. He had nothingto say, and yet it was painful to him to be silent. Nobody made anysign of leaving, so at last he rose. Herr von Pechlar did not followhis example, merely giving him a distant bow. Malvine put out her handquickly, which Wilhelm grasped, feeling it tremble a little in his. Frau Ellrich went with him to the door. She seemed touched, and saidwith motherly tenderness, while he kissed her hand:

"We shall anxiously expect letters from you, and I promise you that wewill write as often as possible. "

Loulou went outside the door with Wilhelm, in spite of a glance fromher mother. She thought they could bid each other good-by with a kiss, but two servants stood outside, and they had to content themselves witha prolonged clasp of the hand, and a look from Wilhelm's troubled eyesinto hers, which were wet. She was the first to speak:

"Farewell, and come back safely, my Wilhelm. I must go back to thedrawing-room. "

Yes, if she must! and without looking back, he descended the marblestaircase, feeling chilled to the bone, in spite of the hot sunlight inthe street. He had the feeling that he was leaving nothing belonging tohim in Berlin, except his own people's graves. 

In the evening he left by one of the numberless roads which at shortdistances traverse Germany toward the west like the straight lines of arailway. The quiet of the landscape was disturbed by the fifes, rattleof wheels, and clanking of chains, and to all the villages along theroad they brought back the consciousness, forgotten till now, thatGermany's best blood was to be shed in a stream flowing westward. Atime was beginning for Wilhelm of powerful but very painfulimpressions, not, it is true, to be compared with those which thebattlefields of 1866 had made on him when an unformed youth. The warunveiled to him the foundations of human nature ordinarily buried undera covering of culture, and his reason, marveled over the reconciliationof such antitheses. On the one hand one saw the wildest struggle forgain, and love of destruction; on the other hand were the dailyexamples of the kindest human nature, self-sacrifice forfellow-creatures, and an almost unearthly devotion to heroicconceptions of duty. Now it appeared as if the primitive animal naturein man were let loose, and bellowing for joy that the chains in whichhe had lain were burst, and now again as if the noblest virtues wereproudly blossoming, only wanting favorable circumstances in which todevelop themselves. Life was worth nothing, the laws of property verylittle; whatever the eyes saw which the body desired, the hand was atonce stretched out to obtain, and the point of the bayonet decided ifanything came between desire and satisfaction. But these same men, whowere as indifferent to their own lives, and as keen to destroy thelives of others as savages, performed heroic deeds, helping theircomrades in want or danger, sharing their last mouthful with wounded orimprisoned enemies, who returned them no thanks; and after the battle, in the peasant's hut, cradling in their arms the little child, whoseroof they had perhaps destroyed, and possibly whose father they mighthave slain. These impulses, as far apart as the poles, occurred hourafter hour before Wilhelm's eyes. He was not a born soldier, and hisnature was not given to fighting. But when it was necessary to endurethe wearisome fulfillment of duty, to bear privation silently, and tolook at menacing danger indifferently, then few were his equals, andnone before him. This quiet, passive heroism was noticed by hiscomrades. The officers of his company found out that he did not smoke, and never drank anything stronger than spring water. They noticed alsothat dirt was painful to him, even the ordinary dust of the countryroads, and that he was dissatisfied if his boots and trousers bore themarks of muddy fields. They thought him a spoiled mother's darling, a"molly-coddle, " and their instructive knowledge of human nature found aname for him, the same name his schoolfellows had already given him. They called him the "Fraulein. "

But in the day of battle, when Wilhelm with his company stood for thefirst time in the line of fire, the "Fraulein" was perhaps the firmestof them all. The hissing balls made apparently no more impression onhim than a crowd of swarming gnats, and the only moment his courageleft him was when he thought he might be thrown into a ditch, which therains had turned into a complete puddle. He remained standing when allthe others lay down, and the captain at last called out to him, "In thedevil's name, do you want to be a target for the French?" making himseek shelter behind a little mound, which left him nearly as uncoveredas he was before. And after hours of solid exertion, straining nervesand muscles to the utmost, when peace came with night, Wilhelm began atiring piece of work with sticks and brushwood, out of pity for a wearycomrade. 

On the strength of these first days before the enemy his position as asoldier was established. A few harmless jokes were made on the marchand in the camp on Wilhelm's anxiety as to the removal of mud on hisclothes, and on the example he set in going out at night to save thedead and wounded enemy from plunder, but the whole company loved andadmired the "Fraulein. "

The officers, however, did not entirely share this feeling. Thislieutenant was not smart enough. They did full justice to his courage, but thought that he was wanting in alertness and initiative. He lackedthe proper campaigning spirit, and they found it chilling that heshould be so distant in his manners after so long a time together. Another said that Lieutenant Eynhardt went into action like asleep-walker, and his calmness had something uncanny about it. Thecaptain was not pleased with him, because he had no knowledge ofbusiness; as far as example went he was the worst forager in the wholeregiment. If a peasant's wife complained to him, he would leaveempty-handed a house whose cellars were stocked with wine, and larderswith hams one could smell a hundred yards off. It was all the moreprovoking as he could speak French perfectly, an accomplishment whichno one else in the regiment could, to the same extent, boast of. Itcame even to a scene between him and the captain, who said angrily tohim after a fruitless search in a new and well-to-do village inChampagne: "A good heart is a fine thing to have, but you are anofficer now, and not a Sister of Mercy. Our men have a right to eat, and if you want to be compassionate, our poor fellows want food just asmuch as those French peasants. Deny yourself if you like, but take carethat the soldiers have what they need. If ever you get back to Berlin, then in God's name you can please yourself by distributing alms, andbuy a place for yourself in heaven. "

Wilhelm was obliged to admit that the captain was right, but he couldnot change his nature. Capturing, destroying, giving pain, were not tohis taste. From that time he left other people's property alone, andlet the French run if they fell into his hands. He was excellent onoutpost and patrol duties, for then his brains and not his hands wereat work--then he could think and endure. He could go for twenty-fourhours on a bit of bread and a draught of water better than any one, andwithout a minute's sleep, stand for hours at a stretch holding aposition; he was always the first to explore dangerous roads, signingto his companions if he could answer for their safety, and all thiswith a natural, quiet self-possession as if he were taking a walk intown, or reading a newspaper at Spargnapani's. 

Weeks and months went by like a dream, in constant excitement, and theexhausting strain of strength. Christmas passed at the outposts withoutgifts and with few good wishes, and the thunder of the guns took theplace of church bells. January came in with a hard frost, trying thefield troops bitterly, and bringing with it hard work for Wilhelm'sregiment. The 61st belonged to General Kettler's brigade, whichstrategically kept the Garibaldi and Pelissier divisions in check. Bythe middle of January the brigade was in full touch with the enemy. Onthe 21st the troops broke out from the St. Seine, dashed into the ValSuzon, and after an hour's conflict with the Garibaldians, drove themout and established themselves on the heights of Daix toward twoo'clock. Before them were the rugged summits of Talant and Fontaine, the last spurs of the Jura Mountains seen in the blue distances both ofthem crowned, by old villages, whose outer walls looked down a thousandfeet below. The gray walls, the rhomboid towers of the mediaevalchurches, brought to one's mind the vision of robber knights ratherthan the modest homes of peasants. Between these two mountains was anarrow valley, through which one caught a glimpse of Dijon, with itsred roofs and numbers of towers, and its high Gothic church above all, St. Benigne, well known later to the German soldiers. 

There lay before them the great wealthy town, looking as if one couldthrow a pebble through one of its windows, so near did it seem in theclear winter air. The smoke went straight up out of its thousandchimneys, exciting appetizing thoughts of warm rooms and boiling potson kitchen fires. There were the sheltered streets full of shops, friendly cafes, houses with beds and lamps and well-covered tables--butthe soldiers stood outside on the cold hillside, chilled to the bone bythe north wind, so tired that they could hardly stand, and oftensinking down in the snow, where they lay benumbed, without energy torouse themselves. They had gone for twenty-four hours without food, andhad only some black bread remaining for the evening, worth a kingdom inprice. Between their misery and the abundance before their eyes lay theenemy's army, and this army they must conquer, if they would sit atthose tables and lie in the soft beds. The general wanted to take Dijonin order to remove a danger menacing to South Germany, and to securethe advance of the German army toward Paris and Belfort--the soldiershad the same desire, but their longing for Dijon was for comfort, satisfaction of hunger, and rest. 

The German battalion kept on pressing forward. This mistake was hardlythe fault of the officers, who on this occasion strove to keep the menback rather than encourage them to advance. The Garibaldian troops hadthe advantages of superior forces, a greater range of artillery, andsheltered position in the hills, and they pressed with increasedcourage to the attack. The Germans did not await them quietly but threwthemselves on them, so that in many cases it came to a hand-to-handfight, and serious work was done with bayonets and the butt-ends ofrifles. At length the French began to retreat, and the Germans withloud "Hurrahs!" flung themselves after them. But the pursuit was soonabandoned, as they had to withdraw under the fire from the Talant andFontaine positions, and then, after a short rest, the French againadvanced. So the fight lasted for three hours, the snowflakes dispersedby the balls, the men stamping their half-frozen feet on the ground, stained in so many places with blood, but the distance between theGerman battalion and beckoning, mocking Dijon never diminished. Theright wing of the brigade made a strenuous attempt, pressed hard towardPlombieres, forced the Garibaldians back at the point of the bayonet, and took possession of the village, which already had been stormed fromhouse to house. The sight of the slopes before Plombieres covered withthe enemy running, sliding, or rolling, acted like strong drink; thewhole German line threw itself on the yielding enemy before it had timeto regain breath, and amid the thunder of artillery, with the ballsfrom the French reserves on the heights rattling like hailstones, itgained at last a footing on the hill. Some of the troops sank downexhausted in the shelter of the little huts which were strewed over thevineyard, while others followed the division of the enemy which hadforced itself between the mountain and the narrow valley behind theFrench line of defense. 

It was now night, and very dark, and to follow up the hard-won victorywas not to be thought of, so the German troops halted to rest ifpossible for an hour. It was a terrible night, and the cold wasintense. Campfires were almost useless. The men's clothes wereinsufficient and nearly worn out. During the last few days, on themarch and in the camp, every one had huddled together whatever seemedwarmest, and in the pale moon or starlight, figures in strangedisguises might be seen. One wore the thick wadded cloak of a peasantwoman over woefully torn trousers, another whose toes till now hadalways been seen out of noisy boots, stalked in enormous wooden shoes, the extra room being filled up with hay and straw. Overcoats from theFrench and German dead had been taken, and were useful for replenishingoutfits--particularly when a German soldier wore red trousers, and thebraided fur coat of the fantastic Garbaldian uniform. Many others hadbed-clothing and horse-coverings, carpets and curtains, one even wentso far as to wear an altar-cloth from some poor village church over hisshoulders, and those who still had pocket-handkerchiefs in theirpossession wore them tied over their ears. Many, however, had nothingbut their own torn uniforms, and these tried hard to get warm byrolling themselves close against one another like dogs. The dark masseslay there all among the trodden and half-frozen snow stained withblood, sand, and clay, huddled together one on the top of the other, and if their labored breathing had not been heard, one could hardlyhave told whether one stood by living men or dead--the dead indeed laynear, many hundreds of them, singly and in groups, scarcely morecramped and huddled together than the sleepers, nor more quiet thanthey. When the cold, even to the most warmly dressed, becameintolerable, they would spring up and stagger about, stumbling overheaps of dead and living men, the latter cursing them loudly. 

The dreadful night passed, and at most a third only of the Germantroops had rested. The gray dawn began to appear in the sky, buglessounded, and cries of command were heard, but it was hard for the poorsoldiers to rouse themselves, to stir their benumbed limbs, which atlast were beginning to get a little warm. One after another the ridgesof the Jura Mountains became suffused with pink as the sun rose, butthe fissures in the hills and the valleys were still dark and filledwith thick mist, behind which the enemy's position and the town ofDijon were still invisible. The soldiers soon forced their stiffenedlimbs into position, the last remaining rations were quicklydistributed, and a picked number of the freshest of the men, i. E. Thosewho had had no night duty, went out doggedly against the enemy, withtrailing steps and gray, tired-out faces. The crackle of their livelyfiring aroused the French from sleep, and perhaps from dreams ofconquest and fame, put them to confusion, and drove them back towardDijon. The Germans followed, this time without shouting, and as the foggradually dispersed, they saw the first skirmishers of the batteries onTalant and Fontaine, apparently far distant against the Porte Guillaume(the old town gate of Dijon, built to imitate a Roman arch of victory), were really quite near them. One more tug and strain and the goal wasnear. A fresh swing was put into the attack, but the French had foundtime with the advancing day to gather themselves together, and to beaware of the inferior numbers of the attacking party, and they threwthemselves in column formation down the hill, which the German divisionthreatened to attack in the rear. Fresh troops came marching out ofDijon, and the Germans, to avoid being between two fires, drew backagain through the valley behind the mountain. The French pressed afterthem, but were received by the German reserves with such a firm front, that they paused and slowly retreated. 

General von Kettler knew that in spite of his momentary success, hecould expect no further advance from his half-starved, cold, and wearybrigade, and therefore he ordered them half a mile to the rear. TheGaribaldian troops, who thought victory could be gained by onestrenuous effort, tried to arrest the departing troops, endeavoring tobring them back to another advance. When they were at last distributedin the villages, the exhausted Germans found rest and refreshment forthe first time for forty-eight hours. They had lost a tenth part oftheir powers of endurance in those dreadful two days spent on the hillsin sight of Dijon. 

The brigade had retreated, as one who jumps goes a step or two backwardto obtain more impetus. The next morning, January 23, they ware againon the march to Dijon. This time, however, they chose another way toavoid the batteries of Talant and Fontaine, and approached the townfrom the north instead of from the west. Following the road and therailway embankment from Langres to Dijon, the German troops pressedforward without halting. The French outposts and breastworks soon fellbefore the advancing Germans, and made no stand till they got to theFaubourg St. Nicholas, the northeast suburb of Dijon. The greaternumber of the Germans stationed themselves on the embankment, but thewalls of the vineyard, plentifully loopholed, pressed them hard withshot. Toward evening the second battalion of the 61st, to which Wilhelmbelonged, received the order to advance. Over pleasure-gardens andvineyards they went, through poor people's deserted houses the fourcompanies of skirmishers worked their way to the entrance of the RueSt. Catherine, a long, narrow street. Just at the end stood a largethree-storied factory, whose front, filled with large high windows, looked like a framework of stone and iron. At every window there was acrowd of soldiers; the whole front bristled with death-dealing weapons. Sixteen windows were on each floor, and at every window at least threerows of four soldiers stood. It was therefore easy to reckon the totalnumber at six hundred at the very least. 

As the points of the German bayonets came round the corner in sight ofthis fortress a terrible change took place: in the twinkling of an eyeall the openings blazed out at once, and the building seemed to shakefrom its foundations; forty-eight red tongues of flame blazed outsuddenly to right and left, as if so many throats of Vulcan or abyssesinto hell had been opened, and soon the whole building was wrapped in athick white smoke, through which the men were invisible. Then a freshroar and fresh bursts of flame, and fresh puffing out of white smoke, and so it went on, flash after flash, roar after roar came from thatawful wall, whose windows were every now and then visible between thevolleys of smoke. Hardly one of the soldiers within the line of firewas left standing, numbers were crushed, many more lying dead orwounded-and the furious firing took on a fresh impetus. If the wholebattalion was not to be destroyed, it must speedily get under cover. So, running some hundred and fifty yards to the right, they threwthemselves into an apparently deep sandpit, and there they lay directlyopposite to the factory. During these few minutes the facade, stillvomiting fire, bellowed and poured out bullets like hailstones againstthe sixty men in the sandpit, doing murderous work. 

Hardly giving themselves time to take breath, the brave men began tofire steadily at the factory, which up till now appeared, in spite ofits nearness, to be very little damaged. The enemy were therecompletely enveloped from sight, and a lurid red flame through thecloud of smoke was the only guide for the German shot. So the fightinglasted for some time, till an adjutant sprang from over the fieldbehind, which he had reached by a circuitous way, bringing from thecommander-in-chief the questions as to what was going on, and why werethey there. The major pointed with his sword at the factory, and said

"We must have artillery against this. "

"There is none here to have, " answered the adjutant. 

The major shrugged his shoulders, and gave the command for the Fifthcompany to storm the factory. While they prepared themselves to leavethe sandpit the German firing stopped, and almost at the same time, theFrench. The enemy could now see what was going on outside, for at thismoment the cloud of smoke became less dense. The company broke out ofthe sandpit, and with the flag of the battalion gallantly waving overthem rushed madly toward the door of the factory, while the men whowere left behind tried by a furious fire to support their comrades andto confuse the enemy. The strange silence had lasted forty or fiftyseconds, probably till the Germans had given some idea of theirintentions. This bit of time allowed the storming party to gain, without loss, the middle of the space which separated them from theirobject, the intoxication of victory began to possess them, and theygave a cheer which rang with the exultant sound of triumph. Again thecrashing din began, as terribly as before, it was an uninterruptedsound like the howling of a hurricane, in which no single report orsalvo could be distinguished; the whole building seemed to flame atonce from the top to the bottom in one red glow, and the bullets flewand whistled in such a confusing mass, that it seemed as if the heavenswere opened and it rained balls, a dozen for every four square foot ofearth, and the men felt that they must be prepared for repeated attacksof the same description, one after the other without stopping. In but afew seconds half of the company lay on the ground, and the colors haddisappeared among the fallen. Those who remained standing seemed for ashort time as if stunned. A few, acting on the instinct ofself-preservation, fled almost unconsciously. Among the greater part, however, the fighting Prussian instinct prevailed, impelling thesoldiers forward and never back, and so with renewed shouts theypressed on. But only for a few minutes. The colors flew upward again, raised by hands wearied to death, only to fall again at once. Threetimes--four times the flag emerged, sinking again and again, and eachflutter meant a new sacrifice, and each fall the death of a hero. Soonthere was no one left standing, no man and no standard, nothing but agray heap of bodies, whose limbs palpitated and moved like somefabulous sea creature, making groaning, ghostly sounds. Ten or twelvepoor fellows wounded by stray shots sheltered themselves in the sandpitwithout weapons, with staring eyes and distorted features. That was allthere was left of the Fifth company. 

There was deathly silence in the sandpit; the firing had ceased forsome minutes. The soldiers looked at one another, and at the mountainof human bodies before them in the evening twilight, and threw doubtfulglances at the handful of men just returned, lying exhausted on theground. Suddenly the major called out:

"The colors!"

"The colors!" murmured several men, while others remained silent. 

"We must search for them under the wounded, " said the major sadly. 

His glance strayed right and left, and seemed to invite volunteersamong the twenty or thirty who were nearest to him. The little bandcautiously left their shelter, and set diligently to work on the hillof dead bodies. But in spite of the growing darkness they were observedby the French, who began their fire anew, and a few minutes later noliving soul was left on the field. 

The captain and Wilhelm were now the only remaining officers of thebattalion. The former cried: "Who--will volunteer?" and was surroundedby a dozen brave fellows. Wilhelm was not among them. He stood leaningon his sword against the half-frozen side of the pit, observing withsorrowful expression what was going on around him. The captain threwhim a strange look, in which contempt and reproach were mingled, thenhe drew out his watch, as if to note the last moment of his life, andwith the cry "Forward!" disappeared in the evening light. He did notreach the spot where the corpses lay thickest. The factory went onspitting fire, and crashing everything down over the heap. The shots, however, came more slowly, and pauses came between them. A shriek washeard, not far distant. Evidently it was one of the wounded who lay onthe ground. At the same time a form could be distinguished raisingitself up and then sinking again. Heedless of the balls which whistledround his ears, Wilhelm raised his head out of the sandpit and lookedover the field. Then he worked himself out on his hands and knees, andto the astonishment of the soldiers in the pit moved away toward thewounded, alone and without hurry or excitement. Over there on the otherside they saw him, and although the artillery did not fire on him, hereceived a brisk volley of single shots without, however, being hit, and he reached the first group of wounded. A hasty glance showed himonly stiffened limbs and stony faces. He went on searching, and then heheard close by him a feeble voice saying: "Here!" and a hand wasstretched out to him. With one bound he was near the wounded man, andrecognized the captain. 

"Are you seriously hurt?" he asked, while as quickly as possible heraised the wounded man on his shoulder, who answered almost inaudibly:

"A ball through the chest, and one in my foot. I am in awful pain. "

As Wilhelm went slowly back with his burden, he looked so fantastic inthe growing darkness, that the French did not know what to make of thestrange apparition, and began to fire afresh. "Wilhelm, however, reached the sandpit safely, where friendly arms were stretched out tohelp him, and relieve him of the captain. He stayed to breathe amoment, and then said:

"If any one will come with me, we might bring in one or two more poordevils who have still life in them. "

He was soon surrounded by five or six figures, and he was going withthem to search for wounded in the rain of balls which was falling, whenwith a sudden cry of pain he sank backward. A ball had struck his rightleg. His volunteers put him back into the sandpit, and no one thoughtany more either of the colors or the wounded who lay out there underthe fire from the factory. At this moment too an adjutant brought thecommand to retreat, which the remains of the wearied battalion slowlybegan, to obey under the command of a sub-officer. 

The captain, who could not be moved, was left in a peasant's hut in thevillage of Messigny, but as Wilhelm's injury was only a flesh wound, and he was merely exhausted from loss of blood, he was sent with theothers to Tonnerre, where he arrived the next day, after a journey ofgreat suffering. 

The schoolhouse was turned into an infirmary, many of the rooms holdingnearly a hundred and twenty beds. Wilhelm was put into a little room, which he shared with one French and two German officers. A Sister ofMercy and a male volunteer nurse attended to the patients in this aswell as in the four neighboring rooms. Wilhelm exercised the sameinfluence here as he did everywhere, by the power of his pale thinface, which had not lost all its beauty; by the sympathetic tones ofhis voice, and above all by the nobility of his quiet, patient nature. His fellow-sufferers were attracted to him as if he were a magnet. Someoccupants of the room gave up their cigars when they noticed that hedid not smoke. The Frenchman declared immediately that he was lePrussien le plus charmant he had ever seen. The Sister took him to hermotherly heart, and the doctor was constantly at his bedside. He wasable to give him a great deal of attention without neglecting his duty, as there were few very severe cases under his care, and no new onescame in--Paris had surrendered and a truce was declared. 

At first Wilhelm's wound was very bad. It had been carelessly bound upat first, and in the long journey to the infirmary had been neglected, but owing to antiseptic treatment the fever soon abated and then lefthim entirely. He took such a particular fancy to the doctor that aftera few days they were like old friends, and knew everything about eachother. 

Dr. Schrotter was an unusual type, both in appearance and character. Ofmiddle height, extraordinarily broad-shouldered, and with large stronghands and feet, he gave the impression of having been intended for agiant, whose growth had stopped before reaching its fulfillment. Thepowerful, nobly-formed he ad was rather bent, as if it bore some heavyburden. His light hair, not very thick, and slightly gray on thetemples, grew together in a tuft over the high forehead. Theclosely-cropped beard left his chin free, and the fine mustache showeda mouth with a rather satirical curve and closely compressed lips Astrong aquiline nose and narrow bright blue eyes completed aphysiognomy indicating great reserve and a remarkable degree ofmelancholy. It is no advantage to a man to possess a Sphinx-like head. The pretty faces apparently full of secrets offer easy deceptions, andone expects that the mouth when open will reveal all that the eyes seemto mean. One is half-angry and half-inclined to laugh when onediscovers that the face of the Sphinx has quite an everyday meaning, and utters only commonplaces. But with Dr. Schrotter one had no suchdeception. He spoke quite simply, and when he closed his lips he leftin the minds of his listeners a hundred thoughts which his words hadconveyed, He was born in Breslau, had studied in Berlin, and hadstarted a practice there when his student day's were over. TheRevolution of '48 came, and he at once threw himself head over earsinto it. He fought at the barricades, took part in the storming of theArsenal, became a celebrated platform orator, and relieved a great dealof distress during the reactionary policy which followed, leaving soonafterward, however, to travel abroad. He went to London almostpenniless, and at first, through his ignorance of the language, he wasbarely able to maintain himself, but he soon had the good fortune toobtain an appointment in the East India Company. In the spring of 1850he went to Calcutta, where he helped to manage the School of Medicine, and some years later was sent to Lahore, where he also established amedical school. After twenty years' service he was discharged with aconsiderable pension. His return to Europe falling in with the outbreakof the war, he hastened to offer his voluntary services to the army assurgeon. Owing to temperate habits and a strong physique, he had keptin good health, and no one would have dreamed that this strong, fifty-year-old man had passed so many years in an enervating tropicalclimate. The only signs it had left on his face were the dark, yellowish color of his skin, and the habit of keeping the eyeshalf-closed. The long years in India had also made a deep impression onhis character, and many things about him would have appeared strangeand odd in a European. They amounted to sheer contradictions, but theirexplanation was to be looked for in the environment of his life. Physically he was still young, but his mind seemed very old, and hadthat appearance of dwelling quietly apart which is the privilege ofwise minds who have done with life, and who look on at the close of thecomedy free from illusions. His eyes often flashed with enthusiasm, buthis speech was always gentle and quiet. In his relations with other menhe had the decided manner of one who was accustomed to command, and atthe same time the kindness of a patriarch for his children. He was amoderate sceptic, nevertheless he combined with it a mysticism which asuperficial judge might have denounced as superstition. He believed, for instance, that many persons had power over wild animals; that theycould raise themselves into the air; that they could interrupt theduration of their lives for months, or even for years, and then resumeit again; that they could read the thoughts of others, and communicatewithout help the speech of others over unlimited distances. All thesethings he averred he had himself seen, and if people asked him how theywere possible, he answered simply, "I can no more explain thesephenomena than I can explain the law of gravitation, or thetransformation of a caterpillar into a moth. The first principles ofeverything are inexplicable. The difference in our surroundings is onlythat some things are frequently observed, and others only seldom. "

His philosophy, which he had learned from the Brahmins, attractedWilhelm greatly; it made many things clear to him which he himself hadvaguely felt possible ever since he had learned to think. "Thephenomenon of things on this earth, " said Dr. Schrotter, "is a riddlewhich we try to read in vain. We are borne away by a flood, whosesource and whose mouth are equally hidden from us. It is of no availwhen we anxiously cry, 'Whence have we come, and whither are we going?'The wisest course for us is to lie quietly by the banks and letourselves drift--the blue sky above us, and the breaking of the wavesbeneath us. From time to time we come to some fragrant lotus-flower, which we may gather. " And when Wilhelm complained that the philosophyof the world is so egoistic, Dr. Schrotter answered, "Egoism is a word. It depends on what meaning is attached to it. Every living beingstrives after something he calls happiness, and all happiness is only aspur goading us on to the search. It belongs to the peculiar organismof a healthy being that he should be moved by sympathy. He cannot behappy if he sees others suffering. The more highly developed a humanbeing is the deeper is this feeling, and the mere idea of the sufferingof others precludes happiness. The egoism of mankind is seen in this;he searches for the suffering of others, and tries to alleviate it, andin the combat with pain he insures his own happiness. A Catholic wouldsay of St. Vincent de Paul or St. Charles Borromeo, 'He was a greatsaint. ' I would say, 'He was a great egoist. ' Let us render love tothose who are swimming with us down the stream of life, and withoutpricking of conscience take joy in being egoists. "

Wilhelm was never tired of talking about the wonderland of the risingsun, of its gentle people and their wisdom, and Dr. Schrotter willinglytold him about his manner of life and experience there. So the peacefuldays went by in the quiet schoolhouse at Tonnerre, the monotony beingpleasantly relieved by visits from comrades, and letters from PaulHaber and the Ellrichs. Paul was going on very well. He was atVersailles, making acquaintances with celebrated people, and hadnothing to complain of except that, in spite of the truce, he had noleave of absence to come and see his friend. Frau Ellrich complained ofthe irregularity of their correspondence during the war. Loulou wrotelively letters full of spirit and feeling. She had been frightened tohear of his wound, but his convalescence had made her happy again. Shehoped that it would not leave him with a stiff leg, but even if it didit would not matter so much, as he neither danced nor skated. What adreary winter they were having in Berlin! No balls, no parties, nothingbut lint-picking, and their only dissipation the arrival of the woundedand the prisoners at the railway station. And that was quite spoiled bythe abominable newspaper articles on the subject--presuming tocriticize ladies because they were rather friendly to the Frenchofficers! The French, whom one had known so well in Switzerland, mustbe of some worth, and it was the woman's part to be kind to the woundedenemy, and to intercede for human beings even in war, while the mendefended them by their courage and strength. Some of these Frenchmenwere charming, so witty, polite, and chivalrous, that one could almostforgive them had they conquered us. One's friends were suffering somuch--one heard such dreadful things. Herr von Pechlar had escapedwithout a hair being injured, and he already had an Iron Cross of thefirst class! She hoped that Wilhelm would soon get one too. 

Up till now Wilhelm had not been able to answer this questiondecidedly. One morning, toward the end of February, as he was limpingabout the room on a stick, the adjutant came in and said:

"I have brought you good news. You have won the Iron Cross. " As Wilhelmdid not immediately answer he went on: "Your captain has the firstclass. He is now out of danger. He has naturally surpassed you. I maytell you between ourselves that it did not seem quite the thing, yourbeing so cool about the colors; but the way in which you fetched thecaptain out was ripping. Don't be offended if I ask you why you exposedyourself for the captain when you refused for the flag?"

"I don't mind telling you at all. The captain is a living man, and theflag only a symbol. A symbol does not seem to me to be worth as much asa man. "

The adjutant stared at him, and he repeated confusedly:

"A symbol!"

Wilhelm said nothing in explanation, but went on:

"I regret very much that I was not asked before I was proposed for theIron Cross. I cannot accept it. "

"Not take it? You can't really mean that!"

"Yes, I do. In trying to fulfill my duties as a man and a citizen, Icannot hang a sign of my bravery on me for all passers-by to see. "

"You speak like a tragedy, my dear Herr Eynhardt, " said the adjutant. "But just as you like. You can have the satisfaction of having donesomething unique. It is hardly a usual thing to refuse the Iron Cross. "

As he went out with a distant bow, Dr. Schrotter came in, and said, smiling:

"What the adjutant said about the tragedy is very true. Decorationappears very theatrical to me, but you might take it quietly and put itin your pocket. I have got quite a collection of such things which Inever wear. "

"But do you blame the men who despise these outward forms in order togive an example to others?"

"My friend, when one is young one hopes to guide others, as one growsolder one grows more modest. "

This objection struck Wilhelm, and he grew confused. Dr. Schrotter laidhis hand quietly on his shoulder, and said:

"That does not matter. We really mean the same thing. The difference isonly that you are twenty-five and I am fifty. "

As Wilhelm was silent and thoughtful, Schrotter went on:

"There is a great deal to be said about symbols. Theoretically you areright, but life practically does not permit of your views. Everythingwhich you see and do is a symbol, and where are you to draw the line?The flag is one, but without doubt the battle is one too. I believe, inspite of the historian who is wise after the event, that the so-calleddecisive battles do not decide anything, and that it is the accidentalevents which have the permanent influence on the destiny of peoples. Neither Marathon nor Cannae kept the Greeks or Carthaginians fromdestruction; all the Roman conquests did not prevent the Teutonic racefrom overrunning the world; all the Crusader conquests of Jerusalem didnot maintain Christianity, or Napoleon's victories the first FrenchEmpire; nor did the defeats sustained by the Russians in the Crimeainfluence their development. And finally, I am convinced that Europeto-day would not be materially different, even if all the decisivevictories of her people could be changed into defeats, and theirdefeats into victories. So you see that a battle is a symbol of themomentary capabilities of a people, and a very useless symbol, becauseit tells nothing of the immediate future, and yet you will sacrificeyour life for this symbol, and not for another! It is not logical. "

"You are right, " said Wilhelm, "and our actions in cases like this arenot guided by logic. But one thing I am sure of, if everything else isa symbol, a man's life is not. It is what it appears to be; itsignifies just itself. "

"Do you think so?" said Schrotter thoughtfully. 

"Yes, although I understand the doubt implied in your question. Aliving man is to me a secret, which I respect with timidity andreverence--who can tell his previous history, what things he does, whattruths he believes in, what happiness he is giving to others? Thereforewhen I see him in danger I willingly risk my life to save his. I knowmyself, and I estimate my value as a trifling thing. "

Schrotter shook his head. 

"If that were right, an adult must in all cases give his life to save achild, because he might grow to be a Newton, or a Goethe, and aboveall, because the child is the future, and that must always takenprecedence of the past and the present. But to a mature man that is notpracticable. There are no more secrets. Mankind knows that the probableis planted within his own being. Do not seek to find additional reasonsfor a fact which has already sprung up from unknown forces. It wassympathy which impelled you, the natural feeling for a fellow-creature. And that is right and natural. "

Wilhelm looked at Schrotter gratefully as he affectionately grasped hishand. 

CHAPTER IV. 

IT WAS NOT TO BE. 

The sun streamed down on Berlin from a cloudless sky, and all the lifeof the town gathered in a confused, restless throng in Unter denLinden; but the bustle on this hot summer day, June 16, 1871, had quitea different character from that of eleven months before. And if any onecould have listened to it all with closed eyes, he might havedistinguished a joyful excitement in the air, in the laughing ofchildren and girls, in the lively gossip of the men; and from all thesesounds of joy and chatter he might have detected the signs thatoverstrained nerves were now relaxed after long hours of wearysuspense. What hundreds of thousands had wished and hoped for on thatFriday in July had now come to its glorious fulfillment, and Berlin, asthe proud capital of a newly-established empire, was giving a welcomehome to the army. They had at last found the answer to Arndt'sill-natured question about the German Fatherland, and had set the greatCharles' imperial crown on the head of their bold Hohenzollern king. 

On one of the raised platforms near the Brandenburger Thor were Wilhelmand Dr. Schrotter. The former had renounced the privilege whichbelonged to him, as officer in the Reserves, and moreover, as anexample, had not claimed his position among those who were wounded inthe war, still however wearing his uniform. Had he consulted his owninclinations, he would not have come to see this triumphant entrance, as he took very little pleasure in the noisy enthusiasm of crowds. Agreat deal of actual vulgarity is always exhibited on these occasions, mingled with some real nobility of feeling. Counter-jumpers andwork-girls secure comfortable positions from which to see theprocessions, groups of calculating shopkeepers with advertisements ofpictures and medals of hateful ugliness speculate on the generosity ofthe crowd, and others push with all the force of their bodily weight toobtain and keep the front places for themselves. Frau Ellrich had sentWilhelm two tickets, hoping that he would make use of them. Dr. Schrotter wished to see the spectacle, so Wilhelm asked his new friendto go with him. 

Near where they sat was the platform for the ladies who were to crownthe victors with wreaths. Among them was Loulou. All the emotions andforce of character of which she was capable had been brought out by herposition. Through the influence of her father, who, in all thedifficult and responsible business of the French indemnity had foundtime to intercede for his little daughter with the burgomasters andmagistrates, Loulou's dream was realized; a dream which all theprettiest girls in the best society in Berlin had also shared duringthe last week. Her enrollment in this troop of beauties was regarded byher less successful friends with envy, but the vexation of disappointedrivals was naturally the sweetest part of her triumph. 

The young girls were dressed all alike in mediaeval dresses like thewell known pictures of Gretchen in "Faust, " with long plaits of hair, puffed and slashed sleeves, and senseless and theatrical-looking littlehanging pockets. All were nevertheless conscious of the propriety oftheir appearance, and felt quite heroic. It really was heroic to sitthere hour after hour in the burning sun bareheaded, until all weregathered into one great picture, and a documentary proof could behanded down to their grandchildren in the shape of a large-sizedphotograph, showing that their grandmothers had been chosen as theofficial beauties of Berlin in the year 1871. The satisfaction ofvanity, involving such a sacrifice, almost deserves admiration. 

It was nearly midday when a sudden stir took place in the crowd. Everyone on the platforms sprang up and began to wave hats andhandkerchiefs. In the windows, on the roofs, in the spaces between theplatforms, wherever men could be packed, suddenly all the heads turnedto one side, just as a field of corn bends before a breeze. Then uprosea roar of shouts and cheers, deafening and almost stunning inintensity. It was impossible any longer to distinguish tone, but only atumult, such as a diver in deep water might hear of the surface wavesabove him. The senses were bemused by the continual succession, ofheads set close together like a mosaic, and covering the whole surfaceof the great street, and by the roar which went up, cheering everythingwhich made its appearance; whether it were the struggling activity ofthe crowd moving in the center of the street, the sudden fall offoolhardy boys who had climbed into trees or up lampposts, or the shortand sharp fights which went on between spectators for the best places, nothing escaped recognition. 

Now between the firing of cannons was heard a more distant sound of awarlike fanfare of trumpets, and between the pillars of the centralBrandenburg Gateway came the Field-Marshal Wrangel, recognizing all thearrangements with a pleasant smile, and with a radiantly happyexpression on his withered face, as the first enthusiasm of the peopleburst upon him, though he had demanded no part of the triumph forhimself. A group of generals followed him in gorgeous uniforms, decorated with shining medals and stars, all bore famous names, attracting the keenest interest and centering the enthusiasm of thecrowd. Endless and numberless seemed the ever-changing andrichly-colored procession--Moltke, Bismarck, and Roon side by side, allstatuesque figures, their eyes with stately indifference glancing atthe rejoicing people. They seemed in the midst of this stormy wave ofexcitement like stern, immovable rocks, standing firm and high abovethe breaking surf at their feet. Many people had at the sight of theman intuitive feeling that they were not mortal men, but rather mysticalembodiments of the power of nature, just as the gods of the sun, thesea, and the storm were the conceptions of the old religions. Theypassed on, and at a short interval behind them came the EmperorWilhelm. His supreme importance was emphasized by the space left beforeand after him. Wreaths covered his purple saddle, flowers drooped overthe glossy skin of his high-stepping charger, his helmeted head and hisgloved hand saluted and bowed, and on his face shone a mingledexpression of gratitude and emotion, which, after the hard, coldbearing of his fellow-workers, was doubly impressive and affecting. Manifestly this conqueror was not like his Roman prototype who had thewords, "Think of death, " whispered in his ear, while he tolerated theidolization of the people. 

The monarch had to hear long speeches from the officials and versesfrom the trembling lips of the young girls who surrounded him before hecould ride further. The train of individual heroes ended with him. Theprinciple of massing together was now the order, in which individualityis no longer recognized. 

Battalion after battalion and squadron after squadron in endless linespassed by, until the tired eyes of the spectators could hardly after atime distinguish whether the lines were still moving, or had come to astandstill. The helmets and weapons of the soldiers were garlanded withflowers and foliage, the horses' legs were twined with wreaths, andtheir feet trod on a mass of trampled flowers and leaves. The strengthof the German army seemed to be decked and curled out of it; the linesof marching soldiers had women's faces: here and there a man had apatriotic admirer on his arm, who let it be seen that she had takenpossession of his weapon and carried it for him. The officers, as muchbedecked as their men, managed nevertheless to preserve their dignity. 

The crowd was gradually becoming stupefied by the spectacle, throatswere sore with shouting and cheering, and the oppressive heat took thefreshness out of the people's enthusiasm. Once more, however, theybroke out again, just as when the emperor and his paladins appeared, and this was when the French field-trophies were carried past. Eighty-one standards and flags were there, from the battlefields ofRussia, Italy, and Mexico, soaked through with men's blood, gloriouslydecomposed, torn, blackened with powder, and riddled with bullets. Nowthe strong arms of German non-commissioned officers carried them in thesultry heat of the midsummer afternoon, these miserable remnantshanging heavy and limp without a flutter, without a spark of tremblinglife in the silken folds; they looked like imprisoned kings, who withheads bowed down, and despair in their eyes, walked in chains behindthe triumphant Roman chariots. 

"Look, " sad Dr. Schrotter to Wilhelm, when a short pause came in theshouting, and in the rain of wreaths and flowers--"Look what makes thedeepest impression on the people, next to the great representativefigures. There is the symbol which you despised. "

"What does that prove?" answered Wilhelm. "I never doubted that thecrowd was roused by appearances, and not by the reason of things. Theideal results of victory one cannot see with one's eyes or applaud withone's hands, but a dismantled banner one can. "

"That does not explain everything. Atavism comes into it. Theinhabitants of towns in ancient times need to rejoice and cheer in thesame way when their victorious troops brought home the tutelary gods oftheir enemies. It is the same idea, the same superstition, after aninterval of three thousand years. "

"Yes, it is curious. I was thinking the whole time that one had apicture of ancient civilization before one. The wreaths of flowers, these swaggering figures with their trophies of war, this gay crowd, distributing food and drink, these young girls with their crowns, is itnot all exactly the manner in which the people of the Stone Age or thesavages of to-day would feast their heroes? Cannot one understand inthis that at the beginning of civilization war was the highest objectin state and society, an opportunity of enrichment by booty, and afestival for youth? Nowadays we ought to have got far enough to see inwar only a weary fulfilling of duty, a barbarous waste of labor, ofwhich we are inwardly ashamed; and we should keep away from this noisyfestival as from the execution of a criminal, which may be necessary, but is painful to witness. The progress from barbarism to civilizationis frightfully slow. "

"It is true; we are still carrying ancient barbarism round our necks, and without a great deal of rubbing you will easily find the primitivesavage under the skin of our dear contemporaries who are able toconstrue Latin beautifully. And these are not the only gloomy thoughtswhich this spectacle gives me. Look there! over yonder at the other endof the street they are unveiling a monument to Friedrich Wilhelm III. , and the festival of victory is spoiled by homage paid to a despot whoduring twenty-seven years never redeemed his pledge to give the peoplea constitution. I am forty-eight years old, and yet I have notforgotten my youthful ideas. My generation looked forward to a unitedas well as to a free Germany, and hoped that unity would not come outof a war, but rather from the freewill of the German people. It is nowwith us through other means, but I fear not better ones. Thearistocracy and the Church will assert themselves again, and themilitary system will lay its iron hand over the life of the wholenation. People say already that it is the officer and not theschoolmaster who has made Germany great. These changes put my thoughtsin a ferment. One has yet to see whether such a society of officers canproduce a people, and if its thinkers and teachers could not lead it toa richer cultivation, and its poets to a higher ideal of duty. I amafraid, my friend, that the higher souls in our new empire will notfind this an easy time. "

"And yet you left your dreaming in India to come home to discomfort, "said Wilhelm. 

"My longing for Germany never left me all the twenty years I was there. And then I confess that I secretly reproached myself for going away. Itis comfortable to turn one's back on the Fatherland, and to find moreagreeable conditions in a foreign country. But afterward one tellsoneself that only egoists leave their own people fighting againstdarkness and oppression, and that one has no right to play the traitorto home and belongings, while those left behind are striving bitterlyto better their condition. "

The procession of troops was still passing, but the young girls hadalready left their posts; the stands were beginning to empty, andWilhelm and Dr. Schrotter tried to break through the crowd and gohomeward. After a short silence Schrotter again went on:

"Don't misunderstand me, " he said; "in spite of thinking this triumphalprocession barbaric, and my ideal being different from that of mostpeople, I was deeply moved to-day with sympathy and admiration. Thisgeneration has achieved something colossal. My eyes fill with tearswhen I see these men. For six or seven years they have shed their bloodin these wars without a murmur, they have fought in a hundred battleswithout taking breath, they have neither counted the cost nor sparedtheir labor, and one feels astounded at living amid such heroes, whoseem to belong to a fairy tale. This generation has done more than itsduty, and if now it is weary and will rest for thirty years in peace, surely no one can reproach it. "

Schrotter spoke with emotion, and Wilhelm who would not grieve hisfriend by a contradiction, repressed a retaliation which rose to hislips, and silently took leave of him. 

The life of the community, as of single individuals, went backgradually into its old channels, and so it did with Dr. Schrotter. Hehad lived hitherto in an old-fashioned quarter of the town, and now, tobe as near as possible to Wilhelm, he rented a house in theMittelstrasse. He established a private hospital in the oldSchonhauserstrasse, in the midst of artisans and very poor people, andthere he spent daily many hours, treating for charity all those whocame to him for help. He soon had a larger attendance than wascomfortable, and had to extend the work, without which he could nothave lived. He found endless opportunities of relieving misery anddistress in this poor quarter of the town, and as he was a rich man, and independent of his own creature comforts, he could put hisphilosophy of compassion into practice to his heart's content. Wilhelmtook up his work again at the Laboratory, and also resumed his visitsto the Ellrichs, but it was with an increasing discomfort. Thecouncilor, who had been distinguished for his services in the financialtransactions with the French Government, had heard the story of therefusal of the Iron Cross. He thought it very ridiculous, and his earlyfriendship for Wilhelm became markedly cooler. Even Frau Ellrich'smotherly feeling for him received a check, and modesty and shyness nolonger seemed a sufficient explanation of the unaccountable delay inhis love-making. Only Loulou was apparently the same, whenever he came, always lively and friendly, but when he left she was affectionatewithout any display of emotion, grateful for tender glances, notwithholding quiet kisses, but not offering them--her calm manner almostmysterious, as if love were simply something superficial and of smallimport. Wilhelm could no longer deny that his first love, which hadstirred his being to the depths, was a mistake, but he could not bringhimself to definitely end the existing conditions. Hundreds of times hewas on the point of saying to Loulou that he did not think the tiebetween them would secure their happiness, and offering her herfreedom, but as soon as he began his courage would fail him. If peoplewere present he was confused; if they were alone, her personalappearance had the same charm for him, or rather it awoke in him theremembrance of the delight and enthusiasm he had felt in the past, andprevented him taking a step toward what would do grievous injury to hergirlish vanity, if nothing more. 

Would this suspense and these fears, which made him so restless andunhappy, always last? He might write a letter to Loulou, as he wasunable to say what he wished to in the light of her beautiful browneyes. Then he threw this idea aside as unworthy of consideration; hecould not simply dismiss a girl whom he loved by means of the post. Thesimple thing to do seemed to wait, until, on the other side, theyshould grow disgusted with him, and would tell him to go. This agreedwith his passive character, which was timidly inclined to draw backbefore the rushing current of events, and preferred to be carried alongby them, just as a willow leaf is borne along on the surface of astream. Wilhelm could not help noticing that Herr von Pechlar was now afavorite guest at the Ellrichs', that he made himself very fussy aboutboth mother and daughter, and that he had a very impertinent andslightly triumphant air when he met him. He would only have to leavethe coast clear for Pechlar and all would be at an end. 

Paul Haber, who was in Berlin again, and paying a great deal ofattention to Fraulein Marker, was grieved and really angry at the turnhis friend's romance had taken. He knew through Fraulein Marker howHerr von Pechlar was trying to supplant Wilhelm, and that he took everyopportunity of making abominably false representations about him. Thereought to be no more foolish loitering about. It was unpardonable to letthe golden bird fly away so easily. Once open the hand, and she mightbe off. If Fraulein Ellrich was beginning to flirt with Pechlar, it wasquite excusable, as Wilhelm's coolness might well drive her to it. Butif he stuck to his absurd whim, that she was too superficial forhim!--as if every girl were not superficial, and as if a man cannoteducate her to whatever level he pleases--then in heaven's name let himmake an end of it all, or the affair would become ridiculous andcontemptible. But other considerations had weight with Wilhelm. 

Through Paul and the officers of his acquaintance he heard veryunfavorable things of Pechlar. He was only moderately well off, and hadmore debts than hairs on his head; perhaps for a son-in-law of HerrEllrich's that was a venial offense. He was also a common libertine, whose excesses were more like those of a pork-butcher than of acultivated man. His companions were not disinclined for little amorousadventures--a joke with a pretty seamstress or restaurant waitress weretheir capital offenses. But the manner in which Pechlar carried on hisamours was such as did not commend itself to either the easygoing orcautious among the officers. 

Wilhelm clearly saw that Pechlar did not love Loulou--he was probablyincapable of loving, and only wanted her dowry. Without a thought ofjealousy, and out of compassion for an inexperienced and guilelesscreature who was dear to him, he thought it his duty to warn her beforeshe sullied herself by becoming bound to such a man. To save Loulou heat last took the step which no respect for his own peace or honor hadallowed him to take before. 

He went to the Ellrichs' house the next day at the usually early hourof eleven o'clock, and asking for the young lady, he was shown into thelittle blue boudoir, where he hoped to find Loulou alone. But he waspainfully surprised. Herr von Pechlar sat there, and appeared to be inthe middle of a conversation with Loulou. She smiled at Wilhelm, andbeckoned to him to come and sit near her, without embarrassment. Wilhelm stayed a moment at the door irresolute, then he went forward, and bowing to her without looking at the hussar, said earnestly: "Icame in the hope of speaking to you alone, gnadiges Fraulein. Perhaps Imay be so fortunate another time. "

At these unexpected words Loulou opened her eyes wide. Herr vonPechlar, however, who since Wilhelm's arrival had been tugging angrilyat his red mustache, could contain himself no longer, and said in aharsh voice, which trembled with passion:

"That is the coolest thing I have ever heard. May I ask first of allwhy you cut me on entering the room?"

"I only recognize people whom I esteem, " said Wilhelm over his shoulder. 

"You are a fool, " flashed back Pechlar's answer. 

Perfectly master of himself, Wilhelm said to Loulou, "I am extremelysorry that I have been the cause of an outbreak of bad manners in yourpresence, " then he bowed and left the room, while Loulou sat theremotionless, and Herr von Pechlar gave him a scornful laugh. 

With all his retirement from the world, and his indifference to theusages of society, Wilhelm felt nevertheless a sharp stab of pain, asif he had been struck across the face with a whip. As he walked downthe Koniggratzer Strasse it seemed to him as if a bright, fiery woundburned on his face, and the passers-by were staring at this sign ofinsult. His powerful imagination formed pictures unceasingly of violentdeeds of revenge. He saw himself standing with a smoking pistolopposite the offender, who fell to the ground with a wound in hisforehead; or he fought with him, and after a long struggle he suddenlypierced the hussar through the breast with his sword. By degrees hisblood cooled, and with all the strength of his will he fought againstthe feelings which he knew formed the brute element in man, and whichwith his philosophy he believed he had tamed, and he said to himself, "No, no fighting. What good would it do? I should either kill him, orbe killed myself. His insulting words really do me no more harm thanthe yelping of this little dog who is running past me. I will not let aremnant of prejudice be stronger than my judgment. "

Although he had come to this resolution, his nerves were still sounstrung that he could not quiet them alone. He felt he must unburdenhimself to some one, so he hastened toward Dr. Schrotter's. The doctor, however, had not yet returned from his hospital. Wilhelm soon found theinmates of his friend's household, an old Indian man-servant and ahousekeeper, also an Indian of about thirty-five, with a yellow facealready wrinkled and withered, large dark eyes, and a gold-piecehanging from her nostrils. The old man maintained a respectful attitudetoward her, which pointed to a great difference of caste between them. The woman showed by her small hands and feet, and the nobility of herexpression, the modest and yet dignified character of a lady, ratherthan of a person in a subordinate position. Both wore Indian dress, andattracted great attention when they showed themselves in the street. They hardly ever went out, however, and were always busily employed inservice for Dr. Schrotter, to whom they were very devoted. 

The old man, who spoke a little English, opened the door to him, andtold him that Schrotter Sahib would soon be in. The woman alsoappeared, and beckoned to him to go and wait in the drawing-room, opening the door as she did so. As he went in she crossed her arms onher breast, bowed her head with its golden-colored silk turban, andvanished noiselessly. She only spoke Hindustani, and always greetedWilhelm in this expressive manner. 

The drawing-room, in which Wilhelm walked restlessly up and down, wasfull of Indian things; oriental carpets on the floor, low divans alongthe walls covered with gold embroidery and heaped with cushions, rocking-chairs in the corners, punkahs hanging from the ceilings--noheavy European furniture anywhere, but here and there a little toy-liketable or stool made of sandalwood or ebony, inlaid with silver ormother-o'-pearl. Everything smelled strangely of sandalwood and camphorand unknown spices, everything seemed to spring and shake under a heavyEuropean foot, everything had such an unaccustomed look, that one feltas if one were in a foreign land, where Western prejudices andstandpoints were unknown and inadmissible. These surroundings spoke toWilhelm dumbly yet intelligibly, and he felt their persuasive poweralmost immediately. He had recovered his equanimity when, a quarter ofan hour later, Schrotter came in. 

"What a pleasant surprise!" he cried from the doorway. "Will you stayto lunch with me?"

Wilhelm accepted gratefully, and then related his morning'sexperiences. Schrotter had made him sit on a divan surrounded bycushions, and listened attentively, while his half-closed eyes, full offire, rested on his friend's unhappy face. Wilhelm had never mentionedhis engagement to Fraulein Ellrich to many of his old friends, but Dr. Schrotter had been told of it in all its circumstances by Paul Haber. Now, however, Wilhelm could not avoid the subject in his mind, and tomake his last visit to the Ellrichs, and his behavior with regard toHerr von Pechlar intelligible, he told Dr. Schrotter, in short, conciselanguage, the beginning and subsequent development of his love-affair, and by the confession of his consideration of Loulou's nature, gave aclew to his delay, coolness, and final renunciation. 

When Wilhelm had finished, and raised his eyes questioningly toSchrotter, the latter said, after a short silence:

"I congratulate you on the quiet way in which you have told me allthis. For a young fellow of twenty-six with deep feelings it is littleshort of a wonder. But the question is, what do you intend to do?"

"Nothing, " answered Wilhelm simply. 

"You will not call out Herr von Pechlar?"

"No. "

"And if Herr von Pechlar challenges you?"

"He challenge me?"

"Certainly; for although he is the direct offender, we can't overlookthe fact, dear Eynhardt, that you first insulted him, which by a nicepoint of honor would justify him in taking the first steps. The man isevidently bent on a quarrel, so we have to consider the possibilitythat he may send his second with a challenge. "

"In that case I would make it clear that I do not demand satisfaction, but neither will I give it. "

There was another pause. 

"You are undertaking what may involve serious consequences, " remarkedSchrotter. 

"It appears to me easy enough, " said Wilhelm. 

"You could not think of an academic career in Germany after it. "

"You know I do not aspire to that. "

"Beside that, the episode will become an insurmountable barrier in ahundred circumstances of life. "

Wilhelm was silent. 

"Don't misunderstand me. I have not a word to say in favor of theregulation of duels. I abhor them. It is as stupid and brutal as theoffering of human sacrifices to appease angry gods. I myself have neverfought in a duel. But I--I am already on the shadowy side of life. Iwant nothing more from the world. But those still on the sunny sidehave other things to consider. I think war is a horrible barbarism, still I would not advise any one to hold back from his duty in time ofwar. Men are often compelled to take part in the foolishness ofmajorities. I know your heart is in the right place, and that you don'tplace any exaggerated value on your life. You are content to standalone in the world, and have no mortgage of obligation on your life. Why will you not fight?"

"Simply because I think as you do about duels. I agree that one mustoften take part in the folly of the crowd, but I see a differencethere. I go and fight in battle because the State compels me. I canstruggle against these laws with my feeble forces, and I can exertmyself to bring about their alteration; but so long as they exist Imust submit to them, or else exile myself or commit suicide. If theduel were a written law, I would fight; but the law as a matter of factforbids it, and my opinions are in accordance with the law. "

"But there are laws of society as well as laws of the State. There arecustoms which prevail over opinion and prejudices. "

"That is not the same thing. If the folly of the majority form itselfinto laws of the State, the gendarmes see to their enforcement. Nojudge or jailer compels obedience to the laws of society. "

"Something like it, however. It is unspeakably bitter to live withoutthe respect of one's fellow-creatures. "

"I am coming to that point. But please do not think me overbearing andconceited. The respect of my fellow-men I hold far more lightly thanself-respect. If I despised myself it would be no compensation if everyone saluted me, and if I respect myself, it does not trouble me ifothers hold me lightly. When I am not forcibly compelled I cannot letmy own actions be guided by the caprices and fads of other people. Solong as it is possible my actions shall be guided by my own judgment. You say you want nothing more of the world--I require nothing moreeither. The only thing I demand is the freedom of the soul. "

"Yes--yes, " murmured Schrotter as if to himself, "I know this directionof thought better than you think. It has been brought before me ahundred times by the word and action of Indian fakirs. It seems to methat false freedom of the soul is a chimera. Our most unfetteredresolves are called forth by unknown, often by outward conditions, byour own peculiar qualities, by the state of our bodily health, byunknown nervous sources of energy through what we see, hear, read, learn. You make your judgment the sole guide of your actions, but yourjudgment itself is the result of forces and influences unsuspected byyourself and depending on them. Well! you want to lead the life of afakir, to unloose the ties binding you to other men, that is one ofseveral ways to secure peace and happiness, which to me also is anobject in life. The principal thing is not to be superficial, but toconsider both what one requires and what one gives up before turninginto a fakir. I respect you in any case. "

The drawing-room door opened noiselessly, and the Indian womanappeared, and with a pleasant inclination of her head spoke a word toDr. Schrotter. He got up and said, "Lunch is ready. " They went into theadjoining dining-room, furnished like any ordinary room. On the tablewas a beautiful silver bowl of Indian work filled with flowers, thesole luxury of this bachelor's table, neither wine nor anything else todrink being visible. Schrotter drank nothing but water, and he knewthat Wilhelm's taste was similar. Bhani, as the Indian housekeeper wascalled, stood close behind her master's chair, never taking her eyesoff him. The dishes were brought in by the white-bearded servant, andhanded with a deep reverence to Bhani. She placed the dishes beforeSchrotter, changing them for a fresh course, and poured water into hisglass. It was a silent, attentive service, almost giving the impressionof adoration. Bhani appeared not to be waiting on a mortal master, buttaking part in a sacrifice in a temple, so much devotion was expressedin her noble, warmly-colored face. 

A dish of curry spread its oriental scent through the room, andSchrotter continued:

"Tell me, dear Eynhardt, in what way you mean to accomplish yourfakir's contempt of the world?"

"Pardon me, " interrupted Wilhelm, "the expression does not strike me asquite fair. I don't despise the world, I consider it merely as aphenomenon, valueless to my way of thinking, and in which I fail tofind any real actuality. "

"I understand quite well; we are not debating on a platform, butchatting over our lunch. I am not troubling either to talk in thecorrect jargon of school philosophy, and therefore I am at liberty tocall your longings after the essence of things, contempt of the world. Now this occurs in two places--either among inexperienced young men ofstrong, noble natures, instinctively conscious of their own vitality, and intoxicated by their own strength, who feel so overcome by thephenomenon that they undervalue it, and believe that they are ablesingly to fight against it. Or there are the weak natures, who thinkthat they are capable of changing the phenomenon to suit themselves. Asthey are not in a position to strive against it they retire sullenlydefeated. The story of the fox and the grapes would just express theircase, and also an excess of the consciousness of their 'ego. ' Thoseare, I think, the resources from which spring contempt of the world:neither of these cases coincide with yours; you are not young andinexperienced enough for the one, and you are too useful for the other. You are healthy and sound, of average powers and energy, uncommonlywell made in body and mind; of the poetical age, comfortably off, and Ishould like to know how you have come to despise the world?"

"I hardly know. The first impulse came perhaps in Russia in earlychildhood, where I got into the habit of regarding people around me asbarbarous--neither useful nor valuable. "

Schrotter shook his head. 

"I have lived for twenty years among a subdued and so-called inferiorrace, but I have learned to love them instead of despising them. "

"Very likely I have inherited the feeling from my mother, who was verytimid of other people, and given to mysticism. "

"Is it not rather your reading? The unhappy Schopenhauer?"

Wilhelm smiled a little. 

"I am above all things an admirer of Schopenhauer, although hisexplanation of the mysteries of the world through the will is a joke. What he has written about the main teachings of Buddhism has influencedme very much. "

"I see where you have got to--'Maja Nirvana'"

Wilhelm nodded. 

"That is all a fraud, " Schrotter broke out, so that Bhani, who neversaw him violent, looked up frightened. "I know Indians who have talkedendlessly to learned pandits on these questions, and have explained thereal ideas of Maja Nirvana to me. It is incomprehensible that peoplecan misuse words on this subject as they do in Europe. Nirvana is notwhat European Buddhists appear to believe--an absolute negation--acessation of consciousness and desire; but, on the contrary, it is thehighest consciousness, the expansion of individual being into universalexistence. Here is the Indian seer's conception: the most limitedindividuality cares only for his own 'ego. ' But in the same measurethat he transcends his limitation, the circle of his interest iswidened; more actualities and existing phenomena are admitted, and comeinto sympathy with himself. All things mingle with and extend his own'ego;' and that can be so widened as to embrace the interests of thewhole world, until man can be in as much sympathy with a grain of sand, or the most distant star, and take as much share in the ant, and in thedwellers on Saturn, as in his own stomach and toes. In this way thewhole universe becomes a constituent part of his 'ego;' thus hisdesires cease individually to exist, and are assimilated with theentire phenomenal world, and he longs for nothing beyond this. The'ego' ceases because nothing is left outside the individual 'ego;' butthis Nirvana, this highest step in the perfection of humanity, is, asyou can see, not the negation of everything, but the absorption ofeverything; not something immovable, but rather the wonderful, ceaseless movement of the world's life. Men will not attain to Nirvanathrough quiet and indifference, but through strenuous labor, not bywithdrawing into their 'ego, ' but by going outside it. The true Nirvanaof the pandits is the exact opposite of your Schopenhauer's Nirvana. "

"But how can this conception of the seer's Nirvana coincide with theirinactivity and renunciation of the world?"

"People misunderstand the fakir's belief. The Indian wise men thinkthat the work of perfection is performed by the spirit alone, and thatthe activity of the body disturbs it; therefore the body must restwhile the soul accomplishes its full measure of work, while it widensthe circle of its interest, and absorbs into itself the phenomenalworld. The clumsy understanding of the crowd thereupon comes to theconclusion that to become holy and attain to Nirvana, one must not stira finger, not even to support oneself. "

Wilhelm thought over this new point of view, but Schrotter went on:

"Believe me, true wisdom is neither that of the fakir nor of the man ofthe world; but as it appears to me, it neither despises the world noradmires it. One must not depend on oneself too much, neither on others. One must always be saying to oneself that one has no lasting importancein the world, but that in this transitory state eternal forces are atwork, the same forces which drive the earth round the sun, and whichoperate on all men and things. Do not let us individualize too much; weare only a piece of the whole, to which we hang by a thousand unknownthreads. Let us not either be too arrogant in our bearing toward ourfellow-men, in whose company we are the involuntary puppets of unknownlaws of development which are leading humanity on to a given epoch. "

This conversation had taken Wilhelm's mind off his misfortune, and hehad almost forgotten his adventure with Pechlar. He was reminded of it, however, on reaching home about three o'clock, by finding Paul, whoalways came to see him at that hour. 

"What's the news?" cried he, coming cheerfully to meet him. 

"I went to-day to see Fraulein Ellrich, to set things right between us. "

"Bravo. "

"Yes; I went, but I have not done it. " And then he related the incidentagain. 

Paul seemed quite stunned while Wilhelm was speaking, and then sprangup in great excitement from the sofa, and cried:

"You will fight the scoundrel, of course!"

"No, " said Wilhelm quietly. 

"What!" shouted Paul, taking hold of Wilhelm's shoulder and shakinghim. "Surely you are not in earnest? You are an officer--you have beena student--you will never let that fool of a fellow place you in afalse position!" Wilhelm freed himself, and tried to speak reasonably;but Paul would not listen, and went on, his face red with anger:

"Not only for yourself; you owe it to the girl's honor, if not to yourown, to punish the fellow. You won't appear like a coward in a woman'seyes. "

"That is an odd kind of logic. "

"Do be quiet with your logic and your philosophy, and the lot of them. I am not a logician, but a man, and I feel a mortal offense like a man, and want to settle with the offender. "

"Do stop a minute and let me speak a word. I will break off myrelations with Fraulein Ellrich, and then I shall not be in a positionto fight for her. "

"That is very chivalrous!"

"That is silly! Just think of this situation: suppose I wound or killthe offender--come back from the duel, and find the young girl, who isthe cause of the quarrel, ready to offer me the prize. I answer: 'Manythanks, fair lady, I do not now wish for it, ' and straightway leaveher, like the knight in the old ballad. "

That seemed to satisfy Paul. 

"Very well; then it must not be on her account. But fight you must, "and he stopped suddenly, and then burst out: "If you will not fighthim, I will. "

"Are you mad?"

Paul began to explain that he had the right to do it; he worked himselfinto a fury, he stuck to his ideas, and it took Wilhelm an hour tobring him to a more reasonable frame of mind. He spared no pains inexplaining to him his views of the world's opinion, and that the realcowardice would be to fear the foolish prejudices of society; but itwas all in vain, and Paul's angry objections were only silenced whenWilhelm said with great earnestness:

"If nothing that I say convinces you, I can only act in one way withthe painful knowledge that our friendship is not equal to suchconditions, but only to ordinary occasions. "

"Oh! if it comes to giving up our friendship, as far as I am concerned, I must wink at the whole thing; but what I can't stand is your callingthe opportunity which allows one to silence a fool, a mere disease. "

The crisis was not long in coming. The next morning before Wilhelm wentout, a lieutenant of one of the Uhlan regiments stationed at Potsdamcalled, and said he had come with a challenge from Herr von Pechlar; hedeclined to sit down, giving his message as shortly as possible, withthe least suspicion of contempt in his voice. 

Herr von Pechlar had waited the whole afternoon; but as Herr Eynhardthad sent him no message, he could no longer put off demandingsatisfaction. The questions as to who was the offender, and whatweapons should be used, might now be decided by the seconds. Wilhelmlooked calmly into the officer's eyes, and explained that he hadnothing further to do with Herr von Pechlar. 

"You are an officer in the Reserve?" asked the lieutenant haughtily. 

"Yes. "

"I hope you understand that we shall bring the case before the noticeof the regiment?"

"You are perfectly free to do so. "

The lieutenant stuck his eyeglass into his right eye, looked hard atWilhelm for several seconds, then, with an expression of deep disgust, he spat on the floor, noisily turned round, and without a word or sign, retired, his sword and spurs clanking as he went. 

Oh, how hard it was to overcome the instinct of the wild beast! Howfuriously it tugged at its chain! How it tried to spring after thelieutenant, and clutch his throat in its claws!--but Wilhelm conqueredthe new cravings of his instinct and stood still. He experienced agreat self-contentment at last, and admitted to himself that he wouldnot have been nearly so glad if he had wounded a dozen of the enemy insingle combat. 

Three days later he received in writing, an order to present himself ateleven o'clock the morning but one following to the Commandant of the61st Regiment. He took the journey the following evening, and at theappointed hour he was shown into the commandant's private room, wherehe found also his old captain, raised to the rank of major. He spokekindly to Wilhelm and held out his hand, while the commandant contentedhimself with a nod, and a sign to be seated. 

"I suppose you know that you have been ordered to come here about theaffair with Lieutenant von Pechlar?" he said. 

"Certainly, sir. "

"Will you relate what occurred?"

Wilhelm answered as he was desired. His recital was followed by a shortsilence, during which the commandant and the major exchanged glances. 

"And you will not fight?" asked the first. 

"No, sir. "

"Why not?"

"Because my principles do not allow me. "

The commandant looked at the major again and then at Wilhelm, and wenton

"If I take the trouble to discuss the matter with you quiteunofficially, you have to thank the major, who has spoken warmly inyour favor. "

Wilhelm thanked the major by a bow. 

"We know that you are not a coward. You showed great bravery on thebattlefield. It is because of that, I feel sorry. You are a faddist, you proved that by your refusal of the Iron Cross, which is the prideof every other German soldier. We are not willing to condemn a mode ofprocedure, the meaning of which you evidently do not understand, andwhich all your views of life tend to destroy. I am not speaking now asyour superior officer, but as a man--as your father might speak to you. Believe what I say. Fulfill your duty as a man of honor. "

"I cannot follow your advice, " answered Wilhelm gentle, but firmly. 

He was painfully conscious that his answer sounded more roughly andharshly than he intended, but he knew it was impossible to go into along philosophical discussion, kind and well-meaning as the commandantwas. 

"We have more than fulfilled our promise, major, " said the commandant, and turning to Wilhelm, "Thank you, Herr--"

The major looked out of the window, and Wilhelm had to go without beingable to thank him by a look. He felt, however, that this time thingshad been easier for him to bear, and that the only painful feeling hehad experienced during the interview was the vexation he was giving themajor. 

The Militar Wochenblatt published a short account of his discharge. Itmade no personal impression on him, but he felt that he was branded inthe eyes of others. It, however, seemed to draw Paul Haber nearer tohim. He avoided talking on the subject, but every one noticed the quietway in which he behaved to Wilhelm, his little attentions, his long andfrequent visits, as if he were under the impression that he mustconsole his friend in this great misfortune, and stand by him as firmlyas possible. Wilhelm knew him as he did himself--how cautious andpractically clever he was, and how dangerous it was for him in his ownposition as Reserve officer to keep up this confidential intercoursewith one who had been turned from a hero to a judicially dismissedofficer, how perilous for the connection he had with celebrated andinfluential people, and for the appearance he must keep up in society. Wilhelm valued and appreciated all Paul's heroism in remaining so trueand stanch to him, he did not ask for these things, but they werefreely given by one who ran the risk of becoming poor, so he was deeplygrateful to him. 

He considered himself under an obligation to go once more to theEllrichs', to formally take leave of them; but when he rang at theirdoor he was told that the family had gone away to Heringsdorf. As thishad occurred, Paul did not think it necessary to tell his friend whathe had heard through Fraulein Marker, namely, that the Ellrichs werevery angry about the affair of the duel, and had given orders beforethey went away that Wilhelm was not to be admitted if he called. Wilhelm now wrote to Loulou (he had avoided doing so earlier), a short, dignified letter, in which he begged her forgiveness for having been solong in finding out the state of his feelings, as the struggle had beenhard and painful, but he could now no longer conceal the fact thattheir characters were not sufficiently in harmony to insure happinesstogether for a lifetime. He thanked her for the happiest week in hislife, and for the deepest and sweetest feelings he had everexperienced, and which would always remain the dearest memory of hislife. His photograph was shortly afterward sent back to him, fromOstend; but his letter remained unanswered. He did not learn therefore, that it had made an exceedingly bad impression, and that Frau Ellrichhad only been restrained with difficulty by her daughter from writingto tell him how impertinent she thought it of him to appear to take theinitiative, when her daughter had first refused to receive him. Herrvon Pechlar obtained a long leave, which he spent at Heringsdorf. InSeptember the Kreuzzeitung announced his betrothal to Fraulein Ellrich, which was followed in the winter by their brilliant wedding. 

The breaking of Wilhelm's relations with Loulou left a great blank inhis life. Up till now he had had in pleasant, hopeful hours, an objectto which all the paths in his life led him, to which his thoughts weredrawn as a ship steers for a distant yet secure harbor; now the objectwas gone, and when he looked forward to his future it seemed like thegray surface of the sea at dusk, formless, limitless, without meaningor interest. Even the painful doubt he had been in, his hesitationbetween the resolve to persevere in the engagement, or to renounce it, the fight between his intelligence and his inclinations, had becomefamiliar to him, and had filled his thoughts by day and his dreams bynight. These must now all be renounced. If for the last half-year hislove had been only a quiet happiness, or a hardly-defined desire, itwas at any rate an occupation for his mind, and he missed theemployment very greatly. 

He became quieter than ever; his face lost its youthful, healthy color, and he appeared like the typical lover famed in classic story. But hisfriends did not laugh at him; they bore with him, treated him gently, as if he had been a disappointed girl. Paul, who was filling the placeof an invalided professor of agricultural chemistry, and working hardafter the college term began, found time to come every day for a longwalk in the Thiergarten, and resigned himself to long philosophicaldiscussions which so far had not been at all to his taste. Dr. Schrotter seldom had any spare time during the day; but Wilhelm alwaystook tea with him in the evenings. 

Did Bhani know anything of his story?

Had her womanly instinct guessed that his careworn, melancholyexpression betrayed an unhappy love story--a subject so sympathetic towomen? Anyhow she anticipated every means of serving him, and herglance betrayed an almost shamefaced sympathy. 

One November evening they were sitting at the little drum-shaped tablein the Indian drawing-room; the teaurn steaming, and Bhani standingnear, ready to obey her master's slightest wish. Schrotter touched onthe wound in Wilhelm's heart hitherto so tenderly avoided. 

"My friend, " he said, "it is time that you came to yourself. It isobvious that you are still grieving, instead of fighting against yourdreams; you give way to them without a struggle. "

Wilhelm hung his head. "You are right. It is foolish; for I see that Ido not love the girl deeply enough to spoil my life. "

"Come now. You were more in love than you thought; but it is always so;even in pure and passionless natures human nature is very strong, andthe first young and pretty girl who comes near enough to you brings outall the dormant feelings, and reason disappears. People often do themaddest things in this period of unrest, which they repent all theirafter life. I have always mistrusted a first love. One must be quitesatisfied that it is for an individual, and not merely the naturalinclination for the other sex asserting itself. Your first love, mypoor Eynhardt, certainly belongs to this class. Your youthfulasceticism has had its revenge; now that your reason has got hold ofthe reins again, the rebellion of your instinct will soon be subdued. "

"I hope so, " said Wilhelm. 

"I am sure of it. There is no doubt about the end of crises like these, and it really is difficult to take the misery they cause seriously, although it is bad enough while it lasts. It is the most overpoweringand yet the least dangerous of diseases. The patient gives himself upfor lost, and the doctor can hardly help smiling, because he knows thatthe malady will only run its course, and will stop like a clock at itsappointed time. He can, however, hasten the cure, if he can bring thepatient to his own conviction. "

He was silent, and seemed sunk in thought. Then he began againsuddenly: "I will read you a story about this; nothing is moreinstructive than a clinical picture. "

Bhani sprang to her feet and hastened toward him, but he put her asidewith a word, and going into his study he appeared again bearing a foliobound in leather and with the corners fastened with copper. 

"This is my diary, " he said. "I have had the weakness to keep thissince I was sixteen. There are three volumes already, and I began thefourth when I returned to Germany. Listen now, and don't put yourselfunder any constraint. I will laugh with you. "

He opened the folio, and after a short search began to read. It was theromance of his early life, written in the form of a diary, simply toldat some length. Quite an ordinary story of an acquaintanceship madewith a pretty girl, the daughter of a bookseller, who sat next to himin a theater. Meetings out of doors, then the introduction to herparents' house, and then the betrothal. The Revolution of 1848 brokeout, and the many demands on the young doctor turned his thoughts awayfor the time from plans of marriage. His fiancee greatly admired thefiery orator and fighter at barricades, and told him so, inenthusiastic speeches and letters. The father, however, had no sympathywith reactionaries, and soon conceived a violent antipathy for hisfuture single-minded son-in-law. As long as the democratic party heldthe upperhand, he kept his feelings in the background, makingnevertheless endless pretexts for delaying the marriage. The party ofreactionaries broke up, however, and the bookseller declared war; heforbade the young democrat to enter his house, and even denounced himto the police. The young lovers were, of course, dreadfully unhappy, and vowed to be true to one another. He determined to go away, andtried to persuade her to go with him. She was frightened, but he wasaudacious and insisted. They would go to London, and be married there;he could earn his living, and they would defy the father's curse. Allwas arranged; but at the last moment her courage failed, and sheconfessed all to the tyrant, who set the police on the young man'strack, and sent the girl away to relations in Brandenburg. Theunfortunate lover's letters were unanswered. He left Germany, and heardafter some weeks that his betrothed was married to a well-to-dojeweler, apparently without any great coercion. 

This story was disentangled from letters, conversations, accounts ofopinions in the form of monologues, interviews, visits, anddescriptions of sea-voyages; all sufficiently commonplace. But whatexcitement these daily effusions showed! What boundless happiness aboutkisses, what cries of anguish when the storm broke! Would it not bebetter to commit suicide and die together? Was it possible that thisquiet man with his apathetic calm could ever have been through thesestormy times? It did not seem credible, and Schrotter seemed consciousof the immense difference between the man who had written the book andthe man who now read it. His voice had a slightly ironical sound, andhe parodied some of the scenes in reading them, by exaggerating thepathos. But this could not last long. The real feeling which sighed andsobbed between the pages made itself felt, and carried him back fromthe cold present to the storm-heated past; he became interested, thengrave, and if he had not suddenly shut the book with a bang when hecame to the place where his faithless love was married, who knows--

At all events, Wilhelm had not smiled once; his eyes even showed signsof tears. Schrotter took the book into the other room, and when he cameback every trace of emotion in look and manner had vanished. 

"So you see, " he began, "a sensible boy like I am has behaved like anass in the past. But I did not shoot myself after all, that was so fargood, and I am ashamed to tell you how soon I got over it. I often gopast her shop in Unter den Linden, and see her through the windowbeyond all her brilliants and precious stones. She is still verypretty, and seems happy, much happier no doubt than if she had beenwith me. She would certainly not recognize me now, and I can look ather and my heart beats no whit the faster. Dwell on my example. "

"I am not sure that you are not slandering yourself. "

"You can feel easy about that, " said Schrotter earnestly. "Thedisenchantment was quick and complete, and very naturally so. Just getSchopenhauer's 'objectivity' out of your head; I don't believe inPlato's theory of the soul divided into two halves which are forevertrying to join again. Every sane man has ten thousand objects which areable to awaken and return his love. All he has to do is not to go outof their way. "

"Ought not there to be an individual one?"

"I venture to say no. The story of the pine trees of Ritter Toggenburg, which love the palm trees, is the creation of a sentimental poet. Lawgivers in India to all appearance believe in faithfulness untodeath; and the widow or even the betrothed follows her husband to thegrave of her own free will. This free-will offering only comes, however, by aid of the sharpest threatening of punishment. I have knownfourteen-year-old widows who offered themselves miserably to be burned. If they had known how soon they would be consoled, and new love sprangup, they would have violently resisted such suicide! Bhani there is aliving example of this, "

As she heard her name she looked up, and Wilhelm intercepted a lookbetween her and Dr. Schrotter, which all at once made clear to him whathe had vaguely suspected before. He turned his head sadly toward thewindow, and looked out into the foggy autumn evening. He felt almost asif he had committed a crime, in having discovered a secret which hadnot been freely revealed to him. 

CHAPTER V. 

A LAY SERMON. 

"Es ist eine Lust, in deiser Zeit zu leben!" cried Paul Habor, as hewalked with Wilhelm and Dr. Schrotter on the first sunny day thefollowing April. They walked under the lindens full of leaf through theThiergarten, and home over the Charlottenburger Brucke. 

The spirit in which he uttered Hutten's words was at that time dominantand far-reaching. It seemed as though people were all enjoying thehoneymoon of the new empire; that they breathed peace and the joy oflife with the air, as if the whole nation inhaled the pleasure ofliving, the joy of youth and brave deeds, and that they stood at theentrance of an incomprehensibly great era, promising to everyonefabulous heights of happiness. 

A sort of feverish growth had sprung up in Berlin, an excitement andferment which filled the villas in the west end, and the poorlodging-houses of the other end of the town: was found too incouncilors' drawing-rooms, and in suburban taverns. New streets seemedto spring up during the night. Where the hoe and rake ofkitchen-gardens were at work yesterday, to-day was the noise of hammersand saws, and in the middle of the open fields hundreds of housesraised their walls and roofs to the sky. It seemed as if the increasingtown expected between to-day and to-morrow a hundred thousand newinhabitants, and were forced to build houses in breathless haste toshelter them. 

And as a matter of fact the expected throng arrived. Even in the mostdistant provinces a curious but powerful attraction drew people to thecapital; artisans and cottages, village shopkeepers, and merchants fromsmall towns, all rushed there like the inflowing tide. It made onethink of a number of moths blindly fluttering round a candle, or of themagnetic rock of Eastern fairy tales, irresistibly attracting ships towreck themselves. It recalled to one the stories of California at thetime of the gold fever. People's excited imaginations saw a veritablegold-mine in Berlin. The French indemnity flew to people's heads likechampagne, and in a kind of drunken frenzy every one imagined himself amillionaire. Some had even seen exhibited a reproduction of the hiddentreasure. The great heap of glittering pieces was certainly there, atempting reality, piled up mountains high, millions on millions, craftily arranged to glitter in the flaring gas-light before theircovetous eyes. The real treasure must be at least as substantial as itscounterfeit. People began to see gold everywhere; red streaks of goldshone through the window-panes, instead of the warm spring sun; theyheard murmuring chinking streams of gold flowing behind the walls oftheir houses, under the pavements of the streets, and every onehastened to fill their hands, and thirsted for their share in thesubterranean gold whose stream was concealed from their eyes. Whiletheir lips were being moistened by the stream of gold, they were, as amatter of fact, drinking the transformed flesh and blood of the heroeswho had sacrificed themselves on the French battlefields, and in thisinfamous travesty of the Christian mystery of the Lord's Supper thedevil himself took part and possession of them. They followed newcustoms, new views of life, other ideals. The motto of their noisy andobtrusive life seemed to be, "Get rich as quickly and with as littletrouble as possible, and make as much as possible of your riches whenyou have secured them, even by illegitimate means. " So the splendidhouses rose up in an overloaded gaudy irregular style of architecture, and the smart carriages with india-rubber tires rolled by, yieldingsoft and soothing riding to their occupants. 

Berlin, the sober economical town, the home of honorable families, extolled for respectability almost to affectation, now learned thedisorderly ways of noisy cafes, the luxury of champagne suppers, inover-decorated restaurants, became intimately acquainted with thetheaters--gaining doubtful introductions to expensive mistresses. Mereupstarts set the fashion in dress, in extravagance, and all who wouldbe elegant, followed, leading the way to barbaric vices. Theold-established inhabitants were many of them weak or silly enough totry to outdo the newcomers, and degraded the quiet dignity of theirpatriarchal manner of life by speculations on the Stock Exchange. Theintelligent middle classes, whose eyes and ears were filled with thisbluster of the gold-orgy, found that their former way of living had nowgrown uncomfortable, their houses were too small, their bread too dry, their beer too common and their views of life began to climb upward ina measure which, whether they were willing or equal in talent to it, forced from them harder work and more dogged perseverance. Politicaleconomists and statisticians were drawn into excitement by theirknowledge of figures. They extolled the sudden crisis in the moneymarket, the easy returns, the great development of consumption ingoods. They quoted triumphantly the amount of importations, the greatincrease in silk, artistic furniture, glass, jewelry, valuable wines, spices, liqueurs, was called a splendid development of trade; wonderfulevidence of the prosperity of all classes, and an elevation of themanner of life of the German people. And if moralists failed to see inthese heated desires and idle display, the presence of progress andblessing, they were called limited Philistines, who were toofeeble-minded to recognize the signs of the times. 

The position of the workingman profited by the new condition of things. Berlin seemed insatiable in her demands for able-bodied workmen. Hundreds and thousands left the fields and the woods, and taking theirstrong arms to the labor market of the capital, found employment in thefactories and the workshops; and the mighty engines still beat, suckingin as it were the stream of people from the country. Berlin itselfcould not contain this influx. The newcomers were obliged gypsy fashionto put up as best they could in the neighborhood. In holes and caves onthe heaths and commons, in huts made of brushwood, they bivouacked formonths, and these men who lived like prairie dogs in such apparentmisery were merry over their houseless, wild existence. As a matter offact they experienced no actual want, as there was work for every onewho could and would labor. The rewards were splendid, and theproletariat found that its only possession, viz. , the strength of itsmuscles, was worth more than ever before. The workingman talked loudly, and held his head high. Was it the result of having served in one ormore campaigns? Had he in the background of his mind a vision of dyingmen and desolate villages, seen so often on the battlefield? However itwas, he became violent and quarrelsome, indifferent alike to woundingand death, and learned to make use of the knife like any cutthroattownsman. 

With this return to barbarism (an unfailing result with the soldierafter every time of war) went a degree of animal spirits, which madeone ask whether the workman had learned something of epicureanphilosophy. He had the same excited love of tattling as a thoughtlessgirl, and the animal love of enjoyment of a sailor after a long voyage. His ordinary life seemed to him so uninteresting, so dull, that hetried to give color and charm to it by taking as many holidays aspossible, and making his work more agreeable with gambling anddrinking, and going for loafing excursions about the neighborhood. Visits to wine and beer-houses and dancing-rooms were endlesslymultiplied, and everything had the golden foundation which the proverbof an age of simplicity hardly attributed to honorable handicraft. Profits were squandered in drink; life was a rush and a riot withoutend. 

But curiously, in the same degree in which the opportunities of workwere increased and wages became higher, life everywhere easier, and theordinary enjoyments greater; just so did the workman grow discontented. Desires increased with their gratification, and envy measured its ownprosperity by the side of the luxury of the nouveaux riches. 

The hand which never before had held so much money, now learned toclinch itself in hatred against the owner of property, the companypromoter; against all in fact who were not of the proletariat. TheSocial Democrat had sprung up ten years before from the circle of theintelligent political economists and philosophers of the artisanclasses. Since the war they numbered thousands and ten of thousands, and now began to grow and widen like a moorland fire, at first hardlyperceptible, then betraying through the puff of smoke the fire creepingalong the ground; then a thousand tongues of flame leap upward, andsuddenly sooner or later the whole heath is in a blaze. Innumerableapostles preaching their turbid doctrines in all the factories andworkshops, found hearers who were discontented and easily carried away. The social democracy of the workmen was neither a political noreconomical programme which appealed to the intellect, or could beproved or argued about, but rather an instinct in which religiousmysticism, good and bad impulses, needs, emotional desires werewonderfully mingled. The men were filled with enmity against those whohad a large share of money; the new faith dogmatically explainedpossession of property as a crime--that it was meritorious to hate thepossessor and necessary to destroy him. They were made discontentedwith their limited destiny by the sight of the world and its treasures;the new faith promised them a future paradise in the shape of an equaldivision of goods--a paradise in which the hand was permitted to takewhatever the eye desired. They were disgusted by the consciousness oftheir deformity and roughness, which dragged them down to the lowestrank in the midst of school learning if not exactly knowledge; of goodmanners if not good breeding; the new faith raised them in their owneyes, declaring that they were the salt of the earth, that they alonewere useful and important parts of humanity; all others who did notlabor with their hands being miserable and contemptible sponges onhumanity. 

The whole proletariat was soon converted to Social Democracy. Berlinwas covered with a network of societies, which became the places ofworship of the new faith. Handbills, pamphlets, newspapers, partlypolemical, partly literary, in which the mob made their statements andprofessed their faith stoutly; these, although written very badly, yetby their monotony, their angry reproaches, their invocations, remindedone of litanies and psalms. 

Wilhelm felt a certain sympathy with the movement. It was first broughtto his notice by a new acquaintance, who had worked with him in thephysical laboratory since the beginning of the year. He was a Russian, who had introduced himself to the pupils in the laboratory as Dr. Barinskoi from Charkow. His appearance and, behavior hardly bore thisout. His long thin figure was loosely joined to thin weak legs. Lightblue eyes looked keenly out of a warm grayish-yellow face; add to thesea sharp reddish nose, pale lips, a spare, badly grown mustache andbeard of a dirty color, and slight baldness. His demeanor was suave andvery submissive, his voice had the faltering persuasiveness which anatural and reasonable man dislikes, because it warns him that thespeaker is lying in wait to take him by surprise. Barinskoi, beside, never stood upright when he was speaking to any one. He bent his back, his head hung forward, his eyes shifted their glance from the points ofhis own boots to other people's, his face was crumpled up into asmiling mask, and working his hands about nervously he crammed so manypolite phrases and compliments into his conversation that he was aterrible bore to all his acquaintances. Barinskoi, who was anaccomplished spy, intended by his entrance into the laboratory to learnall he could in a circuitous way of persons and conditions. 

After a short observation he noticed that Wilhelm seemed isolated inthe midst of the others, and was treated coldly by every one except theprofessor. He learned that this coolness of the atmosphere was onaccount of the refusal of the duel. After that he tried every possiblemeans to get nearer to him. Wilhelm was working in some importantresearches, and it was possible that the results would destroy someexisting theories. 

The professor followed the experiments with great attention, and manytimes spoke of him as his best pupil in difficult work. That wasBarinskoi's excuse for asking Wilhelm if he would initiate him into hiswork, and explain to him his hypotheses and methods. He added, with hissubmissive smile and nervous rubbing of the hands, that the Heir Doctormight be quite easy about the priority of his discoveries, as he wasquite prepared to write an explanation that he stood in the position ofpupil to the Heir Doctor, and had only a share in his discoveries incommon with others. Wilhelm contented himself by replying that prioritywas nothing to him, and that he did not work for fame, but because hewas ignorant and sought for knowledge. 

Thereupon Barinskoi said he was very happy to have found some one withthe same views as himself, he also thought that fame was nonsense, thatknowledge was the only essential thing, that it gave power over thingsand men, that the ideal was to proceed unknown and unnoticed throughlife, making the others dance without knowing who played on theinstrument. That was not what Wilhelm meant, but he let it go withoutdenying it. Barinskoi also tried to claim him for a fellow-countryman, but Wilhelm stopped him, explaining that he was a German, although bornbeyond the frontier of his fatherland. This slight did not disconcertBarinskoi; he endeavored to produce an impression on Wilhelm, and ifone shut one's eyes to his ugliness and fawning ways he was awell-informed man; harshness was not in Wilhelm's nature, so he heldout no longer against Barinskoi's importunity--who very soonaccompanied him home from the laboratory, visited him uninvited in hisrooms, invited him to supper at his restaurant, which Wilhelm twicedeclined, the third time, however, he had not the courage to refuse. Inspite of this Barinskoi would not see that his invitation was onlyaccepted out of politeness. There were many things reserved andunsociable about Barinskoi; for example, he never invited any one tohis rooms. He called for his letters at the post office. The address hegave, and under which he was entered at the University office, described him as a newspaper correspondent, which agreed with his dailyreadings and writings. He frequently disappeared for two or three days, after which he emerged again, as it were, dirtier than before, withreddened, half-closed eyelids, weak voice, and general bloodlessappearance. A conjecture as to where he was during this time wassuggested by a smell of spirits, beside the fact that students from thelaboratory had often seen him late at night at the corner of theLeipziger and Friedrichstrasse in earnest consultation with someunhappy creature of the streets, and that he was often seen hauntingremote streets in the eastern districts in the company of women. 

Barinskoi declared he was the correspondent of a large St. Petersburgpaper, and that he made great efforts to remove the prejudices ofRussia against Germany, and to give his readers a respect for theirgreat neighbors. By chance one day Wilhelm read the page of Berlincorrespondence, and found that from first to last it was full ofpoisoned abuse, insult, and calumination of Berlin and its inhabitants. At the next opportunity he put it before Barinskoi's eyes without aword. He started a little, but said directly, quite calmly: Yes, he hadread the letter too; naturally it was not by him; the paper had othercorrespondents, who hated Germans, he could do no more than put a stopto their lies, and find out the reality of their misrepresentations. 

Early in this short acquaintance it was clear that Barinskoi was inconstant money difficulties. By his own representations the paper paidhim very irregularly, and the most curious accidents constantlyoccurred to prevent the arrival of the expected payments. Once themoney was sent by mistake to the Constantinople correspondent, and itwas six weeks before the oversight was cleared up. Another time afellow-writer who was traveling to Berlin undertook to bring the moneywith him. On the way he lost the money out of his pocket-book, andBarinskoi had to wait until he went back to St. Petersburg, to inquireinto the case. By such fool's stories was Wilhelm's friendship put tothe proof. Barinskoi did not stop at borrowing money occasionally, withsighs and groans, but every few days, often at a few hours' interval, anew and larger loan would frequently follow. 

All this was a dubious method of consolation, and yet Dr. Schrotter, orrather Paul Haber, decided that though further contact with Barinskoimust be avoided, he was an object of increasing interest to Wilhelm. Barinskoi had many ideas in sympathy with his, which he did not find inothers, and their views of society and practical maxims of life were somuch in common that Wilhelm was often puzzled by this question: "How isit possible that people can draw such completely different conclusionsfrom the same suppositions by the same logical arguments? Where is thefatal point where one's ideas separate--ideas which have so fartraveled together?"

Barinskoi thought as Wilhelm did, that the world and its machinery weremere outward phenomena, a deception of the senses, whose influenceacted as in a delirium. All existing forms of the common life ofhumanity, all ordinances of the State or society appeared to him asfoolish or criminal, and at any rate objectionable. He considered thatthe object of the spiritual and moral development of the individual wasthe deliverance from the restraint, and the complete contempt of alloutward authority. 

So far his opinions agreed with Wilhelm's, and then he disclosed thelaws of morality which he had evolved from them. 

"The whole world is only an outward phenomenon, and the only reality ismy own consciousness, " said Barinskoi; "therefore I see in the wouldonly myself, live only for myself, and try only to please myself, I aman extreme individualist. My morality allows me to gratify my senses bypleasant impressions, to convey to my consciousness pleasantrepresentations, so as to enjoy as much as possible. Enjoyment is theonly object of my existence, and to destroy all those who come in theway of it is my right. "

Wilhelm wondered whether this frightful code could possibly belong tothe same views of life which, in despising the enjoyment of the senses, denied desires, demanded the sacrifice of individuality for the sake ofothers, and found happiness in the enjoyment of love for one'sneighbors, and in the struggle for human reason over animal instinct?

Barinskoi understood Wilhelm's character and saw that he could quitesafely trust to his forbearance and his single-mindedness, so he madeno further secret of the fact that he was a Nihilist and an Anarchist. When Wilhelm asked him if he imagined what the realization of histheories meant, he had the answer ready. 

"We demand unconditional freedom. Our will shall not be confined by thewill of others, or by oppressive laws. The Parliament is our enemy aswell as the monarch, the tyranny of the autocrat as well as that of themajority, the coercion of laws of the State, as well as those ofsociety. We will gather together groups according to their free choiceand inclination out of the fragments of annihilated society, that is, if we can manage to procure our enjoyment as well in groups as alone. These groups will unite into larger groups if the happiness of alldemands a larger undertaking than a single group can secure, such as agreat railway, a submarine tunnel, and the like. In some cases it maybe necessary that a whole people, or even the whole of humanity, shouldbe in one group, but only up to a certain point, and only until thispoint is reached. Naturally no individual is bound to a group, nor onegroup to another; binding and loosing go on perpetually, and with thesame facility as molecules in living organisms unite and separate. "

Barinskoi occupied himself particularly with the labor questions. Notthat the distress and want of the very poor, the economical insecurity, the general misery, troubled him at all. He was cynically consciousthat he was as indifferent to the laborer as to the capitalist; thelaborer's inevitable brutalization, his hunger, his bad health, andshort term of life touched him as little as the gout of the richgourmand, or the nerves of fine ladies. He saw, however, in theproletariat a powerful army against prevailing conditions. He couldtrace among the discontented masses the possession of the crude vigorwhich the Nihilists wanted, to crush the old edifices of the State andsociety, and it was this which interested him in the movement and itsliterature. He knew the last accurately, and initiated Wilhelm into it, and so the latter learned all about socialism, its opinions of thephilosophy of production, its theories and promises. He learned alsothat sects had already been formed within this new faith, which therevelations of the socialistic prophets explained differently; and thatthey furiously hated each other, and were as much at enmity as if theywere a State Church with a privileged priesthood, benefices, propertyand power. 

The complaints of the proletariat appeared to Wilhelm of doubtfulvalue. In every age there were economic fevers, which were not causedby misery, but by discontent and wastefulness, and if he saw a workmanstaggering through the streets, his legs tottering beneath him, heguessed that his weakness was not caused by hunger, but by beer orspirits. He understood that mankind believed in an unbroken work ofdevelopment within nature, and in their own self-cultivation. Thetheory of socialistic teaching, namely, the conditions of productionand distribution, could be constantly remodeled just as other humaninstitutions, i. E. The customs of governments and societies, the laws, ideas of beauty and morality, knowledge of nature, and views ofsociety. His sympathies went out to those who were convinced that thepresent economical organization had lived out its time, and wereendeavoring to remove it. 

Wilhelm's friends interested themselves warmly in this new sphere ofthought. Paul was a member of the National Liberal Election Society, and was enthusiastic about Bennigsen and Lasker, who possessed enoughstatesmanlike wisdom to surrender fearlessly to the opposition, anddetermine to go with the government. To these present experiences Dr. Schrotter joined the half-forgotten training of '48, and agreed tobelong to a society of the district; he had soon an officialappointment, and placed his experience and knowledge at the disposal ofthe sick and poor of the town. He did not interest himself at first inpolitical strife. He was very uneasy about the turn things were taking, and considered that it was not right to rebel against the existingconditions of things, which to the majority of people were agreeableenough. 

"You have fought and bled for the new empire, " he said; "I left itwhile I was in India to get on as best it could; if the others thinkthemselves well off, I don't see why they should not have thesatisfaction of the results of their work, just because of the sulkytemper of criticism. "

Wilhelm had often taken one or other of them to his society, butwithout their being much interested in the meetings. One day he askedhis friend whether he would not go with him to a social democraticmeeting. Schrotter was quite prepared, as he saw that Wilhelm wasreally in earnest, and was trying to come in contact with the realitiesof life. Paul abominated the social democrats, but he sacrificedhimself to spend an hour there with Wilhelm. 

The meeting they were to attend was at the Tivoli. It was adisagreeable evening in April, with gusts of wind and frequent showers. The sky was full of clouds chasing each other in endless succession, the flames of gas flickered and flared, and the streets were coveredwith mud which splashed up under the horses' feet. The three friendswent in spite of bad weather to the Tivoli on foot. In the BelleAlliance Strasse they came upon groups of workmen going in the samedirection as themselves, and as they reached the place in theLichterfelder Strasse, they were accompanied by a long stream ofpeople. At the entrance to the club they found themselves in the midstof a crowd, and could only advance very slowly unless, like the others, they pushed and elbowed their way. Mounting a few steps they reached anenormous garden, lighted by the fitful beams of the moon as she emergedfrom the clouds, and a few gaslamps. On the right was a Gothicbuilding, which would have been sufficiently handsome if built instone, but with barbarous taste had been executed in wood. At the endof the garden some more steps led to a broad, four-cornered courtyard, on the right of which the iron spire of the National Memorial was dimlyvisible, while to the left was a large building of red and yellow brickwith a four-square tower at either end, a pavilion projecting from thecenter, and a number of large windows. Over the entrance in the centerof the building was the inscription in gold letters on a blue ground:

 "Gemesst im edeln Geistensaft Des Wemes Geist, des Brodes Kraft"

In the little anteroom a few sharp-looking, rather conceited young menwere standing, either the instigators or organizers of the meeting. They eyed the people who came in with a quick look of assurance, offering a pamphlet, which nearly every one bought. Through thisanteroom was the hall, large enough to hold a thousand peoplecomfortably. Several tables for beer stood between red-covered pillarswhich supported the ceiling, and on the right was a platform for thespeakers. Wilhelm, Schrotter, and Paul Haber found places not far fromthis, although the hall was soon filled up after they came in. 

Wilhelm's first impression was not favorable. He had bought a pamphletat the door, and in it he read foolish jokes, clumsy tirades againstcapitalists, and drearily silly verses. If the party possessed quickand cultivated writers, they had certainly not been employed on thisleaflet. His finer senses were as shocked at the meeting as his tastewas at the pamphlet. Mingled odors of tobacco-smoke, beer, humanbreath, and damp clothes filled the air; the people at the tables hadan indescribably common stamp, unlovely manners, harsh, loud voices, and unattractive faces. They gossiped and laughed noisily, and coarseexpressions were frequent. The earnest moral tone, the almost gloomymelancholy which Wilhelm had found so attractive in socialisticwritings, was absent, and it seemed to him as if the new doctrine inits removal from the enthusiast's study to the beer-tables of the crowdhad lost all nobility, and had sunk to degradation. 

Paul took no trouble to conceal the disgust which "this dirty rabble"gave him. He gazed contemptuously about him, and every time that one ofhis neighbors' elbows came near his coat he brushed the place angrily, and muttered half-aloud:

"Well, if I were the government I would jolly soon stop your meetings. "

Dr. Schrotter, on the other hand, found the sight of the crowd rekindlein him all the feeling of sentiment he had had for the old democrats;he felt his heart overflow with pity and tenderness. With hisphysician's eyes he pierced through the brutal physiognomies, andobserved them with kindness and sympathy, making his friends attentivetoo. 

"One of the martyrs of work, " he said gently, indicating a haggard mansitting at the next table who had lost one eye. 

"How do you know that?"

"He must be a worker in metal, and has had a splinter in one of hiseyes. He had the injured eye removed to save the other. "

Here was a baker with pale face and inflamed eyelids, coughingbadly--consumptive, in consequence of the dust from the flour--his eyesaffected by the heat of the oven. Here was a man who had lost a fingerof his left hand--the victim of a cloth loom; and here a pallid-lookingman, showing when he spoke or laughed slate-colored gums--a case oflead-poisoning, with a painful death as the inevitable result. And itseemed as if over all these cripples and sickly people the Genius ofWork hovered as the black angel of Eastern stories, tracing on theirforeheads with his brush--on this one mutilation, on this one an earlydeath. Schrotter's observations and explanations placed the wholemeeting in a different light to Wilhelm. The coarseness of the men, even the dirt on their hands and faces, touched him like a reproach, and in their jokes and laughter he seemed to hear a bitter cry. 

A reproach, a complaint against whom? Against the capitalists, oragainst inexorable fate? Wilhelm asked himself whether the conditionsof labor were attributable to men, or were not the result of cruelnecessity? Could the capitalist be responsible for the accidents ofmachines, the dust from flour, the splitting of iron? If these workmenhad not been one-eyed or consumptive could they have performed theirwork for the commonweal? Was it not true that if mankind would notrenounce its claims to bread and other necessities, it must pay for thesatisfaction of wants with the tribute of health and life? that everycomfort, every pleasure added to existence was paid for by humansacrifice? that the masks of tragedy worn at this meeting were merelythe corporate expressions of a law which united development andprogress with pain and destruction? In this case the whole socialistprogramme was manifestly wrong, and the sum of the workman's grievanceswas not the result of the economical arrangements of society, but ofthe eternal conditions of civilization, that the theory of the methodsof labor and their amelioration was not the expectation of an equaldivision of property, but rather of the contrivances of the inventor. 

While Wilhelm was absorbed in these reflections the first speaker ofthe evening appeared on the platform, a little dapper man, restless asquicksilver, with long hair, large mouth, and a shrill voice. He openedthe meeting with an extraordinary volubility, in a whirl of pantomimicgesture and excitement, violently denouncing the capitalists; "infamousbloodsuckers" as he called them. He painted hopelessly confusedpictures, with constant faults of grammar--of the hard fate of theworkingman, and the black treachery of the property-owning classes. They were slaveowners who paid them their daily wages by shearing thewool off their backs, and enjoyed riotous luxury themselves while thepoor destitute ones were engulfed in a chasm of misery. The workmanmust possess the fruit of his labor himself, like the bird in the air, or the fish in the water. He who produced nothing was a parasite, anddeserved to be extirpated; he was only a drag, consequently a poisonfor the rest of mankind. The Commune in Paris was the first signal ofwarning for the thieves of society. Soon the great flood would burstforth which would carry away all thieves and tyrants, usurers andbloodsuckers, and the workingmen must be united and get their weaponsready. Unity was strength, and to allow themselves to be fleeced bythese hyenas of capitalism was an insult to any free, thoughtful man. 

He went on in this style for about half an hour, during which time thewords came out in a constant stream without a moment's pause. Schrotter's expression became sad, while Paul banged the table with hismug and cried "Bravo" at every grammatical mistake, or every falseanalogy. Angry glances were cast at him from neighboring tables, as inhis applause was recognized contempt for the speaker whom they admiredso much. No one laughed or joked, all were silent to the end; at everyviolent expression of the long-haired Saxon, eyes flashed, heads noddedapproval, and feet stamped excitedly. So eagerly did the meeting drinkin this excited orator's words that they quite forgot to drink theirbeer, and the waiter, bringing in a fresh supply, had to go out againwith an exclamation of surprise. 

When the speaker had finished and resumed his seat, Schrotter and Paul, to their immense surprise, saw Wilhelm spring to his feet in the midstof all the stamping and applause and go to the platform. What was thatfor? He went up and began to speak in an undertone to the organizers ofthe meeting. They put their heads together, looking at the card Wilhelmhad given them; then one of them rose, and coming to the front of theplatform, shouted so as to be heard above the clamor:

"True to our principles of listening to opponents, we are going toallow a guest to speak: it is not part of the programme, but no citizenshall have cause to complain that his mouth has been stopped. "

Any one could understand what this meant, as Wilhelm stood alone in themiddle of the platform and waited with folded arms for silence andattention. His dark eyes looked straight at his audience, and he beganin his clear, quiet voice: "What you all feel in this meeting isdiscontent with your fate, and a wish to improve it. I do not believe, however, that the honored speaker before me has shown you a way whichwill bring you any nearer to your desires. You wish that the Stateshall nurse you in sickness, and provide for you in old age. What isthe State? It is yourselves. The State has nothing but what you giveit. If it provides for you in sickness and old age, it takes the moneyout of your own pockets. You do not want the State for that. In days ofhealth and strength you could yourselves lay aside spare money for badtimes without the services of gendarmes, or assistance of executors. The last speaker spoke of hatred for the owners of property, hatred ofprofit. Hatred is a painful feeling. It adds to the pain of existenceanother, and very likely a greater one. A soul in which the poison ofhate is at work is heavy and sad, and can never feel happiness. If youwould not burden your lives with hatred it might be possible that youwould become happy. "

A murmur arose in the meeting, and a voice in opposition called outloudly. "The fellow is a Jesuit. " "Parson's talk, " cried another fromthe corner of the room. Wilhelm took no notice of the interruption, butwent on. 

"Why do you object to the owners of property? On account of theiridleness? That is not just. Many of them work much harder than all ofyou, and bear a weight of responsibility which would kill most of you. But suppose we grant that many rich people waste their lives doingnothing. Instead of envying these unhappy people, I pity them from thebottom of my heart. I would prefer death a thousand times to lifewithout duty and work. "

The murmur grew stronger and more threatening. 

"I wish, " cried Wilhelm, raising his voice, "I wish I were rich andpowerful. Then I would invite those who scorn my words now, to livequite idly for a year or six months. I would take care that noemployment was possible for them, that their days and weeks should bequite empty. Then they would see how soon they would raise imploringhands to those who had condemned them to idleness. Neither guards norwalls would keep them to the softly-cushioned golden-caged prison ofindolence, they would fly as if for their lives, and go back to theplace where their work was, which they had previously thought likehell. "

"Let us see if we would, " cried some with contemptuous laughter. 

"In what has the rich man the advantage of you? He lives better, yousay. He can procure more enjoyments for himself. Are you sure thatthese so-called enjoyments bring happiness? Your healthy hunger makesyour bread and cheese taste better than the rich dishes at noblemen'stables, and the suffering which fills every life is more bitter in thewestern villa than in the workingman's back room, because there theyhave more leisure to endure it in, and every fiber of the soul has itsown torture. "

"What do you get for defending the rich man?" called a voice from thehall. 

"I am telling you the penalty of property. You must be just ineverything. Granted that the rich man is a criminal; granted hisidleness is an offense to your activity; granted that his roast meatand wine make your potatoes taste insipid; it is in the order of thingsthat you should envy him. But what comes out of this envy? Let us admitthat you could carry through anything you undertook. The rich man wouldbe plundered and even killed, and his treasures divided between you. Weforget that the rich man is human; we deny him the mercy which the poorman claims from his fellowmen; we take up the position that to reduce arich man to beggary is not the same injustice as to profit by the workof a poor man; we enjoy the idea of the rich man, hungry and shivering, when at the same time the hungry shivering poor man has become ourpretext for robbing the other. Do you believe that you would then haveimproved your lot in life? Do you think that you would be any happier?Just think it over for a moment. The rich people are exterminated, their goods are divided among you; you are already making a discovery, viz. , that the wealthy people are in a very small minority, hardly onein two hundred, and that the division of their whole property amountsto very little for each of you. But suppose, for the sake of argument, that you all become rich. What then? You throw away your workingclothes and dress yourselves in silk; you deck yourselves with silverand gold ornaments, and you sit on soft-cushioned sofas. Think how longthese luxuries would last--a month perhaps, at the most a year. Thenthe rich man's wine is all drunk, and his larder empty, the silkclothes are worn out, and the sofas torn; you cannot eat preciousstones and gold, and if you do not mean to starve you must beginworking again, and after the extermination of the rich man and thedivision of his property you are exactly in the position you were inbefore. "

He paused a moment or two, in which there was silence for the firsttime, and then went on:

"This all means that your bondage is not laid on you by man, but byNature herself. Life is hard and wearisome, and no laws or orders ofState or society can make it otherwise. The simple minds of menunderstood this a thousand years ago, and they did not rest until theyhad found out a reason for everything, so they sought through theauthors of the Jewish Bible for a reasonable explanation of ourmournful destiny on this earth, and comforted themselves with theassertion that mankind was atoning for the sins of its forefathers. You, the sons of the nineteenth century, do not believe in this anylonger, but see in the system of profits and the injustice of oursocial conditions the causes of your misery. Your explanation is, however, fully as much a fabrication as the Biblical one. Pain anddeath are the conditions of our existence, and for that reason cannotbe done away with. If a miracle could happen, and you could all behappy in the way you wish, namely, living your life without work, without suffering, and with a great deal of enjoyment, what wouldhappen then? The race would increase so fast that after one or twogenerations there would hardly be elbow-room, and bread would be asscarce as it is now. It is the difficulty of providing for childrenwhich limits the population, and this difficulty fixes the limit. Understand this too, do what you will, you can only procure momentaryrelief, and every relief procured means an increase of population. Whatever your methods of labor are, however the fruits of it aredistributed, you will never produce up to the satisfaction of yourwants; and the sweat of your brow will always be in vain if you setyourself against the hostile forces of nature. "

Wilhelm paused a moment in the deep stillness which now reigned in thehall, and then went on:

"I do not deny that your lives are troublesome and hard, but I believethat you make your pain unnecessarily difficult to bear, and add to itby imagination. You feel your lot to be hard because you see richpeople, who in the distance appear to you to be happy. I have alreadytold you that the rich are an exception, and that the world cannotguarantee the existence of a millionaire of to-day for long. At mostyou can make the few rich men poor, but you cannot make all the poormen rich. But why compare yourselves with such people? Why not withthose who have gone before us? Look back, and you will find that yourlives are not only easier but very much richer than the generations whohave gone before you. The poorest among you live better, quieter, andpleasanter lives than a well-to-do man a thousand years ago, or than aprince of primitive times. You complain that your labor is hard andunhealthy? You live longer, in better health, and freer from anxietythan the huntsman, fisherman, or warrior of the barbarous ages. Whatyou most suffer from is your hatred, not your need, your ambitions, your envy. Men can live healthily and happily on water, but you willhave beer and brandy. You earn enough to buy meat and vegetables, butyou will have tobacco for yourselves and finery for your wives, andthat cannot go on. Your daily bread might taste well enough, but itbecomes bitter in your mouths when you think of the millionaire's roastmeat. Struggle then against this envy which spoils the smallestenjoyments for you, and which in point of fact rules your lives, and donot try to find happiness in the satisfaction of requirementsartificially created. Do not live for the satisfaction of your palates, but rather for the improvement of intellect and feeling. There isenough pain and misery in the world, do not add hatred to it. Have thesame mercy for other creatures which you expect for yourself. Troubleand danger are common to all. Things are only bearable if all combineto pull together, if the strong join hands with the weak and thehopeful with the timid. You will not be healed by envy and hatred, orby the goading on of your desires, but by love, by forbearance, byself-sacrifice, and renunciation. "

This closing sentence was not to his hearers' taste. Disapprobation andominous sounds greeted him as he came down from the platform. "Amen, "said one scornfully; "A Psalm, " said another; "Get thee to a nunnery, Ophelia, " cried a wit; while loud cries of "Turn him out, " were heard. "Pearls before swine, " muttered Paul; while Schrotter pressed his handand said: "You are right. "

The noise grew louder, and then a new speaker appeared on the platform, this time evidently a cultivated, thoughtful man and an adroit speaker. The organizers of the evening were unwilling to allow the meeting toretain the impression of Wilhelm's speech, and had placed a cleveropponent to follow him, who said clearly and concisely that the speakerbefore him might be a friend of mankind, but he was certainly an enemyof culture, because the progress of civilization was always the resultof new requirements and the seeking of their fulfillment, and if menlimited their wants or denied them altogether, mankind would be broughtback to the condition of savages or wild beasts. The progress ofculture depended on the awakening of requirements and theirsatisfaction, and not in limiting or renouncing them. The love ofmankind might be a very beautiful thing, but the speaker ought not tocome and preach to the poor, who held together and helped each otherwithout his advice. Let him go and preach to the rich, for whom heseemed to feel so much pity and tenderness. Why should the minorityattract to itself the existing means of life, and leave the majority tostarve, as the capitalists did now? why should the provisions not bedivided between all, so that the whole community should have a part?

Paul had wished to leave when Wilhelm had finished, but the latterwaited out of politeness to hear his opponent speak, and when thespeaker had ended in a storm of applause, the three friends left themeeting. When they were outside, Dr. Schrotter said to Wilhelm:

"Do you know that you are a first-rate speaker? You have everythingthat is necessary for moving a crowd in the highest degree. "

"Hardly that, I think. "

"Certainly, I mean it: a noble appearance, a voice which goes to theheart, remarkable calmness and assurance, uncommon command of language, and an idealistic earnestness which would move all the better spiritsamong your audience. You have shown us to-night the road you ought totake. You must devote your gift to speaking in public, you mustendeavor to become a deputy. If you fail in this, you will sin againstour people. "

"Bravo! I had already thought of that, " cried Paul. 

"A deputy--never, " said Wilhelm. "If I spoke well to-day it was becauseI was sorry for the poor, ignorant men who listened to the silly talkof a fool as if it were a revelation from Mount Sinai, but I couldnever presume to have any influence in Parliament or in the fate ofgovernments. "

"And so you call what is every citizen's duty 'presumption, '"

"Forgive me, doctor, if I say I do not believe that. Only those who areacquainted with the laws and their development should have anything todo with the nation's destiny. But only a few isolated individuals knowthese laws, and I am not one of them. "

"Do you think that the government know them?"

"Oh, no. "

"And yet the government does not hesitate to rule the people's destinyaccording to their intelligence. "

"It reminds me of the poet's expression, 'Du glaubst zu schieben und duwirst geschoben. '"

"What is the movement that you mean?"

"An unknown inner organic force which defines all the expressions oflife, of single individuals and united societies alike. It develops asa tree grows. No single individual can add anything to it or take awayfrom it, no single individual can hasten or retard the development orgive it any direction. "

"In one word--the philosophy of the Unknown. "

"That is so. "

"Very good, and if a government oppresses a people, robs them of theirfreedom, perpetually finds fault with them and ill-treats them, theymust bear it quietly, and comfort themselves by the thought that thegovernment is controlled by the infallible, all-powerful Unknown. "

"Rob them of their freedom? No government can rob me of my spiritualfreedom. Freedom rules continually in my mind, and no tyrant has thepower of subduing my thoughts. "

"You make a great mistake there, " said Dr. Schrotter gravely. "Fromyou, Dr. Wilhelm Eyuhardt, no gendarme certainly can take away yourfreedom, because you are mature, and your opinions of things aresettled. But a tyrannical government can hinder your children fromsucceeding to your freedom of mind. It can teach lies and superstitionsin the schools, and compel you to send your children there. It can setan example of public morality which can demoralize a whole people. Itcan draw up manifest examples of miserable intentions and conduct oflife, through whose imitation a people voluntarily mutilates itself orcommits suicide. No, no; it does not do to limit oneself to oneself, and to struggle upward for one's individual spiritual freedom. One mustgo out of oneself. What does it matter if one makes mistakes? It istrue, as you say, that no single individual knows the whole of truth;but every individual possesss a fragment of it, and altogether we havethe whole. Look at India, there you have existing what we should becomeif we all followed your philosophy, they live in their own spiritualworld, and are indifferent to any other, they endure first thedespotism of their own government, then a foreign conqueror, andfinally lose not only freedom and independence, but civilization, andbecome not exactly slaves, but ignorant, superstitious barbarians. "

"The German people will not get to that, " said Wilhelm, smiling. 

"Thank the men for that, " cried Schrotter, "the men who think it theirduty to take part in the welfare of their country, and to exertthemselves for the spiritual freedom of others. An energetic sympathywith public affairs is a form of love for one's neighbor. Say thatconstantly to yourself, without letting yourself be deceived by thehypocrite who handles politics as others do the Stock Exchange, merelyto make profit out of them. "

While they talked they had arrived at Schrotter's house door. It wasnearly midnight, and had stopped raining, and all the houses exceptSchrotter's were dark. Light shone from the two windows of his Indiandrawing room, and one of the curtains was drawn aside a little, leavinga face clearly visible. It was Bhani, who was waiting patiently forSchrotter's return, and gazing eagerly down the street. As the threefriends stopped at the door the head disappeared, and the curtain fellback again into its place. 

CHAPTER VI. 

AN IDYLL. 

The feverish pulse of a city is not felt in the same degree in allparts of it. There are places from which all circulation seems shutout, and where the rapid stream of life hardly shows a ripple. Quiethouses are there, only separated from the noisy street by the thicknessof a wall. They seem to be many miles from the heated movement of life, and their inhabitants complacently gaze from their windows with thesame unconcern as they would look at a picture on their own walls--aview perhaps of violence or excitement, a storm at sea, or a battle. 

The Markers' house in the Lutzowstrasse was just such a peaceful islandin the tossing sea of the city. It was only a few steps from theMagdeburger Platz--the first story in a stately house with a round archover the door. Three generations of women--grandmother, mother, anddaughter--lived there, without a single man to take care of them, attended only by an old widowed cook and her daughter, who had grown upinto the position of a waiting maid. A dreamy, monotonous life theylived here, like that of the sleepers in the palace of the SleepingBeauty behind their hundred-year-old hedge of thorns. 

The grandmother was the head of the house--Frau Brohl, a lady of oversixty years, and a widow for the last twenty. She was a small thinwoman, her figure very much bent, with snow-white hair, a narrow, paleface, and pretty brown eyes. She moved slowly and with great exertion, spoke softly and with shortness of breath, and seemed weary and sad. She looked as if she had some hidden sickness, and as if her feeblelamp of life might soon flicker out. As a matter of fact she had neverhad a day's illness; her appearance gave the impression of weakness, and increasing age made her neither better nor worse. Even now she wasthe first to rise in the morning and the last to go to bed; had thebest appetite at table; and, in her occasional walks, was the leasttired. 

Her late husband--Herr F. A. Brohl, of the firm of Brohl, Son &Co. --had been one of the largest ship-brokers in Stettin. They hadlived together for a quarter of a century in peace and happiness, andher eyes filled with tears when she remembered that part of her life. It was a beautiful time, much too good for a sinful human being. Theyhad a house to themselves, with large high rooms, and every day shereceived visits from the richest women of the town, and visited them inreturn. There was never a betrothal, marriage, or christening in awell-known family to which she was not invited; every child in thestreet knew her and smiled at her; and the suppers in her hospitablehouse were renowned as far as Russia and Sweden. 

The marriage was blessed by one daughter, who grew up to be a ratherpretty, well-mannered, and well-grown girl. Her horizon stretched fromthe storeroom to the linen-press, and from the flatiron to her book ofsongs. She felt a high esteem for her father--just as everyone does fora rich man--and for her mother, if hardly love, at least a boundlessrespect. She regarded her as almost more than human, and the care withwhich she listened to her mother's instructions into the secrets of thekitchen, the market, and the linen-room, was almost unnatural. She wasafraid she would never attain to the fluctuations of price in the fishmarket in different seasons of the year, the starching of muslins, thetime it took to cook a pudding, and how much sugar went to a pot ofpreserved fruit; and her mother destroyed the last remnant ofself-confidence when half-pityingly, half-contemptuously she told herthat she was not sufficiently developed to understand such things. WhenFraulein Brohl was old enough, her parents married her to Herr Marker. It was hardly a love match, but in Brohl, Son & Company's house suchfolly as love was not considered. Herr Marker was the son of awholesale coffee-merchant, and was neither handsome nordistinguished-looking; he was small, thin, bandy-legged, with anunwholesome complexion, a peevish expression, and almost bald-headed. 

Herr F. A. Brohl soon found that he had made a mistake, and been in toogreat a hurry. The old Marker lost his fortune in an unluckyspeculation during the Crimean War, and was only saved by Brohl fromthe shame of bankruptcy. He died soon afterward of grief, and left hisson nothing but debts. The young Marker showed no special genius forthe coffee business, but an uncomfortable ambition for speculation instocks. He opened an exchange office, and entered into transactionswith the Exchanges of Berlin, Frankfort, and Amsterdam, and after ashort time the last penny of his wife's dowry disappeared. Hisfather-in-law dipped into his pockets and renewed the dowry, butstipulated that Marker in the future should ask his advice before anyundertaking. This Marker felt as a deep humiliation, and rather thansubmit to Brohl's tyranny, preferred to loaf all day with his hands inhis pockets at the Exchange, and shortened the evenings by going to theclub, and boring people with endless stories of the meanness andthick-headedness of his cad of a father-in-law, who in hisold-fashioned, narrow-minded Philistinism had not the least capacityfor any great undertakings. 

Brohl died soon after, and Marker experienced a new and painfulsensation. His wife did not inherit a penny by her father's will, hiswhole property under limited conditions going to the widow. This wasspecially arranged for by Brohl to prevent Marker from laying his handson more capital. He shook his fist at the opening of the will, andbroke out into unseemly abuse; he went all over Stettin, and cried outthat he was robbed, that the old rascal had plundered him. To his wifeand mother-in-law he also talked day after day and night after night, saying how shamefully he had been treated, and that it was hismother-in-law's duty to make good the mistake. Frau Marker could notendure this perpetual grumbling and badgering, and Frau Brohl becameweak with not only her son-in-law but her daughter constantly at herear. She consented to give him a large sum to put him into a newbusiness, which he described as having a brilliant and unfailingfuture, and after a great deal of begging and worrying she at lengthbrought herself to the far greater sacrifice of a removal to Berlin, that Marker might have a greater sphere for his energies. So thestately house in the Frauenstrasse with its lofty rooms was abandoned, and exchanged for the small flat in Berlin. 

The departure from Stettin was a miserable one. It was desperate workpacking the thousand things which had gathered together during thequarter of a century in careless profusion. It was heart-breaking to beobliged to leave behind the stores of wood, coal, and potatoes in thecellar, the cranberry jam in the storeroom, which the Markers, in theirgrandeur of ideas, did not think worth the trouble of taking with them!And the farewell visits to the rich friends, in whose family festivalsshe would never more take part; and the last visit to the Jacobkirche, where she would never more go on Sundays and meet her intimate friends, for whose benefit she wore the family ornaments, and the stiff silkdress. There were many tears and sobs, but the cup was drained like theothers; and Marker began his new life in the Lutzowstrasse with hiswife, his mother-in-law, and the little Malvine, who was the only childof their marriage. 

At first things went on pretty well. Frau Brohl often had tears in hereyes when looking at the familiar furniture in her room, which had beendesigned for a house three times as large, and she would rather havesacrificed one of her hands than one of her old sofas or tables. ButMarker was gay as he had never been before, and full of wonderfulstories of the future importance of his firm, astounding both thewomen, and even making them respect him, which feeling had never beforeinfluenced them. He had an office in the Burgstrasse, near theExchange, shared by other young men, and came home every day with newreports of the wonderful business he was doing. 

A day came, however, when he had no news to tell them, when hiscomplexion was as yellow as ever, his eyes avoided the questioningglances of his mother-in-law, and after playing at concealment for awhole week, he was at last forced to tell them that he had again lostall his money. He hastened to add, however, that every thing could besaved if the mother would once more set him on his feet; in every newundertaking one had to pay something for learning; he had hardlyunderstood his position so far, but now he knew what he was about, hemust be contented with modest profits. Frau Brohl made a freshsacrifice, giving Marker his position in business again after sixmonths. He had hardly the courage to come home with new plans, but usedto steal in quietly like a shadow on the wall, sit down at table with aheart-breaking sigh, sulked with the women, and often was heard talkingto himself in this fashion: "This is no sort of life. If women hold thecards, stupidity is trumps. The woman in the kitchen, the man inbusiness, " and so on. Finally the thing happened which Frau Brohl hadforeseen with anxiety--Marker came with a new project, for which hewanted fifty thousand thalers. It was an entirely new idea, unheard ofbefore; it couldn't miscarry, it must bring in a hundred thousand; withone stroke all the former losses would be retrieved. Then he stoppedtalking, and showed yards of figures, read aloud letters of advice, andwent on reading and talking and crackling papers for an hour to FrauBrohl, following her from the drawing-room into the kitchen, from thekitchen back to the drawing-room; and when she took refuge in herbedroom, he read to her through the door. However, it was no good, andFrau Brohl stood firm. Then Marker tried a new method. He wasargumentative before, now he became tragic; he threatened to throwhimself out of the window, to become dangerously ill, to go away andnever be heard of again. He left half-finished letters on hiswriting-table, in which he announced his death to his acquaintances, laying the blame on his wife and mother-in-law; in short, poor FrauBrohl, whose existence had become a veritable hell, with a heavy heartput her hand once more into her pocket, and gave Marker what he wanted. 

Everything now went on as smoothly and merrily as before. After a fewweeks Marker again lost everything, and seemed so upset that he stayedaway all day without coming home. At last he appeared again, andhesitatingly, with a timid expression, begged for forgiveness. "Verywell, " said Frau Brohl, "only I hope you will not begin all overagain. " Her hopes were not realized. The spirit of speculation had toostrong a hold over Marker to be kept back. After he had remained quietfor about a year, he actually had the effrontery to ask hismother-in-law for more capital. But this time she was like a rock. "Nota penny, " said Frau Brohl, and kept her word. Marker wept, and she lethim weep; he talked of suicide, and she advised him to use a rope, ashe did not understand the use of firearms. He had run through half hermoney, and the other half she meant to defend like a lioness. Thespecter of poverty rose up before her, she reflected that rich peoplewould cast her out of their society, and look upon her as a weak womanwithout any self-respect, conquered by Marker's tenacity. 

There were no more storms after this, and peace reigned in thetightly-crammed flat in the Lutzowstrasse, but it was peace whichconcealed a great deal of grumbling and sulkiness. Marker very seldomspoke, and his obstinate silence was made easy for him, for the womenat last hardly ever spoke to him. Every week he had a certain sum givenhim for pocket-money; Frau Brohl paid his tailor's and bootmaker'sbills, and he was treated in fact as if he had done with this world. His business was to take the little Malvine to school and fetch herhome again, and on the way he grumbled incessantly to the child abouther mother and grandmother. The former he called "she, " and the latter"the old lady. " He never mentioned their names. Malvine had noticedthat at home they never spoke to her father; in her childish way sheimitated this contemptuous silence. The only bright spot in hisexistence was a visit to some old business friends, where he unburdenedhis overflowing heart, and complained by the hour together of thetyrants in his house, who trod him under-foot, and ill-treated him nowthat he was unfortunate. He was the victim of two silly women, but hewould show them one day of what he was capable. "She" and "the oldlady" were too stupid to understand him, but he hoped he would not dieuntil he had seen them on their knees before him. In this way heceaselessly kept up the smouldering rage within him; his face becamemore and more yellow, he grew thinner, he lost his appetite, he lookedas if he were suffering from some dreadful malady. He said nothing, however, about his health, but seemed to find a comforting satisfactionin the reflection that "she" and "the old lady" would one day besurprised to see him lying there, and that would be his revenge. And soit came to pass--one morning he was too weak to leave his bed. Atluncheon Frau Brohl and Frau Marker noticed his absence, and went tolook for him; as they had taken no notice of him for so long, they werenot aware how shriveled and emaciated he had grown, and were nowshocked and astonished to see how miserable and frail he was. They sentfor a doctor; Frau Brohl made some elder tea; Frau Marker sat up allnight by the sick-bed, but nothing could be done. A few days later hedied, with a look of hatred at his mother-in-law, and a movement ofaversion from his wife. 

Nothing was changed in the household; there was another place at tableand a room at liberty, which was soon filled with the thingsoverflowing from the drawing-room. Frau Brohl still had a passion forpreserving and pickling, which had descended to her daughter and hergranddaughter, and also a passion for needle-work. Year in and year outthe three sat at the window of their drawing-room over embroidery, lace-making, and such like, working as if they had to earn their dailybread. They were mistresses of all kinds of fancy work, and inventedmany more. 

Frau Brohl was unequaled in her inventions of new kinds of work. Suchthings as book-markers and slippers, paper-baskets, bed-quilts andtablecloths, card-baskets, and chair-cushions were all too simple--themere a b c of the art. Wonders like embroidered pictures for the walls, various kinds of fringes for the legs of pianos, fireplace hangings, gold nets for window-curtains, mottoes for the canary's cage, silkcovers for books, were the order of the day. When any one came in hewas first struck with surprise, which quickly changed to bewilderment. Wherever he looked his eye fell on some piece of work, with no reposeor unadorned space. Here a row of family portraits, in plush and goldframes, all looking stiff and uninteresting--on inspecting them atclose quarters, they were seen to be not painted but embroidered incolored silks. There hung a melon, the outside of the fruit representedby yellow, green, and brown satin, the stalk by gold thread, the littlecracks and roughnesses by gray silk applique, the whole thing fearfuland absurd in its exuberance. And wherever one went or stood, sat downor laid one's hand, there wandered a huge wreath of flowers in Berlinwool, or the profile of a warrior in cross-stitch sneered at one, or apiece of hanging tapestry of pompous pattern and learned inscriptionsflapped at one, and everything was rich and tedious and terrifying andshocking in taste; and when one's tired eyes looked out of the triplybe-curtained windows into the street, one fell convinced that littleangels would come down out of the sky clad in what was left over of therococo furniture draperies, bordered with gold. 

This unsightly museum of useless things was the occupation of FrauBrohl and Frau Marker's lives, and here Malvine grew up to be thepretty girl to whom we have been introduced at the Ellrichs'. Hermother was a sort of elder sister to her, and the only authority in thehouse was the grandmother. She ordered the servants, and her daughterpaid her the same timid reverence as in the time of her short frocks. Frau Marker seldom opened her lips except to eat, or to answer hermother in a parrot-like sort of echo. Frau Brohl's energetic spiritstirred even in these narrow boundaries. She did not feel at home inBerlin; she met no one she knew in the streets, and in fact knew noone, and this feeling of being among strangers, as if at someout-of-the-way fair, made her so uneasy that she hardly ever went out. Often since Marker's death she had thought of returning to Stettin, butwhen she reflected how dreadful it would be to pack up and unpack againall the thousand pieces of work, her courage failed her. All the sameshe lived with her heart and soul in Stettin. A local paper fromStettin was her only reading. She kept up a regular correspondence withall her old acquaintances, who gave her news of all the engagements, marriages, births, and deaths of the rich people she had known. IfStettin people of good standing came to Berlin she called on them andinvited them to dinner, when her former celebrated triumphs in cookerywere repeated. If she found out that any wealthy inhabitants of Stettinhad been in Berlin without informing her of the fact, she took it somuch to heart that she had to go to bed for a week. A few Stettinfamilies, who in the course of the year emigrated to the capital, constituted her circle of visiting acquaintances, enlarged later byMalvine's school friends, and introductions at their houses. Theconnection with the Ellrichs was through the Stettin circle. Frau Brohlgave a large soiree twice in the course of the winter, when theinvitations they had received were returned. Since Malvine was grown upthere had been dancing, although the small size of the drawing-room, and the displacement of all Frau Brohl's needlework, set everything ingreat confusion. 

This kind of life and its surroundings naturally could not developMalvine's mind and character in any high degree. She missed anystimulus from her mother or from her grandmother; she only learned torespect rich people, to fathom the mysteries of the kitchen, and tocultivate a taste for peculiar and original fancy work; she was, however, a good-tempered, rather slow-witted girl, of well-balancedmind, without a trace of capriciousness or the nervous temperament socommon to city life; within her limited view of things she had a good, honest intelligence, and with her plump figure and her round, rosyface, which bore witness to her grandmother's kitchen, she was verycomely in men's eyes. 

Paul Haber had already become acquainted with the flat in theLutzowstrasse during the winter before the war, and he liked the quiethe found in the corners of the little rooms, and in the muffled voicesof these three women. The friendship was continued during the war bymeans of frequent letters, and on his home-coming Paul renewed hisvisits with pleasure. By cautious inquiries he had gathered thatMalvine had sixty thousand thalers in cash as her dowry, and wouldinherit double that sum. Her modest, quiet, amiable disposition madehim drift into a strong attachment; her appearance was sufficientlywomanly and charming, and her steady, practical views on things, utterly unromantic an unenthusiastic, harmonized entirely with his own. It was refreshing for him to hear her chatter about people and thingswith the calm good sense of a Philistine, especially in a society wherethe bombastic and exaggerated talk of original, poetically minded youngladies had repelled and bored him. At his first meeting with MalvineMarker he had thought that she was the wife for him, and since he hadbecome friendly with her and her circle, he said to himself, "This oneand no other. "

The three ladies liked him immensely. Frau Brohl took him at once toher heart, and that was the chief consideration. His appearance made agood impression on her. He was strongly built, not too thin, in fact, showing signs of a respectable probable stoutness in later life; hisface was full, and his complexion healthy, his mustache carefullytrimmed, and his hair closely cropped; he certainly dressed well. Theyoung men of her former rich acquaintances were of the same type, soalso was the late F. A. Brohl when she first met him. He wasgentlemanly, without a doubt, and he must be well off to employ such agood tailor and friseur. She also noticed, with an immensesatisfaction, that he had a due appreciation of fancy work. He did not, like some superficial people, regard these housewifely creations asmerely pretty or useful things, but appreciated them as works of art, and wondered at the difficulty of these marvelous fabrications. Complicated lace-work, or embroidered pictures, filled him withamazement, even if applique had no effect on him. When Frau Brohlnoticed these marks of distinction in him, she did not hesitate toinvite him to dinner on Sunday--at first occasionally, and afterwardregularly, and with increasing pleasure she noticed that in other wayshe also reached the ideal she had imagined in him. He had a goodappetite, and it was not necessary for him to say in words how much heenjoyed the dishes set before him, every look and gesture showed itplainly. He evinced a warm sympathy for family events, even when theydid not concern him in any way, and he had the same genuine esteem forrich people, which had been handed down for three generations in theBrohl-Marker families. She thought that he showed no disinclination tobe her granddaughter's husband, only at first she pondered over hiscalling in life. She knew perfectly well that the highest professorshipcould only earn in a year what an ordinary ship-broker made in a month. At the same time she reflected that even a merchant made a bad job ofit sometimes, as her son-in-law's example had shown her only tooplainly; that the title "Professor" sounded very well, and if he didnot make very much money at most, at least he could not lose it, andshe came to the conclusion that in the circumstances a professor couldmake his wife very happy. Frau Marker had nothing to say about thematter, and was quite prepared to accept a son-in-law from her mother'shand, as she had formerly accepted a husband, so the fact that Paul hadnot made a very favorable impression on her did not matter very much. 

There remained only Malvine--but just there lay the difficulty. Thegirl was always kind and friendly to Paul, she took his homage withoutany coquetry or apparent disinclination; when they went out walking shetook his arm quite unaffectedly; when they were invited to meet insociety, by a tacit agreement he took her in to dinner, had theprivilege of the greater part of the dances, and was her partner forthe cotillion. But whether they were alone or in company, whether theydanced or talked, whether he came or went, she showed a perfectunconcern and freedom of manner to which he longed to put an end. Shewas much too cold and collected even for his unsentimental nature. Hewould have forgiven some agitation, some confusion, a few blushes nowand then, perhaps a sigh, but these signs of the heart's flutteringswere nowhere forthcoming. As they were out one day alone together, something happened which filled Paul with doubt and trouble. Malvinehad been attracted to Wilhelm when first she saw him, and since thenshe had incessantly thought and talked of him. He was so handsome, hespoke so charmingly! She thought it astonishing that any one should notlove him, just because his admiration was mingled with so much shyness. She herself was much too insignificant a person to think of loving him, and beside, he was not free, and it would have been a sin to think ofthe man who was engaged to her friend. This enthusiasm for Wilhelmnaturally did not escape Paul's notice, but it did not disquiet him, because he took into account Malvine's nature. "It is a harmlessfancy, " he said to himself, "the sort of fancy girls take sometimes forprinces whose photographs they see in shop-windows, or for actors whomthey have admired as Don Carlos or Romeo; later on they laugh overtheir childish folly, and these fancies never prevent the prettyenthusiast from marrying and being happy. "

Nevertheless, things became suspiciously different after the breachbetween Wilhelm and Loulou. In Malvine's somewhat narrow butwell-regulated mind a brave romance had been mistakenly built up. NowWilhelm was free: now she need have no feeling of duty on account ofthat superficial, pleasure-seeking Loulou, who had never been worthy ofhim. Was it impossible that he might notice her? would be grateful forher sympathy? and perhaps--who knows--later--he might seek consolationfrom her--who was so ready to give it? The concluding chapter of thisgirlish romance remained her own secret, but the beginning she boldlydeclared. She explained to her grandmother, as well as to Paul, thatnow Dr. Eynhardt was in need of being comforted, it was the duty of hisfriends to try to overcome his sorrow. She proposed that Paul shouldbring him as often as possible, and she obtained from Frau Brohl theunwonted permission of inviting him to the Sunday luncheon. Wilhelm hadlittle pleasure in going into ordinary society, especially tostrangers, but this invitation was so warm and pressing that he couldnot bring himself to refuse it. 

When Wilhelm was there Paul was put completely in the background. Malvine had no words or glances for any one but Wilhelm, and if shespoke to Paul it was only to thank him for having brought Dr. Eynhardtto the Lutzowstrasse. If Paul came alone he was mortified to see ashadow pass over Malvine's face, and he was forced to listen to astring of inquiries after his friend. He had been conscious for a longtime that he must try to reconcile himself to this condition of things, and if he felt himself rebelling, he reminded himself he must havepatience and wait, trying to console himself with the thought thatMalvine's enthusiasm was only on her side--Wilhelm's demeanor seemed toshow that he did not guess what was going on in the girl's mind. Hismanner was courteous and friendly, but there was really no differencebetween his demeanor toward Frau Brohl and toward the young girl. WhileMalvine blushed and became confused when he entered the room, Wilhelm, on his side, spoke to the grandmother, mother, and daughter withexactly the same pleasant smile, and his hand rested not a momentlonger in Malvine's than in that of her grandmother. On his side therewas evidently nothing to dread. He felt he had a defender and supportin Frau Brohl. The old lady kept a sharp lookout on her little worldwith her dim-sighted eyes. She noticed that Malvine was unable towithstand the charm which Wilhelm exercised over her, and she could notbring herself to be angry with the girl. She herself liked the youngman extremely, admired his handsome face, his fine voice, his modest, unassuming manners, but she felt instinctively that he belonged toquite a different world from herself, and that in a sense they wouldalways be strangers. When he spoke she could not follow his thoughts, although she felt that they were very profound; when she spoke helistened with the greatest politeness, but nothing more came of it. Hetried to be attentive to her stories about engagements and separations, he was entirely uninterested in rich people, he did not praise the bestdishes at table, and he even went so far as not to conceal his aversionfor the design of the horrible knight in cross-stitch. Beside all this, his clothes were bad, and although he had a house of his own, it wasonly a little one. No, Wilhelm as a relation was not to be thought of. He was not of their own flesh and blood, like that good, delightfulPaul Haber. 

It was not in Paul's nature to wait patiently in suspense, and hedetermined to put an end to his uncertainty. Malvine seemed to him asdesirable as ever, and he had built up in his mind a future, of whichMalvine and her sixty thousand thalers were the foundation. He mustknow whether she were for him or not; in the one case to transform hiscastle in the air into reality without loss of time, and in the othercase not to waste the best years of his life in aimless disappointment;not to let other opportunities slip by. He was not quite clear, however, on one point, To whom should he make his proposal? To FrauBrohl? That would be the most practicable way, no doubt, as the bent, pale old lady, with the soft, sighing voice, ruled everything in thehouse, and if she promised the hand of her grand-daughter, she wouldcertainly keep her word. But it went against the grain to put anyconstraint on the girl, and he felt that he would be ashamed to answer"No, " if Frau Brohl were to ask him if he had already spoken toMalvine. Then if he were to go in a straightforward way to Malvine, andsay, "I can no longer hide from you that I love you, and that I wantyou to be my wife, will you consent?" there was a great deal of risk inthat, for if she misjudged her own feelings, and said that she lovedsome one else, and so could not listen to him, the rupture between themwould be accomplished, and it would be no use to him if later she foundout that she had been mistaken in her feelings. There could be nosecure step for him, on that he was quite decided. 

If he could approach neither Frau Brohl nor Malvine, there was one wayclearly open to him, and he took it without further delay. 

One sunny afternoon in May, a few weeks after the Labor meeting at theTivoli, Paul came to see Wilhelm, and asked him to go for a walk withhim in the Thiergarten. Wilhelm was soon ready, and while they werewalking Paul was astonishingly quiet, and seemed sunk in deep thought. He suddenly broke the silence, and when they were under the trees, without any beating about the bush, asked his friend:

"Wilhelm, do you love Malvine?"

Wilhelm stood still, as if rooted to the ground, and in boundlessastonishment he said:

"Are you off your head, Paul?"

"I implore you, Wilhelm, " said he in an anxious way, "just answer 'yes'or 'no, ' because the happiness of my life depends on your answer. "

"But I never thought of it, " cried Wilhelm, grasping Paul's hand. "Whatput such an idea into your head?"

"Then you are not in love with Malvine?" asked Paul obstinately. 

"No, I am not in love with Malvine, if you will have the answer in thatprecise form. "

"I thought as much, but I wished to have the answer from your ownlips;" and as they walked, he continued, "Do you see, Wilhelm, if youhad loved Malvine, I would have got out of your way; I would havesubmitted to fate without any struggle or opposition. "

"Have I been injudicious? Perhaps too intimate? Forgive me, Paul, if itis so. It happened quite unintentionally. I only thought of her as myfriend's fiancee, and believed her also to be a friend of mine. "

"I don't mean that, Wilhelm; you have always behaved awfully well--withgreat tact, and all that. But you have not seen how it has been withMalvine; she is quite mad about you, especially since you have beenfree. "

"You imagine these things. "

"Be quiet, you impatient baby, and hear what I have to say. I believeit is not love Malvine has for you, but it only wants a word or a lookfrom you to turn it into love. If she were convinced that you feel onlyas a friend for her, she would be contented to admire you from adistance, and begin to care a little more for an inferior specimen ofmankind like myself. "

"I feel quite in despair about it. How could I be so blind, so stupid?"

"Never mind; it is not all over yet. I know Malvine. She is asimple-minded girl, without a bit of sentiment in her, mentally andmorally healthy. If she knew she had nothing to expect from you, I amperfectly certain that nothing would stand in the way of my happiness. "

"I will do whatever you wish--and first of all, I must put a stop to myvisits there. "

"I must ask more from you than that, my poor Wilhelm. Merely stayingaway is too passive. You must act. I want you to talk to Malvine, andsomehow explain to her that you don't love her. "

"How can I possibly do that?" cried Wilhelm, really startled. "I shouldhave no right! If she laughed in my face and called me a fool and alout, I should feel I deserved it. "

"You ought to know that she would not do that. I know I am asking avery unusual thing, and a very difficult thing, but I feel I can asksuch a sacrifice from your friendship. "

As Wilhelm did not immediately answer, Paul said, seizing his hand:

"Once more, Wilhelm, if you have any thought of Malvine, I will notstand in your way. "

"But, Paul--"

"And perhaps I ought to wish it for you; Malvine is a good, dear girl, and will make the man who marries her happy all his life. "

"Don't say any more; I have already told you that she is sacred to meas your fiancee, and beside, I should have no claim on her, even if Idid not know how you stand with regard to her. "

"Well, then, you must help me to reclaim her from her mistake. Youalone can do it, and I am sure that later--very soon, in fact, she willbe grateful to you. "

Wilhelm was silent, looking at Paul in anxious suspense. At last, witha deep sigh, he said:

"Well, if I must---"

"You are a brick, " cried Paul, and embraced him before the passers-by, who turned round to look at them with astonishment. 

On the next day, at twelve o'clock, Wilhelm rang at the Markers' flatin the Lutzowstrasse. Through the little peephole he caught a glimpseof some one, then the door flew open, a maid ushered him into thedrawing-room, and without waiting for him to speak, said:

"Frau Brohl is in the kitchen; I will fetch her. "

"Thank you, " said Wilhelm, rather feebly; "there is no hurry. Is--is--the Fraulein at home?"

The girl was already at the door, and turning round, stared at Wilhelmwith astonished eyes. 

"Yes; shall I say that you would like to speak to her?"

Wilhelm nodded, and the girl went out. After a short pause Malvinestood before him, offering him her white hand, with its short fingers, while her face flushed to the roots of her hair. 

"Might I speak to you, Fraulein?" he said, in a low, constrained voice. 

Malvine went very white, all the blood seemed to leave her heart, andshe almost gasped for breath. After a short silence she whispered, "Certainly, Herr Doctor, " and took him into the little room next thedrawing-room, which contained a modest bookcase, a writing table, andchairs in red damask. She sat down, and Wilhelm took a chair near; theywere silent for a minute or two, while she, with eyes downcast, wentalternately red and white, and could scarcely breathe. There was nopretense this time about her agitation. It seemed as if suddenly aflash of lightning had illuminated his mind, showing him a picture ofthis trembling, pretty girl clashed to his heart, and he with his armsround her. It only lasted for a second, but it struck him like anelectric shock, and left in his mind a mingled feeling of trouble, shame, remorse and vexation. He had a consciousness of danger, and hefelt that he must make a great effort to become master of the situationand of himself. 

"Gnadiges Fraulein, " he began, "what I want to say to you will seemodd, and perhaps audacious, but I beg you in spite of that to hear meto the end. "

Malvine sat motionless, breathing quickly. 

"I do not know, " he went on, "in what position you and my friend Haberare with regard to each other, but you must have noticed, without anyexplanation, that he loves you. "

At the mention of Paul's name, Malvine for the first time raised hereyes, and looked at Wilhelm with such a troubled expression that hefelt still further alarmed. He had broken the ice, however, and he madea courageous effort to regain his asssurance. 

"Dear Fraulein, " he said impressively, "I am afraid there has been somemisunderstanding between us, which it is my duty toward you, toward myfriend, and toward myself, to explain. My behavior has perhaps arousedan impression which it should not have done. There is no doubt that Iought not to have shown you how warm my friendship is for you--for you, a good and beautiful girl, who have inspired my best friend with such alove; but really I considered that so long as the engagement betweenyou and Paul was not clearly arranged, that you would understand myposition. If I seemed happy to be near you, it was because I toldmyself how happy my friend would be when he could call you his own; ifyou seemed to read warmth and tenderness when I looked at you, it wasbecause I was and am so grateful to you for so happily influencingPaul. "

While he was speaking Malvine had sunk back in her corner, and hadclosed her eyes with a deep sigh. A few large tears began to roll downher cheeks. Wilhelm touched her hand, which was cold as ice. She made afeeble effort to draw it away, but he held it fast and went on:

"Dearest, best Malvine, do not bear me any grudge for this abominablehalf-hour, and believe me that it is only out of consideration for yourlife's happiness. I quite understand how it has all happened. Your kindheart was filled with pity for me, and in your innocence you gave thepity another name. It was quite natural that you should be uncertain ofyourself, while you thought you were loved by two men, and that theconfusion prevented you seeing clearly with your own heart. Now youknow that Paul loves you, and that the day on which he dares call youhis will be the first happy one I have had for a year. You will be ableto come to a determination more easily, as it concerns your ownhappiness equally with Paul's. Paul is a good fellow, and worthy of thewoman who will bear his name. "

He bent over her hand and pressed his lips to it. Malvine sobbed aloud, and putting her arms on his shoulders kissed his hair, then sprang awayand flew to her room. Wilhelm hurried away in great confusion, thankfulthat he had been spared meeting either Frau Brohl or Frau Marker. Heonly breathed freely when he found himself in the street. 

Paul was informed the same afternoon of the conversation which hadtaken place, Wilhelm delicately passing over Malvine's outburst offeeling, and he hurried at once to the Lutzowstrasse to take by stormthe fortress in which his friend had already made a breach. He wasreceived by Frau Brohl, who nodded in mysterious manner, and took himinto her bedroom, at the back of the flat, through the dining-room. Inher soft, feeble voice she mildly reproached him for not having moreconfidence and coming to speak to her sooner. She then related to himwhat had happened. She had heard with great surprise that Dr. Eynhardthad come and gone away again, without saying good-day to her. As shewas going to ask what the visit meant, Malvine came and embraced hergrandmother, crying bitterly, to the old lady's great distress. Withmany tears she had given a confused and broken account of the interviewwith Wilhelm, begging Frau Brohl to comfort her and foretell that itshould end well. Frau Brohl explained that Malvine was now in her room, meaning that Paul must not try to see her just at present. Such asilly, inexperienced creature must have time given her to learn to bereasonable, beside, she (Frau Brohl) would take care of everything, andHerr Haber could call her grandmamma now if he liked. He kissed herhand, deeply moved and grateful, and her eyes filled with tears. Shethen explained the situation to Frau Marker, who, after looking verymuch surprised, also embraced her son-in-law. It was a dignified scene, tender, and, as befitted an honorable family, without any over displayof feeling; if all the wealthy people of Stettin had been assembledthere, they could have expressed nothing but admiration. 

On the next day Frau Brohl spoke to her grand-daughter. She made herunderstand that there were no real objections to be made, that she wassilly and was acting against her own happiness. Paul was much thebetter match of the two, was more chic and practical than Wilhelm, hadbetter prospects in life, and was really better-looking than hisfriend. Above all she liked Paul, and did not like Wilhelm, and thatought to be taken into account. Malvine was not inaccessible to sucharguments, as Paul was really sympathetic to her. Soon her tears ceasedto flow, and her sighs became fainter and fainter. In two days' timeshe regained her appetite, signs which Frau Brohl noticed, and quicklyimparted to Paul. At their first meeting he showed a little anxiety, and she, a good deal of constraint, but that soon passed off, and asthey were constantly together, she found a great deal of pleasure inhis manly good looks and honorable qualities. Beside, it was spring!the sun shone, the sky was blue, her room was full of the fragrance offlowers, which Paul brought every day with the regularity of a postman, and fourteen days later they were engaged, and his first kiss was givenin the presence of her grandmother, mother, and Paul's parents. Herheart felt very warmly toward him, and she would have felt dreadfullyconfused had not Wilhelm, with characteristic good feeling, declinedthe invitation to be present. 

Frau Brohl arranged for the wedding to take place after Whitsuntide. Atthe Zwolf-Apostelkirche she wore her heavy silk dress and all thefamily ornaments, as on the Sundays at church at Stettin. Her bentfigure was straighter than usual, and a smile of proud satisfactionlighted up her pale, melancholy face. Several rich friends from Stettinhad come over to Berlin for the wedding. She leaned on the arm of thebridegroom's father, Herr Haber, a dignified old gentleman with a longbeard. Paul wore his uniform and a Japanese order, which had beenconferred on him by a Japanese pupil at his lectures on agriculturalchemistry. Several officers in uniform were in the church, and a largenumber of professors, councilors, etc. Paul's round face beamed withhappiness, his blond mustache looked triumphant, his hair wasmathematically cut, and a field-marshal might have sworn that he was aregular officer. The bride was rosy, and looked happy. Her veil andwreath were made by the family, and her satin dress covered with theirembroidery. Wilhelm was one of Paul's witnesses. When he went tocongratulate the happy pair after the ceremony, Malvine looked at him;a gentle glance, with perhaps a mild reproach in it. Paul, however, grasped his hand, and whispered into his ear:

"Your friend for life, Wilhelm, for life. "

CHAPTER VII. 

SYMPOSIUM. 

Paul had hardly returned from his wedding trip to Paris when hesurprised his friends by a series of quite unexpected businessengagements. He gave up his post as lecturer, in spite of the fact thatthe appointment as professor for the next six months depended on it; heleft his young wife for three weeks, during which nothing was heard ofhim, except an occasional letter bearing the postmarks of Hamburg, Altona, or Harburg, then he appeared again, and told Malvine that theywere to remove from Berlin, to spend in future a portion of the year inHamburg, but to live chiefly on some property near Harburg. He haddecided to leave his academic profession and become a practicallandowner, and accordingly had taken a large leasehold estate. He gaveWilhelm and Schrotter further particulars of his plans. The place hehad bought was hardly to be called an estate, but a wild desert bit ofmoorland called "Friesenmoor, " growing only a kind of marsh grass. Thispiece of land, from which nothing but peat could be obtained, wasworthless, and he had bought it for a few thalers. After many years ofstudy on the subject, and without saying a word to any living soul, Paul had come to the conclusion that this arid moor could be made intorich arable land by proper cultivation, and seeing money was to be madeout of this possession, he decided without loss of time to put histheories into practice. There was always the risk that he might losehis money, but he had great confidence in his science, and "nothingventure, nothing have. " He considered it quite unnecessary to explaineverything about his speculation to Malvine and the old lady. He knew, too, that merely the word "speculation" would frighten them to death. 

The separation from Malvine dissolved her grandmother and mother intosighs and tears, but during the short time that they had known Paul, his quiet, determined character had made such an impression on the twowomen that they submitted without a word to whatever he arranged. FrauBrohl packed up several boxes for her granddaughter, filled with thework of her hands, gave her various recipes for preserving fruits andfor fish sauces, and let her go. She withstood bravely the temptationto fill up the empty room with the overflow furniture from thedrawing-room, and spoke on the contrary of leaving the room free, sothat the young couple might make it their headquarters when they cameto Berlin. Paul hypocritically invited Frau Brohl and Frau Marker tocome and live on his estate--he did not even fear two mothers-in-law. Grandmother and mother, though pleased with his attachment for them, declined with thanks. The cunning dog had reckoned on that refusal. Hewould have been in a terrible dilemma had they accepted. He would thenhave had to reveal the whole truth, and tell them that his so-called"property" was a mere swamp, where there was no place for one's feet totread unless clad in waterproof boots; hardly a fit place fortownspeople, accustomed to comfort. Before the changes on theFriesenmoor could be brought about one fell into pools, one's feet gotfast in boggy earth, and the only inhabitants at present werewaterfowl, frogs and toads. He did not even take Malvine to hisproperty but lived in Hamburg, going to Harburg every morning andreturning in the evening. 

In a short time the neighborhood between the Seeve and the Suderelbewore a different appearance. Hundreds of laborers were to be seen onthe moor, which hitherto had reflected only the sky in its silentpools. Dams were thrown up, trenches dug, a dwelling house was raisedon piles, numbers of business offices, and quite a village for workmen, all mounted and secure on piles of wood, stakes, and stone foundations. Flatboats floated on the pools, the houses were roofed in, windmillsflapped their sails, and Paul, who had ordered and built everything, came every day to see how the workmen were getting on. In the autumn hetook Malvine for the first time to Harburg, and leaving the carriage atthe office brought her by boat to the border of the Friesenmoor, toshow her the picture all at once. The men stood on each side of the newhouse with their shovels and pickaxes, and greeted the young wife withsuch a hearty cheer that her eyes filled with tears. The broad flatsurface of the marsh was now arranged in regular lines where the waterwas being drawn off, all so well superintended and orderly, thatMalvine could not help thinking of a chessboard. The windmill moved itslong restless arms, as if to welcome her as mistress here; theone-storied dwelling house, raised on stone steps, lay there hospitablybuilt on a raised terrace, with its number of large well-lighted roomsopening a vista of peace and happiness to Malvine, and she thought itall so delightful that she would have liked to send for her furniturefrom Hamburg and stay there. Paul, however, reflected what danger theremight be to her in her condition to stay through the winter in a housenot yet dry, and so she gave in to his wishes. 

At the end of March a telegram from Hamburg announced the birth of afine boy, to whom Wilhelm was to stand godfather. He was to be namedPaul Wilhelm, and to be known by the latter name. When the warm weathercame, Paul and his family were to go to the moor, and during theremoval Malvine went with her mother and grandmother, who had bothnursed her tenderly, to Berlin for a visit. Paul went through a greatdeal of worry and anxiety this summer. He had everything at stake inwaiting for the results of his undertaking. All his money was in thebuildings, the earth-works, and waterworks; if the barren swamp did notyield twice the sum intrusted to it he was a ruined man. But as Julydrew near, and Paul looked at the thick standing ears of barley andwheat, he felt the weight of his anxiety lifted, and in August heproclaimed in letters to his friends that the battle was won, theharvest more abundant than he had dared to hope for, and the remaininghalf-year would complete the transformation of the worthless moorlandinto a veritable Australian gold mine. He regarded his property nowwith a parental tenderness, as if it were some living being whom he hadtrained and educated. The first harvest had given him experience, andopportunity for new work, and he stayed through the autumn and winterin his house in the midst of his workmen, whom he felt inclined tocanonize. The men now formed a little colony with their wives andchildren, and Paul was as happy as possible within the limited boundaryof his horizon, between the Suderelbe and the Seeve. 

These two years had been outwardly uneventful for Wilhelm. In themornings he worked in the Physical Institute, in the afternoons heworked at home, in the evenings he gossiped with Schrotter--a journeyto Hamburg and a fortnight's visit to the house on the Friesenmoor hadgiven him change. Paul came pretty often to Berlin, and found in thesociety of his old friends the enjoyment of his early years renewed, and Wilhelm with his girlish face, his enthusiastic eyes, and hisunworldly manner did not seem a year older. The professor of physics, who had frequently been invited to go abroad to direct the teaching inother European and foreign schools, asked Wilhelm to go with him toTurkey, Japan, and Chili--as professor. He had the highest opinion ofWilhelm, and deeply regretted that his misadventure with Herr vonPechlar made an appointment in Germany impossible. Wilhelm, however, declined, on the ground that he did not feel an aptitude for teaching, only for learning. 

He had scarcely any intercourse now with Barinskoi, whose immoral viewsat last became unbearable; he rarely saw him except when he came toborrow money. Of late a new acquaintance had come into his limitedsocial circle. This was a man of about thirty-five, called Dorfling, anovergrown thin creature, with long, straight gray hair, and deepintellectual eyes in his thin face. He came from the Rhine, and was theson of a rich merchant, into whose business he should have gone. However, when he was twenty-six he boldly told his father that theworld outside was of deeper and wider interest to him than accountbooks. The father died, and Dorfling hastened to put the business intoliquidation, and devote himself to philosophical studies. For a year hedrifted from one school to another, sitting at the feet of the mostcelebrated teachers and plunging himself into their systems. In theautumn of 1872 he appeared suddenly in Berlin, and renewed his oldacquaintance with Wilhelm. Since then he had become a frequent guest atDr. Schrotter's dinner table, and a companion to Wilhelm, in hisafternoon walks. 

Dorfling was the most wonderful listener that any one could wish tohave, though he himself was rather silent. If the talk turned on greatquestions of knowledge, morality, the object of life, Dorfling's sharein the conversation consisted in the following half-audible remark:"Yes, it is a powerful and interesting subject. I have just beenworking at it, and you will find my opinions in my book. " If he wereasked to give his opinions now, or at least to indicate them, he shookhis head and gently said, "I am not good at extempore speaking. Mythoughts only come out clearly when I have a pen in my hand. " Not a daypassed by without an allusion to "the book, " to which he devoted hisnights, and of which he always spoke, with emotion in his voice, as thework of his life. 

It was impossible to get more information out of him, either about itstitle, scope, or contents. It was a philosophic work, no doubt, as healways said on speaking of such subjects, "I have mentioned that in mybook. " But that was all that could be got out of him. Schrotter andWilhelm were too good to tease him much about it, though the former, with a suspicion of a smile, would say that he hoped this and thatwould have a place in the book, so that one might at least know hisopinion on it. Paul, who always saw him when he came to Berlin, used toask whether the book was not yet ready. Dorfling gave no answer, buthis pale face grew paler, and an expression of pain came to his eyes. 

Barinskoi, who now sponged on Dorfling just as he had previously doneon Wilhelm, giving them in fact turn and turn about, had the bad tasteto make jokes continually about the book, at one time calling it theHoly Grail, another time comparing it to the diamond country ofSindbad's tale, and in a hundred ways making vulgar and scepticaljokes. On one of his outbreaks of dissipation he had disappeared farlonger than usual, and on his return he looked more miserable thanever. Dorfling made some kindly inquiries, and learned that he wasrecovering from an attack of inflammation of the lungs, and Barinskoi, by way of showing gratitude, remarked, "The doctors gave me up, but Iheld out, as I do not mean to die until I have read your book. "Dorfling, with a contemptuous look, turned his back on him. 

One day, soon after the Easter of 1874, Dorfling brought his friends agreat piece of news. The book was ready, it was even in the press, andwould be published in a few days by a large firm, but he wanted topresent them with copies before the book appeared at the shops. Hetherefore invited them to a little festival to celebrate the occasion. He had been thinking over the book for seventeen years, had been eightyears in writing it, and as it had taken such an important place in hislife, he must be pardoned a little vanity about it now. Paul had awritten invitation sent him, and he thought the occasion wassufficiently important to come to Berlin on purpose. 

On the appointed evening they all met at eight o'clock at Borchardt'sin the Franzbsischen Strasse. A dignified waiter, who in appearance andmanner looked more like an ambassador, received the guests, and tookthem into a private room on the left side of the large room above theground floor. This little room was all lined with red like a jewelcase, thick red portieres were over the doors, and the amount of gaswith which it was lighted made it rather warmer than was comfortable. Alarge table with divans on three sides of it nearly filled the room; itwas beautifully decorated and covered with flowers. Numerouswineglasses were placed before each guest, and champagne was cooling inan ice-bucket near the door. 

Dorfling was there, and received his guests as the waiter lifted theheavy portiere. He was in evening dress, and his slightly flushed facebeamed with pleasure. His friends regretted keenly that they had comein ordinary morning clothes, and expressed their apologies. Heinterrupted them, saying they must overlook one of his little whims andnot say anything more about it. 

Then they sat down to table, impressed by his charming manner. Dorflingput Schrotter on his right hand, and Wilhelm and Paul on his left; nearSchrotter was Barinskoi and a friend of Dorfling's, named Mayboorn. This man was, like Dorfling, a Rhinelander, he combined a successfulcareer as a writer of comic verses with a confirmed pessimism. When hehad written one of his merriest couplets, he would stop his work andsigh with Dorfling over the tragedy of life. The papers treated hisfarces as rubbish, but the public adored them. The earnest critic wouldhardly touch his name with a pair of tongs, but the theatre managersfought for possession of his work. He had a beautiful wife whoworshiped him, two wonderful children, and the appearance and bearingof Timon of Athens. 

At Dorfling's summons two waiters came in; one of them put a large dishof oysters on the table, while the other placed a thick octavo volumebefore each guest. 

"The last of the season, " cried Barinskoi gayly, and helped himself tooysters. 

"The book! Bravo!" said Paul, and held out his hand to Dorfling. 

There was a short silence, while they all, even the cynical Barinskoi, contemplated the book before them, On the pearl-gray cover they read;

"The Philosophy of Deliverance, by X. Rheinthaler. "

"What an expressive title, " said Wilhelm, breaking the silence first. 

"Admirably adapted for a comic song, " remarked Mayboom, with amelancholy air. Barinskoi laughed loudly, while Dorfling looked blandlyat him. The comic poet sighed deeply and began to eat. 

"But why Rheinthaler?" asked Paul. 

"I at first wanted the book to appear anonymously; but the public isaccustomed now to see a proper name on the title page. If it does notfind one, its curiosity is excited, and what I particularly wished toavoid comes to pass, namely, the diversion of attention from theessential to the unessential. "

"That does not explain why you have not put your own name to it, " saidPaul. 

"My own name? What for? What is a name? What is an individuality, whicha name symbolizes? The thoughts which I have put down in this book arenot from me, the transient accident called Dorfling, but from theabsolute everlasting thing which thinks in my brain. I am merely thecarrier of the truth, appointed by it. What would you say if a postmanput his name on all the letters he delivers?"

"I should not be capable of such self-effacement, " said Paul. "If I haddevoted the best years of my life to any work I should be unable torenounce the recognition I had earned. "

"Recognition, Herr Haber. What sort of word is that? One does what onedoes, not because one wills, but because one must; not on account of anoperation aimed at, but because of a compelling cause. He who reckonson any kind of reward for his works is on the same footing as a sillywoman who claims men's approbation because she is pretty or anunreasoning child, who wants to be praised and petted because he haseaten his dinner. A mature perception arrives at this idea of the dutywhich one must fulfill, and in no hope of the gratification ofindividual vanity or self-seeking. Recognition! Does the wind hope forrecognition from the ships it helps to sail? Is it blamed if it dashesthe ship to pieces? It blows, as it must, and is perfectly indifferentabout what men say, and as to its effect on trees, and chimney-pots, and ships. My brain is now thinking just as the wind blows. There is nodifference between my organism and what goes on in the atmosphere. Bothobey the laws of nature, and I merely fulfill these when I write abook. "

"I quite agree with you, " said Wilhelm. 

The oysters had been eaten, and some wonderful Markobrunner drunk. Thewaiter now brought some Printaniere soup. The conversation halted, aseveryone had involuntarily opened his copy of the book, some of themperhaps really curious to read, the others out of sympathy for thewriter. 

"Please don't read it now, " said Dorfling, "the book will be just thesame to-morrow, but the soup will be cold. "

"That is the remark of a philosopher, " said Barinskoi, and poked hispointed red nose in the savory steam from his soup. 

"It is difficult to tear oneself away, " said Schrotter; "it would bevery friendly of you to give an idea of the thoughts at the foundationof your thesis. "

"How could I explain a whole system intelligibly in a few words?" saidDorfling. 

"You could leave out all the proofs and the development, we can readthose presently in your book. You need only just give us the main ideasof your 'Philosophy of Deliverance. '"

All the guests joined in Schrotter's request, Paul the most eagerly, for the idea of having to read through that thick, dry book hadfrightened him, and now he saw the possibility of knowing its contentsin an agreeable and comfortable way. 

Dorfling objected at first, but as his friends insisted he began. 

"The phenomenal world, in my opinion, is the foundation of a singlespiritual principle which you can call what you like--strength, finalcause, will, consciousness, God. This eternal principle separates partof itself from its own being--and this is the soul of mankind. Everysoul perceives clearly that it is a part of an eternal whole; it feelsitself unhappy and uneasy in its fragmentary existence, and yearns togo back again to the whole from whence it came. Individual life meansremoval from that all-embracing whole; individual death is the completeunion of finite parts with the infinite whole. Thus, although life is anecessity, it is a continual pain, and ceaseless yearning; death is thefreedom from pain and the fulfillment of that yearning. The only aim oflife is death at the end of it, and death is the goal toward whichevery activity of the living organism eagerly strives. "

Paul looked at Wilhelm and Schrotter, but as they were silent he saidnothing. Schrotter after consideration, said:

"Why do you separate a part of the eternal principle from itself?"

"To make its unity manifold through divisibility, to arrive at theconsciousness of the 'ego, ' through the creation of an absolutenegation. "

"Your eternal principle then, " said Schrotter, "appears to you likesome lord or master, who is lonely because he is by himself in theworld, and wishes to have the society of others. "

"Over this, however, is placed the creation of the negation arriving atthe consciousness of its own 'ego, ' in addition to the knowledge of theobject it has in view; thus consciousness precedes the rest, " saidWilhelm. 

Dorfling shook his head. 

"These objections are close reasoning. You will find them answered inthe book. "

"You are right, " said Schrotter, "it is unfair to criticize before wehave read the book. I only want to make one remark, not in the sense ofcriticism, but rather to confirm a fact. Your "Philosophy ofDeliverance" is no other than a form of Christianity which looks uponthe earth as a vale of tears, on life as a banishment, and on death asgoing home to the Father's house. The theology of the Vatican would notfind a hitch in your system. "

"Forgive me, doctor, " answered Dorfling. "I see a great differencebetween my system and Christianity. Both of them hold that life is amisery, and death is the deliverance. But Christianity does not explainwhy God creates men, and sends them to the misery of earth, instead ofleaving them in peace in heaven. I, on the contrary, claim that Iexplain the creation of living and conscious beings. "

"Your assertion then means that the eternal principle of phenomenacreates organisms, with the object of arriving at the consciousness ofitself?"

"Exactly. "

"Now, we have already answered you as to that, " said Schrotter, "and Iwill not keep back my objection any longer. Let me get away for amoment from your system, and say that between metaphysics and theologyI do not see the least difference. A metaphysical system and areligious dogma are both attempts to explain the incomprehensiblesecret to human reason. The negro solves the riddle of the musical-box, believing that a spirit is inside it, which gives forth musical soundsat the white man's command; and that is precisely what priests andphilosophers do when they explain the great workings of the universe bya God, or a principle, or whatever they call their fetich. Human naturealways wants to know the why and wherefore of things. When we are notsure of our ground, we help ourselves by conjectures, or even byimagination. These conjectures are senseless or reasonable, accordingto whether our knowledge is insufficient or comprehensive. Men aresatisfied in their childhood with stories as explanations of theworld's mysteries, in their maturity they advance to plausiblehypotheses: the stories yield to theology, hypotheses to philosophy. Religion presents a fictitious solution to the riddle in a concreteform, and metaphysics in an abstract form; the one relates and asserts, the other argues and avoids the improbable. It is only a difference ofdegree, not of character. "

"That is just so, " cried Wilhelm. "Metaphysics are as incapable asreligion of disclosing what lies behind the phenomenal world, and Icannot conceive (forgive me, Dorfling, if I say straight out what Imean), I cannot conceive how a philosopher can really take his ownsystem in earnest. He must know that his explanation is only aconjecture, a possibility at the best, and he actually has the temerityto preach it as a fixed truth. No, my friend, I do not expect anythingfrom metaphysics. It only interests me as a means for studyingpsychology. The history of philosophical systems is a history of thedevelopment of the mind of humanity. The systems are only valuable astestimonials to the endless extent and possibility of human thought. All the systems put together do not contain a spark of objective truth. "

"That is upon the whole the difference between natural science andmetaphysics, " said Schrotter. "Science regulates the boundary betweenwhat is known and what is not known, and declares when the limit isreached. Our knowledge has attained to a certain point, and beyond thatwe know and understand nothing, absolutely nothing. Metaphysics willnot stop at that limit. It confuses knowledge and dreams together, andmanufactures out of the two something quite worthless. It explainsthings which it does not understand, and which cannot be understood, and offers us detailed descriptions of countries into which it hasnever traveled, and where mankind probably never will travel. "

"May I say a word in defence of your metaphysics?" said Dorfling, witha slight smile. 

"Yes, go on, " cried Barinskoi. He had drunk more than all the rest puttogether, and the serious conversation seemed to afford him greatamusement. 

"Look here, Eynhardt. I cannot possibly uphold your statement thatmetaphysics do not contain a spark of objective truth. To be certain ofthat, one must also be certain what objective truth is. But you are notcertain, as you very well know, and so logically you must admit thepossibility that metaphysics can hold a spark of objective truth. I amof an entirely different opinion on this point. I believe that thescience of the actual content of things, the foundation of allappearances, the laws of the universe, in short, everything which youcall objective truth, is the property peculiar to the atoms, of whichthe world formerly existed. Absolute science, I say, is inherentmatter, like motion and gravitation. Matter does not learn of them, itpossesses them. A cell has not studied chemistry, but with unfailingaccuracy it executes its wonderful chemical operations. Water knowsnothing of physics and mathematics, but it flows from the spring, justas high as the laws of hydraulic pressure command. "

"Bravo, " interrupted Mayboom, "that explains at last something I neverunderstood; and that is, why a flower pot should fall off a windowstraight on the heads of people in the street, with unfailing accuracy. "

"Please, Mayboom, no bad jokes to-day, " said Dorfling gently. 

The comic song writer sighed and again sank into deep thought, and thephilosopher went on:

"The science of truth, to which every atom adheres, dwells in men. Wemust not forget that man is a collection of countless millions ofatoms; the collected consciousness of mankind can know just as much ofwhat each atom knows, as a whole people can understand of Greek orSanscrit because one or other of its members can read those languages. Only through intercommunication can the knowledge of the few become theknowledge of the many. The development of the living being I regard inthis way, that the atoms at first only hang loosely, gradually becomingmore closely knit together, until they make a substantial organism. Thesingle atoms in the course of this process of development step over theboundary toward consciousness. At first it is a trembling, insecureforeboding, like the sensation of light to one nearly blind, then theoutlines of truth become clearer, and all at once grow sharp andclearly defined. The different attempts at explanation of the secretsof the world are the expression of these forebodings of truth. So everyone of the religious and philosophical systems is to my mind a grain ofthe truth, and the whole of it will be found in the great unity whichwe shall reach in a higher development. "

"As charming as a pretty story, " said Schrotter, "but--it is only astory after all. You conjecture that the thing is so situated, but youare not in a condition to prove it; and if I deny it, you have no meansof compelling me to believe, as I can compell you to believe that twicetwo makes four. No, no; nothing can come of these metaphysicalspeculations. The whole philosophy is not worth psychologicaltreatment. We are no further to-day than the old Greeks, whoseknowledge led to the formula, 'Know thyself. ' We can hope to knowourselves some day, to know what goes on in our brains. I hardlybelieve, however, that science will ever arrive at it. "

"The study of natural science has brought me to the same conclusion, "said Wilhelm. "We know nothing to-day of the nature of phenomena--weknew nothing yesterday, and we shall know nothing to-morrow. The greatadvance in thought has only brought us to the point of no moreself-deception, and exactly knowing what we do know, whereas yesterdaymen deceived themselves, and imagined that the fables of religion andmetaphysics were positive knowledge. The history of physical science isin this respect very interesting. It teaches that every step forwarddoes not consist of a new explanation, but rather goes to prove, thatthe earlier explanations were untrustworthy. The sphere of the exactsciences does not grow wider, but narrower. It would be veryinstructive to study the history of natural science at the point it hasreached. "

"Why do you not write such a history?" asked Schrotter. 

"Why? It would be foolish to add another book to the millions of booksalready written. All that one can say about it is soon said. Anythingreally new is written once in a thousand years, all the rest isrepetition, dilution, compilation. If everyone who writes on a subjectwere to read first everything which has been written on that subject, he would very soon throw his pen out of the window. "

"I must again differ from you, " said Dorfling. "I think it is best, that we so seldom know all that has been thought and written on asubject. It is best that we write new books without wearying to readthe millions of others. I grant that most books are only repetitions ofearlier ones. But it is unconscious repetition, and it is exactly thatwhich gives it a wonderfully new meaning. It proves unity of mind, identity of science. Thousands of men daily discover gunpowder. Many ofthem laugh, because gunpowder was first discovered two hundred yearsago. I do not laugh. I see in it the manifestation of the eternal unityof phenomenal principle. So many men could not arrive at the samethought if they were not fragments of a whole; now you know why I havewritten a book, and also, why I have not put my individual name on thetitle-page. "

From the next room they heard a woman laugh in a wild, excited way, glasses chinked together, and a man's voice was just distinguished inconversation. Barinskoi pricked up his ears and winked at Paul; theothers paid no attention. 

"Do not misunderstand me, " said Wilhelm, answering Dorfling's lastremark. "I do not mean to say that your book is superfluous. You hadevery right to it, having made it the object of your life. "

"Not the object of my life, " interrupted Dorfling. "The only object Ihave in life is death, which I call deliverance. "

"Very good; I will say then, when you conceived it your duty to writeit. "

"'Duty' yes, I will allow that word to pass. Let us rather say impulse, or instinct. If one has a perception one also feels an impulse, whichone calls a feeling of duty to share it with others. "

Wilhelm smiled. 

"You believe even in perception. That proves above all what you mean byyour duty. I know, to my regret, that I have no perceptions to sharewith others, and the duty of my life is only toward my own moraleducation and greatest possible perfection. "

"That is not enough, " Paul broke in, "this self-culture in one's ownstudy does no one any good. For that reason I do not mind if I appearunphilosophical. One has duties toward one's fellowmen. One must beuseful to the State, as a good citizen. One must make money, to add tothe national wealth. "

"Bravo, Herr Haber, " said Mayboom gravely. "You speak like atown-crier, " and after a short pause he added, "That is a greatcompliment from me. "

"We express the same meaning in different forms, " answered Wilhelm. "How can you add to the national wealth? By making yourself a rich man. And I try to be useful to the community by educating myself in thegreatest possible morality, and the highest ideal of a citizen. No onecan work outside of himself when every individual strives to be goodand true, then the whole people will be good and noble. "

"Now you are disputing as to your life's duty, " cried Baninskoi, whoseeyes glowed, and whole face was red with the alcohol he had imbibed. "Prove first that it is a duty. I deny without exception every duty toothers. Why should I trouble myself about the world? What are myfellow-creatures to me? Dinner is trumps, and long live wine!" and hedrank a glassful. 

"It is an instinct born with us, " said Wilhelm, without any vexation, "to care for one's fellow-creatures, and to feel a duty in sympathy forothers. "

"But suppose I have not got this instinct?" answered Barinskoi. 

"Then you are an unhealthy exception. "

"Prove it. "

"The best proof is the continuance of mankind. If the instinct ofsympathy with others were to fail among men, humanity would long agohave ceased to exist. "

Barinskoi laughed. 

"That is a convenient arrangement. Instinct then is the only foundationfor your duty, and the continuance of humanity is the only sanction ofyour instinct. I will leave you to listen to your instinct, andsympathize as much as you like, but for my part I joyfully renouncethis duty; the only punishment I should be afraid of is the destructionof mankind, and that is not likely to happen in my lifetime. "

"There is another punishment, " said Mayboom solemnly, "that I take thisbottle of champagne away from you on account of--your bad behavior. "

While he spoke he took away the bottle, and Barinskoi tried to get itback again; a little struggle ensued. Dorfling put an end to it by anemphatic "Please don't do that. " Turning to Wilhelm he went on:

"I do not believe in your idea of duty; you place instinct at thefoundation. I use another word. I call your instinct the forebodingthat each has of its being, and its outflow toward the eternalphenomenon of principle. At all events, that seems to suffice for afoundation. But I conceive duty to be quite a different thing. Youlimit your view to self-culture, and have love for yourfellow-creatures, but no desire to instruct them. Now, I think thatculture should begin with oneself, but end with others. That is my ideaof love for humanity. One need hardly go out of oneself to do this. Onecan influence things remote without disturbing oneself. Just think ofthe magnet; it is an immense source of influence, called example. Itsets an astonishing example without moving out of itself--an examplewhich cannot be overlooked, and powerfully affects the imagination. "

"One illustration for another, " said Schrotter, who had shown hisinterest in the conversation by nodding his head now and then. "Youwish man to play the part of a magnet; that is not enough, I want himto play the part of a cogwheel. He must catch hold of his surroundingswhile he moves, he must also move all those round him. Everyone cannotbe a magnet; we are not all made of the same stuff. But one can make acogged wheel out of whatever one will--and beside, a magnet onlyinfluences certain substances. It will draw iron, but cannot attractcopper, wood, or stone; but the cogwheel takes hold of anything nearit, of whatever material it is made. I will not work the illustrationto death. You can see by this what I mean. I think a far-reachingactivity is the first business of mankind. Our nerves are not so muchthose of sensation as of movement; we do not only take in impressionsfrom the outside, we are provided with organs which give outimpressions received from within. Every sensation of movement whichnature sends through us is a summons to be answered by an action, notonly self-culture, not example, not passive good-will toward others, but by the intention an object of activity toward the world andhumanity. The Middle Ages summoned up the business of life in thewords, 'Ora et Labora. ' They are beautiful words, and after this lapseof time we take the meaning out for ourselves, in other words, 'Thinkand Act. '"

The woman's laughter from the next room became louder, and then theyheard chairs pushed back, and the noise of departure. The rustling of asilk dress, with the clinking of spurs and sword, passed the door, became fainter, and then ceased. It was near midnight, and Schrotterrose to go. He was thinking of Bhani, who was sitting up for him athome. The dinner must have been paid for beforehand, for the guestswere spared the sight of a money transaction to chill the end of theirpleasant evening. The cool night air felt refreshing after the heat ofthe small room. Dorfling declined the offers his friends made toaccompany him home. They all wished him "Farewell. "

"Die well, would be a better wish, " replied Dorfling, and with thesestrange words in their ears they left him. 

Schrotter and Wilhelm went a part of the way with Paul, who had thefurthest to go. For a little while he was silent, then he broke out:

"I declare this is beyond my comprehension. The whole time I was thereI felt as if I were in a vault with a lot of ghosts. You, Herr Doctor, were the only living being among them; I breathed again when I heardyou talking. If I had not head the sounds from next door, and had nothad the realities of our dinner before me, I should have thought I wasdreaming. "

"What has put you out so, my dear Paul?" said Wilhelm. 

"What! Are you men of flesh and blood? Are you really alive? There wesat for four mortal hours, and the talk was wearisome to a degree, never one sensible word. "

"Now! now!" protested Schrotter. 

"Herr Doctor, forgive me, but I must repeat it, never one sensibleword. Do you call Dorfling's 'Philosophy of Deliverance' sensible? or, Wilhelm, your philosophy of self-culture, which, with all deference toyou, I call philosophical onanism? Only six men, two of them underthirty-five, and the whole blessed evening not one word about eitherpleasure or love. "

They had come to the place where Friedrichstrasse and Leipzigerstrassecross each other; and Schrotter signed to them to look toward the leftcorner. There under a gas lamp they saw Barinskoi in earnestconversation with a woman. 

"Yes, look at him! That brute is still the most reasonable among allyour philosophics. He has his method of sponging, and enjoys himselfaccording to the category of Aristotle. But your metaphysics--"

"What do you really want, Paul?"

"Well, I want you all to have to do for once with practical life, withtwo hundred workmen to pay and ten thousand acres of land to see after;and artificial manures and the price of corn to worry you; then perhapsyou would take a little less interest as to whether the soul was aphenomenon or an india-rubber ball, or whether men were magnets orcogwheels. "

Wilhelm only smiled. He had long ago given up trying to bring hispractical friend to ideal views. At the corner of the Kochstrasse theyseparated, and Paul continued his way to the Lutzowstrasse, whileWilhelm and Schrotter turned back. 

Twenty minutes later, as Wilhelm entered his bedroom, his eyes fell ona letter for him in Dorfling's handwriting. He opened it, greatlysurprised, and read as follows:

"DEAR FRIEND: When you read this I shall be free from all trouble andall doubt. I have accomplished what I set myself to do, and I am goingback to eternity from this limited sphere. May you be as happy as Ishall be in a few hours! Keep a friendly thought for me as long as youstay in this world of misery, and believe that he who writes this hadthe warmest friendship for you. "

"L. DORFLING. "

Wilhelm stood as if thunderstruck. Was it by any chance a dreadfuljoke? No; Dorfling was incapable of that. It must be a grim reality. Heran quickly out of the house to seek Schrotter. The old Indian servantopened the door, and in his broken English informed him that SchrotterSahib had found a letter when he reached home and had immediately goneout again. 

Wilhelm could now doubt no longer, and running swiftly, he reached thestreet where Dorfling lived, waited in agonizing suspense for the doorto be opened, flew up the stairs, and through the open door to hisfriend's bedroom. There he found Schrotter; Mayboom was also theresobbing, and a tearful old servant. In an arm chair near the bed wasDorfling, still in his dress coat and tie, his head sunk on his breast, his face hardly whiter than in life, his arms hanging down, and in themiddle of the white shirt-front a great red stain. On the floor lay arevolver. 

Wilhelm, horrified, took his friend's hand. It was still quite warm. His agonizing look sought Schrotter's, who answered in a hushed voice, "He is dead. "

Then his tears broke out, and his trembling fingers had hardly strengthto close the lids over his friend's eyes, those eyes which looked sostrangely quiet and peaceful as if they now knew the answer to theGreat Secret. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

DARK DAYS. 

Dorfling's suicide made a profound impression on Wilhelm, and formonths he was haunted by the vision of that motionless form with itswhite face and blood-stained breast. It had a weird fascination forhim, causing him to revert constantly to that tragical May night thathad begun with a cheerful dinner, and ended in a fatal pistol shot. Paul's comment on the occurrence was short and concise. "The poor chapwas mad, " he said, and there the matter ended as far as he wasconcerned. Mayboom revered his friend's memory as he would a saint, anderected a kind of chapel to him in his house, in which Dorfling'sportrait, his book, and various objects belonging to him, thrown up inrelief against draperies and surrounded by a variety of symbolicalaccessories, were set forth for the pious delectation of the master ofthe house and his visitors. Schrotter held aloof from this cult. Heappreciated Dorfling's character, his consistency, his strength of willand highmindedness as they deserved, but he was never tired ofpreaching and demonstrating to Wilhelm that all these admirablequalities had been turned out of their proper course by a disturbingmorbid influence. It was monstrous, he contended, that a system ofphilosophy should arm you for suicide. What if the premises shouldprove false? Then your voluntary death would be a frightful mistakewhich nothing could retrieve. One has no right to risk making such amistake. He believed in development, in the progress of the organicworld from a lower to a higher stage. Progress and development, however, were conditional upon life, and he who has recourse toself-destruction sets an example of unseemly revolt against one of themost beautiful and comforting of all the laws of nature. Moreover, suicide was a waste of force on which it was simply heartrending tohave to look. There were so many great deeds to be done which calledfor the laying down of life. In a thousand different ways one mightbenefit mankind by Winkelried-like actions. If one was determined todie, one should at least render thereby to those left behind one ofthose sublime services which demand the sacrifice of a life. 

In their frequent conversations upon this subject, he was so earnest, so eloquent, so markedly intentional, that Wilhelm finally gave him thesmiling assurance that he was preaching to a convert. It was true, hehad the highest respect for a man who did not hesitate to cast lifefrom him when his whole mind and thought led him to the conviction thatdeath was preferable to life; and unprincipled as suicide might be froman objective point of view, subjectively considered, there surely wasan ideal fitness in making one's actions agree to the uttermost pointwith one's opinions? Nevertheless, he himself did not approve ofDorfling's deed, and would certainly never imitate it, for one couldnever know what intentions the unknown powers might not have withregard to the individual; by committing suicide he maybe threw up somepossible mission, or by his premature departure disturbed the action ofthe great machine in which he--as some small screw or wheel--doubtlesshad his modest place and function. 

As if to prove to Schrotter that he was no disciple of the "Philosophyof Deliverance, " he turned his attention, more than he had ever donebefore, to the realities of life. Dorfling left a remarkable will. Hebequeathed his fortune--most advantageously invested in a house inDusseldorf and in public funds--yielding a yearly income of aboutthirty-five thousand marks, to his two friends, Dr Schrotter and DrEynhardt, with the sole charge that out of it they should provide asufficient competency for his old servant, dating from his father'stime, who had attended him literally from the cradle to the grave. Thefortune was to be theirs conjointly and indivisibly, and should one ofthem die, to devolve to the survivor, who in his turn was to make sucharrangements as he thought best to insure its being applied, after hisdeath, in accordance with the testator's views. He expressed the hopethat his two heirs would use the income derived from the property inalleviating the misery inseparable from human existence, of whichthroughout life they must be witnesses. Dorfling's only near relativewas herself very wealthy and generous-minded, and did not dispute thewill, it was accordingly proved. 

Wilhelm declared from the first that he understood nothing of themanagement of a fortune, of business papers, and so forth, and wantedto hand over the administration of the whole to Schrotter. Schrotter, however, would not hear of it, and after vying with one another ingenerous self-disparagement and mutual confidence, they finally agreedthat Schrotter, being a practical man, and conversant with the ways ofbusiness and the world, should take the management of the fortune uponhimself, but that Wilhelm should receive a monthly sum of fifteenhundred marks out of the income to apply as he thought best to therelief of the needy. The other half of the income was at Schrotter'sdisposal, who put it, of course, to the same use. In his capacity asmember of the deputation for the poor, and also as parish doctor, hecame in contact with much poverty and misery, and was able to directWilhelm's charity into the right channels. It became Wilhelm's regularafternoon employment to visit the homes of those mentioned to him as inneed of relief, that he might the better judge for himself of the truestate of the case, make personal inquiries about the people, and stepin where help was necessary and deserved. 

Only now did he learn what life really was, and what he saw neitherincreased his pleasure in being alive nor made him proud to be a manamong men. Needless to say, it was not long before the news reached thecircles of the professional beggars that there was a gentleman in theDorotheenstrasse who had a considerable yearly sum of money to giveaway. The result was that his modest apartment was so besieged bypetitioners that his old landlady, Frau Muller, the widow of apost-office official, with whom he had boarded and lodged for sevenyears, was goaded to desperation, and declared that if the disgracefulrabble was encouraged she would be obliged to part from Wilhelm, thoughit would be her death, she being so fond of him and so used to hisways. Wilhelm was wise enough to admit the justice of her complaint, and empowered Frau Muller to turn away ruthlessly all such visitorswhose names were unknown to her, or who came without recommendation, which orders she carried out with such virulence and relentlessness, that the worshipful company of professional beggars rapidly came to theconclusion that it was useless trying to gain admittance to Dr. Eynhardt as long as he was guarded by the tall, bony old lady whoopened the door but would not leave hold of it. So the unceasing trampof dirty boots on the echoing stair was hushed, and Wilhelm saw no moreof the crape-clad widows of eminent officials who required a sewingmachine or a piano to save them from starvation; the gentlemen whowould be forced to put a bullet through their brains if they did notprocure the money to pay a debt of honor; or the unemployed clerks whohad eaten nothing for days, and who all had a sick wife and from six totwelve children (all small) at home crying for bread; or the foreignerswho could find no work in Berlin, and would return to their nativecountries if he would give them a few thalers to pay their fourth-classrailway fare; and similar interesting persons, the endless diversity ofwhose life-histories had kept him in a chronic state of surprise formonths. In place of the visitors he now received letters, as many as ifhe had been a cabinet minister. It was the same old story, only lessaffecting, because generally deficient in style, and faulty as tospelling, and no longer illustrated by tearful, vigorously mopped eyes, abysmal sighs, and hands wrung till they cracked. For a time Wilhelmwent to every address given in these letters, in order to see and hearfor himself, but after awhile his powers of discrimination weresharpened, and he learned to distinguish between the impositions ofswindlers and professional beggars, and the real distress which has aclaim to sympathy. 

By degrees, it is true, he became convinced, even in the chilldwellings of real poverty, that this was hardly ever entirelyunmerited. Where it had not been brought about by laziness, frivolity, or drink, its source was to be found in ignorance or incapacity, inother words, in an inefficient equipment for the battle of life. Hejudged all these circumstances, however, to be the outward and visiblesigns of obscure natural laws, and that to interfere with rash andignorant hands in their workings was as useless as it was unreasonable. He therefore pondered seriously whether, by denying to a portion ofmankind the qualities indispensable to success in the struggle forexistence, Nature herself did not predestine them to misery anddestruction; whether the irredeemable poor--those who after each helpupward invariably fell back in the former state--were not theoffscourings of humanity, the preservation of whom was a fruitlesstask, and altogether against the design of Nature?

Fortunately, he did not allow his deeds of brotherly love to bedarkened by the shadow of these and kindred thoughts. He broughtforward reasons which always ended by triumphing over his cold doubts. Misery was possibly the outcome of inexorable natural laws, but thenwas not compassion the same? The poor were poor under the pressure ofsome irresistible force, but did not the charitable act under the samepressure? Moreover, was Wilhelm so sure that he himself was betterequipped for the race of life than those unfortunates who went underbecause they chose a trade for which they were neither mentally norphysically competent, or because, from laziness or obstinacy, theyinsisted on remaining in Berlin, where nobody wanted them, when a fewmiles off they might have found all the conditions conducive to theirprosperity? How could he know whether he would have been capable ofearning his living if his father had not left him a plentifully-spreadtable? In the rooms that contained so little furniture and so manyemaciated human beings, into which his charitable zeal led him everyday, he pictured himself, pale and thin, without food, without books;and although he had the harmless vanity to believe that privation andpenury would affect him less deeply than the poor devils he visited, the idea that he saw his own face before him, as it might have been hadhe not had the good luck to be his father's heir opened his hand stillwider, and added to the money words of sympathy and comfort, whichafforded the recipients--unless they were utterly hardened--as muchpleasure as the donation itself. 

Beside his almsgiving, he now had another occupation which took up allhis surplus time. Schrotter had not let the suggestion drop which hemade at Dorfling's dinner-party, and had persuaded Wilhelm so long thathe finally rouse himself to attempt an account of the ways and means bywhich the human mind has freed itself of its grossest errors. It was tobe entitled "A History of Human Ignorance, " and promised to be a mostoriginal work. He would endeavor to show what idea people had had ofthe universe at various periods, how they explained the phenomena ofnature, their connection, their causes and effects. He would begin withthe childish superstitions of the savages, and continuing through theso-called learned systems of the ancients and of the Middle Ages, wouldbring his history up to the theories of contemporary scientists. Hewould demonstrate the psychological causes of the fact that man, at acertain stage of intellectual development, must necessarily fall intocertain errors, and by the aid of what experiments, experiences, andconclusions he had come gradually to recognize them as such. How thefresh interpretation of a single phenomenon would overturn, at oneblow, a number of other phenomena hitherto considered entirelysatisfactory, how prevailing scientific theories, instead of assistingthe fearless observer or discoverer, invariably hindered him and turnedhim from the right path, in proof of which assertion he brought forwardsuch striking examples as Aristotle's convulsive endeavors to make eachof the senses correspond to one of the four elements in which theybelieved in his day, and Kepler with his fantastic efforts to prove thesupremacy of the Pythagorean seven in the solar system. The object ofthe book was to show that the history of human knowledge is a historyof false inferences and the erroneous interpretations of correctlyobserved phenomena, that the increase of knowledge always means thedestruction of existing opinions, that of all the scientific systems upto the present day, only those retained their position which proved thefutility of earlier theories--never those which built up new structureson the foundations of the old house of cards that had been blown down. In a word, that progress means not the acquisition of fresh knowledge, but an ever-extended consciousness of the futility of the knowledge wethought to possess. 

Wilhem spared himself no pains with this work. He brought all thethoroughness and industry of his honest nature to bear upon it, wouldaccept no statement at second-hand, but went for every information tothe fountain head. It would cost an immense amount of time, but afterall he had that at his disposal. There was no need for him to hurry, seeing that he did not write from ambition or for any materialadvantage, but simply for his own gratification. He began by rubbing uphis school Greek sufficiently to enable him to read the ancientphilosophers with ease, which he achieved in a few months, and then setto work to learn Arabic, that being the chief language of science inthe Middle Ages. Schrotter was seriously alarmed at these extensivepreparations, and hastened to procure, through his pandit friends, someEnglish extracts from the scientific literature of India, lest Wilhelmmight think fit to study Sanscrit, and decades would pass before hecame to write the first word of his book. 

Thus four years went by, years full of work, though they left novisible traces. Meanwhile the aspect of things in the new Empire hadbecome very different. Men breathed the oppressive air with laboringbreasts; the bright dawn which promised so glorious a day had, beenfollowed by sullen mists, and the blue sky had disappeared behindheavy, leaden-gray clouds, through which no comforting ray of sunshinepierced. Where was all the glowing enthusiasm, the rapture of hope andjoy that, in the first years after the great war, had flushed everyGerman cheek and lit up every eye? Throughout the length and breath ofthe land the opposing factions confronted one another like armedantagonists preparing for a duel to the death. Town and village rangwith execration and satire, with howls of rage or satisfied revengevented by German against German. The Roman Catholic shook his clinchedfist at the Protestant, the liberal at the conservative, theprotectionist at the free-trader, the partisan of absolute governmentat the defender of the people's rights. Everywhere hatred and malice, everywhere a mad desire to gag, to maltreat, to tear limb from limb;this unfettering of the basest human passions giving meanwhile such animpetus to bribery, corruption, and unprincipled advancement for partypurposes as to resemble the loathsome luxuriant growth of mildew in thedamp corners of some neglected storeroom. 

The high tide of the foreign millions had ebbed away, showing itself tohave been no fructifying Nile but a destructive lava stream, leavingthe country charred and desolate after its passage. The gold that onlyyesterday had poured through greedy fingers, had turned to-day to ashesand withered leaves like the goblin gold of a fairy tales. Diminishedinclination for work, an insanely increased demand for the luxuries oflife, the accepted ideas of morality shaken to their foundations byscandalous examples of triumphant vice and villainy--these were theblessings that remained after the so-called impetus following on the"Downfall. " Work was scarcer, wages lower, but the flood of countrypeople seeking work continued to roll toward the capital, overcomingwith irresistible force the backward wave of unfortunates who couldfind no employment in the building yards, the factories or theworkshops, trampling blindly over the bodies of the fallen, like a herdof buffaloes which marches ever straight ahead, which nothing can turnout of its course, and when it arrives at a precipice over which theleaders fall, presses onward till the last one is swallowed up in thedepths. The misery and privation became heartrending to witness. Eachmorning you might see in the working quarters of the town and suburbshundreds of strong men, their hands--perforce idle--buried in theirtorn and empty pockets, going from factory to factory asking for work, while the overseers would wave them off from afar to avoid a uselessinterchange of words. If, in the years of the French milliards, theworkingman had turned socialist out of sheer envy and wantonness, hebecame so now under the sting of adversity, and in all the length andbreadth of Berlin there was hardly one of the proletariat who was not afanatical disciple of the new doctrine, with its slashing denunciationsagainst all that was, and its intoxicating promises of all that was tobe. Wilhelm had many opportunities of intercourse with the unemployed. He gave help as far as his fifty marks a day would reach, and kept thewolf from many a door. But the miraculous loaves and fishes of thegospel would have been necessary to successfully alleviate even thedistress which he saw with his own eyes, and although much of thepreaching of the social democrats still seemed to him merephrase-making and altogether mistaken, he yet came gradually to theconclusion that somewhere--he did not precisely know where--in theconstruction of the social machine there must be a flaw, seeing thatthere were so many people who could and would work, and yet were doomedto despair and ruin for lack of employment. The spring of 1878 cameround, and brought with it two attempts on the life of the emperorwithin three weeks. Scarcely had the people recovered from the horrorcaused by Hodel's crime when it was shaken to its depths by Nobiling'smurderous shot. 

On that terrible Sunday, June the 2d, Wilhelm had dined with Schrotter, and about three o'clock they started for a walk. In the few steps thatseparate the Mittelstrasse from the Linden they saw what was going onin the town. In Unter den Linden, however, they were received by theyells of the newspaper men calling out the first special editions, andfound themselves in the stream of people pouring toward the Palace orto No. 18, where they pointed out the window on the second floor fromwhich the too-well-aimed shot had fallen. 

From the special editions, from the confused remarks and exclamationsof the crowd in which the two friends found themselves, and theinformation they obtained from the grim-looking policemen, rougher andless communicative than ever, they learned all that was necessary ofthe bloody deed which had taken place an hour ago. Wilhelm couldscarcely control his horror, and even Schrotter, though calmer, wasdeeply moved and downcast. All pleasure in their walk was gone, andthey decided to return to Schrotter's house. 

"It is simply hideous, " said Wilhelm, as they turned into theFriedrichstrasse, "that we have such brutes living among us! We know, of course, that there is a great deal of distress, but a man who canrevenge his own trouble on the person of the emperor must be lower thanthe beasts of the field. And men who at this time of day have suchideas on State organization are electors!"

"Good heavens!" cried Schrotter, with unconscious vehemence, "you aresurely not going to make the popular mistake of drawing sweepingconclusions from these outrages? Such occurrences have no outsideimportance. They are the acts of madmen. Their following so closelyupon one another is the very surest proof of that. There are in Germanythousands--perhaps tens of thousands--of unhappy creatures whose mindsare more or less unhinged, though their inexperienced surroundings donot know it. Some exceptional event will suddenly put the entirepopulation in a state of ferment, the imagination of the alreadymorbidly inclined will be particularly strongly affected thereby; theypicture the occurrence to themselves till it takes hold of them, anddrives out every other thought from their minds, becomes a nightmare, apossession, and finally an irresistible impulse to do the same. Afterevery event of the kind, you hear that a whole number of people havegone mad, and that their insanity is somehow connected with it. No suchthing. They were mad before, and the insanity which had lain dormant inthem only waited for a chance shock to give it definite form andcharacter. "

They had reached Schrotter's door by this time, and were on the pointof entering, when a policeman stepped up to them, and touchingWilhelm's arm, said:

"Gentlemen, you will have to come with me. "

"Why, what do you mean?" they exclaimed, very much taken aback. 

"Better make no fuss, but come quietly with me, " answered thepoliceman, "This gentleman accuses you of making insulting remarksagainst his majesty. "

Only now did they become aware of a man standing behind the policemanand glaring at them in fury. 

"Are you mad?" Schrotter burst out angrily. "That is for the magistrateto decide, " exclaimed the man, in a voice trembling with rage; "andyou, policeman, do your duty. "

Passers-by began to gather round the group, so, to bring a disagreeablescene to a close, Schrotter said to Wilhelm:

"We had better go with the policeman; I suppose we shall be enlightenedpresently. "

A short walk brought them to the police office in the Neue WilhelmsStrasse, where they were taken before the lieutenant of police. Thepoliceman deposed in a few words that he had been standing at thecorner of the Friedrich and Mittelstrasse, the two gentlemen passed himin loud conversation; the third gentleman, who was following them, thencame up to him, and told him to arrest them because they had spokeninsultingly of his majesty, and here they were. He had neither seen norheard anything further. 

The lieutenant of police began by asking their names. When they toldhim--"Dr. Schrotter, M. D. One of the members for Berlin and ProfessorEmeritus, " and "Dr. Eynhardt, Doctor of Philosophy, householder, " heoffered them chairs. The informer introduced himself as"non-commissioned officer Patke, retired, member of a militaryassociation, and candidate for the private constabulary. "

"What have you to bring forward against the gentlemen?"

"I walked behind the two gentlemen from the Linden to theMittelstrasse. They were conversing loudly about the attemptedassassination, and I naturally listened. "

"It does not appear to me so very natural, " commented the lieutenantdryly. 

The informer was a trifle disconcerted, but he soon recovered himself, and proceeded in a declamatory manner:

"The younger gentleman--the dark one--expressed himself in veryunbecoming terms with regard to his majesty the emperor, and said amongother things, that the outrage was of no real importance. I am apatriot, I have served his august majesty; if his majesty--"

"That will do, " the lieutenant broke in, ruthlessly interrupting theretired non-commissioned officer's flow of language, which heaccompanied with a dramatic waving of the right arm. "Can you repeatthe 'unbecoming terms' of which, according to your account, thisgentleman made use?"

"I cannot remember the exact words. I was too excited. So much, however, I remember distinctly--he declared the attempt upon hismajesty's life to be an occurrence of no importance. "

Wilhelm now broke in. 

"Not a word of that is true, " he said quietly. "Neither of us said oneword which could justify this inconceivable charge. "

"The remark which this informer seems to have taken hold of, " Schrotterobserved, "was not made by my friend, Dr. Eynhardt, but by me. I didnot say either that the occurrence was unimportant, but that it had nogeneral significance--that it was not a proof of the prevailing feelingat large. "

"It comes to the same thing whether you say it has no importance or nosignificance, " interrupted the informer. "That gentleman may have madethe remark, but I certainly heard it, and as a loyal servant of hismajesty--"

"That is quite enough, " said the lieutenant of police authoritatively. Then turning to the two friends--"I am very sorry, but as things standat present, I must let the law take its course. Do you persist in yourcharge?" he asked the informer. 

"Yes, Herr Lieutenant; my duty to my sovereign--"

"Silence. Gentlemen, I shall be obliged to notify the matter to theproper authorities. I expect you will be called upon to clearyourselves before the magistrate, which I have no doubt you will beable to do successfully. I need not detain you any longer. "

Wilhelm and Schrotter bowed courteously and withdrew, withoutvouchsafing a glance at the informer. The latter lingered, as if hewould have liked to continue the conversation with the lieutenant ofpolice, but an emphatic "You may go!" sent him rapidly over thethreshold of the office. 

Five days afterward, on a Friday, Schrotter and Wilhelm were summonedto appear in the Stadtvogtei [Footnote: A certain prison in Berlin. ]before the magistrate, a disagreeable person with a bilious complexion, venomous eyes behind his spectacles, and the unpleasing habit ofcontinually scooping out his ear with the little finger of his lefthand. The two friends, the informer, and the policeman were present. The magistrate could not have received them differently if they hadbeen accused of robbing and murdering their parents. To be sure, hebehaved no better to the informer. His expression of unmitigateddisgust was perhaps a freak of nature, and no indication of the truestate of his feelings. 

He had a bundle of papers before him, in which he searched for sometime before opening his mouth. 

"You are accused of having made use of offensive expressions regardinghis majesty, " he said to Schrotter. 

"On a preposterously unfounded charge, " he retorted. 

"And you too, " he turned to Wilhelm. 

"I can only repeat Dr. Schrotter's answer. "

"Give your evidence, " he ordered the policeman. 

The man did so. 

"Could you understand what the gentleman said?"

"No. "

"How far was Patke behind them?"

"A few steps. "

"You must be more exact. "

"I can't say more exactly than that, for I paid no attention to thegentlemen till I was told to arrest them. "

"Is it your opinion that Herr Patke could have heard distinctly whatthe gentlemen were saying to one another?"

"I dare say he might have understood if they spoke very loud, but Ican't say for certain. "

"Herr Patke, what have you to say?"

The former non-commissioned officer, who had donned his 1870 medal forthe occasion, hereupon assumed a strictly military bearing, fixed hiseye firmly on the magistrate, and began in a sing-song voice:

"I happened to be in the street last Sunday when the infamous wretchlifted his murderous hand against the sacred person of our augustmonarch. My heart bled; I was beside myself; I could have torneverybody and everything to pieces. As I walked along I noticed thesetwo gentlemen, who looked to me suspicious from the first--"

"Why?" asked the magistrate. 

"Well--the one with his black hair, and the other with his hookednose--I said to myself, 'Those are Jews!'"

The magistrate suddenly bent over his papers, and gave a kind of grunt. Even the policeman, in spite of his wooden official air, could notrepress a smile. Patke continued:

"Then I heard the younger gentleman say, 'It serves his majesty theemperor quite right. '"

"Did he actually say, his majesty the emperor?" interrupted themagistrate. 

"No, " answered Patke eagerly, "I say that. "

"You are only to repeat the gentleman's actual words. "

"He actually did say that it served the emperor right. "

"This is beyond a joke, " Schrotter burst out. "Why, man, I wonder thelie does not stick in your throat and choke you!"

"I must beg you not to address the witness, " said the magistratebrusquely. Then to Patke severely--"That is not what you said in yourfirst charge. "

"I was confused then; I did not recollect distinctly. But later on itcame back to me. "

"That is very improbable. What have you to answer, Dr. Eynhardt?"

"Simply, that the man's statement is absolutely untrue. I never utteredor thought words bearing the remotest resemblance to those he quotes. "

"What my friend does not say is, " broke in Schrotter, "that, on thecontrary, he expressed the deepest and most painful emotion at thecrime. "

The magistrate shot a venomous glance from under his spectacles atSchrotter, but quailed before those flaming half-closed blue eyes fixedso sternly upon him. 

"Well, and what have you to bring forward against the other gentleman?"

"That gentleman said the outrage was of no great importance. "

"In your first account you said the outrage had no real significance, and that Dr. Eynhardt made the remark. "

"Whether he said 'no importance' or 'no significance, ' it is all thesame thing, and one cannot so easily distinguish the speaker when oneis walking behind. I may have been mistaken on that point. "

"You do not repudiate the remark?" asked the magistrate of Schrotter inhis most biting tones. 

"Your expression is not very happily chosen. By repudiating Iunderstand the declaring of a fact to be false when we know it to betrue. I am not in the habit of doing that, nor should I suppose it ofyou, Herr Staatsanwalt. "

"I need no instruction from you, " the other returned angrily. 

"It would seem so, however" Schrotter calmly rejoined. 

The magistrate grunted several times and then asked, after a pause, during which he was particularly busy with his ear:

"You admit the statement, then?"

"Not altogether. It is true that I said the attempt on the emperor'slife had no general significance, but I meant by that and the rest ofwhat I said, that if the political parties should make this isolatedcrime (committed by an undoubtedly insane person) the excuse foradopting measures inimical to the liberty of the public in general, they would be doing something both unjustifiable and reprehensible. "

"Can he have said that?" asked the magistrate, turning to Patke. 

"I don't know. I only know what I said just now. "

Renewed grunting, renewed digging in the ear and turning over ofpapers. "Hm--hm, " he muttered to himself testily, "that is not enough. It is too indefinite, in spite of strong grounds for suspicion. " Thenhe looked up, and in a tone which was meant to convey as much scorn aspossible, he asked Schrotter--"You played a part in the politicalevents of 1848?"

"Yes, and the recollection of it is the pride of my life. "

"I did not ask you about that. And you are at present the chairman of adistrict society of progressive opinions?"

"I have that honor. "

"There is nothing further against you. And you, Dr. Eynhardt, yourefused the Iron Cross in the late campaign?"

"Yes. "

"You were discharged from the army without comment?"

"Yes. "

"For declining a duel, " observed Schrotter. 

"Dr. Eynhardt is of age, and can answer for himself. You have attendedSocialist meetings?"

"Only once. "

"And made speeches?"

"One speech?"

"And that was directed against Socialism, " said Schrotter again. 

The magistrate grew lobster-red in the face. 

"It is really scandalous, " he cried, quivering with rage, "that I amrepeatedly obliged to remind a man of your position that he is only toanswer when spoken to. Why didn't you say yourself, Dr. Eynhardt, thatyou had spoken against the Socialists?"

"Because you did not ask me, " answered Wilhelm, with a gentle smile. 

After a slight pause the magistrate resumed--"You are on friendly termswith a Russian named Dr. Barinskoi?"

"You can hardly call it that. I did know him, though not exactly in afriendly way, but for two years I have quite lost sight of him. "

"Did you know that Dr. Barinskoi was a Nihilist?"

"Yes. "

"And you did not let that make any difference to you?"

"I was not afraid of infection, " said Wilhelm, and smiled again. 

"Perhaps not, but of being compromised, " growled the magistrate. 

"That idea has not troubled me as yet. "

"You inherited from a friend who committed suicide a large fortune, which you use chiefly for the benefit of Socialist workmen?"

"I use it for the benefit of the poor, and those I certainly find morefrequently among the Socialist workmen than among factory owners andhouseholders. "

"I'll thank you to remember that this is not the place for making badjokes!" roared the magistrate. 

"You are quite right, " Wilhelm answered serenely. "I know nothing moreunpleasant than bad jokes. "

Schrotter looked as if he were going to embrace his friend. He hadnever seen him from this side. 

"Did it never occur to you to put yourself in communication with theclergymen of your district, these gentlemen having far greaterfacilities for finding out deserving objects of charity than a privateperson?"

"I will answer that question when you have had the goodness to explainto me what connection it has with this man's denunciation. "

The magistrate glared at him in a manner calculated to wither him onthe spot, but only met a quiet, smiling face which he was incapable ofintimidating. 

"May I request you now, " said Schrotter in his turn, "to ask thewitness Patke if for the last few weeks he has not been a candidate fora post as detective on the political police staff?" Schrotter too hadmade a variety of inquiries since last Sunday, and had learned thisfact. 

"That is so, " stammered Patke, turning very red. "In these terribletimes, when the Socialists and the enemies of the country--"

"Silence, Herr Patke, " interrupted the magistrate angrily; "that hasnothing to do with the business on hand. " He reflected for awhile, andthen said with the most deeply grudging manner--"The statement of theone witness--seeing too that it is indefinite in some importantpoints--is not sufficient to warrant me in passing a sentence, in spiteof many good grounds for suspicion afforded by your past history andknown opinions. I will therefore dismiss the charge, if only to avoidthe public scandal of a Member being accused of lese majeste. "

Schrotter was boiling with rage, and had the greatest difficulty inrestraining his naturally passionate temper. "Many thanks for yourkindness, " he said in a choking voice, "and for this scoundrel you haveno reprimand?"

"Sir, " screamed the magistrate, springing out of his chair with fury, "leave this room instantly; and you, Herr Patke, if you wish to bringan action for libel against the gentleman you may call upon me as awitness. "

Patke was too modest to avail himself of this friendly offer. Wilhelmdragged Schrotter out of the office as fast as he could, and evenoutside they still heard the magistrate's grunts of wrath. 

Dark days followed, in which Schrotter seemed to live over again theworst horns of the "wild year. " A moral pestilence--the craze fordenunciation--spread itself over the whole of Germany, sparing neitherthe palace nor the hut. No one was safe, either in the bosom of thefamily, at the club table, in the lecture room, or in the street, fromthe low spy who, from fanaticism or stupidity, from personal spite ordesire to make himself conspicuous, took hold of some hasty orimprudent word, turned it round, mangled it, and brought it redhot tothe magistrates, who seldom had the courage to kick the informerdownstairs. Such unspeakable depths of human baseness came to light, sofull of corruption and pestilence, that the eye turned in horror fromthe incredible spectacle. The newspapers brought daily reports ofdenunciations for "lese majeste, " and when Schrotter read them heclasped his hands in horrified dismay and exclaimed, "Are we inGermany? are these my fellow-countrymen?" He became at last sodisgusted that he gave up reading the German papers, and derived hisknowledge of what was going on in the world from the two London paperswhich, from the habit of a quarter of a century, he still took in. Hewished to hear no more about denunciations by which, with the aid ofpolice and magistrates, every kind of cowardice and vileness, socialenvy and religious hatred, rivalry, spite, and inborn malevolence, sought a riskless gratification, and usually found it in full measure. But it took away all pleasure in social intercourse. One learned to becautious and suspicious. One grew accustomed to see an enemy in everystranger, and to be upon one's guard before a neighbor as before somelurking traitor. Hypocrisy became an instinct of self-preservation;every one carefully avoided speaking of those things of which the heartwas full, and Berlin afforded an insight into the mental condition ofthe people of Spain during the most flourishing period of theInquisition, or of Venice in the days when anonymous denunciationspoured into the yawning jaws of the Lions of St. Mark's square. 

The Reichstag was dissolved, the people of Germany must choose newrepresentatives, and the chief, if not the sole question to be decidedby the election was, Are the Socialists to be dealt with under aspecial act, or to come under the common law? Schrotter now felt itjustifiable, nay, that it was his duty, to throw off the reserve he hadmaintained since his return to the Fatherland, and come forward as acandidate for the Reichstag, though for a suburban district, as thecity district to whose poor he had been an untiring benefactor asphysician and friend, with help, counsel, and money, was not available. 

At a meeting of his constituents he laid down his confession of faith. A special act, he explained, was in no way justified, would indeed beineffectual, and lead away from the object they had in view. Thegovernment would be guilty of libel if it made the Socialistsanswerable for a crime committed by two half or wholly insane persons;it was the duty of the government to prove that these attacks were thework of the Socialists: that proof, however, it had been unable todiscover. Moreover, no special act in the world could hinder people ofunsound mind from committing insane deeds--the crimes of a Hodel or aNobiling could not be predicted, but neither could they be prevented byany kind of precautionary measure. The sole result of a special actwould be to make the Socialists practically outlaws in their owncountry. That would constitute not only a terrible severity against alarge class of their fellow-citizens, but a frightful danger to theState. In hundreds and thousands of hearts it would destroy the senseof fellowship with the community in which they lived; they would lookupon themselves as outcasts, and become the enemies of their pursuers. It would be exactly as if some thousands of Frenchmen were set down inthe midst of the German population--in the army, in the cities, thefactories, the arsenals and railways, where they would only wait for afavorable opportunity to revenge themselves on their conquerors. Thatwould be the inevitable result if the Socialists were deprived of thesecurity of the common law. He considered the Socialist doctrines falseand mischievous, and their aims senselessand--fortunately--unattainable, and for that very reason he did notfear them. But deprive the Socialists of the possibility of expressingthemselves freely in word and print, and their grievances, which nowfound vent in harmless speechifying, would assume the form of practicalviolence. 

His speech made an impression, but that of a rival candidate a stillgreater, for he succeeded in rousing the deepest and most powerfulemotions of his hearers, by the plain statement that whoever refusedthe government the right of adopting such measures as it thoughtnecessary for the safety of the public, simply delivered the life oftheir aged and beloved sovereign into the hands of assassins. At theelection, Schrotter had on his side only a small number ofindependent-minded voters, who were able to remain unmoved bysentimental arguments. The workingmen would not vote for him, knowinghim to be an opponent of Socialism. The rival candidate was returned bya large majority. 

The Reichstag assembled, the Socialist Act was passed, Berlin declaredto be in a state of semi-siege, and a great number of workmen dismissedfrom the city. It was November, and winter had set in with unusualseverity. On a dark and bitterly cold afternoon, old Stubbe, who hadbeen agent in the Eynhardts' house for twenty years, entered Wilhelm'sroom. 

"What is the news, Father Stubbe?" cried Wilhelm, as he came in. 

"No good news, Herr Doctor. Wander the locksmith--you know the man whorents the second floor of the house in our court--has been turned outby the police. It seems he's a very dangerous customer; I must say Ihave never noticed it. He was always very decent; the children were abother, certainly--always running about the court and getting betweenyour feet. Well, we all have our faults; and then, too, he didn't payhis rent in October. "

Wilhelm, who was well acquainted with Father Stubbe's flow of language, and did not greatly admire it, interrupted him at this point. 

"Well, and what is the matter?"

"What's the matter, Herr Doctor? Why, the wife is there now with thefive children, and there's no earning anything, and yesterday she tookaway a cupboard to turn it into money somewhere--not that she can havegot much for it, it was all tumbling to pieces. The rest of thefurniture will take legs to itself soon, I dare say, for six mouthsmust be fed, and where is food to come from? There will be no removalexpenses anyhow, for there will soon be nothing but the bare walls. There's no question of paying the rent, and never will be, as far as Ican see; so I thought I had better ask what was to be done with thepoor things. "

"What can we do?"

"We could seize the bits of sticks they still have, though that wouldnot cover the rent that is owing. The best thing, perhaps, would be totell Frau Wander just to take her things and clear out; then at leastwe could relet the rooms. "

"Frau Wander does not work?"

"How can she?--five children, and the youngest still at the breast. "

"I will see to it myself, and let you know what is to be done. "

"Very good, Herr Doctor, " said Stubbe, much relieved. He had a kindheart and it was only his strict sense of duty that led him to mentionthe case of the Wanders, and particularly the unpermissible selling ofthe furniture, to the owner of the house. 

Stubbe had barely reached home before Wilhelm appeared in theKochstrasse. His house lay between the Charlotten andMarkgrafenstrasse, and was an old and unpretentious structure, looking, among the stately houses of a later period which surrounded it on allsides, like a poor relation at a rich and distinguished familygathering. During the "milliard years, " building speculators hadoffered him considerable sums for the ground, but he was not to beprevailed upon to sell the house left him by his father. It was onlyseven windows wide, and had consisted originally of one story only, buta low second story had been added, recognizable instantly as a piece ofpatchwork. A great key hanging over the entrance announced the factthat there was a locksmith's workshop inside. The courtyard was verylow and narrow, and roughly paved with cobblestones, between which thegrass sprouted luxuriantly. At the further end of this court stood the"Hinterhaus, " likewise two-storied, on the ground floor of which thelocksmith carried on his resounding trade. 

Accompanied by Stubbe, Wilhelm mounted the worn wooden staircaseleading to the second floor. The flat consisted of a kitchen and a roomwith one window. Even when the sun was most lavish of his rays, it wasnone too light there; now, in the early-falling dusk of a dull lateautumn day, Wilhelm found himself in a dim half-light as he opened thedoor. There was no fire in the stove, no lamp upon the table. In thecold and darkness he could just distinguish among the sparse furniturea slim, wretched-looking woman sitting on a chair by the table, nursinga baby wrapped in an old blanket; a tall, large-boned man in workman'sclothes, with a bushy beard and gloomy eyes, leaning against the wallbeside the window, and some fair-haired children, unnaturally silentand motionless for their age, crouching side by side on the bed, onlyswinging their legs a little from time to time. 

At Wilhelm's entrance with a friendly "Good-evening, " the woman rosefrom her seat and gazed at the intruder with hostile eyes, the childrenceased swinging their legs, and the workman shrank away from the windowinto the deeper shadow of the corner. 

"The landlord, " Stubbe announced solemnly. 

Frau Wander threw up her head. "Now then, what do you want now?" shesaid hurriedly, her bitter tone beginning on the ordinary pitch, butrising rapidly to a shrewish scream. "It's the rent, I suppose; and Isuppose we're to have notice to quit? It's all one to me. I've got nomoney and so I tell you; but what's here you can keep, and you can havethe skin off my back too, and I'll throw in the children beside. Theycan drag a milk-cart as well as dogs. Why don't you cut my throat atonce and have done with it?"

"But, my good woman, " cried Stubbe, horror-stricken, "what are youthinking of? The Herr Doctor only means well by you. "

Wilhelm had come quite close to the poor thing, who had worked herselfup into such a state of excitement that she was trembling from head tofoot, and said in that gentle voice of his that always found its way tothe heart:

"You are worrying yourself unnecessarily, Frau Wander. I have not comeabout the rent, and nobody is going to turn you out of your home. HerrStubbe here has been telling me about your troubles, and I came to seeif we could not give you a little assistance. "

She stared at him speechless, with wide-open eyes. The children on thebed began to whisper to one another. Wilhelm took advantage of thepause to say a few words in Father Stubbe's ear, whereupon the old manvanished. 

"Why don't you offer the gentleman a chair?" said the workman, comingout of his dark corner. 

The woman slowly drew forward a chair, round the torn seat of which thestraw stood up raggedly on all sides. Wilhelm thanked her with a waveof the hand. 

"Do not be afraid of me, dear Frau Wander, " he went on. "Tell mesomething of your circumstances. "

"What was there to tell?" answered the woman, still somewhat ruffled. He could see for himself how things stood with her. Her husband hadbeen turned out of Berlin; but much the police cared if she and herfive children starved or froze to death. It would have come to thatalready if some of her husband's fellow-workmen had not given them alittle help in their distress, like her present visitor, theiron-worker, Groll. But what could they do? They had not anythingthemselves, and the police were always after them like the devil aftera poor soul. What did they want of them after all? Her husband had heldwith the Socialists certainly, but he had done nobody any harm by that. Ever since Wander had gone over to the Socialists he had left offdrinking--not a drop--only coffee, and sometimes a little beer; and hewas always good to his wife and children, and he had no debts as longas he had been able to earn anything. The locksmith downstairs haddischarged him after the second attack on the emperor, although he wasa clever workman; but the master was afraid of the police, and none ofthe others would risk taking him on. That was bad enough, but it wasnot so hard to bear in the summer, and the Socialists held faithfullytogether, and now and then there was a penny to be earned. But now--nowthat he had to go away, and winter was at the door-- She could keep upno longer, and burst into tears. 

Wilhelm seated himself cautiously on the broken chair, and asked, "Where is your husband now? and what does he think of doing?"

"He is trying to get through to the Rhine, and get work at Dortmund, orsomewhere in that neighborhood, " she answered, while the tight sobscaught her breath, and she wiped away the tears with the back of herhand. "If he can't get any work he will go to France, or Belgium, oreven America, if he must. But that takes a lot of money, and where isone to get it without stealing? We are to come to him when he has foundwork, and can send us the money for the journey. Till then--"

With the free arm that was not holding the child she made a hopelessgesture. 

At that moment the door opened and Father Stubbe came in, carrying inone hand a lighted candle, and in the other a great, fresh-smellingloaf of bread. He placed both upon the bare table, and then discreetlywithdrew. 

"Bread! bread!" cried the children, awakened to sudden life, andjumping off the bed they gathered round the table with greedy eyes, clapping their hands. There were four of them--the youngest a mite oftwo or three, who only babbled with the others; the eldest, a palelittle girl of seven or eight years. 

"Children! Just let me catch you!" scolded the mother; but her voiceshook with nervous excitement. 

"Please, Frau Wander, won't you cut the children some bread first? Wecan talk afterward. "

In a twinkling the eldest girl had fetched a knife from the kitchen, the children continuing to clap their hands delightedly, and FrauWander cut them large slices, and while she was so engaged, "We havenever had anything given us, Herr Doctor, " she said; "we have alwaysearned our living with honest work. It is hard to have to come to this;but what can you do when the police put a rope round your neck?"

"You must not worry any longer, dear Frau Wander, " said Wilhelm, "butyou must not speak like that of the police. You do yourself no good byit, and perhaps a great deal of harm. We will do what we can for you. Never mind about the rent. You will stay on quietly here, and allow meto assist you with this trifle. " He pressed two twenty-mark pieces intothe half-reluctant hand so unused to accepting alms. "And Herr Stubbewill give you the same sum every month till you are able to join yourhusband. "

He held out his hand, which she grasped in silence, incapable offinding suitable words to thank him, and he hurried to the door. Themechanic hastily snatched up the candle from the table, ran after himand lighted him downstairs, murmuring with real emotion:

"Thank you a thousand times, Herr Doctor, and may God bless you!"

And all the way downstairs Wilhelm was followed by the children'sjubilant song of "Bread! bread!"

One morning a few days later--it was December the 2d--as Wilhelm wassitting at his writing-table engaged in making notes from a thickEnglish book of travels on the Australian savage's ideas on nature, heheard a sound of quarreling going on in the hall. He could distinguishFrau Muller's irate tones, and then a man's voice mentioning his name. He gave no further heed to the dispute, thinking it was doubtless someimportune person in whom worthy Frau Muller had detected theprofessional beggar, and was therefore driving away. But it did notleave off, and grew louder and louder, Frau Muller's voice rising atlast to an exasperated scream--there even seemed to be something like ahand-to-hand fight going on--till Wilhelm thought it behooved him tosee what was happening, and, if need be, come to the rescue of hisfaithful house-dragon. He opened the door quickly and received FrauMuller in his arms. If he had not caught her, she would have fallenbackward into the room, for she had leaned--a living bulwark--againstthe door, defending the entrance with her body against two men, one ofwhom was trying to push her away, while the other, standing furtherback, was restraining his companion from grasping Frau Muller all tooroughly. In the daring man who did not shrink from laying sacrilegioushands upon the furious and snorting landlady, Wilhelm instantlyrecognized the mechanic whom he had seen at Frau Wander's. At sight ofhim the man raised his hat politely, and before the gasping FrauMuller, who was simply choking with excitement, could find her tongue, he said:

"Beg pardon, I am sure, Herr Doctor, for disturbing you; but we reallymust speak to you. I knew from Herr Stubbe that you are always at homeat this hour, so I would not let the lady send us away. "

"The lady indeed!" Frau Muller managed at last to exclaim. "Now hetalks about ladies, and a minute ago he had the impudence--"

"You must excuse us, madam, " said the workman with the utmost civility;"we meant no harm, and we simply must speak to the Herr Doctor. "

"Come in, " said Wilhelm curtly, and not overwarmly, while he pressedthe still angrily glaring Frau Muller's hand gratefully. 

The second visitor now mentioned his name--it was that of one of themost prominent leaders of the Social Democrats in Germany. Wilhelmsigned to the two men to be seated, and asked what he could do for them. 

"I heard through the mechanic Groll here, " answered the stranger, pointing to the other man, "what you did for Frau Wander. Thatencouraged us to come to you with a request. "

At a sign from Wilhelm he continued:

"You have seen one of our cases for yourself, and that not by any meansthe worst. We have dozens of such cases, and there will probably behundreds more. Our union does what it can. Every member gives up partof his week's wages for the unfortunate victims, and thereby we perhapssave the government from the crime of having condemned innocent womenand children to death by starvation. But our people are poor, and haveto fight against want themselves. We cannot expect any great sacrificefrom them. What we want is a considerable lump sum to enable us to sendon the families of the exiled workmen to join their respectivebread-winners. So we go round knocking at the doors of our wealthyassociates, who, though in consideration of the times they do not careto declare themselves openly for us, nevertheless have a feeling heartfor the workingman's distress. "

All the time he was speaking he looked Wilhelm straight in the eyes. Wilhelm bore his gaze quietly, and answered:

"If you think I share your opinions you are much mistaken. I considerthat you are pursuing a false course, that you make assertions to theworkingman which you cannot prove, and promise him things you cannotfulfill, and I frankly confess that I do not envy you theresponsibility you have taken upon your own shoulders. "

The leader stroked his short beard with a nervous movement, and themechanic twisted his hat awkwardly between his hands. Wilhelm went onafter a short pause:

"But that does not prevent me from sympathizing with the distress ofwomen and children, and I shall be very glad to do what I can if youwill give me a detailed account of the state of affairs. "

In a few plain words the visitor gave a sketch of the circumstances, all the more heartbreaking for its very unpretentiousness. So many mendismissed, so many wives, so many children, so many parents and nearrelatives unable to support themselves. Of these so many were sick, somany women lately confined, so many cripples. So many had prospects ofbetter circumstances if they could get away from Berlin. For thatpurpose such and such a sum was necessary. So much was already in hand. He stated the amount of certain large donations, and added--"I will notmention the names of the subscribers, as it might happen that it wouldbe to your advantage not to know them. "

Wilhelm had listened in silence. He now opened a drawer of hiswriting-table, took out a yellow envelope in which Schrotter was in thehabit of giving him, on the first of every month, fifteen hundred marksout of the Dorfling bequest, and handed the sum which he had receivedthe day before, and was still unbroken, to the workingmen's leader. Theman turned over the three five-hundred-mark notes, and then looked upstartled. Wilhelm only nodded his head slightly. 

The leader rose. "It would be inadvisable to give you a receipt. Youhave no doubt, I think, that your noble gift will be used for itsproper object. Thank you a thousand times, and if you should ever standin need of faithful and determined men, then think of us. "

A week later, to the very day, early in the morning a police officerbrought Wilhelm an official document summoning him to appear thatafternoon before the head police authorities in the Stadtvogtei. Hepresented himself at the appointed hour in the office, and handed thedocument to an official, who, after glancing at it, asked:

"You are Dr. Wilhelm Eynhardt?

"Yes. "

He took up a paper lying ready at hand, and said dryly: "I have toinform you that, in accordance with the Socialist Act, you are orderedout of Berlin and its purlieus, and must be out of the city byto-morrow at midnight at the latest. "

"Ordered out of Berlin!" cried Wilhelm, utterly taken, aback. "And mayI ask what I have done?"

"You must know that better than I, " answered the official sternly. "However, I have no further information to give you, and can onlyadvise you to address yourself to the Committee of Police, in case yourequire a day or two more to regulate your affairs. "

At the same time he handed him the paper, which proved to be thewritten order of banishment, and dismissed him with a slight bend ofthe head. 

Wilhelm went without a word. Naturally he turned his steps almostunconsciously to Schrotter, to whom he held out the police paper insilence. Schrotter read it, and struck his hands together. 

"Is it possible?" he murmured. "Is it possible?" He paced the room withlong strides, then suddenly stood still before his friend, and layinghis hands on Wilhelm's shoulder, he said in tones of profound emotion:"I never thought I should live to see such things in my own country. Iam nearly sixty, and it is late in the day for me to begin a new life. But really I find it difficult to breathe this air any longer. Whereshall you go?"

"I do not know yet myself. I must collect my thoughts a little first. "

"Whatever you decide upon, I have a very good mind to go with you. There is nothing left for me to do in my old age but emigrate again. "

"You will not do that!" answered Wilhelm hurriedly. "Men like you aremore badly needed here than ever. You must stay. I implore you to doso. Remember how you reproached yourself for twenty years, because youwere not there when the people were struggling against the Manteuffelreaction. And then--your patients, your poor, the hundreds who haveneed of you. "

Schrotter did not answer, and seated himself on the divan. His massiveface was gloomy as midnight, and the fiery blue eyes almost closed. After awhile he growled: "But why--why?"

"Oh, I suppose because of the fifteen hundred marks for the families ofthe dismissed workmen. "

"Of course!" cried Schrotter, clapping his hand to his forehead. 

"Dorfling's gold does not come from the Rhine for nothing, " Wilhelmsmiled sadly. "Like the Nibleungen treasure, it is doomed to bringdisaster on all who possess it. "

As Schrotter did not answer, Wilhelm resumed: "And as we are on thesubject, we may as well settle that matter at once. Of course you willuse the whole income now for your poor?"

"Not at all!" cried Schrotter. "Why should things not remain as theyare? Wherever you may take up your abode, the poor you have always withyou. "

Wilhelm shook his head. "I may possibly go abroad, and you see, HerrDoctor, I am prejudiced in favor of my own country. I think we shallcarry our Dorfling's intentions best by using his money for the reliefof German necessity. "

Schrotter made no further objection. That Wilhelm would not, under anycircumstances, use a penny of the money for himself he knew perfectlywell, and in the end it was all the same whether the poor received itfrom his hand or Wilhelm's. He merely wrote down some addresses whichWilhelm gave him of people to whom he gave regular assistance, and whomhe recommended to Schrotter to that end. 

When toward evening Wilhelm returned home, and, as was inevitable, toldFrau Muller the news, she nearly fainted, and had to sit down. She wasstruck dumb for some time, and then only found strength to utter lowgroans. Her lodger turned out of Berlin like a vagrant. A householdertoo! Such a respectable, fine young gentleman, whom she had watchedover like the apple of her eye for seven years--dreadful--dreadful. Butit was all the fault of the low wretches who had forced their way inlast week. She had thought as much at the time. If she had only calledin the police at once! The police--oh yes, she had all due respect forthe police, she was the widow of a government official, and she lovedher good old king certainly--but that they should have banished theHerr Doctor--that was not right--that could not possibly be right! FrauMuller could not reconcile herself to the thought of parting. She wouldgo to her friend and patron the "Geheimer Oberpostrath, " and he woulduse his influence in the matter; and at last, seeing that Wilhem onlysmiled or spoke a few soothing words to her, she burst into tears andsobbed out: "I am so used to you, Herr Doctor, I don't know how I amgoing to live without you. " She only composed herself a little whenWilhelm told her that, for the present at any rate, he was going toleave his books and other goods and chattels where they were, for hemight perhaps be allowed to return after a time, and meanwhile a youngman, whom she knew, and who was studying at Wilhelm's at Schrotter'sexpense, should board and lodge with her, and she would receive thesame sum as Wilhelm had always paid. 

With night came counsel. Wilhelm decided to go first to Hamburg, wherePaul lived during the winter, wait there till the spring, and thenarrange further plans. He visited the grave of his father and mother, gave Stubbe orders as to the management of the house, took leave of afew friends, visited one or two poor people whom he was in the habit oflooking after, and then had nothing further to keep him in Berlin. Therest of the day he passed with Schrotter, who found the parting veryhard to bear. Bhani, whom they had acquainted with the matter, hadtears in her beautiful dark eyes--the last remnant of youth in thewithered face. And as he left the dear familiar house in theMittelstrasse she begged him--translating the Indian words plainlyenough by looks and gestures--to accept an amulet of cold green jade asa remembrance of her. 

That night at eleven o'clock a slow train bore Wilhelm away from Berlin. 

At the station he caught sight of the face of his old friend Patke, whom he had come across more than once during that day. The formernon-commissioned officer had apparently reached the goal of hisambitions and become a private detective. 

Schrotter had stood on the step of the carriage till the very lastmoment, holding his friend's hand. Now Wilhelm leaned back in hiscorner and closed his eyes, and while the train rattled along over thesnow-covered plain, he asked himself for the first time whether afterall Dorfling had been quite such a fool as most of them considered himto have been?

CHAPTER IX. 

RESULTS. 

On alighting next morning at the station in Hamburg, Wilhelm foundhimself clasped in a pair of strong arms and pressed to a magnificentfur coat. Inside this warm garment there beat a still warmer heart, that of Paul Haber, who had received a letter from Wilhelm the daybefore, telling him of his dismissal from Berlin, and that he wasleaving for Hamburg by the last train before midnight, and whom neitherthe cold and darkness nor the extreme earliness of the hour couldrestrain from meeting his friend at the station. 

Their greeting was short and affectionate. 

"A hearty welcome to you!" cried Paul. "We will do our best to make anew home for you here. "

"You see, I thought of you at once when I had to look about me for someresting-place in the wide world. "

"I should have expected no less of you. Keep your ears stiff, and don'tlet the horrid business worry you. "

Wilhelm's bag was handed to an attendant servant, and the two friendswalked off arm in arm toward an elegant brougham lined with light blue, with a conspicuously handsome long-limbed chestnut and a stout, beardedcoachman, which stood waiting for them. 

Wilhelm mentioned the name of the hotel where he intended to stay, butPaul cut him short. "Not a bit of it! Home, Hans, and look sharp aboutit!" And before Wilhelm could offer any remonstrance, he found himselfpushed into the carriage, Paul at his side. The door banged, thefootman sprang on to the box, and off they went as fast as the longlegs of the chestnut would carry them. 

For the last two years Paul had owned a villa on the Uhlenhorst, in theCarlstrasse, and there the fast trotter drew up. Wilhelm had said butlittle during the drive, and Paul had confined the expression of hisfeeling of delight to clapping his friend on the shoulder from time totime, and pressing his hand. Rather less than half an hour's drivebrought them to their destination. Paul would not hear of Wilhelmmaking any alteration in his dress, but drew him as he was into thesmoking room on the ground floor, where Malvine came to meet him, andreceived him in her hearty but quiet and uneffusive manner. She was thepicture of health, but had grown perhaps a little too stout for herage. She wore a morning wrap of red velvet and gold lace, and looked, in that costly attire, like a princess or a banker's wife. 

"You must be very cold and tired, " she said; "the coffee is ready, comeat once to breakfast--that will put some warmth into you--you can dressafterward. " She hurried before them into the next room, where theyfound an amply spread table over which hovered the fragrant smell ofseveral steaming dishes. It was a lavish breakfast in the Englishstyle; beside tea and coffee there were eggs, soles, ham, cold turkey, lobster salad, and several excellent wines. A servant in the livery ofa "Jager" waited at table. 

Wilhelm shook his head at the sight of all this splendor. "But, my dearlady, so much trouble on my behalf!"

"You are quite mistaken, " Paul answered for Malvine, and not without asmile of satisfied pride; "it is our usual breakfast--we have it soevery day. "

Wilhelm looked at him surprised, and then remarked after a short pause:"I would never have written to you, if I had dreamed that you would getup before daybreak, and upset your whole household in order to fetch mefrom the station. "

"Why, what nonsense! We are quite used to getting up early. AtFriesenmoor we have to be still earlier. "

"But that is in the summer. "

"So it is, but then our broken rest is not made up to us by the sightof a friend. "

While they devoured the good things, and Paul, who despised tea andcoffee, sipped his slightly warmed claret, he remarked, between twomouthfuls, "I was struck all of a heap by your letter. You turned out!the most harmless, law-abiding citizen I ever heard of! What in theworld did you do? You need not mind telling me. "

"I cannot say that I am aware of having committed any crime, Paul. "

"Come now, something must have happened, for the police does not take astep of that kind without some provocation--it's only your beggarlyProgressives who think that, but nobody who knows the fundamentalprinciples of our government and its officials would believe it. "

"You seem to have become a warm admirer of the government. "

"Always was! But, upon my word, when I see the way the oppositionparties go on I am more so than ever--positively fanatical. "

"Then I have no doubt that you will consider that I did commit a crime. "

"Ah! so there was something after all?"

"Yes, I contributed fifteen hundred marks to a collection for thedistressed families of the Social Democrats who had been dismissed fromBerlin. "

"You did?" cried Paul, dropping his knife and fork, and staring atWilhelm in amazement. 

"And that seems so criminal to you?"

"Look here, Wilhelm, you know I'm awfully fond of you, but I must sayyou have only got what you deserve. How could you take part in arevolutionary demonstration of the kind?"

"I did not, nor do I now see anything political in it. It was aquestion of women and children deprived of their bread-winners, andwhom one cannot allow to starve or freeze to death. "

"Oh, go along with your Progressionist phrases! Nobody need starve orfreeze in Berlin. The really poor are thoroughly well looked after bythe proper authorities. The supposed distress of these women andchildren is a mere trumped-up story on the part of theRevolutionists--a means of agitation, a weapon against the government. The beggars simply speculate on the tears of sentimental idiots. Theyget up a sort of penny-dreadful, whereon the one side you have apicture of injured innocence in the shape of pale despairing mothersand clamoring children, and on the other, villainy triumphant in theform of a police constable or a government official. And to think thatyou should have been taken in by such a swindle!"

"I suppose you do not see how heartless it appears to speak so lightlyof other people's hunger, sitting oneself at such a table as this?"

"Bravo, Wilhelm! Now you are throwing my prosperity in my teeth likeany advocate of division of property. I trust you have not turnedSocialist yourself? you who used not to have a good word to say for thelot. "

"Never fear--I am not a Socialist. Their doctrines have not been ableto convince me yet. But for years I have seen the distress of theworking people with my own eyes, and I know that every human being witha heart in his body is in duty bound to help them. "

"And who says anything against that? Don't we all do our duty? Povertyhas always existed and always will to the end of time. But, on theother hand, that is what charity is there for. We have hospitals forthe sick, workhouses and parish relief for the aged and incapable, forlazy vagabonds who won't work, it is true, only the treadmill. "

"That is all very fine, but what are you going to do with the honestmen who want to work but can find none?"

"Wilhelm, I have always had the highest respect for you, your wisdom, your intellect, but forgive me if I say that, in this case, you aretalking of things you do not understand. Everybody who wants work findsit. I hope you will be at my place next summer. Then you'll see how Ipositively sweat blood in harvest-time trying to get the necessarynumber of laborers together, and what I have to put up with from therascals only to keep them in good humor. Don't try on any of thesewindy arguments with a landowner--people that want work and can't findit indeed! Let me tell you, my son, neither I nor any one of my countryneighbors can scrape together as many people as we need. "

"But everybody cannot work in the fields. "

"There, at last, you have hit the bull's eye--that is where the shoepinches. Agriculture offers a certain means of livelihood to all whocan and will work properly. But that does not suit the lazy beggars. The work is too hard, and, more particularly, the discipline on anestate is too strict for their fancy. They would rather be in the town, rather starve in a workshop, or ruin their lungs in a factory, becausethere they have more freedom--that is, they can go on the spree allnight and shirk their work all day, if they like--they can play thegentleman, and think themselves as good as any general or minister. Under these circumstances, it is no wonder that they soon come to want, and instead of admitting that it is entirely the fault of their ownpigheadedness and perversity, they go and turn unruly against thegovernment. They should be turned out neck and crop, the whole pack ofthem. "

"Don't excite yourself so, Paul, " warned Malvine gently, as her husbandgrew crimson in the face and ceased to eat. 

Wilhelm remained unruffled. "So you think the Socialist Act was quitejustified?"

"Justified! Why, my only objection to it is that it is much too mild. AState has a right to use every means it can--even the sharpest--todefend itself against its deadly enemies. To deal mildly with theenemies of society is to be unjust to us, the orderly and industriousmembers of the community, who work hard to get on, and who don't wantto be for ever trembling for their well-earned possessions, becausethieves and vagabonds--as is the way of all robbers--would like toenjoy the good things of this life without working for them. "

"My good Paul, that is the language of fanaticism, and, of course, itis useless to try to reason against that. Only let me tell you this. Ido not believe that the Socialists want to rob anybody; I do notbelieve that they are enemies to the State and to society. They toodesire a State and a society, but different from the existing ones;they too have an ideal of justice, but it is not the one that hasbecome traditional with us. Under the new order of things, as they havearranged it in their minds, there should be room for every individual, every opinion, all sorts and conditions of men. What the ruling classessay against them to-day has been said against the adherents of all newideas since the beginning of time. Whoever tried to make the slightestalteration in the existing order of things was always considered, bythose who derived advantages therefrom, to be a foe to the State and tosociety in general-a robber and a revolutionist. The early Christiansenjoyed exactly the same reputation as the Socialists to-day. They werelooked upon as enemies of the whole human race, and were torn to piecesby wild beasts, though--doubtless to your regret--it has not come tothat with, the Socialists. And nevertheless, though lions and tigersare a good deal worse than police officers, the principles ofChristianity have triumphed, and there is nothing to prove that theprinciples of Socialism will not triumph in their turn. "

"Prophet of evil omen!" cried Paul. 

"Not necessarily so. Where would be the misfortune? I am firmlypersuaded that a Socialist State would not differ in any importantpoint from the accepted forms of government of the day. Theadministrative power would merely be transferred from the hands of themilitary and the landed aristocracy to another class. To those who donot want a share in the governing power, it is all the same who wieldsit. You see, human nature remains the same, and its organization altersonly very gradually, almost imperceptibly, though it sometimes changesits name. Christianity promised to be the beginning of the thousandyears' reign, but in the main, everything has gone on just as it wasbefore. A Socialist State would not be able to make the sun rise in thewest, or do away with death any more than we can. They would haveministers, custom-house officers, policemen, virtue, vice and ambition, self-interest, oppression and brotherly love just as we do, and if theSocialists come into power, they will soon pass special acts andprosecute the followers of other opinions just as they are beingprosecuted to-day. That is all upon the surface, and does not touch theroot of things. Why excite yourself about a mere shadowplay?"

"In practical matters, " answered Paul, laughing, "I consider I am thebetter man, but you certainly beat me at metaphysics. Prophecydecidedly comes under the heading of metaphysics, so I strike my colorsbefore you. "

"The sooner the better, " said Malvine; "especially as it is quiteunpardonable of you to start off on a long discussion when our poorfriend must be so tired and sleepy. "

It was eight o'clock by this time, and Wilhelm really felt the want ofrest. But before going to his room he asked after his godson, littleWilly. Malvine was evidently expecting this, she ran to the door andcalled into the next room: "Come here, Willy--come quick--UncleEynhardt is here and wants to see you. " Whereupon the boy came boundingin, and threw himself with a shout of delight upon Wilhelm's neck. Willy was still his mother's only child. He was nearly six years old, not very tall for his age, but a fine, handsome, thoroughly healthychild, with firm legs, a blooming complexion, the dark eyes of hisgrandmother, and long fair curls. He was charmingly dressed in a sailorsuit with a broad turned-back collar over a blue-and-white stripedjersey, long black stockings, and pretty little patent leather shoeswith silk ties. Wilhelm lifted up this young prince, kissing him, andasked, "Well, Willy, do you remember me?" He had not seen, him foreighteen months. 

"Of course, I do, uncle, we talk about you every day, " cried the childin his clear voice. "Are you going to stay with us now?"

"Yes, that he is!" his father answered for the friend. 

"How jolly! how jolly!" cried Willy, clapping his hands with glee. "Andyou will teach me to ride, won't you, uncle? Papa has no time. "

"But I don't know how to ride myself, " returned Wilhelm with a smile. 

Willy looked up disappointed. "What can you do then?"

"Be a good boy now, " Malvine broke in, "and leave uncle in peace and goback to the nursery. You shall have him again later on. "

After more kisses and caresses Willy ran off, and Paul led his guest tothe room prepared for him, where at last he left him to himself. 

Wilhelm had visited Paul on his estate during the preceeding summer, but since then had only seen him in Berlin. The house on the Uhlenhorstwas new to him, and he marveled at the solid sumptuousness that met theeye at every turn. The visitor's room was not less splendidly furnishedthan the smoking and breakfast rooms he had already seen, and when helooked about him at the great carved bedstead with its ample draperies, the silk damask-covered chairs, the thick rugs, the marble washstand, and the toilet table with its array of bottles and dishes of china, cutglass, and silver, he could not help feeling almost abashed. His friendPaul had become a very great gentleman apparently!

And so in point of fact he had. The Friesenmoor had proved itself avery gold mine, and in the district round about they calculated that ityielded a clear return of a hundred or a hundred and twenty thousandmarks a year. Paul had long ago been in a position to make use of hisright of purchase on the estate, and had acquired about two thousandacres of adjoining marsh lands beside, though at a considerably higherprice, and was now the owner of a well-rounded estate of twelvethousand acres, the admiration and pride of the whole neighborhood. Hehad converted the cultivation of the marshland, which six years ago hadbeen but a bold theory, into an established scientific fact, and hismethods, the excellence of which was amply proved by his almosttropically luxuriant harvests and uninterruptedly increasing wealth, were assiduously imitated on all sides. Paul Haber was acknowledged farand wide to be the first authority on the management of marsh land. Thegovernment had long since taken note of his success and kept an eyeupon his doings, and was furnished by the Landrath with regularaccounts of his agricultural progress. Young men of the best countyfamilies contended for the privilege of being under him for a year'spractical farming. Foreign governments sent professors, lecturers, andpractical agriculturists to him, partly to inspect his arrangements, partly to study his methods under his personal supervision, in order toadopt them in their own countries. Paul was more than a landedproprietor, he was a kind of professor holding his unpretentiouslecture in the open air or in the appropriately decorated smoking-roomof the Priesenmoor house, always surrounded by a troop of eager andadmiring listeners of various nationalities, and mostly of high rank. 

Of course, under these circumstances there was no lack of outward marksof distinction. Two years before he had been promoted to a firstlieutenancy of the Landwehr. A row of foreign decorations adorned hisbreast, and last year, when he was visited by the Minister forAgriculture, accompanied by the Landrath, the Kronen Order of thefourth class was added to the rest. Paul was on the District Committeeand County Council, and if he was not deputy of the Landtag and memberof the Reichstag, it was only because he considered all parliamentarywork a barren expenditure of time and strength. He stood in high reputein the county, which was proved by his election to be the president ofthe Society for the Cultivation of Moors and Marshes, a society foundedby his followers and admirers, and which counted among its members someof the most important landowners of the whole of Northern Germany. 

These circumstances could not fail to react on Paul's character. He nolonger tried to look as much as possible like a smart officer, butrather like a country gentleman of ancient lineage. The thick fairmustache had abandoned its enterprising upward curl, and now hung downstraight and long. The model parting of the hair was in any case out ofthe question, a distinguished baldness having taken the place of theold luxuriance, and his figure had fulfilled all the promises of hisyouth. In his dress Paul still cultivated extreme elegance, only thatit partook more of the bucolic now in style than of the drawing-room asin former days. He wore high patent leather boots with small silverspurs, well-fitting riding breeches, a gray coat with green facings andlarge buckhorn buttons, a blue-and-white spotted silk necktie tied in aloose knot with fluttering ends, an artistically crushed soft felt hat, and in his dog-skin gloved hand a small riding-whip with a chased goldhead. With all its dandyism it was a model of good taste, and in nosingle detail smacked of the parvenu, and that for the very good reasonthat Paul was no parvenu, but a man who was conscious of havingattained to a position which was his by nature and by right. He hadnever suffered from undue diffidence, and his success had naturallyincreased his sense of his own value, which, however, he did notdisplay in any bumptious or aggressive manner as one who would forcereluctant acknowledgment of his merits, but quietly and naturally, seeing that he received full and voluntary recognition from all sides. He believed in himself, and was quite right to do so, for everybodyelse believed in him too. He spoke with authority, for there was no oneabout him who did not hang upon his lips with respect, and mostly withadmiration. He made assertions and gave his opinion with the assuranceof superior knowledge, but he had a right to do so, for it alwaysreferred only to matters about which he knew, or was fully persuadedthat he knew, more than most people. Even his wealth did not go to hishead, but acted on him like a moderate amount of drink upon a man whocan stand a great deal. He enjoyed to the full the comforts andamenities of life which his large income enabled him to procure, but hedid it for his own pleasure, not for the sake of what others wouldthink; for his own comfort, and not for show. He liked to keep goodhorses and dogs, an admirably appointed table and cellar, and a largestaff of well-drilled servants. On the other hand, he avoided anythingapproaching to display, was never seen at races, went to no fashionablebaths, gave no grand entertainments, nor had a box at either theatre oroperahouse, belonged to no club, and never played high. His wife woreperhaps rather more jewelry and followed the newest Paris fashions atrifle more closely than was absolutely necessary at Friesenmoor oreven the Uhlenhorst, but as she remained as simple and unaffected asbefore, nobody could think any the worse of her for this smallinherited weakness. 

Toward his own family Paul had behaved in a most exemplary manner, affording thereby the strongest proof that though he had risen he wasno upstart. The numerous members of his family and the men who hadmarried into it nearly all had to thank him for their advancement oractual support. Some were employed on his estate, others he had trainedin his particular branch of agriculture, after which, and with hisrecommendation, they had found no difficulty in obtaining brilliantpositions as stewards or lease-holders of estates, and two of hisbrothers had appointments on royal domains. He had, therefore, everyright to self-congratulation, as having fulfilled all the duties of amodel man and citizen far beyond what necessity demanded. 

For Wilhelm, Paul still retained the affection and friendship of hisearly days, only that, unconsciously to himself, it had taken on acertain fatherly tone; although there was a difference of but one yearbetween them, there was a touch of protecting consideration and pityabout it, such as strong men feel toward a weaker and less perfectlydeveloped creature. 

The first day Paul left his friend to have a thorough rest, but thenext morning early he knocked at his door and asked if he might come in. 

"Certainly, " was the answer, and opening the door at the same moment, Wilhelm appeared fully dressed and ready for inspection. 

"You have kept up your old habit of early rising--that is right, " saidPaul, and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"So have you, " returned Wilhelm with a smile. 

"I--oh, that's different. I am a farmer, and you know the proverb--'Themaster's eye makes the cattle fat. ' But your books don't require to befed and watered at break of day. As you are ready, come down now, andwe can have a chat over breakfast. "

Malvine met him downstairs with a friendly smile and shake of the hand. This morning she wore a long blue morning gown with gay coloredembroidery at the throat and wrists and a little lace cap with blueribbons. The breakfast was as elaborate as on the day before. 

"I want to take you over to my place to-day, Wilhelm. We have ashooting party, the weather is lovely, and it will be a nice change foryou. "

"Thanks, Paul, but I would much rather you left me here. I am nosportsman, as you know very well. "

"We'll soon make you into one. Nobody is born a sportsman, or rather weare all born sportsmen, but forget it in our wretched town life, andafterward have to set to work and learn laboriously the art that cameso naturally to our forefathers. Not, however, that you need fire asingle shot, it is more for the healthy out-of-door exercise, and toshow you Friesenmoor in its winter dress, and for the society whichwill interest you. They are neighbors of mine--nearly every one of thema character--old Baron Huning, who fought in the Crimea as an Englishofficer, Count Chamberlain von Swerte, crammed with curious courtstories, Graf Olderode, who, in spite of his gout, will jump for joywhen I introduce you as the best friend I have in the world, and addthat you have just been banished from Berlin under the Socialist Act. And then there are my pupils--I've got a Russian prince among them, anda very near neighbor, a young nobleman from the Marches, an officer inthe Red Hussars. Now don't be a slow coach, come along. "

"You are very kind, but I should be very sorry to make your gouty Grafjump, even for joy. "

"Dr. Enyhardt is quite right, " Malvine now joined in. "What an idea tooto carry him off from me before he has had time to settle comfortably. You stay with me. Herr Doctor; this is my day, and you shall make theacquaintance of some charmingly pretty girls this afternoon. That willinterest you more than Paul's old Chamberlains. "

"All right, " laughed Paul; "but you had better look out, Wilhelm, Ismell a rat. Malvine has designs upon you, she wants to get youmarried. If you came with me you would be the hunter, but if you stayhere you will find yourself in the position of the game. "

"And if he is, " retorted Malvine, "it is surely the better part to letyourself be caught by a pretty girl than to go and shoot poor hares andwild ducks. "

Paul did not press his invitation, and drove off a minute or two later, not to return till the following day. Malvine, however, put her threatinto practice, and persuaded Wilhelm with gentle insistence to join herafternoon coffee party, and be introduced to all her lady visitors andtake part in the conversations. The introduction caused Malvine alittle embarrassment. Only now did she fully realize the fact that herguest was nobody in particular. She was painfully conscious of thebaldness of his name and his simple title of Dr. , and the absence ofany sort of distinguishing mark by the addition of which she mightrecommend him to the special notice of her circle of friends. He wasnot a landed proprietor, nor a professor, not even a master. Nor couldshe conscientiously say, "the celebrated Dr. Eynhardt. " He had nomilitary title, and to introduce him as "the handsome Dr. Eynhardt"would hardly do. Fortunately she had no need to mention the latteradjective. The ladies observed without further assistance howremarkably handsome this gentleman was with his girlish complexion, silky, raven-black hair and beard, and lustrous dark eyes. Charminglips drew him constantly into the conversation, which, cultivated andmany-sided, ranged from the weather to the recently-closed ParisExhibition, from Sarasate to Vischer's last novel. Wilhelm had not aword to say on these important subjects, and so spoke in monosyllables, or not at all, till the ladies, who were most of them very animated, came to the conclusion that he was as stupid as he was handsome, "as isusually the case, my dear. "

At supper Malvine was indefatigable in asking Wilhelm how he liked thisdark girl, and what he had said to that fair one, and what impressionthe piquante little one with the boyish curly head had made upon him?When he frankly confessed that he had paid very little attention to anyof the young ladies, and could scarcely remember one from another, shewas very much discouraged. It was decidedly no easy task to help thisclumsy person along. All three girls of whom she had spoken wereheiresses, and beautiful and well-educated beside--what more did hewant?

Alas! he did not want anything at all, but to be left in peace, andthat was the aggravating part of it. Malvine had set her heart onmarrying him, and marrying him well. Her sentiment for him had longsince given place to other and less agitating feelings, as beseemed amodel wife, mother, and landed proprietress. She was grateful to himfor having recognized and set right the mistaken impression of hergirlish heart. She was seized with discomfort at the thought of whatmight have been. Where would she be now if she had become Frau Dr. Eynhardt? A woman without fortune, of no position or importance, and atthe present moment even homeless and a wanderer. As things had turnedout she was wealthy and distinguished, the best people in Hamburg andthe whole of Luneburg came to her house, and she ruled like a smallqueen over a large settlement of dependents. And all this she owed toher dear Paul, who, during the seven years of their married life, hadnever given her one moment's pain, never cost her eyes a single tear. Out of her grateful acknowledgment that Wilhelm had materially assistedin the founding of her agreeable destiny, and the unconscious lingeringremains of her former attachment, there had sprung up a very tenderfriendship for him, the unusual warmth of which would have at oncebetrayed its hidden origin to the experienced analyst of the heart. Shewanted to see him happy, she considered earnestly what was lacking tohim to make him so, and was sure that it could only be a rich andpretty wife. This happiness then she determined to procure for him, aneasy enough task, as her set contained a large selection of "goldfish. "

If he would only meet them halfway! The young ladies, obviously verywell disposed toward him, could not make the first advances. And yet onthe following Thursday he sat there in the midst of the gay chatterjust as quiet and wooden as on the first occasion, made no advances toany of the girls, singled out no one from the rest. After that Malvinewas obliged to make a pause in her well-intentioned maneuvres, for thethird Thursday was Christmas Eve, and her time was taken up inpreparations for the Christmas-tree. 

For this festive occasion Frau Brohl and Frau Marker came over fromBerlin, as had been their custom ever since Paul had taken the house onthe Uhlenhorst. Frau Marker had grown very stout, and her hair showedthe first silvery threads, otherwise she was blooming and as silent asever. Old Frau Brohl was simply astounding. She had not changed in thesmallest degree, time had no power over her, she was just as doubled upand colorless, and her movements just as slow as ever, her brown eyeshad the same tired droop, and her low, complaining voice the old toneof suffering. But her appetite had grown, if anything, rather larger, and, apart from one or two colds in the winter, she had not known anhour's illness during the whole time. 

Needless to say, the grandmother did not come empty-handed. She broughttwo cases with her, one of which contained a large quantity ofexcellent bottled fruit, which Malvine still preferred to any her ownhighly-paid cook could prepare, while the other was filled with achoice collection of fancy work. On these treasures being unpacked, itwas discovered that the inventive genius of the old lady of seventy wasstill undiminished. For the master of the house there was a game-bagmade of interwoven strips of blue and red leather, somewhat in theIndian manner, very curious, and of course, impracticable Malvinereceived a silklace veil, the pattern in large marsh-mallows--agraceful play upon her name. 

Frau Brohl had worked at this masterpiece for a year and a half. Forlittle Willy, in consideration of the aristocratic propensities onemight expect, or at any late encourage, in the heir to a large estate, there was a Flobert rifle, the strap of which was ornamented after anentirely new method by cutting out thin layers of the leather andinserting gilt arabesques and figures. For the house in general therewere some ingenious arrangements in fir cones and small shells. 

The Christmas-tree was set up in the great drawing-room on the groundfloor and reached almost to the ceiling. It was a beautiful young fir, so fresh and fragrant of pine that the breath of the woods seemed tocling to it still. A large party had gathered for the lighting-up. Beside the relatives of the aristocratic pupils, who had come over fromthe estate, there were some neighbors from the Uhlenhorst, with five orsix little children, and the Chamberlain von Swerte with his high-bornwife. The couple were childless, and not wishing to spend theirChristmas alone, had accepted Paul's invitation, and come all the wayfrom their little castle near Ronneburg to the Ulhenhorst. 

The chamberlain was the lion of the evening. Paul took an opportunityof whispering to Wilhelm, "Herr von Swerte is of the House ofHellebrand--one of the first families in the county--tremendouslyancient lot!" Old Frau Brohl had observed the little gold tab on hiscoat tail--the chamberlain's sign of office, and manuevered skillfullyin order that she might frequently obtain a back view, and so gaze uponthe proud badge in silent awe and admiration. The children had no eyefor such matters, but rushed shrieking with delight round the tree, whose branches shed such gorgeous presents on them. Willy got a hussaruniform, with sword, knot, boots and spurs all complete, and would notrest till he had been taken to his room and dressed in it, and thenappeared before the company in this martial attire. His mother's eyegrew dim with pride and joy when Herr von Swerte lifted up the littlewarrior to kiss him, and said heartily: "Well, my dear Herr Haber, hewill make a smart cavalry officer some day!"

At dinner Wilhelm found himself beside Frau Brohl. The old lady wasstill fond of him, and never forgot how well he had behaved at acritical moment, and with what modest self-perception he hadacknowledged that he was not the husband for her granddaughter. 

Searching about for something agreeable to say to him, or for a subjectthat would be sure to interest him, she suddenly remembered one, andsaid, between the fish and the roast, "Have you heard the story aboutyour old flame, Frau Von Pechlar?"

Wilhelm started and changed color. 

Frau Brohl never noticed, and continued in her soft complaining voice:"Your guardian angel saved you there, Herr Doctor. You would have comeoff nicely if you had married Fraulein Ellrich. There have been allsorts of rumors for years, but now it has come to an open scandal. Shehas left Herr von Pechlar and gone off with a count, who has beenhanging about her for some time. They say she has gone to Italy withhim. "

Wilhelm made no reply, but he was surprised himself to feel how deeplythe information affected him, so that he could not breathe freely allthe evening, and although it was late before he got to bed, he couldnot sleep for hours, thinking of the girl he had once loved, who wasnow rushing blindly down the path of dishonor. Why should the thoughtpain him so much? Do heart wounds heal so slowly and imperfectly that arough touch can make the scar burn and throb after long years? Or wasit regret at the besmirching of a picture which till now had shone sopurely and been so sweetly framed in his memory? He did not know, butfor days it depressed him to the verge of melancholy. 

In return for the hospitality he had received New Year's Eve was spentat Herr von Swerte's. The whole Haber family, with Frau Brohl and FrauMarker--the white grandmamma and the brown grandmamma, as Willy calledthem, to distinguish them from one another--drove over in the afternoonto Ronneburg by way of Harburg, but Wilhelm could not be prevailed uponto accompany them. Paul took him severely to task; Malvine representedto him, with an eloquence unusual to her, the horrors of a lonelyNew-Year's Eve; Frau Brohl pointed out the advantages of celebratingthe festive occasion in a company composed entirely of rich people; andeven Willy entreated, "Do come, Onkelchen, you can take care of me onthe road. " All their persuasion proving fruitless, they finally lefthim to his fate, and he remained behind alone. 

Night found him at the writing-table in Paul's study, his head in hishand, lost in thought. At last he shook himself out of his deepbrooding and wrote the following letter to Schrotter:

"My Revered Friend, I will not now break the habit of eight years, butwill spend my New Years' Eve with you, the person who stands nearest tome in all the world. I am alone in this grand villa, the servants seemto be enjoying themselves downstairs over their roast goose and punch, Paul has taken his family and gone into the country to the castle of aneighboring estate owner by whom he is evidently very much impressed, and I can chat with you undisturbed. 

"I wish you could live for a time in close contact with Paul, as I amdoing, you would be surprised and pleased. His development has beenwonderfully logical, and he now affords the spectacle, so intenselyinteresting to the observant eye, of a person whose every capacity, under the influence of the most favorable combination of circumstancesimaginable, has attained to the utmost limit of growth which ispossible to it. Paul has become the ideal type of our North Germanlanded proprietor. He is ultra conservative, and considers theSocialist Act too mild. He loathes parliamentarianism, but would wishthat the Landrath had not the power to appoint even a police constablewithout the consent of the estate owners of the district, and ravesabout local police prerogative. His only newspaper, beside the littlelocal one, is the Kreuzzentung, he is learned in the Army List, and thewriting-table at which I am sitting is strewed with volumes of theAlmanac de Gotha. He looks after his subjects--for I think he calls hisworkmen his subjects--in a truly fatherly or feudal manner, but I donot doubt that he would drive the best of them off the estate withdogs, if, even in the depth of winter, they did not stand hat in handthe whole time they were talking to him. The sole problem of theuniverse which has any sort of interest for him is the outlook of theweather for the harvest. The course of human or superhuman eventsarouses his wonder, his doubts, or his anxiety only in proportion as itaffects the price of corn. He cannot grasp that one should have anyother aim in life than to become a successful agriculturist. He findsfull satisfaction in his work, and what between a charming wife and anadored child he would afford an example of what the fables and proverbstell us does not exist--a perfectly happy man, if one thing were notlacking, the little word 'von' in front of his name. I trust he may notdie without obtaining it, and then the world will have contained onemortal who has known absolutely boundless happiness. 

"But in writing to you in this strain my conscience pricks me. Is itnot unkind toward Paul, whose attachment to me is positively touching?Is it not churlish to exercise such cold crticism upon a friend whosefaithful affection has never for one moment wavered? He surrounds mewith endless proofs of his affection, and is always on the lookout forsomething which may give me pleasure. He is a passionate sportsman--hisonly passion as far as I can see--and worries me twice a week to joinhim on his shooting expeditions. He is a masterly 'skat player, and ismost anxious to enrich my existence by the joys which, according tohim, this intellectual game affords to its adepts. When I venturetimidly to propose that I should leave him and live by myself, he looksso honestly hurt and grieved that I have not the courage to insistfurther. And Frau Haber, kind soul, who is so set upon getting memarried and thereby insuring my happiness! I and marrying! What have Ito offer a woman? Love? I am too poor in illusions. Amusements--society--the theater? All that is a horror to me. Andmoreover, I question if I have a right to bring a being into the world, over whose destiny I have no control, and whose existence would mostcertainly be richer in pain, and misery than in happiness; and I knowunquestionably that I have no right to teach a light-hearted girl tothink, and force her to exchange the artless gayety of a playful littleanimal for my own fruitless speculations and never-to-be-satisfiedyearnings. 

"In face of all this, serious doubts arise in my mind. Is it for me tospeak with superciliousness and superiority of Paul, or to look downupon him? I ask you, as I have been asking myself every day these threeweeks--is he not the wise man and I the fool? He the useful member ofsociety, and I the mere hanger-on? His life the real, mine the shadow?That he is happy I have already said; that I am not, I know. His systemtherefore leads to peace and contentment, mine does not. He has set achild into the world, and though, of course, he does not know what itsultimate fate will be, he sees for the present, as do I and everybodyelse who is not blind, that it fills his home with sunshine and warmth. He provides hundreds with their daily bread. That is, I know, of nomoment to the universe; it is of very little importance whether a fewmore obstruse human creatures walk the face of the earth or not. Butmeanwhile, the creatures in question enjoy more agreeable sensations, if, thanks to Paul's exertions, they have a comfortably spread tableevery day. I cannot boast of any such achievements. The only good Iever did my fellow-men did not proceed from me but from our friendDorfling, who simply used my hand as an instrument for carrying out hischaritable designs. My personal compassion, my love for my companionsin ignorance and suffering bears no fruit, benefits no one, and itfrequently seems to me that, if the truth were known, I am an egoist ofthe deepest dye. 

"If I could at least act consistently with the philosophy which directsnay views of life! But I am not even capable of that. Systematically, Iconcede no importance to outward forms. Maja does not count me amongher devotees. What are houses? What are the phantoms who inhabit them?A transient semblance, a delusion of the senses! And yet, I amconscious that I miss just those houses which happen to stand, inBerlin and that I feel an unspeakable longing for the phantom calledDr. Schrotter. Once again it has been proved to me that I am anunconscious plaything in the hands of unknown powers, for again, asmore than once in my life, and always at decisive moments, some outsideagency has interfered in my fate, and disposed of me contrary to my ownintentions, by sending me out of Berlin and away from you. But, nevertheless, my appreciation of this fact does not give me thestrength to accept the inevitable in silence and without repining. 

"Enough--I will not pain you. Only this much I should like to add thatlife is really harder to bear than I had thought for. 

"Farewell, dear and honored friend; remember me affectionately toBhani, who, I trust, does not suffer too severely from this hardwinter, and always believe in the faithful friendship and devotion ofyour

"WILHELM EYNHARDT. "

Three days later Wilhelm received the following answer from Schrotter:

"DEAREST FRIEND: Your long and welcome New Year's letter troubled memuch on account of the state of mind I see revealed in it. I think, however, that it is explained by the fact of your being rooted up outof your accustomed surroundings that you are oppressed by Haber'shospitality, and that you have as yet made no plans for the future, andI trust that your spirits will improve when these three circumstancesare altered. 

"I have always considered Haber, with all his good qualities of heartand character, a thoroughly commonplace man, and your observationsverify my opinion to the full. And yet I quite understand that thesight of his prosperity and self-satisfaction should give you food forthought, and raise the question in your mind whether his philosophy--ifI may use the word--or yours, is the right one. That is a greatquestion, and I do not presume to answer it, either in general or foryour particular case; and all the more, for the very good reason thatyour life is only really beginning now. You are not yet thirty-four, you may yet do something great, something pre-eminent, and who knows ifthose very qualities which have made your life unproductive hitherto, may not enable you later on to do things beside which the achievementsof a Paul Haber shrink into insignificance? On the other hand, I ampersuaded--quite apart from your respective ways of life--that you havechosen the better and higher part. 

"Human nature is like a tower with many stories; some people inhabitthe lower, others the higher ones. The inhabitants of the cellars andground floor may, in their way, be good, decent, praiseworthy people, but they can never enjoy the same amount of light, the same pure airand wide view as those who live on the upper stories. Now you, my dearyoung friend, live several floors higher up than our good Paul Haber, whom, however, I value and am very fond of. But there are people livingover our heads too. I have known Indian sages who looked down upon allwe strive after and with which we occupy ourselves with the samepitying wonder as you do on Haber's passion for sport and 'skat, ' andhis longing for a title; who have difficulty in understanding that weshould earn money, be ambitious, entertain passions, conform to outwardrules of custom, and, under the pretext of education, laboriously studyrows of empty phrases. These Brahmins have still higher interests and ayet wider view than the noblest-minded and wisest of us, and theknowledge that such pure and all-embracing spirits do exist ought toteach us to be humble, and not despise those who may still cling tosome vain show that we have overcome, and attach importance to matterswhich no longer possess any in our eyes. 

"One thing I have in my heart to wish for you, my dear friend--that youcould take life with a little of the unreflecting simplicity of thosewho accept--what the moment offers without troubling themselves as tothe why and the wherefore. You bow to those high powers who, forinstance, have caused you to be banished from Berlin; then submityourself to those still higher ones, who let you live and feel andthink. Do not fight against the natural instincts which lead you tocling to life and love. Your fears that you have nothing to offer awife are groundless. There are women who do not seek their happiness inthe vanities which you very properly detest. Do all you can to findsuch a woman. Bestow life as you have received it, and leave youroffspring cheerfully to the care of those powers who rule over your ownlife and destiny. For my part, I should be very sorry to see your racedie out. 

"And why reproach yourself that you provide no one with daily bread?Man does not live by bread alone; and by simply being what you are, yousupply many people--myself for instance--with a pleasure in life and abelief in your future career that is worth more than daily bread. 

"Bhani thanks you for your kind message. She incloses two verses foryou, of her own composition. Here you have them in prosetranslation--'My beloved master and his humble handmaid miss the dearfriend with the soft eyes and gentle voice. We live as in a bungalow inthe season of rains--clouds and ever clouds, and no sun. When will thesky be blue, and the sunshine come again? and when wilt thou eat riceonce more at the table of my lord?' In the original it certainly soundsmuch prettier. 

"Let me know soon what you think of doing, and be assured of the heartyaffection of your old

"SCHROTTER. 

"POSTSCRIPT: Just read the enclosed extract from my to-day's Times. That man's development was as logical as Haber's. "

In the letter Wilhelm found, beside Bhani's poem, written in delicateSanscrit characters on yellow paper, a cutting from an Englishnewspaper, in which he read that a Nihilist of the name of Barinskoi, in St. Petersburg, had for some time excited the suspicions of hisconfederates by his luxurious and showy style of living. In order todiscover the source from which he drew the money for it, they appointedone of their female members to be his mistress. She had shared in hisextravagances, and soon obtained proofs that he was in the service ofthe police, and sold his fellow Nihilists. A secret court condemned himto death, and a few days ago he had been found dead in his rooms, histhroat cut, and his body literally hacked to pieces. 

In January Wilhelm received an unusual visitor. It was a leader of theworkingmen of Altona, who told him, without further circumlocution, that the Socialists had kept their eye upon him, had found out where hewas living, and now sent him, the Altona man, to see if anything couldbe made of him. 

"What do you mean by that?" asked Wilhelm in astonishment. 

"I mean, " returned the visitor, who had introduced himself asStonemason Hessel, "whether you could not be persuaded to join usopenly. "

As Wilhelm did not answer at once, Hessel resumed--"Our party needs menlike you, who are independent and bold, have a university education, and speak well. You are all that, as we know. By banishing you fromBerlin they have, in point of fact, made you one of us. So go a stepfurther, Herr Doctor; defend yourself, take up the fight the governmenthas forced upon you. You have a million of determined workmen at yourback, who will gladly accept you as their leader. "

"Excuse my frankness, " said Wilhelm at last, "but I really cannot thinkyou are serious in your proposal. "

"It is a very serious matter to us, " cried Hessel. "I speak in the nameof the heads of the party, and have means of convincing you of thereality of my proposal if you have any doubts about it. "

"But how do you come to know about me?"

"That is very simple. You are not, perhaps, aware how well organized weare, and how we follow up everything that may be of use to usafterward. We know what you did for our party in Berlin, and that youare suffering for it now. We know your circumstances, and that you havea considerable sum of money at your disposal, and, I repeat, we wanteducated men. Most of us have not had the means to get much schooling. The struggle for our daily bread uses up all our time, and all thebrains we have. Look at me, Herr Doctor, for years I never had morethan five hours' sleep, and always used half the night to learn thelittle I know. There are plenty of people among us who--more's thepity--are distrustful of the better educated--call them upstarts, andwon't have anything to do with them. Their idea is that the proletariatshould be led by proletariars. But that is nonsense. No oppressed classhas ever yet been emancipated by its own members. It was always byhigh-minded men of wider views out of the upper classes. Catilina wasan aristocrat, and put himself at the head of the populace. Mirabeaubelonged to the Court, and overthrew the monarchy. Wilberforce, thedefender of the negro, was not black himself. "

Wilhelm now for the first time looked more attentively at thisstonemason, who talked so glibly of Catalina, Mirabeau and Wilberforce, and the thought passed through his mind that, at any rate, there wasone good thing about Social Democracy--it brought education intocircles to which it otherwise would never have penetrated. 

"And so, " Hessel wound up, "we workmen too must be led to victory byeducated men. "

"You overlook one point, however, " remarked Wilhelm. "To be yourleader, one must before all things share your convictions. "

"It is quite impossible that an educated and thoughtful man should notsee the injustice of the present social system. The government, whichoppresses us, sees it as clearly as we do ourselves. It is not fightingfor a conviction, but for the supremacy of a certain class. "

"'It is impossible, ' is no argument. In point of fact, I do not holdwith your doctrines. I know that the working-classes suffer, but I donot know why, and I do not believe your theorists when they say it isall because the workingman is ground down by the capitalist. Furthermore, you speak of leading--where am I to lead you to?"

"To victory against the plundering feudalism of the State. "

"That is a mere phrase. I know of no plan which will sweep poverty anddistress from the face of the earth. Even if you raise a revolution andit succeeds, even if you destroy the feudal State and build up aworkingman's State upon the ruins, you will thereby only have improvedthe condition of a select few, not of the whole--not even of the many. I would not like to be in the shoes of your present leaders, preachersand prophets, when you have conquered, and your followers demand to seethe results of your victory. How little they will then be able tofulfill of the promises they have made to-day. "

"So it is your opinion that there is nothing to be done for us, andthat we ought calmly to be left in want, and slavery, and ignorance?"Hessel asked angrily. 

"I think, " returned Wilhelm, "that it is the bounden duty of every manto love his neighbor, and help him where and when he can. "

"Oh yes, " said Hessel with a sneer, "that is the standpoint of theChurch--the standpoint of the Middle Ages. You would give us alms. No, thank you, we accept no presents. We demand our rights, not charity. "

Wilhelm thought to himself that he had not always found the Socialistsso proud, but kept the thought to himself, not wishing to hurt Hessel'sfeelings, who seemed to be an honest fanatic. 

"Do not let that be your last word, " Hessel went on. "You are probablybut slightly acquainted with our doctrines and writings. Come nearer tous. Come to our meetings--talk to our workmen. You will find that manyof us have very clear heads, and know exactly what we want, althoughthe majority do still cling a good deal to phrases. You will assuredlysoon begin to interest yourself in the emancipation of the proletariat. And what a future to look forward to! You might be another Lassalle, famous powerful, adored by thousands, received as a savior wherever youshow yourself--make a triumphal progress through all Germany, perhapsthrough the world. And over and above, the consciousness of havingrendered such mighty service to your fellow-men. "

Wilhelm rose. 

"I seem to myself to be playing a rather ridiculous part in thisscene, " he said; "it is a parody of the Gospel story of the Temptation. Unfortunately, I have not the smallest particle of ambition, and haveno desire to be either famous or mighty, or to make triumphalprogresses. If I could really do anything for you, believe me, I woulddo it gladly. But I assure you I possess neither the philosopher'sstone, nor a prescription for a universal panacea. I do not believeeither that the remedies they recommend so highly to you are veryeffectual, so I am much obliged to you for your confidence in me, andbeg you to leave me in my obscurity. "

Hessel gave him a dark look, stood up, turned slowly away, and left himwithout one word, or even offering him his hand. 

Wilhelm had sent to Berlin for a box of books, and tried to go on withhis work, but found no real pleasure in it. A deep despondency had comeupon him, and the idea that his life was wholly purposeless took moreand more hold upon him. Often, after studying earnestly for a day ortwo, and making extracts for his book, he would ask himself, "Why takeall this trouble? Who is going to be made wiser or happier by thisrigmarole?" and his pleasure in the work was gone again for days. Theconsciousness of exile, instead of being blunted by time, weighed evermore heavily upon him. He never realized till now what an absolutenecessity it was to his nature to lean upon a kindred spirit, for hehad never before been without one. Since the death of his father he hadfirst had Paul, and then Dr. Schrotter, whom he had seen daily, andthus had always had some one to share his mental life. Now he wasseparated from Schrotter by distance, and from Paul by the great changein their views, and found no sufficient support when left to himself. If at times the sight of Paul's perfect self-content and happinessroused in him the wish to follow his example, it was quickly overruledby the conviction that neither Paul's commonplace, practicaloccupations, nor his worldly success, would afford him, Wilhelm, thesmallest satisfaction. 

He passed his days and weeks in self-communings and spiritualloneliness, in spite of Paul's and Malvine's endeavors to interest himin men and things. He allowed himself to be drawn into Malvine'safternoon receptions, and the two or three parties they gave during thewinter; but refused to accompany them to other people's balls anddinners. He was happiest of all with Willy, who was very fond of UncleEynhardt. He took him for walks, told him stories, was never tired ofanswering his endless questions, amused him with little chemicalexperiments, and in default of the riding lessons let him ride upon hisknee. And as he passed his fingers through the child's long curls, heoften thought, in spite of all his philosophic doubts, how wonderfullypleasant it must be after all, to bring forth some such sweetgolden-haired mystery that would cling to its parent and break awayfrom him--a continuation and yet a wholly new departure that had itsroots in the past, and yet struck out boldly into the future, and whosebright gaze would be trying to penetrate the riddle of the universewhen he himself had long since sunk into oblivion. Had Malvine beensomething more than good-natured and commonplace, had she possessed alittle more tact and insight into the human heart, she would have seenthat in Wilhelm were now combined all the conditions necessary forpredisposing him for marriage--the sense of a spiritual void, thelonging for love and companionship, a consciousness of being alone inthe midst of a cheerful, peaceful family circle, and the desire to seehis own life renewed in that of a child. What he needed was that someone should frankly make the first advances, and overcome his naturalshyness and diffidence by a bold and saucy attack. With a little tactand diplomacy, a clever woman would have had no difficulty in puttingup a bright girl to attempt so easy a fight and victory. But Malvinenever thought of such a thing. Social etiquette withheld the variousyoung ladies on whom the Habers' quiet guest had made no smallimpression from taking those first steps, which are consideredunwomanly and humiliating, although in most cases they invariably bringabout the desired results, and so Wilhelm continued to sit in hiscorner, and the group of pretty heiresses in theirs; the winter passed, and Malvine's darling wish was still unfulfilled. 

Easter came round, and with it the migration of the family toFriesenmoor House. Wilhelm would have liked to seize this opportunityfor withdrawing himself from a hospitality which weighed heavily onhim, but Paul put down his timid revolt with a high hand. 

"None of that now. You are coming with us, and can see what countrylife is like for a whole summer, " he declared, and there the matterrested. 

The estate and its surroundings possessed no picturesque charms. Theland stretched in uniform flatness from the sluggish Suderelbe to theequally sleepy Seeve, and the Fuchsberg at Ronneburg, with its heightof two hundred feet, was a giant of the Alps or Cordilleras, comparedto the floor-like evenness of the country round about. From theplatform of the tower which Paul had built on to his house, giving itquite a baronial appearance, one could see for miles across country, almost to Hamburg, the spires of which were plainly visible on a clearday. But far and near one saw nothing but cornfields and meadows, thathad the regularity of a carpet pattern, intersected by clay-coloreddikes, straight ditches full of stagnant brown water, here and there abusy windmill, and in the distance the smooth-flowing watercourseswhich bounded the landscape. The picture was laid on from a meagerpalette; a few browns and greens, slightly relieved and enlivened bythe vigorous tones of the whitewashed walls of the laborers' cottages, some standing apart, some collected together like a little village. 

And yet, though the view from the tower might not seem very attractive, a walk through the country revealed many a peculiar charm to theobservant and divining eye. Here one stood upon ground where man hadwrestled with Nature and subdued her. At every step one encountered themarks of that struggle and victory, reminding one of Jacob's mysteriousencounter with the angel. The waters of the marsh were now forcedwithin the prescribed limits of a system of drains and canals. Luxuriant crops triumphed over reeds and rushes, which were now onlypermitted to fringe the edges of the ditches. Sleek, mild-eyed cowsgrazed and ruminated where formerly the wildfowl built her nest. Chaoswas vanquished, and had to own man for her lord and master. 

Here, upon the scene of his labors, Paul's figure assumed a certainepic dignity. As a stern lord with a handful of armed followers keepsdown a subjugated people, so Paul, at the head of a few hundredworkmen, held sway over the unruly forces of Nature always more or lessready to revolt. There were always dikes to be repaired, ditches to bedeepened, drain-pipes to be laid or improved, or artificial manure tobe carted, and Paul was active from break of day till nightfall, eitheron foot or on horseback, hurrying from one end of the estate to theother, everywhere ordering or giving a helping hand, and always leadinghis troops himself to fresh onslaughts against the resisting elements. He did it all quietly, without any fuss or attempt to reflect credit onhimself, and left it to others--to strangers, poetically inclinedpupils or students on their travels--to say that his conquest of theFriesenmoor was a Faust-like achievement. 

He had built a whole village for his laborers, to right and left of thehighroad leading to Friesenmoor House. The cheerful, clean, whitewashedcottages, with their green-painted window-frames, were thatched withrushes and surrounded by gardens in which young fruit trees, not yetsufficiently strong to forego the support of poles, already gavepromise of their first harvest of apples and pears. The village halland the school-house were distinguished by superior size andgreen-glazed tile roofs; nor was a church, with a pointed belfry andweathercock, missing. For Paul was a model landowner, who took amplethought for the welfare of his dependents, and as soon as his meanspermitted it, had hastened to build a church and appoint a pastor, providing thereby, at the same time, for one of his numerous relatives. In his ardent loyalty to his king, he had expressed the wish to callhis village Kaiser-Wilhelm's Dorf, and had received the desiredpermission. 

In Kaiser-Wilhelm's Dorf, it was evident, content and comparativeprosperity reigned supreme. Behind every house was a pigsty, behindnearly every one a cowshed. The men looked strong and hearty; thewomen, carrying dinner to their husbands in the fields, or sittingknitting on the benches in front of their doors, all presented brightand cheerful faces, and the school would hardly contain the crowd offlaxen-haired, blue-eyed children, whose rounded cheeks gave evidenceof a never-failing and amply spread dinner-table. 

In the beginning, all this made a vast impression on Wilhelm. As thestruggle with nature is man's real and normal task, he instinctivelyfeels an emotion almost amounting to joy wherever he comes uponevidences of victory. But, as usual with Wilhelm, this firstinstinctive emotion was followed by the usual fatal speculations, andhe said to himself, "Paul has converted swamps into cornfields, hasenriched himself thereby, and supports some hundreds of families. Good!but what further? This great achievement has as its primary result, that people are fed who otherwise perhaps would not eat so much or sowell, or merely would not feed on this spot at all. But is the fillingof one's own and other people's stomachs the first and highest aim oflife?"

Paul tried hard to interest him in the details of farming. He took himabout, showed and explained everything to him, and finally brought outhis pet scheme--that he should sell the house in Berlin, and buyinstead some marshland near by, which was to be had for a moderate sum;he would give him a helping hand at first, and as property of that kindcould very well afford a steward, he could easily get him a first-rateone. They would be neighbors, Wilhelm would have a larger income andfewer wants, and live in peace and comfort. Wilhelm was profoundlytouched by the affection which was manifest in Paul's every word andthought, but the prospects he opened up before him offered him noattractions. 

In July, when the harvest was ripening for the sickle, and man hadnothing to do but leave the sun to its work of brooding on the fields, Paul went one day to a committee meeting in the town. When he came homehe remarked to Wilhelm at supper:

"What do you think? They have discovered that I am harboring adangerous Social Democrat. The Landrath actually remonstrated with meon the subject in a discreet and well-meaning way. I can't tell you howthe man amused me, " and he laughed again as he recalled theconversation. But all his amusement vanished when Wilhelm answered:

"The Landrath was quite right. A political outlaw is very doubtfulcompany for a man in your position, and I cannot think how I came tooverlook the fact myself. "

In vain did Paul endeavor to turn the matter into a joke; in vain thathe showed himself inconsolable at his stupidity in having told thestory. Wilhelm declared firmly that he must leave his friend, andbringing his whole force of will to bear upon it, carried his intentionthrough. 

The next day Paul's carriage took him to Harburg. The parting wastrying to all of them. Paul's leave-taking was prolonged, and he madehis friend promise he would return next year for some weeks at least toFriesenmoor House. Malvine had tears in her eyes as she said, "No onewill care for you so much as we do. " Even little Willy was downcast, and gazed with a reproachful look at the friend who could find it inhis heart to desert him. As the train moved off he called out toWilhelm, in his ringing, childish voice, "Come back soon, Onkelchen, and bring me something nice. "

CHAPTER X. 

A SEASIDE ROMANCE. 

Wilhelm's immediate destination was Ostend. He hardly knew himself howhe came to fix on that particular place. Since those days, long past, when his thoughts had hovered for weeks round the Belgianwatering-place, the name had remained in his mind, and now, with hisdesire to spend some months in company with the sea, Ostend was thefirst place that occurred to him. 

It was the middle of July, and watering places not very full as yet, nor were there many people staying at the Ocean Hotel where he stopped. Two Americans, who had begun a summer tour on the Continent by a shortstay at Ostend, made friends with him on the first day after hisarrival, when they found he could speak English. They invited him tojoin them on their walks, and made him give them information aboutGermany, and especially about Berlin, which they intended visiting; inreturn they told him all about the north coast of France, with itswatering-places, big and little, which they had "done" last year fromCherbourg to Dunkirk. 

Strolling the next afternoon with his new acquaintances along theDigue, a few steps in front of them he saw a lady, plainly and darklybut most elegantly dressed leaning on the arm of a tall man. Theywalked slowly, and were evidently lost in contemplation of the softlyrolling sea. At first he paid but little attention to the couple, andwould not have noticed them at all had not the Digue been very empty ofvisitors just then. But, strange to say, his gaze kept wandering fromthe oily surface of the sea, and the steamers and fishing-smacksplowing their way through it, to the slender figure of the lady, wholooked small beside her tall companion; and there gradually dawned uponhim a dim idea that that slight figure reminded him of somebody--thathe had seen those delicate contours, those graceful proportions, thatlight and gliding gait before. Without hastening his steps he soonovertook them, and recognized at the first glance that it was Loulou. She too turned her head involuntarily to look at the passing trio. Asshe caught sight of Wilhelm a sudden pallor overspread her face, andwith an unconscious movement of terror she dropped her companion's arm. Both stood stockstill, as if suddenly deprived of the power of motion, and gazed at one another wide-eyed. The silent encounter only lasted afew seconds, but the play on both sides was so marked that it could notfail to excite the attention of the lookers-on. Loulou's attendantcavalier looked in surprise from her to him, and evidently thought theproceedings most extraordinary. But before he had time to ask for anexplanation, Wilhelm had turned on his heel and was walking rapidlyback to the hotel. The two Americans followed him in silence. Nothingin the scene had escaped them, but as true Anglo-Saxons they had toomuch native reserve to ask for a confidence which was not offered them. 

Wilhelm was most painfully affected by the encounter, and not forworlds would he risk the possibility of meeting again with theunfortunate woman and the man to whom she now was bound in sinfulunion. That same day he took leave of his Americans, and left Ostendearly the next morning; at once fearful and relieved, as though fleeingsuccessfully from the scene of a dark deed of his own committing. 

After a long and tiresome journey, not made pleasanter by having tochange four or five times, he arrived late in the evening at Eu, wherehe spent the night. The next morning, an hour's drive in a hotelomnibus brought him to Ault, a small market-town in the department ofSomme, which the Americans had recommended to him as the quietest, cheapest, most unpretending, and at the same time picturesquelysituated of any of the seaside places on the north coast of France, atleast as far as Dieppe. 

Wilhelm found Ault to be all it had been described. The little placepresented a well-to-do, self-respecting appearance. The High Street, atright angles with the shore, and rising gently toward the higher, billowy country beyond, was wide and straight as a dart, andscrupulously clean; the roadway was macadamized, and a flagged pavementran along the two rows of houses. At its upper end, broad and defiant, was a wonderful mediaeval church in the earliest Gothic style, withhigh pointed windows, a severely beautiful west door, and a mightysquare tower. The church blocked the way, and forced the street to makea bend in order to pass round it. This building, which would haveadorned a capital, stood there haughty and arrogant like a giganticknight in full tilting armor in the midst of the common people, andseemed to wave the simple, unpretentious provincial houses to right andleft with a lordly gesture so that nothing might intercept his view ofthe sea. Beside the High Street there were a few little side alleys, mostly inhabited by locksmiths, who worked with untiring industry frommorning till night, keeping up a cheerful but far from unpleasing dinwhich, mingled with the roar of the breakers below, reached the ear asa soft musical ring of metal. The only prominently ugly features in thecharming picture were the few villas on the neighboring heights, builtby retired Paris grocers and haberdashers; liliputian, pretentious, with blatant, highly-colored facades, ludicrous imitations of baronialfortresses, Venetian palaces, or Renaissance chateaux. 

The inhabitants of Ault were a peaceable, sober-minded people. No onewas ever drunk, nor was the sound of quarreling ever to be heard. Therewere few public-houses; several places, however, dignified by the nameof cafes. The natives were so far accustomed to summer visitors thatthey did not take much notice of them, but happily not so much as todirect their whole thought and energy to fleecing them. It seemed as ifthe people of Ault had merely arranged a bathing place for the purposeof deriving a little amusement out of the strangers, not in order tomake a living out of them, that being quite unnecessary, as theircomfortable figures, good clothes, and well-filled shops could testify. 

Wilhelm took up his quarters in the Hotel de France, situated justwhere the High Street swept round the side of the church. As the housewas separated from the sea by the whole opposite row of houses, oneonly caught a glimpse of it as a narrow, glittering streak across theintervening roofs from the second-floor windows. The view from thefront windows was the more remarkable. They looked out upon thechurchyard which lay behind the Gothic cathedral. Not that there wasanything depressing in the sight; it made, on the contrary, a cheerfulimpression, with its carefully tended flower beds and magnificent oldtrees, which almost hid the modest headstones they overshadowed, and inwhose branches count less singing birds had built their nests, whilenoisy troops of children played under them at all hours of the day. 

Wilhelm directed his steps at once to this churchyard, where, besidethe modern iron crosses, there were marble headstones showing datesthat went back to the seventeenth century. In the oldest as well as thenewest inscriptions the same name occurred over and over again, speaking well for the settled habits of the population. And, accordingto the inscriptions, most of those buried here had lived to be eightyor ninety years of age. Had Ault been a professedly fashionable bathingplace, one might have been tempted to think that this churchyard, withits cheering records in stone and iron of the longevity of the natives, had been set down in the very center of the town to encourage thevisitors. 

The Hotel de France recommended itself by extreme cleanliness, butotherwise it was very simple. The rooms contained only such furnitureas was absolutely necessary, the dining-room was bare of decoration, and therefore happily free of those gruesome colored prints which thecommercial traveller delights to sow broadcast over the unsuspectingcountry towns. Only the so-called salon boasted the luxury of a cottagepiano, a polished table, a few cane chairs, and a looking-glass overthe chimneypiece, on which lay a box of dominoes and a backgammonboard, eloquently suggestive of mine host's ideas as to the mostsuitable occupation for his guests. 

The hotel proprietors were as simple and homely as their house. The manwore a seaman's cap and a blue coat with brass anchor buttons, and wasmore than delighted if you took him for a seafaring man. He had, infact, been to sea once, as ship's cook, or steward, or something of thesort. Now he sat most of the time in the cafe of the hotel, suppliedthe neighbors with little drams of cognac, and told the visitorsendless stories of the buying and selling of property in the littletown. His wife was the soul of the establishment. She possessed thegift of omnipresence. At one and the same moment you might see her inthe kitchen and in the outhouses, in the hotel and in the cafe. Theservants, of whom there was a considerable number, answered to a look, a bock of her finger. You could hear her clear voice from morning tillnight in the courtyard or on the stairs. Everywhere she lent a helpinghand, and her busy fingers accomplished as much as all the men andmaids put together. With it all she was never out of temper, always hada word or a smile for every passer-by, took a personal interest in eachof her guests, took instant notice of a diminished appetite or a palecheek, and always sent up lime-flower tea to anybody who happened tocome rather later than usual to breakfast. 

The hotel was pretty full when Wilhelm arrived, but he made no attemptto mix with the company he met twice a day at the table d'hote. HisFrench had grown somewhat rusty for want of practice, and he did nottrust himself to join in the exceedingly lively and generalconversation till he had regained something of his old fluency in longdaily talks with the landlord. Beside which, he did not feel greatlydrawn toward his fellowguests. Their high-sounding andpompously-expressed platitudes bored him, their absurd views onpolitics, their parrot-like and yet self-satisfied remarks onliterature and art filled him with compassion. One guest in particular, who sat at the head of the table, and generally led the conversation inthe loudest tones, succeeded in making him very impatient, in spite ofthe mildness with which Wilhelm usually judged his fellows. He didbusiness in sewing machines in Paris, but here gave himself out as an"ingenieur constructeur, " and belonged to that class of persons whocannot endure not to be the center of observation wherever they happento be. It has been said of a man of that stamp, that if he were at awedding he would wish to be the bridegroom, and if at a funeral to bein the place of the corpse. At the dinner table of the Hotel de Francehe reigned supreme. His strong point lay in the perpetration of themost ghastly puns, which he would discharge first to the right and thento the left, and finally, with a roar of laughter, over the wholetable. In his outward appearance, too, he sought to create a sensation. He was not dressed, he was costumed. He wore long stockings, knickerbockers and a tight-fitting jacket, and when he stood up, triedto produce effects with his calves, spread his legs wide apart as if, like the Colossus of Rhodes, ships were to pass beneath, and affectedsporting and athletic attitudes generally. He was accompanied by a ladywho had at first roused the horrified disgust of the others by herappetite, which surpassed every known human limit, and then proceededto make herself still more hateful by a frequent change of costume. 

Wilhelm's immediate neighbor was a lady of somewhat exuberant outline, but extremely plainly dressed, and without a single ornament, of whomat first he took no more notice than of the rest of the company. Shereturned his silent bow at coming and going, and acknowledged thelittle attentions of the dinner table--the handing of salt or entrees, of bread or cider (the table beverage)--with a low "Merci, monsieur, "accompanied by a pleasant smile and an inclination of the head. Theacquaintance began with a look. It was after a more than usuallyexasperating pun from the man in the knickerbockers, and involuntarilytheir eyes met, after which they exchanged glances each time he cameout with a particularly blatant piece of idiocy. They could not longremain in doubt that their opinion on the prevailing conversation wasidentical, and the unanimity of their tastes was still furtherdemonstrated by the fact that the lady was as silent during the mealsas Wilhelm. 

The interchange of looks was presently followed by words. It was thelady who broke the ice by alluding to a somewhat peculiar incident. Ithappened to be market day, and Wilhelm had been watching with interestthe cheerful bustle in the High Street, and the new type of countrypeople: the men with their carts bringing in calves, pigs, and grain, fine-looking fellows, with tall sturdy figures, and shrewd, clean-shaven faces above the blue cotton white-embroidered blouses andseverely stiff snow-white shirt collars; and the women in rounddark-brown cloaks reaching to their feet; the drum-beating, yellingtooth-drawers and patent medicine venders praising their remediesagainst tapeworm and ague with incredible volubility, and the couple ofmajestic gendarmes in their imposing uniforms, with yellow leatherbelts and cocked hats, who found no occasion to exhibit their sternofficial side to the noisy, laughing, but well-behaved crowd. Afterstrolling for awhile among the carts and people, Wilhelm had caughtsight of a large and handsome donkey, had gone up to him and strokedhim, and said a variety of friendly things to him. 

At dinner, noting that his neighbor was looking about in search ofsomething, he asked politely:

"Madame is in want of something?"

"The water, if you please, " said she. 

He handed her the carafe, which was out of her reach; she thanked him, and, not to let the conversation drop, added with a pleasant smile:

"Monsieur seems fond of donkeys?"

"Indeed!" He answered, surprised. 

"I saw you this morning patting and stroking a splendid donkey. "

He had not thought of it again. 

"Yes, now I remember, " he answered, "it was a charming beast, withwonderfully wise, thoughtful eyes. "

"Do you think so too?" she cried, delighted. "You must know, I have aspecial weakness for donkeys, and consider that, next to dogs they areby far the most intelligent of our domestic animals. They have such alook of profound wisdom, such stoical philosophy and resignation, thatI feel they are quite a lesson to me. "

Wilhelm could not repress a smile at her lively tone. 

"I should like to think, " he said, "that our agreeing in a good opinionof the donkey is a sign that the ungrateful world has at last come to aproper appreciation of this ugly fellow-laborer. "

"Ugly?" she exclaimed. "I don't think so at all! Look at his delicatehoofs, his elegantly-tufted tail, the soft, silvery gray of his coatwith the velvety, black markings, and his ears are very becoming tohim. It is such an injustice always to compare him with the horse. Heis altogether a different type, but quite as handsome in his way. "

"Then you would whitewash Titania in 'Midsummer Night's Dream?'"

She laughed "Well, Titania might have done worse. But how is it thatthe donkey has come to be the symbol of stupidity?"

"Perhaps because of his want of spirit, and his perversity. "

"No, I believe it is something else. People found a great, stronganimal that could, if it liked, be just as difficult to manage, andresist just as well as a horse, and yet was quite content with theworst of food, required neither stable nor grooming, worked till itdropped, and never bit or kicked. So they said, an animal that isstrong enough to hurt us, and yet puts up with any kind of treatment, must necessarily be deadly stupid. That is how it was. People cannotbelieve that one may be good-tempered and uncomplaining and yet haveany brains. With them to be wicked and violent and pretentious is to beclever. If the donkey would refuse to eat anything but oats and barley, and turned and rent anybody who annoyed him in the slightest degree, you would see how people would immediately have the highest respect forhis intellect. "

"You seem to have a low opinion of your fellow-creatures, madame?"

"It is their own fault then, " she replied, gazing through the windowinto the courtyard. 

After this conversation Wilhelm looked for the first time moreattentively at his neighbor. He had a general impression of her beingtall and stout, with a remarkably clear, bright complexion. Now he tookin the details. In spite of the fullness of her figure she was slenderabout the waist, and her small slim hands, with their tapering fingersand pink nails, retained the purity of their outline, and had by nomeans degenerated into mere cushions of fat. The proudly-poised headwas crowned by a wealth of heavy, pale brown hair with dull goldreflections in it, waving in soft, downy locks round her forehead. Thecheeks were very full but firm, and the well shaped, boldly modelednose stood in exactly the right proportion to the rather large face. The light brown eyes with their remarkably small pupils wereconspicuously lively, and flashed and sparkled incessantly on allsides. Their expression was extremely intelligent and generallymocking, and if you looked long at them you gained the somewhatuncomfortable impression that that cold clear glance could, onoccasion, stab a heart as cruelly as would a dagger. But her moststriking feature was her mouth--a sudden dash of violent coral-red inthe opalescent white of her face. This brutal effect of color exerciseda peculiar fascination and riveted the attention. The eye lingered uponthose lips--so voluptuously, so sinfully full, so burning, blood-redthat in the chastest mind, even a woman's, they must suggest the imageof vampire-like kisses. Take her for all in all, she was a magnificentcreature, this woman of thirty, overflowing with health and life, inall her triumphant display of full-blown womanly beauty. Not a man inthe hotel but had looked at her in undisguised admiration, and if theyhad not yet ventured to make advances to her, it was because sheintimidated them by her cold hauteur, or by the mocking twinkle of hereye. 

Only for Wilhelm, now that she had really taken notice of him, didthose eyes begin to grow soft and gentle, and when they met his turnedmeek and harmless, and, in their apparent innocence, seemed to plead tohim for notice, confidence, instruction. He did not remain imperviousto their influence. It afforded him distinct pleasure to sit at tablebeside this beautiful woman and show her small attentions. On his longwalks he caught himself thinking deeply about her, while the bloodcoursed with unwonted heat through his veins. He marked her entranceinto the dining room or salon by his heart stopping suddenly and thenracing on in wild, irregular beats, and if he looked at her theindecorous thought came to him that it would be a joy to stroke thosefirm, round cheeks, to pass one's fingers gently over those swellinglips, but more especially to bury one's hands in that flood of silkenhair. These various discoveries rather took him aback, and resulted inincreasing his reserve almost to the point of rudeness. He still onlymet her at the table d'hote, and never attempted to approach at anyother time, although she had asked him repeatedly if he did not takewalks or make excursions into the country. 

One morning, soon after the conversation about the donkey, he went downto the beach, where, it being the bathing hour, the whole visitingpopulation of Ault was assembled. The coast met the sea at this pointas a perpendicular wall of rock a hundred and fifty feet high, stretching away to the west in an endless line, but on the east side, sloping gradually down, till about two miles further on, it lost itselfin the flat line of the shore. Where the sweep of the bare, gray cliffmade a slight backward curve, the sea had washed the shingle togetherto form a little beach covered with pebbles from the largest to thesmallest size. Here two rows of modest wooden cabins were erected, which served as bathing houses, and beside these, a great woodenstructure on wheels, not unlike the enormous house-caravans in whichthe owners of shows and menageries and such-like wandering folk travelabout from fair to fair. The French flag fluttering from a pole on thetop of the caravan drew attention to it, and on closer inspection oneread above the entrance--which was approached by a movable woodenstaircase--the proud legend "Casino d'Ault. " Yes, Ault actually boasteda casino, with an entrance fee of ten centimes a head, and in thesingle room, which occupied the whole structure, you found a jeu decourse, and other games of hazard, exactly as they had them in the mostrenowned and elegant dens of thieves of the fashionable watering places. 

Here, however, nobody went to the dogs. Life on the shore was prim andpatriarchal. Whole families sat or lay about on camp stools or ontraveling rugs, the wives in morning wraps, the husbands smoking inlinen suits; the former occupied with needlework, the latter readingthe newspapers or novels. The young people ran about barefoot and inbathing costume, or lay at the edge of the water fishing for shrimps, which they rarely or never caught. There were merry, noisy groups ofbathers in the shallow water near the shore, splashing one another, shrieking at the approach of the larger waves, bobbing up and down, andshouting encouragement to the newcomers, who only ventured timidly andby degrees into the chilly waters. As very few of the bathers couldswim, this all took place in the close vicinity. 

At first Wilhelm had been rather shocked to see the two sexes bathingtogether, and that the girls and married women--coming out of the seawith their legs and arms bare, and their clinging, wet bathing dressesrevealing the outline of their forms with embarrassingdistinctness--should calmly stroll back to the bathing houses under theopen gaze of the men. For that reason he even refrained from going tothe shore at the bathing hour, or bathing there himself. By degrees, however, he grew accustomed to it, seeing that nobody thought anythingof it, and that the almost nude figures disported themselves amongtheir equally unconcerned parents, relatives, and friends with thenaive unconsciousness of South Sea Islanders. 

As he made his way, not too easily, over the rolling shingle betweenthe chattering, lazy groups, he saw his neighbor of the table d'hotesitting, a little apart, on a camp stool under a large dark sunshade, an open book on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the smooth, brightsurface of the ocean. She noticed Wilhelm, and smiled and noddedpleasantly, almost before he could bow to her. There was something ofinvitation in her nod, which, however, he did not follow, he could nothave said exactly why. Confused, and a prey to all sorts of undefinedemotions, he continued his walk till he reached the point where thewaves, breaking at the very foot of the cliff, prevented his going anyfurther. As he turned, ho remembered that he would have to pass heragain, and considered if he could not avoid it by keeping close to thecliff and so get behind her. But why go out of his way to avoid her?That was driving shyness to the verge of churlishness. She was friendlytoward him, why repay her kindness by such foolish and uncalled-forreserve? And ashamed, almost indignant at himself, he came to a suddendetermination, and directed his steps straight toward the lady. She hadwatched him all the time, and now smiled to him from afar, as she sawhim making for her. 

When he got up to her he stood still and raised his hat. She saved himthe embarrassment of making a beginning by saying at once in the mostnatural tone in the world:

"How nice of you to come and keep me company for a little while! Won'tyou sit down on this plaid?"

He thanked her, and did as he was bid, seating himself on the thick, soft rug. His head was shaded by the great parasol, the sun warmed hisknees. 

"Are you a great admirer of the sea?" asked the lady. 

"I hardly know myself yet. I must make its nearer acquaintance first, "answered Wilhelin. 

"I confess that it leaves me quite unmoved. No, not that exactly, for Iam rather vexed at it for giving so many idiots an excuse for rantingand absurd sentimentality. Now just look at all these people on thebeach. In reality they are bored to extinction, and enjoy theBoulevards infinitely more than this expanse of water, which is quitemeaningless to them. And yet you have only to mention the word--thesea--and they will instantly turn up their eyes and start off repeatingthe lesson they have learned by rote about their rapture andenthusiasm, just like a musical box which grinds out a tune when youpress a button at the top. The sea was invented by a few romanticallyinclined poets. But I deny that there is any truth in then rhapsodies;the sea is hopelessly monotonous, and monotony excludes the possibilityof beauty or charm. One has at most the same feeling for it as for amirror in which one sees oneself reflected. The sea is a blank page, which each one fills up with whatever he happens to have in his ownmind, or, if you like it better, a frame into which one puts picturesof one's own imagining. I grant that you can dream by the side of thesea, for it does nothing to disturb your dreams or give them anyparticular bent or coloring. But can it give the impulse to thought andemotion like the eve-changing outlines of mountain and forest? Never!People with unsophisticated minds know that well enough. The populationof the coast always builds its houses with their backs to the sea. 

"As a defence against the storms, " Wilhelm interposed. 

"That may be. But that is not the only reason. It is because the sightof that eternal waste of waters, without a boundary line, without thevariety or movement of life upon it, bores them, and they prefer tolook out upon the country with all its expressive and varying outlines. "

"But the expression which you see in a landscape--you put that into ityourself, by an effort of your own imagination. Forests and mountainsare in themselves as inanimate as the sea. "

"Quite so; but the landscape has features which remind us of somethingelse, which play, as it were, upon the keyboard of our associations, and it thus calls up the pictures with which we proceed to enliven it. The sea does nothing of this, and the best proof of that is, that nopainter has ever yet used the sea by itself for his model. Did you everknow of an artist who painted nothing but the sea?" "Yes, Aiwasowky. "

"Who is he?"

"A Russian who paints extraordinary sea pieces. "

"What! Only water--without shore, or people, or ships?"

"I remember a picture with absolutely nothing but water, only a spar, or a mast floating on it. "

"There, you see!" she cried in triumph. "That broken mast is a trick ofthe artist. There lies the story. You instantly think of a wreckedship; you see men, catastrophes, weeping widows and sweethearts; thespar becomes the central point of the picture, and you forget all aboutthe sea. Moreover, the ancients, who surely had an eye for all that isgrand and beautiful, they did not know either what to do with the sea. They were a magnificent race, healthy-minded realists--and keptstrictly to the evidences of their senses without adding anythingtranscendental. The sea only appealed to their ear. Homer's adjectivesfor the sea are only expressive of sound--the resounding, the jubilant, the loud-rushing; hardly more than once does he allude to the gloomy orthe wine-colored sea. "

"You have your classics at your fingers' ends, like any philologist. "

"That need not surprise you. With regard to the really beautiful, Ihave neither pride nor prejudice. Even the fact that the common herd ofthe reading public has made a point of praising him for a hundred yearsdoes not prevent me from enjoying a true poet. "

"But if you dislike the sea so much why do you come here?"

"Oh, " laughed the handsome lady, "that is the fault of my doctors. Theysent me to the sea to thin me down, and by their orders I was to choosea very dull, very remote bathing place, where I should be sure not tomeet any acquaintances. For directly I have friends about me, I enjoymyself, laugh, talk, and then I get stout again. Now to-day, forinstance, I have acted contrary to my medical orders--I have had a verypleasant chat with you. "

"You are too kind. You have given everything and received nothing inreturn. "

"That is exactly what I like--always to give, never to receive. "

"That is not woman's way usually. But you are very exceptional. Pardona possibly indiscreet question--do you write?"

"Good gracious! Do I look like a blue-stocking?"

"I never made a distinct picture of that type. "

"You need not be afraid, I am not an authoress. The most I have everdone in that way was to give a novelist, or a comedy-writer of myacquaintance, a little help now and then. When they want a lady'sletter, they like me to write it. But you--I suppose you are an author?"

"No, madame; I study natural science. "

"A professor then?"

"No, only an amateur. "

"Ah! And you are French?"

"I am German. "

"Impossible!" exclaimed the lady. 

"Why impossible?" asked Wilhelm, smiling. 

"You have no accent, and you look--"

"You probably think that every German has light blue eyes, flaxen hair, and a long pipe?"

"That is certainly pretty much how we picture Germans to ourselves inSpain. "

It was his turn to be surprised. "You a Spaniard?"

"And how had you pictured a Spanish lady? Of course with jet black eyesand hair, and a mantilla?"

Wilhelm nodded. 

"There are fair Spaniards, however, as you see. In fact, it is verycommon in our best families--an inheritance perhaps from our Gothicancestors. "

"I suppose, like all Latins, you despise the Germans?"

"I beg, monsieur, that you will not class me with the mass. I wish tobe regarded as an individual. Whatever the prejudices of the Latins maybe, I have my own opinion. Your nationality in a matter of indifferenceto me. I only consider the man, " and she gave him a look that sent theblood flaming to his cheek. 

The hotel meals were always announced by a bell which could be heardquite well on the shore. In the heat of their conversation, however, they did not notice the signal. A lady's maid whom Wilhelm had oftenseen at the hotel--a middle-aged, female dragoon with a mustache and avery stiff and dignified deportment--now came up to the lady and said:

"Madame la Comtesse did not hear the dinner bell?"

She rose and took Wilhelm's arm without further ado. The maid followedwith the rug and the camp stool. The beach was quite deserted, everybody having gone to dinner. The tide was rising, and had nearlycovered the strip of beach. The thunder of the waves, mingled with therattle of the pebbles which they sucked after them as they receded, followed the couple as they slowly made their way back to the hotel. 

On the road home they passed the post office. The maid, whose gentlename of Anne hardly matched her martial appearance, had hurried on infront to fetch her mistress' letters and newspapers. She handed them tothe lady, who smilingly tore off the wrapper from her Figaro and gaveit to Wilhelm, saying: "You do not know my name yet?" Wilhelm read, onthe slip of paper: "Madame la Comtesse Pilar de Pozaldez--nee deHenares. " "My father, " she added in explanation, "was Major-GeneralMarquis de Henares. "

"And here is my very plebeian name, " returned Wilhelm, pulling out hiscard and handing it to her. 

"There are no such things as plebeian names--only plebeian hearts, "said the countess, as she glanced at the card, and then put it away inher own elegant tortoise-shell case, which bore her monogram and crestin gold and colored enamel. 

The acquaintance was now fully established, and after dinner thecountess invited Wilhelm, in the most natural manner possible, toaccompany her on a walk into the country. 

The surroundings of Ault were very pretty. Emerald-green meadowsalternately with a few cornfields decked the gentle billowy uplands, which sloped away abruptly toward the sea. Trees stood separately or ingroups reaching to the edge of the cliff, over which many of them benttheir storm-disheveled heads and gazed into the waves below. Here andthere were small inclosed woods, and it was at the edge of one ofthese, about a quarter of a mile walk from the town, that the countessseated herself on a mossy bank in the shade. Wilhelm sat down besideher on the gnarled root of a tree; Anne was sent home, to return in twohours' time, but Fido was allowed to remain. He was a silvery-whitesheepdog with a sharp muzzle, stiff little pointed ears, and a bushytail curling tightly over his back. He had attached himself to Wilhelmfrom the first moment, and gave vent to his delight when caressed byhaving a severe attack of asthmatic coughing, puffing and blowing. 

"You live in Paris, do you not?" asked the countess after they hadexchanged remarks on the scenery. 

"No, " returned Wilhelm, "up till now I have lived in Berlin, but I hadto leave for political reasons, and now I am a sort of vagrant withoutany actual home. "

"Ah--a political refugee!" cried the countess. "How charming! Of courseyou will take up your abode in Paris now--that is the sacred traditionwith all political exiles. Yes, yes--you must; beside, how horrid itwould have been to part after a few weeks and go our separate ways--youto the right, I to the left--and with only the consoling prospect ofmeeting again some day beyond the stars! So you will come to Paris, andif you have any intention of getting up a revolution in Germany, I begthat you will count me among your confederates. You need notlaugh--Paris is swarming with Spanish refugees of all parties, and Ihave had plenty of opportunity of gaining experience in the planning ofconspiracies. "

"I have no such ambition, " answered Wilhelm, smiling, "and am, in anycase, no politician, although I enjoy the distinction of being anexile. "

"Shall you take up any profession in Paris? I have connections--"

"You are very good, Madame la Comtesse. You will perhaps think less ofme, but I have no actual profession. "

"Think less of you. On the contrary, to have no profession is to befree--to be one's own master. Any one who is forced to earn his livingmust, of course, have a profession. But it is never anything but anecessary evil. It is only pedantic people who look upon it as anobject of life. At most, it is a means to an end. "

"And what do you consider to be the real object of life?"

"Can you ask? Why, happiness of course!"

"Happiness--certainly. But then each one of us has a differentconception of happiness. To one it is knowledge, to another thefulfilling of duty, to lower natures wealth and worldly honors. Therefore, it is possible to imagine that some one may find happinessin pursuing a profession. "

"Oh, no, my dear Herr Eynhardt, those are the mistaken views of gloomyand limited natures who are incapable of recognizing the true object oflife. There are no two ideals of happiness--there is but one. "

"And that is?"

"To wish for something very, very much--and get it. "

"Even if it is something foolish?"

"Even then. "

"And even if one should lose if afterward?"

She gazed for a while into the distance in silence and then saidfirmly--"Yes, even then. " And after a pause she added--"You have, atleast, had a moment of absolute happiness--when you found your wishfulfilled. And what more do you want? One only lives to experience suchmoments. "

"Unfortunately, your theory of happiness does not fit every case. Whereis the happiness to come from for one who has no wishes at all, or whowishes for something unattainable--perfect understanding, for instance?"

"A human being without a wish--is there such a thing?"

"Yes, Madame la Comtesse, there is. "

"You perhaps?" she asked quickly. 

"Perhaps, " Wilhelm returned. 

"Then you are not in love?" she said, and let her brilliant eyes restupon his melancholy face. 

He shook his head gently without looking at her, as if ashamed of thewant of gallantry in such a confession. 

"But at least you were once?" she persisted eagerly. 

"Have I ever really been in love? Perhaps--Or no, I do not know myself. "

"Thankless creature! You hesitate--you are not sure! How shameful ofyou to deny the gods you have once worshiped! But that is the way withyou men. If you cease to love, you will not admit that you ever hadloved. Tell me, was there ever a moment in your life when you couldhave answered my question--'Are you in love?'--with an unqualified Yes?"

"Yes, I have known such a moment. But, looking back upon it now--"

"No, no, you were quite right then and you are wrong now. That is justyour great mistake. You imagine that one can only love once, and thatlove, to be real, must last forever. My poor friend, nothing lastsforever, and the truest love is sometimes as perishable as theloveliest rose--the most exquisite dream. But it is not to say thatbecause it is over we are to deny that it ever existed. You may notfeel anything now, but that is no reason for declaring that you did notfeel it then. You thought you were in love, and therefore you were. Itis sophistry to try to persuade oneself of the contrary in after days. "

"You are a brilliant advocate of your views, Madame la Comtesse, butnevertheless may one take a momentary delusion--"

"Delusion' And who shall say, my German philosopher, if our wholeexistence may not be a delusion?"

"Ah, there you drive my philosophy very hard, " murmured Wilhelm. 

"Never been in love?" exclaimed the countess, and her lustrous hazeleyes flashed, "why you would be a monster. I suppose you are nearlythirty!"

"Nearly thirty-five. "

"I congratulate you, Herr Eynhardt, I should have taken you for atleast five years less But whether thirty or thirty-four, it would beculpable to have reached that age without having been in love. For yousurely are not--a disciple of Abelard. "

At this point-blank question Wilhelm reddened and cast down his eyeslike the boy he really was in some respects. She observed hisembarrassment, not without secret amusement. 

"But seriously, " she went on, "your little bit of love is the bestthere is about you men. No, it is the only good thing, the only thingthat makes your bluntness, your selfishness, your want of sentimentbearable. "

"Yes, so the women say. They see nothing in the whole world or in lifebut love. They judge men solely according to their capacity for, ortheir zeal in, loving. And yet it takes more strength and manliness toresist love than to give way to it. They only care for men who areslaves to that passion. I admire those chaste and saintly men who havebeen able to cast off the bonds of the flesh. The highest point of thehuman mind is only reached by him who has never suffered himself to bedragged down by his senses. Christ taught the denial of the flesh bothin precept and example. Newton never knew a woman. "

"I know nothing about Newton, " she retorted, "but Christ had a feelingheart for the Magdalen and the adulteress. Beside, Christ was a God, and I am speaking of ordinary mortals, and it is only through woman, through your love of woman, that you become heroes and demigods. "

"No, " Wilhelm answered bluntly, "it is woman who drags man down to thelevel of the beasts. We have a German fairy tale in which a bearbecomes human as soon as he embraces a woman. In real life it is justthe opposite. The knowledge of woman, the lust of the flesh, transformsman into a beast. You know the classics so well and are so fond ofthem--there is no apter allegory than the story of Semele, who desiredonce to see her lover, Jupiter, without the weaknesses and infirmitiesof the flesh--as the Lord of High Heaven--and perished at the sight. "

"Very well, " said she softly, "you may despise me and say I am likeSemele. I prefer a warm-hearted, loving beast to an icy-cold and proudphilosopher. Anyhow, I am very fond of animals, " and, lost in dreamythought, she stroked Fido, who began to gasp and choke with delight, and eagerly licked the caressing hand. After a pause she resumedslowly--"I should never have thought you were such a desperatewoman-hater. You have heaped insult on my sex and consequently on me. Iexpect you to make reparation for that by--being very nice to me. "

She looked him deep in the eyes and stretched out her hand, which heseized in confusion and pressed. Suddenly he let it drop. The countesslooked up in surprise, and following Wilhelm's gaze, she caught sightof the hotel wit and his lady coming along the deep pathway that ranround the foot of the wooded hill, on the slope of which they weresitting. 

"Oh, --what do these common people matter?" exclaimed the countess in atone of vexation. "And what is the harm, if they do see us? They willonly boast, when they get back to their shop in Paris, that they saw agreat lady in Ault. "

But for all that, the dangerously sweet spell of the moment was broken, and did not return before Anne arrived, whom Fido ran sneezing andwriggling to meet. 

For the rest of the day Wilhelm was silent and thoughtful, seeming toawake from a dream each time the countess spoke to him at dinner. Shewas perfectly aware of what was going on in him, and sought by looks, words, and manner to increase the effects of the afternoon'sconversation. When the meal was over she took Wilhelm's arm again andasked--totally unconcerned that the rest of the company exchangedglances--"What are you going to do this evening?"

"I thought of taking a little walk on the shore, " he stammered shyly. 

"Oh, selfish creature!--and leave me all alone, though I might be boredto death? No, come up to my room. You have never paid me a visit yet. Anne will get us some tea, and we can talk. "

The countess had two rooms on the first floor, most plainly furnished, without a carpet or a single decoration on the walls. One of the roomsserved as bedroom, the other as salon. At least it contained no bed, but a chaise longue instead, a rocking chair, and a table with a jutecover. The countess was inwardly much amused at Wilhelm's timoroushesitation in crossing her threshold. She relieved him of his hat andgave it to Anne, who hung it on a nail with the utmost gravity, butcould not refrain from casting a curious glance at Wilhelm from time totime. 

When the tea was on the table, and Anne had discreetly retired into thebedroom, closing the door behind her, the countess began: "As we are tobecome friends--no, we are friends already; tell me, you are my friend, are you not?"--she held out her hand, which he pressed warmly andretained in his--"you ought to know who I am and how I live. I willtell you the whole truth--I never lie, it is so vulgar and cowardly. The worst that can be said of me, you shall hear out of my own mouth. And still I hope that, after you have heard all, you will not feel lesskindly disposed toward me than before. "

She moistened her blood-red lips in the tea without leaving hold of hishand. 

"I am married. My husband, Count Pozaldez, is Governor of thePhilippine Islands. I have lived for years in Paris. The count had thepost given to him in order to put a few thousand miles between him andme. We have no divorce in Spain, and that was the only way of insuringto me a little peace and freedom. " She took another little sip. "Fromthis you will understand, " she went on, "that I am not happily married. You must know that I am an only child. My father, the Marquis deHenares, idolized me. He was a soldier through and through, very sternand reserved toward everybody, even my mother, who never reallyunderstood his rare nature. Only to me he showed his heart of gold, hishigh and noble character, his deep feeling--a prickly pear, outsiderough and inside honey-sweet. He brought me up as if I was to be acabinet minister, and treated me like a beloved comrade from the time Iwas twelve, so that my mother was often jealous of me. When I grew up, he would sometimes say, 'Whoever wants to marry my Pilar will have tofight with me first. ' And he meant it. You probably know that wedevelop early in Spain. At sixteen I was not very different from what Iam now. Count Pozaldez was a young lieutenant of cavalry, and myfather's adjutant. Of course we saw a good deal of one another, and hesoon began to behave as if he were madly in love with me. I was notaverse to him, for he was young, handsome, and aristocratic. And whatelse does a girl of sixteen look for? I naturally had no difficulty inunderstanding his glances and his sighs, but it went on for monthswithout his making me a formal proposal. One day he wrote me a lettereight pages long, in which he informed me that, as he possessed nothingin the world but his sword, he dared not venture to lift his eyes tothe heiress of the richest landowner in Old Castile; beside that, hewas not worthy of me, only a king could be that--the wretch! But I willcome back to that later on. On the other hand, however, he could notlive without me, and if I did not return his love he was resolved toput a bullet through his brain. Of course I instantly saw him with abullet-hole in his forehead, and shed tears for the poor young man. Idid not want anybody to die for my sake. I pictured to myself howbeautiful it would be to make a young man, without fortune or position, with nothing but his love for me, happy, rich, and great by the gift ofmy hand. I showed the letter to my mother, and asked her what was to bedone. She at once took up the young man's cause. My soul would mostassuredly fall a prey to the devil if I let poor Pozaldez kill himself. He was of good family, and would soon make his way as the son-in-law ofthe Marquis de Henares. I must unquestionably do something to raise hisspirits. My mother's advice coincided with my own feelings. I allowedthe count a secret interview, and he had permission to ask my fatherfor my hand. He did so in fear and trembling. He was dismissed withscorn and contumely. My mother and I then used all our influence toturn my father, and--I was married to Count Pozaldez before I wasseventeen. "

She was silent for a little while, and then went on: "I will make mystory short. One year afterward, when I was in bed with my first child, he brought his mistresses to the house. I was determined to leave himon the spot. My mother brought about a reconciliation. Soon after thathe began to ill-treat me. I suffered that in silence too, to avoid apublic scandal, and more particularly for my father's sake. He wouldhave killed him if he had known. Later--later--I must tell it you, sothat you may grasp the whole situation--the villain did all he could todirect King Amadeo's attention to me--he had just come to Madrid. WhenI noticed his base schemes--as I could not fail to do--that put thefinishing touches. I gave him the choice between a scandalous lawsuit, which would have deprived him of my fortune, and voluntary banishmentby accepting some government post across the sea with half my income. He finally chose exile and the money, and I was free. I left Madrid andsettled in Paris. You can imagine the circumstances--a young woman oftwenty-three--alone, whose life could not possibly be filled by thecare of two little children. "

"Two children?" asked Wilhelm. 

"Yes, " she answered, and hung her head. 

"There is cowardice of which even a courageous woman will be guiltywhen, out of consideration for public opinion, she continues to liveunder one roof with the father of her first child. And then--you musttake me as I am, with all my imperfections, for which some goodqualities may perhaps make up. "

She looked at him humbly, with the eyes of an imploring child, andcontinued in a low voice:

"The Spanish colony in Paris received me with open arms. There was noend to the entertainments, soirees and theaters. But can that satisfy ayoung and embittered woman thirsting for happiness? Of course Ireceived a great deal of attention. An attache of our embassy succeededin attracting me. I swear to you that I struggled long with him andmyself, but his passion was stronger than my powers of resistance. "

Wilhelm would have drawn away his hand, but she held it fast, and wenton hurriedly. 

"I have finished. For four years I shared his life, and then discoveredthat I had deceived myself a second time, and put an end to aconnection which had lost the excuse of sincerity For two years now Ihave been free--for two years my heart has been at rest. Tell me, canyou condemn me now that you know all?"

"It is not for me to judge you, " said Wilhelm sadly. "All I think isthat you have had a great deal of misfortune in your life. "

"Yes, have I not?" cried the countess eagerly. 

"Do not misunderstand me. You had the misfortune to make a mistake inthinking you loved Count Pozaldez. "

"How should a sixteen-year-old child know? The first passablygood-looking, well-bred man who flatters her wins her heart. "

"That is only too true. But if a young girl throws away her heart solightly, she has no right to complain if she has to repent of it forthe rest of her life. "

"But that is a terrible theory!" exclaimed the countess, and droppedhis hand "What? One wakes to a knowledge of the world and of life--oneis wretched, one sees that there is such a thing as happiness, and howit may be obtained, and one is not to stretch out a hand to grasp it?You would really be so cruel as to say to a woman--young, and in needof love--in childish ignorance and folly you were guilty of a mistake, all is over for you, abandon all claims to love and hope, sunshine andlife, pass your years in mourning, and bury yourself alive, you have nofurther right to share in the joys of life?"

Wilhelm left her string of passionate questions unanswered, andcontinued the thread of his former discourse:

"But most certainly an older and more sensible woman, who should havelearned wisdom from a first error, has no right to be guilty of asecond one. "

"Oh, how hard you are!" murmured the countess. 

"What would you have?" said Wilhelm. Then with a sudden inspiration: "Awoman has every right to love; but then you have loved--twice. "

"No, no, not even once. I thought so perhaps, but--"

"But, according to your own assertion this afternoon, one has been inlove really if only one seriously believes one is. And it is thanklessto deny one's love later on. Do not contradict yourself. "

"And you, monsieur le philosophe, " she returned, raising her head, andher burning gaze encompassed him as with a circle of fire, "do you notcontradict yourself too? A little while ago you were demonstrating tome that you were a part of nature, and that unknown natural forces wereat work within you, directing all you did, and to-day you extol themortification of the flesh, which certainly has nothing to do with yourunknown natural forces. "

He was going to reply, but she laid her soft hand upon his mouth. 

"Oh, please, monsieur le philosophe, do not prove to me that I amwrong. Be indulgent to my inconsistencies, as well as to everythingelse, I know I am full of contradictions. I am no German philosopher. But nature too is full of contradictions--first day, then night--nowsummer, now winter. But in spite of it all I can be very consistent andtrue to myself in a question of real importance. "

Wilhelm drew away from the hand that caressed his lips and cheek, andsaid, averting his eyes:

"You are a beautiful woman, and have a most exceptional mind, and itmust be happiness indeed to be loved by you, but in order that thathappiness might be full, one would have to love you in return, andthere are men--I do not know whether to call them too proud or toofastidious--who can only love with their whole heart or not at all, andwho cannot endure that the woman they love should treasure anotherimage or other memories in her life. "

"Stop, my friend, stop!" cried the countess. "You do not realize whatyou are saying. That comes of your pride and vanity. You always want tobe the first--to write your names at the head of a blank sheet. Why? Isthe conquest of a silly, ignorant girl more flattering than that of awoman of sense, who can compare and judge? Is not your triumph athousand times greater when a disappointed, deeply-skeptical woman laysher heart at your feet, and says--'You I will trust, you will bring mehealing and happiness'--than when a young girl gives you her lovebecause you happen to be the first man who asks for it? Otherimages!--other memories! Do you know so little of a woman's heart? Doyou imagine that the past exists for us when real true love comes uponus? We see nothing in the whole world but the one man, we cannotbelieve that our heart has not always beat for him, and we are firmlypersuaded that we have always known and always loved him and him alone. "

The eyes that gazed at him glowed with maenad-like desire, and bendingsuddenly she covered his hand with lingering, burning kisses. 

Wilhelm passed his hand soothingly over the masses of her silky hair, and it flashed across him how much he had once wished to be able to doso, and now his wish was fulfilled. Was fulfilled desire reallyhappiness, as this beautiful woman asserted? His heart beat loud andfast; he was conscious of emotions long unfelt, and--yes, theseemotions were pleasant ones. 

He moved as if to rise, but she clung to his arm to hold him back. Hepointed to the door of the room from which Anne might appear at anymoment. 

"Do have a little more pride of spirit, " said the countess; "one doeswhat one likes, without caring what the servants think. "

"Let me go, " he entreated, and stroked her beautiful hair. 

"Why?"

"It is late, and the air in here is close. I should like to take a turnby the sea. Please--"

She looked at him, and a mysterious smile played about her full lips;she dropped his arm. 

He hastened away toward the shore, where the waves were rolling in, rattling the pebbles and striking the cliff with dull, heavy thuds. TheAugust night was mild and full of stars, and there was scarcely abreath of wind. The tide was rising, wave after wave rolled in, fellover, and swept up the beach in a thin white sheet of foam. Further outthe sea was calm and deserted, only in the extreme distance the lightsof some passing steamer crept over the smooth dark waters like tinyglowworms. 

Wilhelm's mind was in a tumult. This woman--what a strange, terrifyingcreature. Why was she throwing herself at his head? And who knows ifonly at his? And then--what need to tell him her story? Perhaps it wasa wild, insane flare of passion; but how could he have roused it? Therewas nothing in him to account for it. And she did not know him--knewnothing about his life or his character. She was beautifulcertainly--beautiful and alluring, and clever and original--a mostexceptional woman. She might well be able to disarm a man of hisself-control, and paralyze his will. But after that--what then? Howwould it end? Better not begin--not begin. That would be the wisestending. 

He left the shore and returned to the hotel. The view before him wasremarkable. At the further end of the street rose the church, itsGothic flourishes outlined sharply against the lighter background ofthe sky. Just behind it stood the full moon, tracing--as if for itsamusement--the silhouette of the roof of the church tower upon theground. Where the shadow of the church ended, the moon poured itssilvery light in a broad flood over the street, and further offpainted, with, a bold stroke of the brush, a glittering streak of whitelight across the sea, away to the semi-transparent mists on the horizon. 

Passing first through the shimmering light, and then through the blackshadow of the church, Wilhelm reached the hotel, where the lights werealready extinguished. Without lighting the candle, which he found readyfor him at the foot of the stairs, he mounted to his room. He wassurprised, on reaching the door, to find Fido lying in front of it, hisnose resting on his outstretched paws. 

"I suppose they have shut you out, and you want a night's lodging withme, " said Wilhelm; "very well, I won't refuse you my hospitality--comein. "

He opened the door and let the dog pass in before him, then followed, pushed the bolt, and put the candlestick down on the table. Suddenlytwo cool, bare arms were laid about his neck, and his startled cry wassmothered by the pressure of two burning lips upon his own. 

CHAPTER XI. 

IN THE HORSELBERG

The good landlady of the Hotel de France was not a little surprisednext morning when Wilhelm came down to the kitchen and informed herthat he must leave that forenoon. And when very soon afterward Anneappeared, and announced in her stiffest, most impenetrable manner thatMadame la Comtesse desired two places, for herself and her maid, in thehotel omnibus which went to the station at Eu, the landlady remarked, "Indeed!" and there was a liberal interchange of meaning glances in thekitchen. 

At no price would Wilhelm remain at Ault. The countess, who liked theplace well enough, begged, entreated, and pouted in vain. He was not tobe persuaded. He protested that he knew himself too well to think thathe would be capable of keeping up the appearance of reserve toward herwhich decency demanded. And he need not, she declared; she consideredherself free to do as she pleased, and so was he; their love did notinterfere with their duty toward anybody, and so it was immaterial ifpeople found it out and talked about it. 

Her utter disregard for the trammels of convention, her cool contemptfor the opinion of others, filled him with horror. 

"No, no, I could not look one of them in the face again. "

"But do you suppose that these people are any better? You surely don'timagine that the man with the calves and his ravening wolf are married?"

"How can you say such things!"

"Why, you big baby, one can see that at a glance. He is far too nice toher for her to be his legitime. "

"That may be. At all events he has had so much consideration foroutward appearance as to pass the person off as his wife. But we madeour acquaintance here, under their very eye. "

"Wilhelm!"--from her lips the name sounded more like Gwillem--"I shouldnot know you for the same person. Why, where is your boasted philosophyand stoicism to which you were going to convert me? Is that yourindifference to the world and its hypocritical ways, its prejudices andits sneers?"

She was quite right. He was untrue to his principles, but he could notdo otherwise. He had had the courage to decline the duel with Herr vonPechlar, but he had not the boldness to let the foolish gossips of thetable d'hote be witnesses of his new love-making. Why? For the verysimple reason that, in his heart of hearts, he disapproved of hisliaison with Pilar. 

As he would not give in, the countess resigned herself to what shecalled his "schoolgirl crotchet, " and they traveled together to St. Valery-en-Caux, another little seaside place several hours' journeyfrom Ault. 

Here they took rooms together at a hotel, and wrote themselves down asman and wife. The countess' letters were forwarded by the postmistressat Ault under cover to Anne. The only thing that disturbed Wilhelm'speace of mind was the presence of Anne. Her manner was just asimpassive, her face as solemn as before, and she never showed that shenoticed any change in her mistress way of life. But it was just thiscold-blooded acceptance of facts which must at the very least exciteher remark that upset him so much, and every time Anne came into theroom and found him with Pilar, he was as much ashamed as if she hadsurprised him in some cowardly and wicked deed. Did he happen to besitting beside her on the sofa, he started as if to jump up; if he hadhold of her hand, he dropped it on the spot. Pilar noticed it, ofcourse, and thought it an excellent joke. She was herself perfectlyunconcerned before Anne, and put no constraint on herself whatever inher presence. On the contrary, she thought it great fun to throw herarms round Wilhelm when the maid came and he attempted to move away, orshe would tutoyer him and kiss him to her face, and was intenselyamused at his embarrassed and miserable air as he suffered hercaresses, though not without a stolen gesture of objection. His shynesswas not unobserved by Anne's quick though furtive eyes, and she owedhim a grudge for wishing to exclude her from his secret. 

But with the exception of the discomfort caused him by this silentwitness, his happiness was unalloyed. He lived in a constant rapture ofthe senses, and Pilar took good care that he should not awake from it. She never left him to himself, except during the two hours in themorning which she devoted to her toilette. It was her peculiar habit tosteal away in the early morning while Wilhelm was still asleep, andrepair noiselessly to the dressing-room, where Anne was alreadywaiting, and where she gave herself up into the skilled hands of themaid, who kneaded her, washed and rubbed her, and treated her hands, feet, and hair with consummate art, and the aid of an army of curiousinstruments and an exhaustive collection of cosmetics. She would thenappear to wake Wilhelm with a kiss. On opening his eyes it was to seeher in the full glory of her beauty, with the flush of health upon hercheeks, with rosy fingers, her skin cool, soft and perfumed, her eyesbright, her lips smiling, and her magnificent hair in order. But fromthat moment onward she was always about him, nestling close to him whenthey were alone, her eyes on his when they walked arm in arm throughthe streets. 

In the morning she bathed in the sea while Wilhelm sat on the shore andwatched her. She swam like a fish; he could not swim at all. Shepledged her word to make him equally proficient in a few days, but hersuperiority made him feel small, and he would not accept her offer. Fortwenty minutes she practiced her art in the water, lay on her back andon her side, turned somersaults, dived, trod the water and finally cameout, like Venus newly risen from the waves, and joined Wilhelm, who waswaiting for her with her bath-mantle. He enveloped her in its softfolds, she roguishly shook the drops of water off her rosy finger-tipsinto his face and hurried to her bathing house without a glance for thespectators who had been watching her graceful play in the water, anddevoured her with their eyes when she came on dry land. 

The rest of the day was filled up by long walks broken by delightfulrests under the shade of cornricks on grassy hillslopes beside somepurling brook. Then Pilar would sit on the rug or the camp stool, whileWilhelm lay at her feet with his head in her lap caressed by the littlehands that played with his hair or wandered softly over his face, resting fondly on his lips for him to kiss. If there were flowerswithin reach, she would pluck a quantity and strew his head and facewith the fresh petals, while he gazed alternately into the blue summersky and the bright brown eyes above him, or even closed his own forquarters of an hour of delicious dreaming. Then everything outside hisimmediate surroundings would fade from his mind, and he would beconscious only of what was nearest to him, the faint scent ofylang-ylang that hovered round the beautiful woman, her smooth, caressing fingers, and the low sound of her deep, regular breathing. 

"You are so handsome, " she whispered in his ear on one such occasion, and bending over him to kiss him; "do you know, I shall draw yourportrait. "

"Can you draw?" he asked, raising himself on his elbow. 

"I hardly know whether I ought to say yes, " she returned, with an arch, self-conscious smile that belied the humility of her tone. "But youshall see. "

"Very well, " said he, "and while you are drawing my portrait I shalldraw yours. "

"Bravo!" she cried, and wanted to go home at once, so that they mightbegin. 

As was his custom, Wilhelm had all that was needful in his big trunk, and could supply Pilar with materials. The next afternoon they set towork. They established themselves in the middle of a great meadow, committing thereby an extreme act of trespass, and making their way toit over a ditch, a low wall, and through a blackberry hedge. Here noprying eye would annoy them, their sole and most discreet spectatorbeing Fido, and he was generally asleep. 

Pilar had a drawing-block and used a pencil, Wilhelm sketched hispicture on a page of a large album in colored chalks like a pastel. Shekept trying to peep at his work, but he would not allow it, andinsisted on their making a compact not to look at one another's work ofart till it was finished. Two sittings sufficed, however, and theportraits could be exchanged. Pilar gave a cry of surprise when Wilhelmhanded her his picture. 

"How strange that we should have had almost the same idea. "

She was represented as a Sphinx, after the Greek rather than theEgyptian conception. A voluptuous, soft, round, feline body, graceful, cruel paws, a wonderful bosom as if hewn out of marble, and above itall Pilar's regally poised head with its crown of shimmering gold hair, shrewd eyes, and blood-red vampire lips. Between her forepaws she helda little trembling mouse in which Wilhelm's features were cleverlyindicated, and she looked down upon her victim with a smile in whichthere was something of a foretaste of the joy of tearing a quiveringcreature to pieces and sucking its warm blood. 

Pilar's drawing was a very good likeness of Wilhelm as Apollo inOlympian nudity, handsome, slender and vapid, in its resemblance toschool copies of the antique. A charming little cat with Pilar'sfeatures was rubbing herself against his leg. The pussy blinked up atthe young Greek god with an expression of adoration, half-comic, half-touching, while he bent his head and gazed down at herthoughtfully. Pilar took the sheet from Wilhelm's hand and compared itwith hers. 

"They are exactly the same, " she said at last, "only that they areentirely the opposite of one another. Do you really feel that I am asyou have drawn me?"

"Yes, " he answered in a low voice. 

"How unjust you are to yourself and to me--I a Sphinx and you afrightened mouse! To begin with, the Sphinx-cat did not condescend tomice, but occupied herself with men, and humbled herself before theright one when he came. "

"You are decidedly too learned for me, " laughed Wilhelm. 

"No, no, seriously, it hurts me that you should regard our relations inthat light. Am I not at your feet? Am I not your slave, your chattel, your plaything, what you will? Have I not chosen you to be lord andmaster over me? Am I a riddle to you? My love for you is the solutionof any mystery you may find in me. Or do you accuse me of cruelty? Thatcould only be in fun, you bad man. "

"You take a mere playful idea too tragically, dearest Pilar. Thecharacter of your head suggested it to me, that was all. And then--"

"And then?"

"Well, if you must know it, the fearless, what shall I say, Amazon-likemanner in which you seized upon a man and took possession of him, bodyand soul. "

"Did I do that?"

He nodded. 

"And you are mine?"

He nodded again. 

"Tell me so, dearest, only love--say it. "

He did not say it, but he kissed her. 

"It is quite true, " she remarked after a short pause, "I did takepossession of you. That was unwomanly, but I could not help it. You area cold-blooded German, and different from any man I ever knew before. You did not know how to appreciate the good fortune that befell youwhen chance set you down at my side in that dreary little hole. Youabominable creature, for a whole fortnight you took not the slightestnotice of me; you sat there beside me like a block, and never so muchas looked at me. For a long time I did not know what to make of you. Atfirst I tried to think you as ridiculous as the other idiots round thetable, but I could not, try as I would. Your ugly owlish face had madetoo great an impression on me. And then I was annoyed by your reserve, and when I used to see you stalk in, looking so haughty, and you bowedso coldly to me and remained so distant, I thought to myself--justwait, monsieur the iceberg, some day you will be at my feet begging forlove, and then it will be my turn to be proud, and I shall betriumphant. "

"There you see the Sphinx and the mouse. "

"Oh, but it all happened quite differently. I spoke first, I made youevery sort of advance; and what did you do? You held forth to me on themortification of the flesh. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Andeven when I saw that love was burning in your eyes, you remainedstiff-necked and tried to run away from me. If I was set uponhappiness, I found I must take it by force. I know you better now. Youwere capable of never confessing your love to me, of never askinganything of me. Am I right or not, tell me?"

"You are right, " he murmured. 

"But that would have been a sin--a deadly sin, a capital crime againstthe High Majesty of Nature. What! Fate takes the trouble to think outthe most improbable combinations, sets the most complicated machineryin motion to bring us together; it drags you out of the depths ofGermany, and me from Castile, and brings us to a little hotel in alittle village in Picardy, the very name of which was unknown to eitherof us a short time before; we instantly feel that we are made for oneanother and are certain to be happy together, and yet all theseexertions on the part of Fate are to have been in vain? Never! Ourpaths crossed each other at a single point, for a moment they wereunited, it depended on us whether they should always remain so. And Iwas to let you go, never to meet again on this side of eternity? It wasnot possible, and as you were so clumsy, or so timid, or soself-torturing--"

She finished the sentence with a long kiss, at which he closed his eyesonce more, and shut out everything but its flame. 

Was it calculation, was it her natural instinct?--suffice it to saythat Pilar never by any chance alluded in their conversations to herpast. She was fond of talking, and talked a great deal, and herconversation was always startling, original and vivacious; her power ofimagination as lively as her sparkling eyes, springing from the nearestobject to the furthest, from the ordinary to the sublime, but never oneword escaped her which might remind Wilhelm that she had gone throughconfessed and unconfessed experiences of every kind, and reached theturning-point of her existence without him. Her life, it would appear, had only begun with the moment at which he had risen upon her horizon. What went before that was torn out of the book of memory--one scarcelynoticed the gaps where the pages were missing. She did all she could tomake him forget that she was a stranger to him, and to strengthen inhim the delusion that she belonged to him, that she was one with him, that it had always been so. She took possession of his past, she creptinto his ideas and sentiments; she wanted to know everything about him, down to the smallest details. He must tell her about every day, everyhour of his existence; she made the acquaintance of his entire circleof friends; she loathed Loulou, she adored Schrotter, she went intoraptures over gentle, refined Bhani, she smiled at Paul Haber and hiswell-dressed Malvine, and her inventive grandmamma; she determined tosend good Frau Muller (who had looked after Wilhelm for ten years likea mother) a beautiful Christmas present. She could make personalremarks on all his friends and acquaintances, and her only trouble wasthat she knew no German. What would she not have given to be able toread the letters he wrote or received, to converse with him in hismother-tongue! She loved and admired the French language, which, although she retained the ineradicable accent of her country, she spokeas fluently as Spanish; but now, for the first time, she felt somethingakin to hatred against it for being the one remainingbarrier--certainly a very slight and scarcely perceptible one--betweenherself and Wilhelm, which forever drew his attention to the fact thatshe was not naturally a part of his life, and prevented their absoluteunion, the growing together of their souls. She therefore determined tolearn German as soon as she returned to Paris, and, if need be, to stayfor some length of time in Germany in order to master the languagequickly and thoroughly. 

She thought and spoke much of the future, and in all her dreams, plans, and resolves Wilhelm was always, and as a matter of course, the centralfigure and sharer of her life. In him her life found its consummationshe had him fast, and would never let him go. 

Her love was a curious mixture of ardent passion and melting, sentimental tenderness. At one moment the Bacchante, drinking longdraughts of love and life from his lips, at another, the innocent girlwho sought and found a chaste felicity in the mere rapturouscontemplation of the man she adored. The longer she knew him, thedeeper she penetrated into his character, the more did the Bacchanterecede and yield her place to the Psyche. The allegory of Wilhelm'spastel seemed wrong, her own drawing right. She was no bloodthirstySphinx revelling in human victims, but a harmless little cat purringagainst the side of the young god. She was diffident, eager to learn, slow to contradict. She broke herself of her paradoxes, and concealedher originality. She liked best to listen while he talked. He mustexplain everything to her, enlarge her experience, correct and improveher judgment. Her favorite words were, give me, show me, tell me! Frommorning till night he must give, tell, show. The sea washed up a medusato the shore--give it me! They surprised a crab in the act of sheddinghis armor--show me! A ride on donkeys to a neighboring village remindedhim of a students' picnic at Heidelberg--tell me about it! Such of hispeculiarities of temper as she did not understand, she guessed at andfelt with her fine womanly instinct. If at Ault she had been extremelysimple in her dress, here she was almost exaggeratedly so. She banishedthe "kohl" with which she had underlined her brilliant eyes, andstrewed the violet powder to the four winds, as soon as she discoveredthat he preferred to stroke her full, firm cheeks when they wereguiltless of powder. She dropped her former freedom of speech, gave upthe telling of highly-spiced anecdotes, and checked her roving glancesand the frolicsome imps--somewhat too deeply versed in Boccaccio--thathaunted her lively brain, when she saw that he took umbrage at anythingthe least risky. Her cigarettes horrified him, so she threw them out ofthe window, and never smoked again. She even quelled the sensuality ofher self-surrender, and veiled it with a show of shame-facedbackwardness and the adorable ingenuousness of a schoolgirl on herhoneymoon. She strove to obliterate the remembrances of the heathenishabandonment of the first days, with their unrestrained impulses, testifying all too plainly to the fact that she was a woman well versedin all the arts of seduction. At first this was dissimulation, themaneuvers of a shrewd, reader of character, but it soon came to beinstinct and second nature; she deceived herself honestly, andreturned, in her own mind, to the pristine virginity of her soul andbody, finally coming to look upon herself as a simple-minded girl, ignorant of the world and of life, and conscious only of her boundlesslove for this one glorious man, and to whom the memories of a lessharmless past seemed like wicked dreams sent by the Tempter to molesther chastity. This self-deception, or rather retrogression of herinstincts, led her into touches of mysticism. The story of little Soniawho had fallen in love with the ten-year-old Wilhelm at first sight, todie shortly afterward with his name upon her lips, made a deepimpression on her, and set her dreaming. "When sweet little Sonia diedI was born. " Now this was not quite accurate, as Pilar must have beenat least two or three years old at the time, but mystic raptures takeno count of time. "My life is a continuation of hers. Your Spanish loveinherited the soul of your little Russian. Thus I have been yours sincemy birth--and before. I loved you before ever I knew you. I have had apresentiment of you, have felt and expected you from the beginning. Hence my troubled seeking all the time, hence my horror and shudderingwhen I discovered that I was mistaken, that it was not the one Iyearned for whose image I bore secretly in my heart. Now I see why Iwas so irresistibly drawn to you from the first moment I set eyes onyou. The man of my dreams stood in bodily shape before me. Here at lastwas my heart's dear image in flesh and blood. I had no need to get toknow you; I knew you already. My own, my Wilhelm. "

Real tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke, and Wilhelm was notsufficiently blase to scoff at the doting nonsense of a love-sickwoman. Love has enormous power, and at its heat all firmness, allresistance, melts away. Pilar's affection filled Wilhelm with heartfeltemotion and gratitude. He denied himself the right of judging her, suspecting or doubting her, or of discovering dark spots upon hershining orb. As she was forever at his side, and made it her sole careto occupy him entirely, body and soul, his whole world was soon filledby her and her alone. Wherever he looked his eyes fell upon her; sheintercepted his view on all sides. Her shadow fell even upon his past, as far back as his childhood. He failed to notice that whole dayspassed now without his giving a thought to Schrotter or Paul, and hewas quite surprised when he discovered that he had left a letter fromthe former unanswered for a week. His former life began to fade andgrow dim, and, compared to the sun-flooded, glowing present, lookedlike the dark background of a courtyard beside an open space in thefull blaze of a summer day. 

The whole society of the place was deeply interested in the handsomecouple, who took so little trouble to conceal their love. The youngpeople thought it most affecting, the older ones, especially theladies, turned up their noses, with the remark that even people ontheir honeymoon might put some restraint upon themselves on the beach, or in the street. Wilhelm and Pilar were quite unconscious of the talkfor which they furnished the material. They had no eyes for anybody buteach other. They were unconscious of the flight of time. Their livespassed as in a morning dream, or a wondrous fairy-tale, where twolovers wander in a sunny garden among great flowers and singing birds, or rest, surrounded by attendant sprites, who fulfill each wish beforeit is uttered. 

They were disagreeably brought back to the realities of life when oneday Anne asked, with her most impassive air, when Madame la Comtessethought of leaving, for if she were going to stay any longer, they mustprovide themselves with winter clothing. They had reached the end ofSeptember; it rained nearly every day, the streets of the village wereimpassable, sitting on the shore out of the question, the equinoctialgales howled across the country from the tempestuous sea; all the worldhad gone home, and Wilhelm and Pilar were the last guests in thedesolate hotel, spending most of the day in their room, where aninadequate fire spluttered on the hearth. For a fortnight past Anne hadboiled with silent rage, which she sometimes let out on poor, snorting, asthmatic Fido. She had been absent from Paris since the middle ofJuly, and had counted on being back by the beginning of September atthe latest, and here was October coming upon them in this God-forsakenlittle hole, and her mistress showed no signs of returning home. 

Anne's question came like a rough hand to shake Pilar out of sleep. Like a drowsy child who does not want to get up, she kept her eyesclosed for awhile. Another week! Four days more! Two days more! Butthen she had to pack, for Anne exaggerated a slight cold, and at shortintervals let off a dry cough with the suddenness and force of apistol-shot, tied her head up in a white shawl, and begged to beallowed to send to Paris for warm underclothing and her fur cloak. Inthe hotel, too, from which all the servants had been dismissed, andonly the landlord, his wife, and a half-grown daughter remained, theneglect became conspicuous. The rooms were not put in order till latein the evening, and even then the landlady would come and grumble thatshe could not manage so much work, and that was the reason everythingwas late. A leg of mutton appeared upon the table three days running, till nothing was left but the bone. In short, it was not to bemisunderstood that the hotel family wished to be alone. 

At last, at the beginning of the second week of October, the return toParis took place. During the five hours' railway journey Pilar wassilent and moody. She felt that an enchanting chapter of her love-storyhad come to an end, and a fresh one beginning, the unforeseenpossibilities of which filled her with alarm. She held fast to Wilhelm, and would not let him go free; but what form was their life togethergoing to take in Paris? Not that she cared for the opinion of theworld--far from it; but other difficulties remained which menaced herhappiness. At the seaside all the circumstances had combined to aid andbefriend them. Surrounded by people to whom she and Wilhelm were alikestrangers, they were thrown entirely upon one another, and even hisscruples could find nothing to prevent him treating her openly as hiswife. In Paris, on the other hand, all the circumstances becamedisturbing and inimical. Pilar had her circle of friends, and heraccustomed way of life, to which Wilhelm would have to adapt himself. Would that occur without opposition on his part? Would not many atender sentiment be wounded beyond the power of healing in thatstruggle? But of what avail were all these tormenting questions? Shehad to look the future in the face, and prepare to engage in a strugglein which he was determined to come off victorious. 

From time to time she glanced at Wilhelm, and always found him deep inthought. He was reviewing, with a touch of self-mockery, the latestdevelopment of his affairs. Here he was on his way to Paris. He had notchosen this destination. Once again another will than his own haddetermined his path for him. He resigned himself without a struggle; heallowed himself to be taken along like an obedient child. Was itweakness? Perhaps. Possibly, however, it was not. Possibly he did notthink it worth the trouble to call his will into play. Why should he, after all? As long as he might not live in Berlin, what did it matterwhere he lived? and Paris was as good a place as any other. To haveresisted Pilar's persuasions would not have been an evidence ofstrength, but simply the obstinacy of a conceited fool, who wants toprove to himself that he is capable of setting somebody else atdefiance. So that after all he was going to Paris because he wished it, or rather, because he saw no reason for not doing so. But as he spunthe web of these thoughts in his mind, he heard all the time a stillsmall voice, which contradicted him, and whispered: "It is not true. You are not your own master; you are going you know not whither; youare doing you know not what. Two beautiful eyes are your guiding star, and in following their magic beckoning your feet may slip at anymoment, and you may be hurled into unknown depths. "

Pilar must have divined that Wilhelm's thoughts were enemies to herpeace, and must be dispersed. They were alone in the carriage, and shecould give free rein to her feelings. She took his hand and kissed it, and laying her arm round his neck, she said fondly:

"Don't be so depressed, Wilhelm. Of course it is only natural that oneshould be afraid of any change after one has been so happy, but youshall have no cause to regret St. Valery. You will see, it will bestill nicer in Paris. We remain the same as we were before, and surelymy little home is a more fitting frame for our love than the bare roomat the hotel!"

Wilhelm started back. 

"You surely do not imagine that I am going to live in your house?" hecried. 

"But there can be no question about it!" she answered in surprise. 

"Never!" Wilhelm declared, with a determination that frightened Pilar, it was so new to her. "How could you think of such a thing?"

"But, Wilhelm, " she returned, "what else could we do? I should not liketo think that it was your plan we should part at the station and eachgo our different ways. If I believed that, I would throw myself underthe wheels of the train this very instant. We have not been indulgingin a little summer romance, entertaining enough at the seaside, butwhich must die a natural death as soon as we return to Paris. My loveis a serious matter to me, and to you too, I hope. You are mineforever, and as long as there is life in this hand, it will hold youfast, " and she cast herself passionately upon his breast, and clung tohim as if he were going to be torn from her. 

"I never said I would leave you, " he returned gently, and trying todisengage himself; "but it is quite inconceivable that you should havethought you would simply bring me back with you from the journey andpresent me to your people. "

"My people! You are my all, and nobody else exists for me. "

"One says that in the heat of the moment, but you have relations--youtold me so yourself. What will they think of us if I calmly settle downin your house?"

"Think?--always what people will think. That is the only fault youhave, Wilhelm. How can you do people the honor to take them intoconsideration when it is a question of my life's happiness? Let themthink what they like. They will think you are the master and I am yourslave, who only lives in and for you. "

Wilhelm only shook his head, for he was unwilling to wound her bysaying what he thought of such an unworthy connection. She hungtrembling on his looks, and asked, as he still did not answer:

"Well, darling, is it to be my way? We will drive quietly home andpretend we are at St. Valery?"

"No, " he answered firmly, "that is impossible. I shall go to an hotel. No, do not try to dissuade me, for it would be useless. "

"And you can let me go from you?"

"Only for a few hours. We shall be in the same town, and can see oneanother as often as we like. "

"And you would be satisfied with that?"

"It will have to be so, as the circumstances will not permit ofanything else. "

She broke into a storm of tears, and sobbed, "You do not love me. "

He soothed and comforted her; he kissed her eyes, he pressed her headto his heart, and tried to calm her as he would a child, but it waslong before he brought her round. At last she raised her head and asked:

"You are determined to go to an hotel?"

"I must, dear heart. "

"Very well; then I shall go too. "

He had nothing to say against this and so it was settled. 

It was close upon midnight when the train ran into the St. Lazarestation. Anne came hurrying from the next carriage. 

"You can drive home, " said Pilar to her. "Take the large boxes withyou. You can leave the small one and the portmanteau with me. I amgoing with monsieur. I shall come round to-morrow and see if things arein order. "

Anne opened her eyes in astonishment, but her face did not betray anyfurther emotion, and she answered calmly:

"Very good, Madame la Comtesse. Auguste is here with a cab. Does madamedesire to use it?"

"No, Auguste can get us another. You take his. "

Auguste, the man-servant, had come up meanwhile and greeted hismistress. He shot a quick glance at the strange gentleman on whose aimshe leaned, but it was more expressive of curiosity than surprise; hethen hurried away to carry out the remarkable orders Anne had drylytransmitted to him. Soon after he reappeared, and announced that theother fiacre was there. Fido, released from the captivity of thedog-box, sprang upon the countess with short-breathed barks that soondegenerated into a cough, and wagged his tail and frolicked madlyabout. When Pilar and Wilhelm entered their cab, Anne and Augusteremaining outside, the dog seemed undecided as to which party he was tofollow. Chancing to catch Wilhelm's eye, he made up his mind, jumpedinto the cab, regardless of Anne's angry call, and licked Wilhelm'shand delightedly, accepting his friendly pat as an invitation to stay. 

By Pilar's direction the cab took them to an hotel in the Rue deRivoli. As they drove along Pilar leaned silently in her corner, onlyheaving a deep sigh from time to time; and Wilhelm, too, found nothingto say, oppressed as he was by the consciousness of being in anuntenable situation, the eventual end of which he could not foresee. Arrived at the hotel, they retired at once to their rooms and to rest, scarcely touching the supper which Pilar had ordered rather for Wilhelmthan herself. She lay awake for hours, and it was daybreak before shegot any sleep. 

It was nearly midday when she opened her eyes. Wilhelm was sittingfully dressed at the window that faced the Tuileries, gazing down uponthe dreary autumnal park with its trees half-bare, the paths coveredwith dead leaves--its marble statues and silent fountains. Shestretched out her arms to him, and he hastened over to kiss her fondly. As her eye fell upon her tiny jeweled watch, she gave a cry of dismay. 

"Twelve o'clock! Oh, go away--quick--and send the chambermaid to me. Iwill do my best to be ready soon. Wait for me in the salon. You canread the papers or write letters. But whatever you do, you must notleave the hotel--do you hear?"

An hour later she appeared in the salon to fetch him to lunch, whichwas served in their room. Pilar was nervous and put out. Thechambermaid's assistance had not been all that she could have wished. The slow waiting at lunch vexed her. Whatever trifle she might requireshe was obliged to go into the untidy bedroom herself and search in herboxes. Her head was full of schemes and plans, to none of which, however, she gave expression. Never had she had such an uncomfortablemeal with Wilhelm. 

"What are you going to do now?" asked Wilhelm, when the waiter hadcleared the table. 

"I think we had better go and have a look at our house, " answeredPilar, trying hard to assume a perfectly unconcerned tone. 

"Of course, " said Wilhelm; "and while you go home, I will take a lookat the streets of Paris. "

"What--you are not coming with me?"

"I think it better you should go by yourself the first time. You haveno doubt got a good deal to set in order, and I should only be in theway. "

"Wilhelm, " she said very gravely, "you are determined to hurt me. HaveI deserved that of you?"

"But, dearest Pilar--"

"I want proofs that I am your dearest Pilar. I have given myself toyou--body, soul and spirit. If you want my life as well, then say so. Ishould be overjoyed to give it you. And you? Since yesterday your everyword and look tells me plainly that you regard me as a stranger, andwant to have nothing more to do with me. Oh, yes, you do it all in avery delicate and considerate manner, that is your way, but there is noneed to speak more plainly to me. "

"Do not excite yourself Pilar, I assure you that you are entirelywrong. "

She shook her head. 

"I am not a child. Let us talk it over seriously. I told you yesterdayI would not let you go. Of course you understand what I mean by that. Iwill not keep you if you want to be free. But then be honest, and tellme frankly that you are tired of me, and want to be rid of me. I shallat least know what I have to do. Do not be afraid, I shall not make ascene, I shall not cause you any annoyance, not even reproach you. Ishall receive my sentence of death in silence, and kiss the hand thatinflicts it on me. "

She buried her face in her hands, and tears trickled down between herfingers. 

"And all this, " said Wilhelm, "because I thought it better not toaccompany you to-day. The whole affair is not worth one of your tears. "

"Then you will come with me?" she cried excitedly, lifting her face tohis. 

"I suppose I shall have to, since you talk about death sentences andterrible things of the kind. "

She embraced him frantically, rang the bell, threw the things that layabout anyhow into the box, and when the waiter came, ordered acarriage. As they went downstairs she gave a hurried order in theoffice, and with a beaming and triumphant face, passed through the hallon Wilhelm's arm to the carriage. 

Their destination was a small house on the Boulevard Pereire, of twostories, three windows wide, and a balcony in front of the first-floorwindows. At Wilhelm's ring the door was opened by Anne, who made him acareless courtesy, but greeted her mistress respectfully. Wilhelm wasgoing to let Pilar precede him, but she said: "No, no; you go first. Itis a better omen. "

Assembled in the hall they found Auguste, an old woman with a red nose, and a man not in livery, who expressed their satisfaction at theirmistress' return, and complimented her on her improved appearance, butwere in reality chiefly engaged in taking stock of Wilhelm while theydid so. Pilar gave the man some direction in Spanish, and then drewWilhelm into the salon, which opened into the hall. 

"Welcome, a thousand times, to this house, " she said, clasping him inher arms; "and may your coming bring happiness to us both. I will takeoff my things now, and say a word, to my servants, and be with youagain directly. "

With that she hurried away, and Wilhelm found himself alone. He lookedabout him. The salon was luxuriously, if, according to Wilhelm's taste, somewhat gaudily furnished. The walls were draped in yellow silk, theportieres, window-curtains, and gilt-backed chairs being of the samebrilliant hue, though its monotony was fortunately broken by numerousoil paintings, forming, as it were, dark islands in a sea of sulphur. Opposite to the window hung two life-sized portraits of a lady and anofficer. The lady wore a Spanish costume with a mantilla, the gentlemana gorgeously embroidered general's uniform, with a quantity of starsand orders, and the ribbon of the Grand Cross. In another life-sizedpicture this personage figured in the robes of some unknown militaryorder, and appeared a third time as a bronze bust in a corner, on ablack marble pedestal. The chimney-piece was adorned by a strange andwonderful clock, a painfully accurate copy in gilt and colored enamelof the Mihrab of the Mosque in Cordova. Between the windows, on a highbuhl cabinet, stood a marble bust of Queen Isabella, a gift, accordingto an inscription on the base, to her valued Adjutant-General Marquisde Henares. A charming pastel under glass showed Pilar as a very younggirl. As Wilhelm gazed at the dewy freshness of this sixteen-year-oldbudding beauty, the dazzling complexion of milk and roses, the sparkleof the merry, childish eyes, an immense tenderness came over him, andhe thought to himself that surely nature had not sufficiently protectedall these charms against the desire they must necessarily awaken in thebeholder. Such a ravishing creature might well be excused if her heartled her astray. How could she choose aright when her beauty rousedmen's passion before she had had time to gain experience or judgmentenough to defend herself?

There were a thousand other attractions in this room. A picture, orrather a sketch, by Goya, with all the fantastic want of finish, thegorgeous dabs of color that make so many of that master's works likethe visions of delirium; on an inlaid table, a little Moorish casket, through the crystal lid of which one saw a collection of old Spanishcoins of astounding dimensions; a small cabinet on the wall, containingstars and orders, with their chains, on a white satin ground; a trophyformed of a sword, gold spurs, epaulettes, and a gold-fringed scarf;here and there great Catalonian knives with open blades, daggers inrich sheaths and with engraved handles, and even an open velvet-linedcase with a pair of chased ivory pistols. Some photographs on thechimney-piece and on the gold brocade-covered piano arrested Wilhelm'sattention. First of all, Pilar in two different positions, then thepictures of three children, a girl and two boys, and finally thefull-length portrait of a gentleman in the embroidered dress coat andsword of the diplomatic service, and the handsome, vacuous, carefullygroomed head of a fashion plate. 

Wilhelm was engaged in studying this face, with its fashionably twirledmustache, when Pilar entered the room. 

"You have changed your dress?" cried Wilhelm, surprised; for she haddonned an emerald-green velvet tea-gown, with a long train, and herhair was hanging down. 

"Yes, " said she, as she kissed him fondly, "for we are not going awayagain just yet. You will stay and dine with me--I have given thenecessary orders. You must be quite sick of the monotonous hotel meals. For my part, I simply yearn to eat at my own table with you. "

So saying, she took his hat out of his hand, coaxingly relieved him ofhis greatcoat, then rang and ordered Auguste to take them away. Takingadvantage of this distraction of Wilhelm's attention, she rapidlysnatched up the photograph he had been examining when she came in, andhid it under the piano-cover. She then opened the piano, seatedherself, and gazing passionately over her shoulder at Wilhelm standingbehind her, she began playing the Wedding March out of "MidsummerNight's Dream. " The melodious sounds rushed from under her fingers likea flight of startled doves, and fluttered about her, joyous andexultant. She went on with immense power and brilliancy till she cameto the first repetition of the triumphant opening motif, with itsjubilant blare of trumpets, then stopped abruptly, and jumping up andthrowing her arms round Wilhelm:

"Isn't it that, my one and only Wilhelm?" she said, with a beaming look. 

"My sweetest Pilar, " he answered, and clasped her to his breast. Hisheart was really full to overflowing at that moment She took his armand proceeded to lead him about the room, showing and explaining thevarious objects to him. "This is my mamma as she looked twenty-fiveyears ago, when she went to the Feria at Seville. That is a sort offair at Easter, and one of the most famous popular festivals of Spain. We must go to it some day together. And that is my late father asmajor-general. Here he is in the robes of a Knight of San Iago, one ofour highest military orders. It has existed since the twelfth century, and, strangely enough, one of my ancestors was among its first members. These are my father's decorations and badges of office. Come and lookat this clock, it is quite unique. The province of Cordova had it made, and presented it to my father when he gave up his command there. Isuppose you recognized this pastel. It is a very good likeness. Do youthink it pretty?"

"Pretty! The word is a gross injustice. Say rather exquisitely, ravishingly beautiful. "

"Thanks, my Wilhelm. And if you had known me then, you would have lovedme and wanted to marry me, would you not?"

"But you would hardly have wanted to marry me, a poor devil of aplebeian, who was badly dressed and did not even know how to dance. "

"Do not make fun of me, you sweet, bad creature; if I had had as muchsense then as I have now, I should have loved you then as I love younow, and I would have belonged to you, even if it had cost me myfather's love. " She gazed thoughtfully at the picture in which herinnocent past confronted her in so angelic a form, and continued intones of indescribable tenderness: "Why did I not know you sooner? Isit my fault that you who were made for me should live so far away andwait so long before you came to me? How I should have rejoiced to beable to offer you the pure young creature of this picture! But I canbut give you all I have--my first real love, the virginity of myheart--surely that is something?"

Her hazel eyes pleaded for a great deal of compassion, and her fullscarlet lips for a great deal of love, and only a heart of cast ironcould have refused her either. 

Beyond the salon was a roomy dining-room, hung with magnificent Cordovaleather, and from this a glass door led into a pretty little gardenwith an arbor in the corner, and some old trees. High, ivy-clad wallsinclosed the square green spot of nature. Up the stairs, on the wallsof which hung many valuable pictures, for which there was no place inthe rooms, Pilar and Wilhelm mounted to the second floor. They enteredfirst a red salon with windows opening on to the balcony and in whichthe all-pervading scent of ylang-ylang betrayed that it was thefavorite apartment of the lady of the house. She did not keep Wilhelmlong in this dainty bower, but drew him into the large bedroomadjoining. The walls were draped with Japanese silk, patterned withstrange landscapes, fabulous flowers, gay-colored birds on the wing, and a network of twining creatures, and drawn together at the ceilinglike the roof of a tent. Out of the soft folds of the center rosettehung a lamp with golden dragons on its pink globe. There was a wardrobewith looking-glass doors, a toilette table, an immense bed of carvedebony inlaid with scenes from the antique in ivory, and chairs coveredwith Persian stuffs. Beside all this there was an old oak Gothicpriedieu, a small altar draped in rose color and white lace, a mass offlowers, and numerous crucifixes and Madonnas of various sizes insilver, ivory and alabaster. 

"Are you so devout? That is news to me, " exclaimed Wilhelm, surprised. He little knew that the first thing Pilar had done on entering thehouse was to hasten to her bedroom, kiss the holy silver Madonna delPilar with deepest devotion, and kneel for a few moments on herpriedieu. 

"Oh, no, I am not at all devout. I am just the pagan you have alwaysknown. But--que voulez-vouz?--one has old habits. I regard the BlessedVirgin chiefly in the light of Our Lady of Sorrows, whose heart ispierced with seven swords, and Christ as the eternal type of sublimestlove. You are a heretic, but I know that pictures and symbols are notas offensive to you as to certain vulgar free-thinkers. "

Going up to the bed, she clung still more fondly to Wilhelm, andmurmured in coy and halting tones--"Perhaps you have not noticed thateverything in this room, except the altar and the priedieu, is new; Ihad this fresh little nest arranged for us while we were in St. Valery. I hope our rest may be sweet and our dreams happy ones. "

He sought nervously for some appropriate answer, but she gave him notime, and opening a door in the wall beside the fireplace, she wenton--"And this is your room. Tell me, have I guessed your taste?"

Without even glancing into the cozy, one-windowed room, he said, takingPilar's hand in his: "Why torture me, Pilar?--you know it cannot be. "

"Wilhelm!" her voice was firm, and she looked him full in the eyes, "doyou love me?"

"You know it. "

"Do we belong to each other?"

"Yes--and no. "

"That is not a straightforward answer. We do belong to one another. Youknow perfectly well that if I were free you would marry me, and thenyou certainly would have no scruples in coming into this house as itsmaster. Where is the difference?"

"You know where the difference lies. "

"It is enough to drive one crazy! Is a paltry prejudice to triumph overour right to be happy? We are both of age. We are accountable to no oneon earth for our actions. An insurmountable obstacle, for the moment, prevents us making our relations respectable in the eyes of thebutcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker by paying a few francs toa registry-office and a priest. Has the mumbling of a priest so muchmeaning for you? Must you first enjoy the edifying spectacle of a mavrein a fringed scarf before you can feel like my husband? Or do you wantany one else's consent? My father is dead, but my mother would adoreyou and do anything in the world for you, if I told her you made heronly child unspeakably happy. What more do you want?"

"I could not reconcile myself to such a position, There is nothing tobe said against your arguments. But for me to live on you--"

"For shame!" she cried, and tapped him lightly on the cheek with herforefinger. "Ah, you see I love you better than you love me. If youwere very rich and I had not a penny, I would not hesitate for aninstant to accept everything from you. I trust my heart is of morevalue to you than this paltry little house and its sticks of furniture. You have my heart--what is all the rest compared with that?"

He still shook his head unconvinced, but she knelt before him and saidimploringly: "Wilhelm, you will not hurt me so. Even if it costs you agreat deal, make this sacrifice for my sake. Give it a trial. You willsee how soon you will get accustomed to it. And if not, then I am readyto go with you to the ends of the earth--to the Black Forest--whereveryou will. Only try it, Wilhelm--have pity on me. "

He stooped to lift her up, but reading in his eyes that he wasyielding, she sprang to her feet and threw herself, gleeful as a child, upon his breast. Her victory filled her with such joy she could haveshouted it out of the windows. She coaxed and fondled Wilhelm, calledhim by every endearing name, drew him over to the long mirror that hemight see how handsome he was, dragged him into his room and then backinto the bedroom, and required a considerable time to recover herself-control. 

Meanwhile it had grown dark. She did not notice it till now, and rangfor Anne to bring lamps. 

"Has Don Pablo come back?" she asked of the maid. 

"Half an hour ago, madame. "

"Then send up the boxes at once. "

"You have sent for the luggage already?" was Wilhelm's astonishedinquiry when Anne had left the room. 

"Naturally, my darling. I was certain, you know, that you would notbreak your Pilar's heart. "

Auguste and the man whom Pilar called Don Pablo now carried up the onesmall box and two large ones Wilhelm always took about with him. Pilarasked him for the keys, and proceeded to put away his belongings in thevarious receptacles of the room. She would not suffer him to help her. Only his books she allowed him to pile up in a corner for the present;their orderly arrangement in the bookcase was put off till the daylight. 

At dinner Pilar was in the seventh heaven, and more in love than everbefore. In her wild spirits she threw all her glasses into the garden, and would only drink out of Wilhelm's. It was a real banquet: costlySpanish wines, red and white, rough and sweet, from her well-stockedcellar, accompanied by choice dishes, and finally champagne, of whichPilar partook--valiantly. After dessert she skipped into the salon, putthe champagne glass down on the piano, and between sips and kissesplayed and sang Spanish love-songs that drove the flames to her cheeks. That evening she was all Bacchante. In the bedroom she tore off herclothes with impatient fingers, and held out her small, high-bred feetfor Wilhelm to pull off her silk stockings. He knelt and kissed thelittle feet, while she gazed down at him with burning misty eyes, andbetween the blood-red lips slightly parted in a wanton smile gleamedpearly teeth that looked as if they could bite with satisfaction into aquivering heart. It was the Sphinx and the poor trembling mouse in thedust before her to the life. 

When Wilhelm awoke next morning, he saw Pilar standing all fresh andready at the bedside to greet him with a happy smile. With her ironnerves and superabundant animal strength, she required but littlesleep, and had at once resumed her old habit of stealing away early toperform the rites of her toilette while he still slept. 

He dressed quickly, she being occupied meanwhile in completing thecoquettish adornment of his room with knots of ribbon, bouquets offlowers, Japanese fans, pictures and bronzes which she arranged withunerring taste on the walls beside the mirror, over the doors andwindow, or strewed about the secretaire, the table, or the chest ofdrawers, in studied negligence. They had breakfast in the red salon, after which she led him to her boudoir, which he had not yet seen, andthat looked like a pink silk-lined jewel box. She drew up an armchairbeside the crackling wood fire, begged Wilhelm to sit down put a littleinlaid rosewood table before him, and out of a cabinet she fetched alarge Russia leather pocketbook with a gold lock and laid it on thetable. 

"Let us settle these details once for all, " she said to Wilhelm, whohad watched her proceeding with surprise, "so that we need never referto them again. You are my husband, and must relieve me now of all mybusiness cares. Here--" she opened the pocketbook and spread out someformidable-looking papers, with stamps and seals attached, before him:"This is my check book, here the deposit receipts for my governmentstock and, bonds. "

"What do you mean?" cried Wilhelm. "I understand nothing of suchthings; I have never had anything to do with them, and I am certainlynot going to begin now, and with you. " He gathered up the papersimpatiently, thrust them back into the pocketbook, which he closed witha snap, and seeing Pilar standing there like a disappointed childbalked of a surprise, he added: "However, I am grateful for thesuggestion, as it helps me out of a dilemma. I was at a loss in whatform to put what I must say to you--you have helped me in the nick oftime. Pilar, " he drew her on to his knee and kissed her, "at theseaside the matter was very simple, we had only to divide the billbetween us. That will not do here. I am not well enough off to defrayhalf the expense of such an establishment as yours. "

"Oh, Wilhelm!" she exclaimed, horror-stricken, and attempted to jumpdown, but he held her fast and continued:

"I know this subject is painful to you, so it is to me; but, as yousaid yourself, it must be settled once for all. You must allow me todefray my own expenses as I would in a good family pension. I will putthe trifling sum in your pocketbook once a month, and you will have alittle more for your poor--one cannot have too much for them. "

"I am simply petrified, " murmured Pilar, "that you can take such athing into consideration?"

"It is the one condition on which I stay here, " returned Wilhelm firmly. 

"What a dreadful proud boy you are! You will not accept a thing fromme, and I told you yesterday that I would never be too proud to shareyour possessions with you. And if you had married me, you would nodoubt have scorned to touch my dowry, and wanted to pay me for yourboard too. "

"Dear heart, I imagine the question is settled between us, and never tobe discussed again. I simply cannot live free of expense in the houseof my--"

"Your wife, " she broke in hastily. 

"Of my--wife. "

"Very well, " she said, resigning herself, "you must have your own way, I suppose. But explain to me, my Teutonic philosopher, how comes itthat so high-bred a body and so noble a mind can contain a cornerholding such a tradesman's idea? How can one make these commonplacecalculations when one is in love? Are you Germans all like that, or isit an inherited weakness in your family?"

"In my family, " he answered simply, and without a trace of bitterness, "as far back as I know of (though that is certainly not anything likeas far as your ancestor, the first knight of San Iago), we have alwaysworked for our living, and owed all to our own industry. I am the firstwho found the table ready spread for him, and who knows if it has beenan advantage to me. "

"Now you are making fun of my ancestors, you disagreeable man--when didI ever say such a silly thing?"

"I never said you did, but you asked an explanation of the Germanphilosopher, and the German philosopher has done his best to give youone. "

She locked her pocketbook in the cabinet again, and there the matterended between them. 

The rest of the household, which seemed to accept the establishing ofthe new guest without the faintest surprise, consisted, beside Anne, ofthe man-servant Auguste, a young, knowing-looking southern Frenchman, with a clean-shaven, lackey's face, the old Spanish cook Isabel, acolossal, unwieldly, hippopotamus-like person with a red nose, watery, bloodshot eyes, and a strident voice, and Don Pablo, who seemed to be amixture of servant, major-domo, and the confidential attendant of theold plays. Pilar esteemed him highly, and always spoke of him in termsof respect. According to her, he came of a good Catalonian family, hadserved with the Carlists and received titles and orders of distinctionfrom Don Carlos. After the downfall of the cause for which he hadfought he had come to Paris like so many of his compatriots and Pilarhad rescued him from terrible want. He did not live in the house, buthad an attic somewhere in the town. Every morning he appeared at theBoulevard Pereire to receive Pilar's orders, was occupied during thewhole day in going on errands and doing shopping of every description, and his work over returned late in the evening to his lodging. He was atall, thin, middle-aged man with a long leathery face, a long paintednose, long oily hair, and long gray mustache. The entire loose, bonyfigure looked like a reflection in a concave glass--all distorted intolength. Don Pablo had a deeply melancholy air, never smiled and spokebut little. During the few spare hours which the countess' service--inwhich his legs were chiefly in demand--permitted, he might be seen in aback room on the ground floor, engaged in manufacturing pictures out ofgummed hair--an art in which he was a proficient. He had even achieveda portrait of Pilar in blonde, brown, and red hair. It looked like thequeen in a pack of cards, but Don Pablo was very proud of themasterpiece, and never forgave Pilar for not hanging it in one of thesalons, but in quite another place. It was this accomplishment of hiswhich led Auguste to declare firmly and with conviction that he wasnothing more nor less than a common hairdresser. The relations betweenthe two were altogether very strained. Auguste was annoyed by theSpaniard's high-and-mighty airs, and his French instincts of equalityrevolted against Don Pablo's pretensions to be better than the rest ofthe servants. They had their meals in common, but Don Pablo occupiedthe seat of honor and demanded to be waited upon, while Auguste, Anneand Isabel had to be content to wait upon themselves. As ill-luck wouldhave it, Auguste had once got a sight of Don Pablo's uniform and greatorder; whereupon he instantly cut out a monstrous tin star out of thelid of a sardine box and wore it at meals. Don Pablo was so furiousthat he spoke seriously of challenging Auguste to a duel to the death, and it required a stern order from the countess to make him give up hisbloodthirsty design and Auguste his practical joke. 

The sharp-tongued Anne and noisy old Isabel were on a similar warlikefooting. The maid was jealous of the cook because she had long, secretconfabulations with the countess, who let her do exactly as shepleased, and even forgave her her pronounced liking for her excellentVal de Penas, of which she--Isabel--drank at least a barrel a year toher own account. One day Wilhelm, coming unexpectedly into the boudoir, surprised Pilar and the red-nosed cook together, the latter engaged intelling her mistress' fortune by the cards. This was the secret ofIsabel's influence. She hurriedly took herself off with her cards, butWilhelm shook his head: "I should not have believed it of my cleverPilar. "

"What would you have?" she returned, half-laughing, half-ashamed; "weall of us have some little remnant of superstition in some dark cornerof our minds. And after all, it is very odd that ever since our returnshe is continually turning up the knave of hearts. " And as Wilhelm wasobviously still unenlightened, she explained, "Barbarian, don't youknow that that always means a sweetheart?"

Pilar arranged their life as if they were on their honeymoon. Everymidday and evening meal was a banquet with flowers, choice dishes, andchampagne, till Wilhelm forbade it; every day a drive in an elegantcoupe; every evening to some theater in a half-concealed stage box, inwhich Pilar hid herself in the dim background. Wilhelm did not care forthe theater, but Pilar insisted that he should become acquainted withthe French stage. She showed him about Paris as if he were a schoolboyallowed to come to town in the holidays as a reward for having passedhis examination well. And she was such an interesting, entertainingguide! She was thoroughly acquainted with the history or the anecdotesconnected with the various streets and buildings, and on their way fromthe Column of July to the Opera House, from the Madeleine to the Arc deTriomphe, from the Odeon to the Pantheon, she unrolled a sparklingpicture of Paris, past and present, now showing him the seething crowdsof the lower classes and their customs and doings in good and badhours, now describing well-known contemporaries with all that wasabsurd or commendable in them. Stories, scandals, traits of character, encounters she had had, adventures that had befallen her, all flowedfrom her lips in a gay, babbling, inexhaustible stream, and initiatedher hearer into all the intricacies of Parisian life. She was asfamiliar with the galleries as with the famous buildings, and in frontof the works of art in the one and the facades of the other she firedoff a rocket-like shower of original remarks, paradoxes, and brilliantcriticism. She knew exactly where to scoff and where to beenthusiastic, jeered with all the ruthless slang of the Paris gamins atthe pompously mediocre sights recommended to the tourists' admirationby Baedeker, and gave evidence of deep and true comprehension of allthat was really beautiful. 

At the very beginning she dragged Wilhelm to a photographer's studioand disclosed to him, when it was too late to beat a retreat, that hewas to be photographed. What for? A fancy of hers--she wanted to havehis likeness. Half-length, full-length, full-face, profile. Only whenthe pictures were sent home did he discover, that she did not want themfor herself, but to send to her mother. It was high time she should seewhat the man was like who alone made life worth living for her onlychild. That she should draw her mother into an affair of the kind ofwhich women do not, as a rule, boast to their families, seemed to himpeculiarly bad taste. "What, " he cried, "you have told your mother thewhole story?"

"My mother is a Spaniard, she will guess what one leaves unsaid. "

"And you are not ashamed that she should know?"

"That is why I am sending her your likeness; she will then understandthat, on the contrary, I have every reason to be proud. "

What she did not consider it necessary to explain to him was, that shehad palmed off a complete romance upon the Marquise de Henares, to theeffect that Wilhelm had saved her life at Ault while bathing, that hewas a celebrated German revolutionist, and the future President of theGerman Republic, to whom she was affording a refuge in her housebecause, for the time being, he was obliged to be in hiding from theGerman secret police, and so forth, and so forth. 

The marquise believed every word. In her answer, she certainlyreproached her daughter gently for having anything to do with foreignconspirators, but otherwise praised her evidence of gratitude towardher preserver, and frankly expressed her admiration for the handsomeperson of this interesting German. She even inclosed a note to him, inwhich she thanked him from her overflowing mother's heart for all hehad done for her only child, and adjured him to be very prudent. Hecould make nothing out of it, and Pilar declared that she was equallyin the dark. "I only see this much, " she said in an off-hand manner, "that mamma loves you already, and will do still more so when she getsto know you personally. And that is all that matters. "

It was on the second Sunday after their arrival in Paris that thechildren came to visit their mother. Pilar looked forward with someuneasiness to Wilhelm's first meeting with them, and he too felt farfrom comfortable when Pilar brought a half-grown girl and a ten-yearold boy to him, and addressing herself to them said, "Embrace Monsieurle Docteur, and look at him well. He is the best friend your mother hason earth. You must love him very much, for he deserves it. "

The girl was fair like her mother. She was already dressed withconspicuous elegance, and her manner betrayed extremeself-consciousness. She glanced at Wilhelm with sly and wanton eyes, inwhich it was easily to be read that she had a very good idea of thereal state of the case. She offered her forehead for his kiss, bestoweda few cold and perfunctory caresses on her mother, and slipped away toAnne, with whom she spent the whole afternoon in eager whisperedconversation, till the governess came to take her back to thefashionable boarding school where she was being trained to be a perfectgreat lady, and to make some enviable man happy in the future by thebestowal of her hand. 

The boy, who was accompanied by a priest, and was being educated at afashionable Jesuit institution, was of a better sort. He gave his handto Wilhelm shyly but heartily, while his innocent eyes looked franklyand openly into his, and then hung over his mother with a tendernessthat had a touch of chivalry in it--half-funny, half-affecting. Wilhelmfelt decidedly drawn to the slender, healthy-looking boy. 

But in the course of the afternoon another--a third child--appearedupon the scene; a lovely, brown, four-year-old boy, with bold blackeyes and long raven curls, whom a maid-servant brought to Pilar that hemight kiss his mamma. 

Wilhelm was much surprised. "Three? You never told me that, " hewhispered. 

"This is little Manuel, my sweet little Manuelito, " she answered in alow voice, and buried her face in the child's black curls that shemight not have to look at Wilhelm. She covered little Manuelito withkisses, and then pushed him gently over to Wilhelm, in whom the mostconflicting emotions were struggling for the mastery. It was impossibleto feel any ill-will toward this captivating mite with the darkBronzino face, and yet to Wilhelm he seemed to represent a distinct actof treachery. How could she have been so underhand as to hide the factfrom him that her connection with the fashion-plate diplomat had notbeen without results! He made as if to draw away from the boy, whostood staring nervously at him, but the next moment his natural love ofchildren prevailed, and he clasped the sweet little fellow to hisbreast. 

"Such a lovely child!" he said, "and so young, and in need of amother's care. Why does it not live with you?"

"He lives with a sister of his father, " she answered, hardly above herbreath. 

"And you let it go?"

"The father would not let me keep it. And I could not do anythingagainst it because--it is not registered as my child, and does not bearmy name. "

The past, to which Wilhelm and Pilar had closed their eyes till now, presented itself that afternoon in incontestably lively form beforethem. Dispelled was the artificial fabric of their dream of a love thatwas as old as life itself--dispelled the poetic figment that they werein the honeymoon of a young pure union of the heart! These threechildren told a tale of Pilar in which Wilhelm bore no part, and thechapters of that story bore different names, as did the childrenthemselves. 

Pilar divined easily enough what was passing in Wilhelm's mind at sightof the children. She never let them come to the house again, buthenceforth went to see them at their respective homes. He was sure thatthey liked coming to the Boulevard Pereire, and was sorry that theyshould miss this pleasure on his account. Pilar begged him, however, not to allude to the subject again--he was dearer to her than herchildren, and there was nothing she would not do to spare him amoment's unpleasantness. 

The first visitor whom Wilhelm saw in Pilar's house was a little tubbygentleman with a clean-shaven face and a rosette in his buttonhole, composed of sixteen different colored ribbons at the very lowestcomputation. He enjoyed the privilege of coming at any hour of the day, and being instantly admitted to the boudoir. He was introduced toWilhelm as Don Antonio Gorra, and Pilar explained afterward that DonAntonio was a lawyer, an old friend of her family, and that heconducted her business affairs for her. For a time she had long dailyconsultations, to which Wilhelm was not invited. As soon as he left, she would come to Wilhelm with a significant and mysterious air, evidently expecting that he would ask what all this putting together ofheads might mean. As he did not evince the slightest curiosity, shegrew impatient at last, and asked with assumed lightness:

"Are you not at all jealous, you fish-blooded German?"

"Jealous? No, I certainly am not. Besides which, you give me no cause. "

"Indeed! and what about my tete-a-tetes with Don Antonio?"

"Oh, Don Antonio!" laughed Wilhelm. 

"You are quite right, sweetheart, but it aggravates me that you shouldnot want to know what he and I are brewing. You do not take nearly somuch interest in my affairs as you ought. "

"But you told me that Don Antonio was your man of business. "

"Well, then--no--this time it is not a matter of business. I wanted toprepare a surprise for you. " She seated herself on his knee, and layingher cheek to his, she whispered: "I have been trying to have myselfnaturalized in Belgium, and then, as a Belgian subject, get a divorcefrom Count Pozaldez. In that way I might have become your wife beforethe law as well. "

He looked at her with a face expressive rather of alarm andastonishment than joy, and she went on with a sigh, "However, DonAntonio has just told me I must give up that pleasant dream--it cannotbe realized. "

He kissed her lips and brow, and stroked her silky hair. She laid herhead on his shoulder, and remained long in silent thought. Presentlyshe rose, walked up and down the room once or twice, and finally seatedherself on a footstool at Wilhelm's feet. "But something I must do tobind you to me, " she said. "I shall not rest till there is some writtenbond, something legal between us. I shall alter my will, and give youthe place in it you occupy in my life. "

"Pilar, " exclaimed Wilhelm, "if you love me, and if you wish that weshould remain what we are to one another, never say such a word again. If I ever find out that you have mentioned me in your will, all is atend between us. " She drooped her head disconsolately, and he continuedin a milder tone--"Dorfling's will has not brought me so much luck thatI should ever wish to inherit money again. "

The idea to which she had given expression did not leave Pilar, however. There should be something in writing--some document withstamps and seals to testify that Wilhelm belonged to her. This wishassumed the proportions of a superstition with her, and she neverrested till it was satisfied. 

One morning the inmates of the house on the Boulevard Pereire saw thearrival of three carriages, which discharged eight persons at the door. A well-dressed gentleman rang the bell, marshaled his seven companionsin the hall, and desired to be shown up to the countess. She wasexpecting him, and received him in the red salon. After a shortconversation, she went downstairs with him to the yellow salon, whereWilhelm, at her request, followed them. The visitor was the Spanishconsul in Paris. He produced a casket ornamented with mother-o'-pearl, broke a seal with which it was fastened, unlocked it with a smallsilver key, and took out a document in a closed envelope, and handed itto Pilar. He then opened the door, and permitted his followers toenter. They came in in single file, and ranged themselves silentlyalong the wall. They were tall, lean men in great circular Spanishcloaks of brown or bottle-green, defective in the matter of footgear, and with shapeless greasy hats in their ungloved hands. Theirdeportment was as dignified as if they had been the chapter of areligious order, and every face was turned with an air of contemplativesolemnity toward the countess. With nervous haste she wrote a few linesat the foot of the document, read it over three or four times andaltered a word here and there; she then folded the paper, returned itto the envelope, and handed it back to the consul. She sealed it withher seal and wrote something on it, the seven men then advanced one byone to the table, and with extreme gravity and precision put theirsignatures on the envelope. The casket was then relocked and resealed, and the company withdrew with a ceremonious bow, not, however, withoutleaving behind them such a piercing smell of garlic that the yellowsalon was still full of it next day. 

When Pilar found herself alone with Wilhelm, she asked: "I suppose youwould like to know what all this means?"

"Well, yes. "

"We have in Spain what we call mysterious wills, the contents of whichmay be kept secret. A will of that kind is valid if an official personand seven witnesses vouch for it by their signatures on the envelopethat it has been written or altered in their presence. To-day I haveadded something to my secret will. "

He made a movement, but she would not give him time to speak. 

"Do not be afraid, I have not acted against your wishes nor woundedyour pride. On our Vega de Henares in Old Castile, we have a familytomb where my ancestors have been laid to rest since the sixteenthcentury. It is the Renaissance mausoleum of the picture hanging in yourroom. The marble tomb stands in the middle of an oak wood, not far froma little brook, and it is cool and still there. I shall lie there someday, wherever I may die, and I have assigned you a place beside me. Promise me, Wilhelm, that you will accept it. Promise me that you, inyour turn, will make the necessary arrangements for your remains to bebrought at last to our vega. I do not know if I may ever belong to youas your wife in my lifetime, but in death I want to have you forever atmy side. Grant me this consolation. Give me your hand upon it. "

Great tears welled slowly into the hazel eyes, and it was plainly ofsuch sacred and earnest import to her that Wilhelm had not the heart tosmile at her strained and sentimental idea. Moved and touched, heclasped her to his heart in silence. 

CHAPTER XII. 

TANNHAUSER'S FLIGHT. 

"To be as much alone with you in great Paris as if we were on a desertisland in the Pacific--in the midst of the crowd, yet having no partwith it; spectators of its amusing doings, and yet unnoticed by it. Youall my world, and I yours--what a sweet and perfect dream!" Thus Pilaras she went out in fine weather, thickly veiled, on Wilhelm's arm intothe crowded streets, and she did her utmost to prolong the charmingdelusion as far as possible. She paid no visits, invited no one to thehouse, avoided every familiar face in the street. Through the consuland Don Antonio, however, her more immediate circle got wind by degreesof her return to Paris, and visitors began to call at the little houseon the Boulevard Pereire who would not submit to being sent away. Withthe versatility of mind peculiar to her, Pilar soon adapted herself tothe new position of affairs, and tried to make the best of it. Ofcourse it would have been infinitely more agreeable, she said toWilhelm, to have been able to remain longer in their deliciousseclusion, but, sooner or later, social life would have to be resumed, and it was best he should make a beginning now. "Do not be afraid, " sheadded, "that I shall ask you to make the acquaintance of all the assesand parrots that have chattered and gesticulated round me for years. You shall only know a really select few, who are fond of me, and whocan offer you friendship and appreciation. "

And so the march past of the elect began, most of them being invitedeither to lunch or dinner. Wilhelm found them very peculiar anduncongenial, and, on the whole, derived but little satisfaction fromtheir acquaintance. Pilar had a small weakness; according to heraccount, each one of her more intimate friends was a striking andoriginal character, the possessor of the rarest qualities. It was theonly touch of snobbishness of which one could have accused her. Sheannounced the arrival of an old Spanish general, "a hero of quite theantique, classic type, one of the most remarkable figures in thehistory of modern warfare, " and there entered to them a little old man, shuffling in with the flurried, dragging gait of a paralytic, unable tolift his feet from the ground, stammering out a few commonplaces, whocould not keep his gold eyeglasses on his nose, and who, when he wasinformed that Wilhelm had fought in the Franco-Prussian War, franklyadmitted that, though he had commanded at many a grand review, he hadnever been in real action. 

Another time a Great Thinker was to appear, a profound sage, with whomWilhelm would be delighted, thoroughly versed in German philosophy, acritic of immense and independent spirit. But what Wilhelm really sawwas a slovenly, pock-marked man, with a very arrogant manner, whosmoked cigarettes without intermission, and preserved an obstinatesilence, behind which one was naturally free to imagine the profoundestthoughts, if one wished it; and who, when Pilar tried to lead him on toair his opinions on German philosophy, answered sententiously: "I donot care for Kant; his was not a republican spirit. " A man who was saidto be famed for his wit perpetrated such atrocious puns that even Pilarwas forced to admit after he left that he had had a surprisingly badday. An aristocratic member of the Jockey Club, "a truly distinguishedbeing"--when Pilar wished to give any one the highest praise she alwaysalluded to them as "a being"--"and not superficial like the most of hisclass, " talked for two consecutive hours of the coming elections to theJockey Club, and of the attempt to bring in the wearing of bracelets asa fashion among gentlemen. The only figure in this gallery which madeanything like a favorable impression on Wilhelm was a Catalonian, naturalized in France, a professor at a Paris lycee. He had simple, winning manners, spoke and looked like an intelligent person, and metWilhelm with much friendliness. He was to learn later on that thisamiable, frank, unfailingly good-tempered acquaintance had made themost ill-natured, not to say defamatory remarks about him, before Pilarand her whole circle of friends. 

One afternoon Anne announced that "the consumptive poet was below, andbegged to be allowed to pay his respects to Madame la Comtesse. ""Another great man, no doubt, " thought Wilhelm, sadly resigned to hisfate. To his surprise Pilar turned furiously red, and said angrily:

"I am not at home!"

Anne retired, but came back again immediately. 

"He sent to ask, " she said, in a tone of studied indifference, whichineffectually concealed her inward satisfaction, "what he had done todeserve madame's displeasure, and why he should be treated like astranger?"

"Anne, " cried Pilar, her voice quivering with rage, "how dare you bringme such a message! If the man does not go instantly, then order DonPablo and Auguste to see that he does. "

The maid withdrew, and Pilar, without waiting for Wilhelm's question, muttered resentfully:

"A man I was kind to out of pity, because he was such a poor wretch, anunknown poet, and bound to die soon--and now he is impudent andintrusive. But that is just what one may expect when one iskind-hearted. "

Wilhelm thought no more of this episode, and had almost forgotten thatit had ever occurred, when one day soon afterward a friend of Pilar's, the Countess Cuerbo, came to call. She was the wife of a fabulouslyrich Spanish banker, whose house, racing-stables, picture gallery, carriages, and dinners were among the marvels of Paris. This lady'smost striking characteristic was a vulgar boastfulness, such as isseldom met with even among the worst upstarts of the Bourse. It wassaid that she had originally been a washerwoman or a cigarette maker inSeville, but this was perhaps an exaggeration. So much, however, wascertain, that her husband had begun in a very small way, and hadreceived his title at the accession of King Alfonso, in return forfinancial services which had materially helped toward there-establishment of the throne. The Countess Cuerbo could now givepoints as to pride of station to the bluest-blooded grandee. Sheassociated exclusively with persons of title, and strove, in everypossible way, to play the "grande dame. " She was always bedizened withthe most costly diamonds, and so shamelessly rouged that she must havebeen mobbed had she gone through the Boulevards on foot. She was notactually plain, but so affected that she did not know what to do withherself, and made such frightful grimaces that one was afraid to lookat her. Nor could she be called stupid, for she had the inborn naturalwit of the Andalusians, and when she spoke Spanish, could give verydroll turns to her remarks. Her French was calculated to inducetoothache in her hearers, and in the unfamiliar language the witevaporated and left only the vulgar behind. She was the terror of herfemale friends, for she considered absolute freedom of speech to be theprivilege and badge of nobility, and thought herself every inch anaristocrat when she alluded, without the faintest regard for decency, not only to her own numerous affairs of gallantry, but to those of herfriends to their faces. Her tactlessness had been the cause of many adisaster, but she remained incorrigible, in spite of repeated andsevere snubbings and even bitter insults. 

No sooner had she entered the room than Wilhelm received a sample ofher peculiar style. Anne announced the Countess Cuerbo. Wilhelm rose, prepared to leave Pilar alone, but the visitor had followed on theheels of the maid, and rustled into the red salon, exclaiming in herstrident voice and horrible Spanish accent as she embraced Pilar:

"This is your German friend, I suppose, about whom I have heard somuch. Oh, please don't go away, I am so curious to know you. "

Wilhelm was dumfounded. Such calm insolence he had never yetencountered. Pilar shot a glance of fury at the countess, to which shedid not pay the slightest attention, but examined Wilhelm insolentlythrough her gold eyeglasses, and went on with a vulgar laugh:

"General Varon told me about you, and described you to me. He thinksyou very nice, and I must say I think he is right. "

Pilar's patience gave out. 

"Madame, " she said very dryly, "if Monsieur le Docteur Eynhardt feelshimself honored by your astounding familiarities that is his affair. Ido not disguise from you that I think them in very bad taste. "

"Oh, my dear countess, " replied the lady, in no way discomposed by thissnub, "don't be so severe upon me. I have no designs upon your friend, and you need not be prudish with me. Surely ladies of our rank have noneed to be particular like any little grocer's wife. "

That was Pilar's own creed, and before any other audience she wouldsmilingly have agreed with the Countess Cuerbo. But she pictured toherself what an effect this tone would have upon Wilhelm's German, middle-class sense of propriety, which she knew so well, and wasindignant at her visitor's cool cynicism. 

"Madame, " she returned, still more icily, "you force upon me theopinion that there are circumstances under which it would be well totake an example by the grocer's wives whom you despise so much. "

This remark, in which the Bourse-countess did not fail to hear the ringof the real aristocrat's disdain, touched her in her tenderest point. She tried to smile, but turned livid under her paint, and determined toreturn the stab on the spot. 

"Don't be angry, dearest countess, I was only joking, and you know aswell as anybody that we Andalusians do not weigh our words toocarefully. By the bye, your French poet--you know--the one before youwent to the seaside--is simply beside himself. You have thrown himover, it seems. He comes to me every day, imploring me to say a goodword for him to you. He talks of challenging his fortunate successor, and goodness only knows what nonsense beside. "

Pilar turned very white. She sprang to her feet. 

"Shall I give a name to what you are doing?" she cried, her voiceshaking. 

"Don't trouble, " returned her visitor, perfectly delighted, and risingas she spoke. "I see, dearest countess, that you have one of yournervous days, so I had better come again another time. "

So saying she swept out of the room, throwing an offensively friendlynod at Wilhelm as she passed. To the grinning Anne, who was waiting inthe hall to see her to her carriage, she said:

"Well, it looks serious this time--the countess is over head and ears. But it is quite true, he is much better-looking than any of the others. "

"Looks are not everything, " returned Anne sagely, and her contemptuousshrug conveyed plainly enough that she did not share her mistress'taste. 

Upstairs Pilar had rushed over to Wilhelm as soon as the countessdisappeared, and hid her face on his breast. 

Wilhelm pushed her gently away, and said sadly:

"I have no right to reproach you, or, if I did, it would only be fornot having been open with me, although you boast of your extremetruthfulness. "

"Wilhelm, " she entreated, clasping his hand in both of hers, "do notjudge me hastily. I might excuse myself, I might even deny it, but I amnot capable of that. When I told you the story of my life, I believedhonestly that I had made you a full confession. You shake your head? Isit true--I swear it is! This man had entirely escaped my memory. Why, Inever loved him! It was in some part a childish folly, but principallypity and perhaps little caprice on the part of a bored and lonelywoman. My heart had not the smallest part in it. He was given up by thedoctors, they thought he might die any day--in such a case one givesoneself is one would offer him a cup of tisane--the action of a GoodSamaritan. "

"Your defense, " he said grimly, as he freed himself from her grasp, "isfar worse than any reproach I might bring against you. You never lovedhim? Your heart had no part in this childish folly? That makes it allthe uglier--then it becomes unpardonable. Love alone could extenuatesuch a fault to some degree. "

He turned to leave the room, but she threw herself upon him and clungto him. 

"You are right--quite right, darling, " her voice half-choked withterror and excitement; "but forgive me--forgive me for the sake of mylove to you. That story belongs to the past, and the past isburied--buried forever. I cannot believe myself that it is not all ahideous dream--that it should be really true! It was not I--it wasanother woman, a stranger whom I do not know--with whom I have nothingin common. I was not alive then--I have only lived since you were mine. Oh, why did you come so late?" And her wild, passionate words sank intoheartrending sobs. 

He could not but be sorry for her. Was it wise, was it fitting to rakeup the past? Had he any right to call her to account for faults whichwere not committed against him? She was good and pure now. She had notbroken faith with him--not even in her thoughts--for she had no eyesfor anybody in the world but him! He held out his hand to her. 

"I will forget what I heard to-day, " he said, "and do not let us everspeak again of what has been. "

He was quite sincere in saying this, for he really wished to forget. But our memory is not subject to our will. Do what he would, he couldnot banish the consumptive poet from his mind, nor the diplomat withthe silly, handsome face, and other figures more shadowy than thesetwo, but none the less annoying. He learned to know that most torturingform of jealousy--the jealousy of the past--against which it ishopeless to struggle, which will not be dispelled, and which, in itsunalterable steadfastness, mocks at the despair of the heart that isforever searching after new grounds for torment, and yet cries aloudwhen it finds what it sought. His imagination wandered perpetually fromthe lovely pastel in the yellow salon to the new ebony bed, with itsinlaid ivory scenes in the bedroom, and saw or guessed things betweenthese two points that made him shudder. 

Thus, New Year's night found him in a very gloomy frame of mind, andthe letter he wrote to Schrotter expressed a still deeper dejectionthan that of the year before. Since recounting the conversation aboutthe donkey in Ault, he had never again mentioned Pilar to his friend, nor betrayed by a single word the circumstances in which he had livedsince the middle of August. Such disclosures would have necessitated amoral effort on his part, for which even his friendship for Schrottercould not supply him with sufficient force. He knew that Schrotter'sviews on morality were neither narrow nor pharisaical, that to himvirtue did not consist in the outward observance of social rules, butin self-forgetful, brotherly love and a strict adherence to duty. Itwould have afforded him unspeakable relief to have been able to pourout his heart to his friend, to give him an insight into his turbidlove-story and the conflict in his soul. But a sense of shame--theoutcome, no doubt, of his own disgust at the unsavory accessories ofhis love--had withheld him from making these confidences. He made nonenow, complained only in a general way of the emptiness of his life, towhich neither desire nor hope bound him any more; especially that hehad no future, and looked forward to each new day with horror andshrinking. 

Schrotter's answer was, as usual, full of faithful affection and wiseencouragement. He chid him gently for his want of spirit, and then wenton to say:

"You have no future! I am amazed at such a remark in the mouth of a manof thought. Which one of us can say he has a future? To say we have afuture is simply to say that we wish for something, strive aftersomething, set some aim before us. That which we call a man's futuredoes not lie outside of him, but in himself. I would have you observethat events rarely or never happen as we expect, and that the planswhich we have worked out most zealously are scarcely ever carried out. And yet we firmly believe, all the time, that we have a future. Naturepermits us no outlook into Time. A wall rises before our eyes to hidewhat is coming. But the cheerless nakedness of that wall beingunbearable to us, we paint it over with landscapes of our own devising. And that is what the unthinking mind calls the future. Any one canpaint these pictures on the wall, and to complain of its bareness is toacknowledge the poverty of one's own imagination wishing forsomething, --never mind what. The higher, the more unattainable, thebetter. Only desire earnestly, and you will feel yourself alive again. Your misfortune, my friend, is that you have not to work for your dailybread. A settled income is only a blessing to those to whom theattainment of the trifling and external pleasures of life seems worththe trouble of an effort. You are wise enough to set no value on whatthe world can give you. You are neither vain nor ambitious. Thereforeyou do not exercise your capacities in wrestling for position, recognition, honors, or fame. On the other hand, you have no need totrouble yourself about the bare necessities of life, and are therebydeprived of another occasion for bringing your strength into play. Now, you are provided with organic forces, and it is the circumstance thatthese forces are lying fallow that affects you like a malady. It is inwork alone that you can hope to find a cure, or at least animprovement. Accordingly, if you have not sufficient strength of willto set yourself some task, my will shall come to your aid. I suggest, nay, I insist, that you proceed manfully with your 'History of HumanIgnorance, ' about which I have heard nothing for months, and that youshow me at least the first volume ready for the press by the end ofthis time next year. "

Wilhelm caught desperately at this advice, offered to him by his friendin the paradoxical form of a command. He got out his books and papersagain, and began devoting his mornings to work. Pilar was delighted. She was far too wise not to know that honeymoons do not last forever, and although she was persuaded that she, for her part, would neverdesire anything better than to be always at Wilhelm's side, passing thetime in interminable conversations about herself and himself, inkissing and fondling, she quite understood that that was not enough tosatisfy a man accustomed to a wider range of pursuits. She had lookedforward with anxiety to the moment when mere love-making would pallupon him, and he would begin to be bored, and wish for a change. Shehad kept a sharp lookout for the approach of this ticklish moment thather ingenious mind might have some fresh interest ready for him. Thistrouble had been spared her. He himself took thought for a suitableoccupation to fill up his time. So much the better. He had adaptedhimself to the circumstances, after all. He no longer looked upon it asa passing liaison, but had settled down permanently and finally to leadhis accustomed life with her. 

It took a weight off her mind, and gave her a sense of peace andsecurity such as she had not known since the return to Paris. She toobegan to come out of her shell, and to resume her former mode of life. She fulfilled her social duties, and paid and received calls, whichWilhelm was allowed to shirk. At the end of January the first ball ofthe Spanish embassy took place. Pilar's whole set was invited, and shecould not well absent herself without exciting remark. She thereforemade the necessary preparations for the festivity. A diadem ofbrilliants was sent to be reset, a sensational gown composed, afterrepeated conferences with a great ladies' tailor, a pattern in seedpearls chosen for the embroidery of the long gloves. Don Pablo gallopedabout like a post-horse from morning till night; gorgeous vans, withliveried attendants, from the fashionable shops stopped constantly atthe door to deliver parcels; there was an unceasing stream ofmessengers, shop people, and needlewomen. But Wilhelm was oblivious ofit all; Pilar did not trouble him with such frivolous matters. It wasnot till the very day of the ball that she handed him the card ofinvitation she had procured for him at the embassy, and asked, as aprecaution:

"You have all you require, have you not?"

Wilhelm glanced at the pink, glazed card. 

"But, Pilar, do you know me so little?"

"I know that you do not care for these stupid entertainments, " sheanswered coaxingly, "but I thought you would go to please me. "

"So you are going?" he asked. 

"I must, " she replied. "They know that I am in Paris, and I wish toavoid the remark that would be made if I stayed away. "

"You are quite right, " said Wilhelm, "but you will have to go withoutme. "

"Don't be a bear!" she urged. "It will interest you to see this side ofParisian life. I don't say that I would ask you to do it often, but youmight--just this once. Beside, you have been more than three months inParis, and you do not know one real Parisian. Now, here is anopportunity of meeting artists, authors, academicians, senators--andthere are some remarkable men among them, well worth talking to. "

"I am sincerely grateful, " he returned, and kissed her hand. "Please donot trouble about it. I am quite sure that there are many people inParis I should like to meet, but they are scarcely likely to be presentat an embassy ball. And even if they were, a mere introduction, aninterchange of society platitudes, would not bring me any further. No;go you to your ball, and leave me at home. "

Pilar sighed, and gave up the struggle, and then received the jeweler, who had brought the newly-set ornament for the hair, a miracle oftaste, delicate workmanship, and splendor. 

In the afternoon Monsieur Martin, the prince of Paris hairdressers, arrived, to compose her a coiffure for the ball. He was a little man, with a clean-shaven upper lip, and the mutton-chop whiskers of asolicitor. He wore a long black coat, of severe cut, buttoned up to thetop, and a ribbon in his buttonhole. In his very pale cravat was abreastpin with a magnificent cat's eye. Patent leather boots and kidgloves completed the faultless attire of this gentleman, whom one wouldsooner have taken for a minister than a hairdresser. A liveried servantfollowed him, carrying a silver-bound morocco box, which he took fromhim at the door of the boudoir, and placed with his own hands on therosewood table. 

After an extremely ceremonious greeting, he drew off his gloves, seatedhimself in an armchair by the fire, and made the countess describe whatshe was going to wear. He listened with almost tragic attention, hisforehead in his hand, his eyes closed. After some reflection, heexclaimed:

"Where is the diadem?"

Pilar placed it on the table in front of him. 

He contemplated it earnestly, and then murmured:

"Good, very good. But now I must see the robe. "

"Monsieur Martin, " Pilar returned reproachfully, "don't you know thatmy tailor respects himself far too much to send home one of hiscreations before the last moment?"

"It is always the same story, " he complained mournfully; "I am toarrange a coiffure for Madame la Comtesse, the coiffure is to harmonizewith the whole, and I am not permitted to see the robe. "

"But I have given you the general idea of it. "

"General idea! general idea! Does Madame la Comtesse think that thatwill suffice?"

"For an artist like you, Monsieur Martin--"

"Oh, of course--for an artist like me! I can answer for myself, but howdo I know if the tailor has caught madame's style correctly? I amperfectly competent to compose a coiffure which shall agree entirelywith the type of Madame la Comtesse, but what if the tailor has beenmistaken--what if the robe turns out a disguise rather than anenhancement? In that case, adieu to the harmony. "

Pilar reassured the sorely-tried master, and exchanged glances ofamusement with Wilhelm. She had described him to Wilhelm beforehand asa Parisian oddity, and invited him to be present during the visit. While Anne enveloped her mistress in the white dressing-mantle, Monsieur Martin laid out the battery of combs, brushes, andtortoise-shell hair-pins provided by the maid, added, out of his ownbox, two hand-glasses, and a box of gold-powder, and began to loosenthe countess' abundant tresses. As the golden waves flowed over theback of the chair to the ground, he murmured, drawing his fingersrepeatedly through the silken mass:

"What a fleece, Madame la Comtesse! It takes a Spaniard to have suchhair. "

He now began rapidly and skillfully to comb, brush, coil, and fasten, to smooth away here, loosen there, shook the gold dust over it, touchedthe locks upon the forehead, placed the diadem, and fell back a step toreview his work. A groan burst from him. 

"That is not it! that is not it!" he wailed, and shook his headdolefully from side to side. "I am not permitted to see the costume ofMadame la Comtesse, I am not to use pads or curling-irons, and yet allis to be in the grand style--only a diadem--not a flower, not afeather! No, it will not do. " He glared at her for a moment, and thencried suddenly, "No, it positively will not do!" And before Pilar couldprevent him, he had rapidly pulled out all the hairpins, removed thediadem, and disarranged with nervous fingers the whole artistic edifice. 

"A coiffure that bears my signature must not be allowed to leave myhands like that, " he said. "And yet the ground is burning beneath myfeet. It is three o'clock, and I have not yet lunched. "

"Poor Monsieur Martin!" cried Pilar. "Will you have something to eat atonce? They shall serve it to you downstairs. "

"Madame la Comtesse is very good, but I have no time to sit downcomfortably at a table. I have all that is necessary in my carriage, and shall take some slight refreshment there, on my way to my nextclient. "

"Have you much to do to-day?"

Monsieur Martin drew out a little notebook, with ivory tablets, and asilver monogram, and held it up before Pilar's eyes. 

"Eleven heads after that of Madame la Comtesse. "

"All for the embassy ball?"

"No, madame; I have another dance to-night in the Faubourg, and abetrothal party in the American colony. "

While speaking he had not remained idle. The coiffure was being builtup on a different plan, and this time Monsieur Martin appeared to besatisfied with his creation. He walked all round the smiling countess, begged her to walk slowly up and down the room once or twice, touchedup the front locks a little, and then the back, and finally ejaculated:

"Charming! Ravishing! Our head will have a great success!"

He departed, after a ceremonious leave-taking. At the door of theboudoir his servant again relieved him of his box, and carried it afterhim downstairs, and a few minutes later they heard his carriage driveaway. 

"You have not anything like that in Berlin yet, " said Pilar, laughing, when the solemn and important artist had left. 

"I think not, " Wilhelm replied; "at least, not in the circles withwhich I am acquainted. But I do not laugh at him--on the contrary, Ienvy him. He takes himself so seriously, and combs with his whole soul. Happy man!"

It was about half-past ten when Pilar entered the red salon, in fullball dress. Wilhelm was sitting by the fire reading. She came up to him:

"How do you like me?" she asked. 

She had on a salmon-colored broche velvet dress, with ostrich feathertrimmings, and a long train. Shoulders and bust rose as out of pinkfoam from the scarf-like folds of some very airy material; brilliantsflashed at her breast and on her arms, the diadem was in her hair, twosolitaires in the delicate little ears, a double row of pearls roundher neck, and an ostrich feather fan, with enameled gold mounts, in herhand. A superb figure!

"How beautiful!" he said, and stroked her chin fondly. He dared nottouch her cheeks, for fear of disturbing the pearl powder. "But youlook just as regal without the brilliants. "

"Flatterer! Would you not like to come, after all? Make haste anddress. "

He only shook his head, smiling. 

"But are you not a little bit jealous, when you see me go off by myselfto a ball? I shall talk to the men, and take their arm and dance withthem; the people will look at me and pay me attention--does it not makeany difference to you?"

"No, dear heart, for I hope it will make none to you either. "

"Ah, yes--you need have no fear on that score. But still--in yourplace--you men, you love differently from us. And not so well, " sheadded with a sigh, as Anne appeared with her fur-lined cloak, andannounced that the carriage was waiting. 

Some hours later Wilhelm was startled out of a deep sleep by burningkisses. He opened his dazed eyes, and, blinking in the lamplight, sawPilar standing by the bed as if in a cloud. She held her great bouquetin one hand, and with the other was plucking the roses and gardenias topieces, and strewing the petals over his head and face, as she did inthe sunny afternoons at St. Valery. She must have been engaged in thispastime for a considerable time, for the pillows and quilt were coveredwith flowers, and his hair was full of them. As neither Pilar's entrywith the lamp nor the shower of blossoms had succeeded in wakening him, she had leaned over him and roused him with a kiss. 

"Oh, sleepy head!" she cried, and continued to rain flowers on hisdazzled, blinking eyes. "At least you have been dreaming of me?"

"To tell the truth, " he returned, "I have not dreamed at all. "

"And I have never left off thinking about you all the time, and havelonged so for you. Look here!"

She took a lamp off the chimney-piece, and held up her ball programmebefore his eyes. The blank places were filled up with pencil-writing, which looked as if it might be lines of poetry: which in truth itwas--Spanish improvisations breathing burning love and passionatelonging. He would have understood or guessed their meaning even ifPilar had not translated them with kisses and caresses. 

"Now, you see, you bad boy, " she went on, "those were my thoughts whileI was away from you. I had not thought it would be so difficult toenjoy myself without you. It was impossible. It is only three, but Icould not stand it any longer. I escaped before the cotillion. If youonly knew how hollow and stupid it all seemed to me! How dull I thoughtthe men's conversation, how ludicrous the affectations of the women!What are all these people compared to you! No, I will never go outagain without you. Come, Wilhelm, and help me to undress. I will nothave Anne about me now--nobody--only you. "

Had she been drinking champagne at the ball? Had the lights, the music, the dancing, the perfumes, her own verses gone to her head? Whateverwas the cause, her nerves were certainly very highly strung, and onlycalmed down when the morning was well advanced, and she had exhaustedherself in a thousand fond extravagances. 

During the next few days Wilhelm noticed something odd in Pilar'smanner which he failed to understand. She seemed strangely absent andthoughtful, by turns unnaturally silent and feverishly talkative, wouldsit for hours beside him glancing mysteriously at him from time totime, as if she knew something very wonderful, and were debating in herown mind whether to tell it or keep it to herself. She blushed if helooked at her inquiringly, and rushed away and locked herself into herboudoir. 

He watched these peculiar proceedings patiently for about a week, andthen asked one day, not without a secret misgiving:

"Pilar, what is the matter with you lately?"

Probably she had only waited for this. She cast herself upon hisbreast, drew his head down, and whispered something in his ear. Hestraightened himself up with a jerk. 

"Are you certain?" he asked, with an unsteady voice. 

"Almost, I think; yes, Wilhelm, it must be so, " she stammered, hidingher face on his shoulder. 

It was well she did not look at him at that moment. Unskilled as he wasin the art of dissembling, his face expressed no pleasure at all, butonly painful surprise. For weeks, but more especially since his gloomybroodings on New-Year's night, the anxious thought lay heavy on him, "What if our connection should have results?" The situation would thenbecome so complicated that he saw no prospect of ever putting itstraight again. The idea had only hitherto been an indefinite cause ofanxiety--now it resolved itself into a fact which appalled him. At thesame time he could not but see how happy Pilar was at the prospect, andit seemed to him unkind, even brutal, to let her have an inkling ofwhat he felt at her news. He kissed her in silence, and pressed herhand long and warmly. 

"You have not said yet that you are glad, " she said, and raised hereyes to his in fond reproach. 

"Must one put everything into words?" he returned, with an uneasy smile. 

"It is true, " she answered; "I ought to be accustomed to your Germanways by this time. But your reserve is quite uncanny to us Southerners. You are silent where our hearts simply overflow with words quite ofthemselves. You are content to think where we shout for joy. "

With these words Pilar depicted her own state. She felt in truth thatshe could shout for joy, and the happy words flowed of themselves fromher lips. Now at last the future stood clearly and definitely outlinedbefore her eyes. Now indeed she was bound to Wilhelm, as was herburning desire, and that far faster than by any documents with solemnsignatures and official seals. Her heart was so light, she felt as ifher feet no longer touched the ground and that she must float away intothe blue ether like the ecstatic saints in the church pictures of herown country. She talked incessantly of the coming being, and thought ofnothing else waking or sleeping. She had not the slightest doubt thatit would be a boy. Isabel had to lay the cards a dozen times, and theknave of spades came to the top nearly every time, an infalliblepromise of a boy. And how beautiful he would be, the son of such ahandsome father, the fruit of such transcendent love! She consultedwith Wilhelm what name he should receive, and wanted a definitestatement or a suggestion, or at least some slight conjecture as to theprofession his father would choose for him. And should he be educatedin Paris? Would it not be too great a strain upon the little brain tohave to learn French, Spanish, and German at the same time? Whatanxieties, what responsibilities, but at the same time what bliss! Shedid not even let Wilhelm see the whole depth of her feelings, knowingthat he would not follow her in these extravagant raptures. She did notlet him see her kneel two or three times a day at the altar or on herpriedieu, and cover the silver Madonna del Pilar with ecstatic kisses. He knew nothing of her having sent for the priest of the diocese andordered a number of masses. She did not take him with her when--herimpatience leading her far ahead of events--she rushed from shop toshop looking for a cradle, and only put off buying one because shecould find none in all Paris that was sumptuous and costly enough. 

This went on for about a fortnight, till one day she tottered intoWilhelm's room, all dissolved in tears, sank sobbing at his feet, andhid her face on his knee. 

"Pilar, what has happened?" he cried in alarm. 

"Oh, Wilhelm, Wilhelm, " was all the answer he could get from her; andonly after long and loving persuasion did she murmur in such low andbroken tones that she had to repeat her words before he couldunderstand her, "My happiness was premature, I was mistaken. "

She was inconsolable at the destruction of her airy castle, and was illfor days, the first time since Wilhelm had known her. He sympathizeddeeply with her in her grief, but he did not conceal from himself thathe was infinitely relieved at the turn affairs had taken. With such amorbidly analytical and yet profoundly moral nature as his, no raptureof the senses could possibly last for six months and more. The passionin which reason plays no part was past and over long ago, and duringthe last few weeks he had reflected upon the situation withever-increasing clearness and deliberation. At first he had not beenquite sure of his feelings, but earnest self-examination by degreesmade everything plain to him. What he was most distinctly conscious ofwas a sense of profound disgust at his present manner of life. Thingscould not remain as they were. Sooner or later it must inevitably cometo the knowledge of his friends. What would they think of him forleading such a life at Pilar's side, in her house? She had children whowould some day sit in judgment upon her conduct and his. And how did hestand in the eyes of the servants and the visitors whose acquaintancePilar had forced upon him? If at least she would give up her outsidecircle of friends! But that she either could not or would not do, andso brought ill-natured witnesses of their relations to the house, andWilhelm must needs accommodate himself to an intercourse withsecond-rate people who inevitably form the set of a woman whosedomestic circumstances are not clearly, or rather all too clearlydefined. And before these people, who appeared to him greatly inferiorto himself, both morally and intellectually, he was forced to cast downhis eyes. Reflect as he might upon the situation, the result was alwaysthe same--it must be put to an end to. But how?

There remained always the possibility that her husband might die andshe be thus free to marry him. Strange, he always hurried over thissolution of the difficulty. In his inner consciousness he wasapparently not desirous of making the connection a lifelong one, evenif sanctioned by lawful formalities. Leave her. He shuddered at thethought. It would be criminal to cause her so great a grief, for he wasassured that she loved him passionately, and he was deeply and fondlygrateful to her for doing so. She might some day grow tired of him. Hehoped for this, but the hope was so faint, so secret, so hidden, thathe hardly dared confess it to himself, knowing well that it was adeadly and altogether undeserved insult to her love. And even thisfaint hope vanished when she whispered the news of her prospectivemotherhood in his ear; now there was no possibility of a dissolution oftheir connection. If a human creature was indebted to him for its life, he must give himself up to it, and to this sacred duty he mustsacrifice freedom, happiness, even self-respect. But his heartcontracted with a bitter pang at the thought. It was as if a blackcurtain had been drawn in front of him, or a window walled up whichpermitted a view over the open country from a dark room. 

However, he had been spared this crowning addition to the burden of hisdiscomfort, and he breathed more freely. But the episode had served torend the last remaining veil that hung before his moral eye. That thesituation should seem so unbearable, that he was so sensitive to theopinion of others, that his blood had run cold at Pilar's news, that hehad felt the disappointment of her hopes as a relief, that the ideathat the danger might recur should fill him with terror--this allpointed to one fact, the realization of which forced itself upon himwith inexorable persistency; he did not love Pilar, or at any rate hedid not love her sufficiently--not enough to take her finally into hislife, and, possessing her, to forget himself and all the world beside. 

In the midst of his torturing efforts to come to some conclusion henoticed that Auguste, who had come to his room with a letter, lingeredabout in an undecided manner, as if he had something to say but did notknow exactly how to say it. 

"What is it?" asked Wilhelm, coming to his assistance. 

He liked Auguste, for he was always civil and attentive to him, whereasthe hostility of the rest of the servants was easily discerned in spiteof their forced show of servility. 

"Monsieur le Docteur must excuse me, " said the man, "but I really can'tlisten to it any longer and keep quiet. The lady's maid never stopssaying the most scandalous things about monsieur. She says it is nottrue that monsieur is a celebrated doctor and a member of Parliament, and that they are not going to make him President of the GermanRepublic. "

"Who has been trying to impose upon you with such stories?"

"But Madamela Comtess tells everybody so, and all the world knows it. Ihave long wanted to ask monsieur for something against the rheumatismin my left shoulder, but did not like to because madame says monsieurmay not practice here. "

What object could Pilar have in inventing these fables?

As he remained silent Auguste resumed:

"Monsieur may trust me, I am discreet, and I always defend him againstAnne, who is spiteful as a cat. She says monsieur is a Prussian spy anda fortune-hunter, and is simply preying upon madame. And she callsmonsieur something still worse, which I would not like to repeat. It isa shame, for monsieur has never done her any harm, and it would not bequite so bad if she only let out her vile temper before us, but sheslanders monsieur to outsiders and gives him a dreadfully bad name. "

"I am sorry that you should retail such gossip to me, " said Wilhelm, making a great effort to appear unmoved. 

"I considered it my duty, as an honest man. I am not saying more thanthe truth about the maid, and am perfectly ready to repeat it all toher face. Madame la Comtesse is really wrong in keeping the viper. There are plenty of respectable and handy young women who would thinkthemselves lucky to be taken into madame's service. I have a cousin, for instance, who has been in the best houses--Anne couldn't hold acandle to her; if monsieur would recommend her to Madame la Comtesse--"

"I can do nothing in the matter, " said Wilhelm brusquely. 

He turned his back upon the man and absorbed himself pointedly in hisbooks. Auguste stood a moment, but seeing that Wilhelm would take nofurther notice of him, shrugged his shoulders and left the room. 

Wilhelm was surprised himself at the impression the man's informationhad made upon him. Dismay, anger, and shame struggled for the masteryin his breast. What a suffocating air he breathed in this house! Howvile and underhand and insincere were the people by whom he wassurrounded! But was this true that Auguste told him? Did he not lie andslander like the rest? Was he not doing the servant far too great anhonor by letting his mind dwell on the low gossip of the servants'hall? He felt a kind of dim revolt against his own excitement which hefelt to be unworthy of him, and, under other circumstances, he reallywould have been too proud to allow such tale-bearing to exert theslightest influence upon his thoughts or actions. But, in his presentstate of mind, Auguste's words sounded to him like a brutal translationof his own thoughts, condemning him for his cowardice in submitting tohis humiliating position, and he recognized more clearly than ever thathe must fight his way out of this degradation. 

It was not easy to carry out this resolve. When Pilar came to his roomand took his arm to lead him down to lunch, she was as bewitching andfond as ever. At table she chattered brightly about an exhibition ofpictures in the Cercle des Mirlitons, which she wanted to see with himthat afternoon, asked him about the work he had done to-day, and if hehad given a thought to her now and then between his crusty old books, and altogether gave evidence of such childlike and implicit confidencein his love and faith, such utter absence of suspicion as to possiblerocks ahead, that that which he had it in his mind to do seemed almostlike a stab in the dark. His mental suffering was so poignant as to bevisibly reflected in his countenance, and Pilar interrupted her livelyflow of talk to ask anxiously:

"What is the matter with you to-day, darling? Don't you feel well?"

He took his courage in both hands, and answered with another question:

"Tell me, Pilar, did you really trump up a story about me? That I was acelebrated doctor and member of Parliament, and the future President ofthe German Republic?"

She flashed, but tried to laugh off her embarrassment. "Oh, it was onlya harmless little romance to amuse myself. You could be all that if youliked, I am sure, you are ever so much cleverer than these puppets--"She stopped short in the middle of the sentence as she caught sight ofthe menacing frown upon his face, drew her chair with a rapid movementclose to his, and said, in her most humble and insinuating tones, "Dearest, are you vexed with me?"

"Yes, for it is a humiliating, and beside which, a totally unnecessaryinvention, and lays me open to the worst construction. "

"And who has taken upon themselves to retail it to you? That Cuerbo, Isuppose?"

"It was not the Countess Cuerbo--not that it matters if the actual factis true. "

"Forgive me, Wilhelm, " she pleaded, "I thought to act for the best. Thewhole story was chiefly for my mother's benefit. I wanted her to loveyou and be grateful to you. I wanted her to take you to her heart likea son. I do not care a bit about the other people. I only told them thestory to keep myself in practice. And beside, you know what the worldis. A man's personal worth goes for nothing, it only cares for theoutward signs of success, and that is why I said you were a celebratedman and had a great future before you. That is no invention, for Ibelieve it firmly. And I told them that you had saved my life, becauseit is true, for life was a burden to me till I knew you, and you havemade it worth living. "

"But do you not see into what a degrading position you force me?"

"I hoped you would never hear about it. My intentions were so good. Ourrelations to one another must be explained in some way. I wanted toshield your reputation from these people and shut their mouths. "

"You see, my poor Pilar, " said Wilhelm sadly, "your excuse is thebitterest criticism upon our relations. You yourself feel how ugly thenaked truth would look, and try to dress it up before the eyes of theworld. That kind of life cannot go on. We are doomed to destruction insuch an atmosphere of lies. We must return somehow to truth and order. "At his last words she let go of him and turned very pale. 

"Ah, then it is only a pretext, " she cried; "you want to get up aquarrel with me as an excuse for breaking with me. That is unmanly ofyou, that is cowardly. Be frank, tell me straight out what you want. Ihave a right to demand absolute candor of you. "

Her words stabbed him like a knife. There was some truth in heraccusation. It was neither honest nor manly to make so much of her fibswhen he had something very different in his mind. She appealed to hiscandor--she should not do so in vain. 

"It was not a pretext, " he said, and forced himself to look into herface that seemed turning to stone, "but a prompting cause. You ask forthe truth, and you shall have it, for I owe it you. Well then, thingscannot remain as they are. I cannot go on living as a hanger-on in thishouse. I--"

He sought painfully for words, but could find none. 

Pilar breathed hard. "Well--in short--" The words came out as if shewere being strangled. 

"In short, Pilar--I must--we shall have--"

"I will not help you. Finish--you shall say the word. "

"We shall have to part, Pilar. "

"Wretch!" The cry wrenched itself from her breast. 

Wilhelm rose and prepared to leave the room. But at the same instantshe had rushed to him, and clinging wildly to him, she cried, besideherself with anguish:

"Don't go, Wilhelm, don't be angry with me. You don't know what Ifeel--you are torturing me to death. "

Her sobs were so violent that she could not keep upon her feet, andsank on the floor in front of him. He lifted her up and set her on achair, and his own eyes were wet as he said:

"I am not suffering less than you, Pilar, but the cup of bitternessmust be drunk. "

"You do not love me, " she moaned. "You have never loved me. "

"Do not say that, Pilar. I have loved you, but it is our ill-luck--"

"You have loved me, you say. So you do not love me now? Wilhelm, speak--do you not love me any more?"

He tried to evade the question. "You know, from the first, I did notwant to come here. My weak compliance is revenging itself upon me now. You yourself only spoke of it as a trial; if I could not accustommyself to it you would not insist on my remaining. "

"You do not love me any more! So that is your boasted German constancyof which you are so proud! These are your vows which I took for gospeltruth!"

"I have no recollection of having made any vows, " he retorted. He wassorry for it the moment the words had left his mouth. 

"That is true, " she answered bitterly; "you never promised anything. You left me to do all the vowing. It is unpardonable of me to reproachyou, I have no claim upon you. I forced myself upon you--why don't youtell me so? Shout it in my ears! Despise me, kick me--I deserve nobetter. I have been guilty of the deadly sin of loving you madly, andforgetting everything else in the world for that. You are quite rightto punish me for it. And see how low I have sunk! see what my love hasbrought me to! You may curse me, you may ill-treat me; I love you allthe same, Wilhelm--do what you will, I love you all the same. "

She was so distraught that she could not stay in the dining room. Witha sudden violent movement she grasped his arm and dragged him away withher upstairs to the bedroom, where she threw herself exhausted on thesofa. Wilhelm stood before her, looking thoroughly crestfallen, andwishing devoutly that he had the dread hour behind him. The silencefrightened Pilar. She raised her head, and said in a weak, changedvoice:

"It is all over, is it not? Tell me that it was only a bad dream--tellme that you will not frighten me like that again. "

"Pilar, " he returned miserably, "I wish you would listen to me quietly. You are generally so reasonable. "

"No, no, " she cried; "I am not reasonable--I will not be reasonable. Ilove you out of all reason. I shall repeat it a thousand times, tillyou give up talking to me of reason. "

"And yet it is impossible for me to stay in this house. "

She straightened herself up, looked at him for a moment, and then saidwith unnatural calmness, as she wiped the tears from her eyes:

"Very well; but if you go I shall go with you. "

"What! you would leave your home, your friends, your belovedParis--give up all you have been accustomed to, and follow me toGermany?"

"To Germany--to the Inferno--wherever you like. "

"You do not mean it seriously. "

"I do mean it, very seriously. I cannot live without you. "

"But you have duties, you have your children--"

"I have no children, I have only you. And if my children were a barrierbetween you and me, I would strangle them with my own hands. "

She spoke with such savage determination that he shuddered. But thebattle must be fought out. He must not yield now. 

"There is nothing for it, " he said after a pause, during which he stoodwith downcast eyes, fumbling nervously with the buttons of his morningcoat. "Our position would be equally wretched wherever we were. Fate isstronger than we are. I do not see how we are to escape it. Wherever wewent, we should have to hide the truth, and surround ourselves with atissue of lies, and that I cannot stand. I would rather die. "

"Die?" she exclaimed, and her eyes flamed up weirdly--"I am quiteready. That is a way out of the difficulty. Die--whenever you like; butlive without you? No, I will cling to you; no power on earth shall tearme from you. If you want to shake me off, you will have to kill mefirst. " "And yet you said you would not try to hold me back if I wishedto leave you. "

"And you remembered those foolish words! While my heart wasoverflowing, you listened coolly and took note of everything, so thatyou might use it against me afterward. I really did not think you wereso noble, so generous minded, as that. "

"You see that you were mistaken in me. I am narrow-minded, mean-spirited, a thorough Philistine; you have said so repeatedly. Whatdo you see in me to care for? Let me go. "

"Oh, how you fix on every word and then turn it against me! I am notequal to you; you are stronger than I, because you do not love me and Ilove you. What do I care if you are narrow-minded--a Philistine? If youwere a highway robber I would not let you go. "

She stretched out her arms to him and drew him to her, and pressed himso tightly to her bosom that he could hardly breathe. Then she burstinto tears, and wept so bitterly, so inconsolably, from the bottom ofher heart, like a child who has been very deeply hurt. In order tovalue woman's tears aright, one must have often seen them flow. Wilhelmwas a novice in this respect. He imagined that Pilar's tears were theoutcome of the same amount of pain as he must have felt to weep likethat, and every drop fell like molten lead upon his heart. Hisresolutions melted like ice before the fire; he had not the courage towound this clinging, loving, sobbing creature. He rocked her gently inhis arms till, exhausted by her frightful excitement, she fell asleep. 

The storm was averted for this time, but her confidence, her joyoussense of security, was gone forever. The scene left her with a nervousrestlessness which gradually increased to morbid fear. She was hauntedby the idea, that Wilhelm had some plan for deserting her. She couldnot get rid of the thought--it assumed the aspect of a possession. Shechanged color as she did regularly two or three times in the course ofthe morning--she opened the door of his room unexpectedly and did notsee him at the writing table, because, maybe, he had gone out on to thebalcony for a moment, to rest from his work and cool his heated brow. Then she would search the house distractedly till she found him, andbreathed again. In the night, she would start up, and feel about herhurriedly, to make sure that Wilhelm was there. She would not let himgo a step out of the house without her. She even accompanied him to theNational Library, and while he read or made notes, she sat beside himapparently occupied with a book, but in reality never taking her eyeoff him. She made no more visits except to the houses where she couldtake Wilhelm with her. She had curious jealous fancies, examining, forinstance, with great care every letter that came for him, lest theaddress should be in a feminine hand. Her desire to be forever provingto herself that he was there, that he still belonged to her, took theform of an insatiable craving for love, admitting, so to speak, of nopauses for digestion. She was a beautiful, greedy werewolf, knowingneither consideration nor restraint, her vampire mouth forever drainingthe warm life-blood. 

"She is crazy, " said Anne to one of Queen Isabella's ladies who hadbeen calling on Pilar, and remarked afterward to the maid that shefound the countess strangely altered. Isabel, the cook with the rednose and alcoholic, watery eyes, passed whole mornings with hermistress laying the cards, till she forgot all about lunch. The fatherconfessor, too, became an ever more frequent guest in the house of hisfashionable parishioner, and received in exchange for his mild anddiscreet exhortations, donations for his church, gifts for his poor, and requests for masses and prayers. But in none of these distractionsdid Pilar find the peace she sought, and in her terror of heart shetelegraphed one day to her mother to come at once to Paris and staywith her for a time. Don Pablo had taken the message to the office, andtalked about it afterward downstairs. Auguste hurried to retail thenews to Wilhelm, who had no difficulty in understanding the motive. Inthe first moment he thought he was glad of the approaching arrival ofthe Marquise de Henares. For, distasteful as the idea might be that themother should become a witness of the daughter's questionablerelations, he hoped that her presence would have a quieting effect onPilar, and help to bring her to reason. But, on second thoughts, he wasseized with afresh anxiety. He knew that Pilar's was the strongerspirit of the two, that she had a great influence over her mother, andcould induce her to adopt any opinion or feelings she might choose. What if the marquise ranged herself on her daughter's side? Then, instead of one, he would have two women against him, and his strugglefor freedom, in which he had already succumbed to one of them, would beutterly hopeless. 

The Marquise de Henares did not come. She wrote that she was out ofhealth, and was beside detained in Madrid by a thousand social duties;but in the spring or summer she would be very pleased to come and spenda few weeks with her only child and her grandchildren. 

Wilhelm maintained an outward show of calm. He did not renew hisattempt at revolt, made no resistance against the fact that Pilar tookentire possession of his existence, and clung to him like his shadow;he only grew paler, and quieter, and more despondent than before. Buthe pondered day and night upon some way of unraveling the knot, and wasin despair at finding none. Should he cut it? He could not. He livedover again the scene in the dining room; he pictured to himself howPilar would sob, and fling herself on the floor, and clasp his knees, and tear her hair, and saw himself, after a useless repetition of historture, disarmed anew. For one moment he thought of giving a cry forhelp, of calling Schrotter to his aid, but he was ashamed of his wantof manliness, and put the idea from him. There was nothing for it butto resign himself. He did so with a gloomy, desperate relinquishment ofall his principles, his sense of morality, his ideals of life. He wasthe victim of a malign fate, and there was no use fighting against it. He must accept it as he would sickness or death. He was untrue tohimself, was a dissembler before himself and others: it lay in theinexorable logic of things that he must suffer for it. But what ashipwreck! After a pure and dignified life, wholly filled up by dutyand a striving after knowledge, entirely devoted to warring against theanimal element in man, and to educating himself up to an ideal standardof freedom from ignoble instincts, thus shamefully to choke and drownin the muddy lees of a love-potion!

Pilar, who fancied him reconciled to the situation, grew easier in hermind, and by degrees lost much of her distrust. About a month later, toward the middle of March, she had so far regained her equanimity asto allow herself, after a steady resistance, to be persuaded by afriend to attend her house-warming ball--"pendre la cremaillere, " asthey call it in Paris. The friend was quite as superstitious as Pilarherself, and had vowed a hundred times over that she would have no luckin her new house if Pilar were absent from the opening ball. 

It was not till ten o'clock in the evening that she finally made up hermind. She waited till Wilhelm had gone to bed, and then sent forIsabel, and shut herself up with her in the boudoir. After Isabel hadturned up the knave of hearts eight times running, and she had seenthat Wilhelm was in bed, reading the newspaper, she gave Anne and DonPablo a few orders, dressed hurriedly, and went off, after many kissesand embraces, and with the promise of not staying long. 

Wilhelm read his paper to the end, blew out the light, and turnedhimself to the wall. But sleep forsook him, and he stared withwide-open eyes into the darkness. Suddenly an odd suggestion flashedacross his mind--was rejected--returned again obstinately, grewstronger, and finally was so imperative that Wilhelm sat up in bedexcitedly and relit the candles. Don Pablo had gone home, Anne hadaccompanied Pilar, Isabel was in the back premises, engaged upon theVal de Penas, two fresh casks of which had lately arrived, and Augustewas probably in his bedroom asleep. He was as good as alone in thehouse. Now or never!

He sprang out of bed, and began to dress with a beating heart. Had itcome to this with him? He was on the point of committing an act ofcowardice--yes, but no greater, perhaps even less so, than smoulderingaway in slavery and degradation. It was an ugly breach of trust. Notreally so, for he had expressed, himself plainly to Pilar, and she mustknow how matters stood between them. Moreover, if you fall into themire, you cannot expect to get out of it again without besmirchingyourself. But--what will poor Pilar's feelings be when she comes homeand finds him gone? At the picture he faltered, and very near returnedto bed. But no--he put it forcibly from him. 

He rapidly finished dressing, and went into his room to collect suchthings as were absolutely necessary. The two large trunks had beenremoved, and would in any case have been out of the question at thisjuncture. The portmanteau lay behind a wardrobe. Into it he stuffedsome linen and clothes, a few books and his manuscript, cast one lookround the rooms in which he had encountered such heavy storms of theheart, extinguished the lights, and walked resolutely downstairs. 

The gas was burning in the hall, the front door stood half open, and onthe doorstep was Auguste, talking to a maid-servant from the nexthouse. She flitted away as the man turned round, and, to hisastonishment, perceived Wilhelm with a portmanteau in his hand. Hestepped quickly indoors. 

"Ah, " he said in a muffled tones, "Monsieur le Docteur! I understand--Iunderstand. I would have done it long ago. It really couldn't go onlike that any longer. But monsieur might have said a word to me; for asto me--I am dumb!"

Wilhelm was crushed to the earth. So he was not to be spared onehumiliation, not even the patronizing familiarity of this lackey! Butit could not be helped now. Regardless of his opposition, Auguste tookthe portmanteau out of his hand, and asked with eager civility where heshould carry it. 

"Only to a fiacre, " Wilhelm answered. 

They went out together into the Boulevard Pereire, and as they walkedalong beside the deep cutting of the circle railway, Auguste inquired:

"Monsieur is leaving Paris, no doubt?"

Wilhelm made no reply. 

"Has Monsieur le Docteur left any address?" he continued urgently. 

"No, " answered Wilhelm. 

"But it would be better if he did so, in case any letters might come. And it will surely interest monsieur to know how things go on in thehouse. Monsieur need only confide it to me. I would not tell it to asingle soul, not even if le bon Dieu himself came down with all hissaints. "

Wilhelm was weak enough to form a fresh link between himself and Pilar, when he had just severed the old one. He wrote Schrotter's address on aleaf of his pocketbook and gave it to Auguste, saying:

"Anything will reach me safely under that address. "

They reached the cab stand in the Avenue de Villiers; Wilhelm got intoone, took the portmanteau inside, and pressed a sovereign intoAuguste's hand, who thanked him and asked where the cabman was to driveto. 

"First of all, just along the avenue, " answered Wilhelm. 

Auguste grinned as he repeated this order to the driver, and was justclosing the door, when there was a yelp of pain. 

"Infamous beast!" cried Auguste, and gave Fido, who had followed themunperceived, a kick. The poor animal had always been accustomed togoing with them when Wilhelm and Pilar drove out, and now was preparingto jump into the vehicle, when he just escaped being crushed in thedoor. Wilhelm stooped to give the puffing, affectionate creature afarewell pat. 

"Monsieur should take him as a souvenir, " said Auguste, withthinly-veiled sarcasm. "Nobody will take any notice of him now, in anycase. "

"You are quite right, " said Wilhelm, and let the dog come in. Thefiacre moved off, and Auguste looked after it for a long time, as hewhistled the latest popular air. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

CONSUMMATION. 

It wanted but little to midday when Wilhelm came out of a hotel on theNeuer Jungfernstieg in Hamburg, and made his way toward the Alster, Fido trotting behind him, whose coat, for want of its accustomed dailywashing and brushing, looked sadly neglected. 

The sky was thickly overcast, the air unusually mild, on account of theprevailing west wind, and the pavement of the Jungfernstieg damp andmuddy. A thin veil of yellow fog lay over the Binnen Alster, giving theobjects far and near the indefinite, wavering appearance of a mirage. Above the dark masses of houses to the right rose four sharp spires, from the points of which, smoke-wreaths seemed to rise and trail away. Far away in front the Lombardsbrucke was just distinguishable, itsthree arches apparently hung with gray draperies. Swans glided lazilyin groups or singly over the muddy-looking surface of the water, orcame under the open windows of the Alster Pavilion, through which latebreakfasting guests threw them crumbs. 

The small, green-painted Uhlenhorst steamer lay alongside of the secondlanding-place. Wilhelm stepped on board, and remained on deck, staringabsently into the fog or at the dim outlines of the houses on theshore. On the night of his escape from the Boulevard Pereire he haddriven to the Gare du Nord, and taken a midnight train, which broughthim at about six the next evening to Cologne. He was dead with fatiguewhen he got there, stayed the night, and went on the followingafternoon to Hamburg. He had been there two days now, but had not beenable till to-day to gather sufficient courage to go and see Paul. Solitude had been an absolute necessity to him; he fancied that he whoran might read upon his brow the story of how he had lived and of whathe had been guilty. His thoughts were incessantly in Paris. During thejourney, in Cologne, since his arrival in Hamburg, he saw nothing butPilar's room, her return from the ball, and her passionate exhibitionof grief during the hours and days that followed. He only lived inthese imaginings. There seemed as yet no immediate connection betweenhis natural surroundings and his mental life. He felt as if a few stepswould bring him again to Pilar's side, and more than once the desirecame over him to return to her, and lay himself at her feet, there tovegetate luxuriously henceforth, without a will or thought, to the end. He resisted this impulse, but he was powerless against the tyranny ofhis imagination, which ceased not to call up before him the scenes thatwere being enacted in the house in Paris. 

After a minute or two the boat started. The shores receded and spreadapart, and the lines of houses came and went like dissolving views upona white wall. The boat shot under the dark and clammy arch of thebridge, where the echo increased the splashing of the steamer waves andthe thump of the machinery to a roar. The noise subsided suddenly, aswhen a damper is laid over a resounding instrument; the steamer hadpassed the bridge, and floated out on to the broad waters of the AussenAlster, which widened apparently into a great bay, the mist havingwiped out the boundary lines between its oily surface and the flatshores which barely rose above it. The boat described bold curves fromside to side, touching at the different landing-places, andpresently--dimly at first and then more distinctly--the square towerand ponderous, castle-like structure of the Fahrhaus Hotel came insight. The steamer had reached the furthest point of its journey. 

Wilhelm found himself once more at the familiar spot which had so oftenbeen the goal of his short walks with Willy. Scarcely ten months hadelapsed since he had looked at it for the last time, but his morbidmental vision prolonged that time to an eternity. He felt like thesultan of the Eastern legend, who fancied he had lived an entirelifetime, while, in reality, he sank for one moment into his bath insight of his whole court. He overcame a strange attack of shyness, andrang at the door in the Carlstrasse. The liveried servant opened it, gave an exclamation of surprise, and hurried before him to the smokingroom. Wilhelm followed closely on his heels, and only left him time toopen the door and call loudly into the room:

"Herr Dr. Eyuhardt!"

"What! Is it you or your ghost? Well, I must say--" cried Paul, overjoyed, receiving him with open arms. 

The first tempestuous greetings over, he pressed him, down upon thesofa, seated himself beside him, and rained down a torrent of questionsupon him--Where had he come from? How had he fared all this time? Whatwere his plans? And, above all things, where was his luggage?

"At the hotel, " Wilhelm answered, a little nervously. 

"At the hotel? Are you in your right senses? There is only one hotelfor you in Hamburg, and that is the hotel Haber. Were you souncomfortable there before that you have withdrawn your custom from it?"

"Don't try to persuade me, my good Paul. Believe me, it is best so. Your hospitality oppresses me. "

"Is that the remark of a friend?" grumbled Paul. 

"It is a fault in me, I know, but I do beg of you to let me have my ownway. "

"Just wait till I send Malvine to you--you will have to lay down yourarms before her. "

"No, Paul, I really cannot live in your house again. I will come andsee you--so often that you will get tired of me--"

"Never!"

"But let me live here as I am accustomed to in Berlin, especially as itwill probably be for a long time. "

"Then you are going to stay in Hamburg? That is splendid!"

"For the present at least. I see nothing else to be done. "

"But in the summer you will surely come and spend some weeks atFriesenmoor?"

"That is more likely. "

The door opened and Malvine hurried in, and ran up to Wilhelm as herose to meet her. 

"To think of you falling from the clouds like this!" she cried, andshook both his hands warmly. "Not a letter, not a telegram, nothing!Well, you knew, at any rate, that you would always be welcome. "

Again he had to make a determined stand against having theirhospitality forced upon him, and kind, persistent Malvine would notgive up the struggle as easily as Paul. As Wilhelm, however, wasequally persistent in his refusal, and would not even divulge the nameof his hotel till they had sworn to leave him his independence, theyfinally gave up the fight. 

"And now tell us all that has happened to you, " said Paul, patting himon the shoulder. "You must have had a very good time, for you eitherdid not write at all or only in a flash--like this: 'Dear friend, amquite well--how are you all? Best love--always yours. ' Well, I don'tthink any the worse of you. In gay Paris one has something better to dothan to think of dull old fogies on the Uhlenhorst. "

"You don't think that seriously, " answered Wilhelm, pressing his hand. 

"I should rather be inclined to think that the doctor had been ill, "said Malvine, whose woman's eye had instantly remarked the pallor andweariness of Wilhelm's thin face. 

"Really--have you been ill?" cried Paul, concerned. 

"No, no, there is nothing the matter with me, " Wilhelm hastened toanswer, with a forced smile. 

The awakened anxiety of his friends would not be dispelled, however, till he had repeated his assurance many times, and reinforced it byadditions and enlargements. 

Paul then returned to his question as to Wilhelm's adventures, thelatter doing his best to get out of it by a few vague remarks on theuneventful character of his life during the last few months, and thenhurried to descant on Paris, describing the town to them with thevolubility of a guide-book. On his inquiring in return about theiraffairs, Paul and Malvine vied with one another in the redundancy oftheir account. All was well, so far. At the last distribution of OrdersPaul had received the Order of the Red Eagle, and beside that, duringthe course of the winter, two new foreign decorations. There were allsorts of innovations on the estate, which he described in detail. Atpresent he was hard at work on an entirely new scheme: the founding ofa colony on the moor, composed of discharged prisoners, tramps, andsuch like ne'er-do-wells; where, by supplying them with agriculturallabor, they might be brought back to a decent and remunerative way oflife. 

Malvine had much to tell of the autumn and winter festivities, both ather own and other houses, and also, that of the three heiresses whomshe had picked out for Wilhelm, one was married, another engaged, andthere remained only the third, the one with the curly hair, who stillasked after him from time to time. 

Meanwhile the news of Wilhelm's arrival had penetrated as far as Willy, who now came rushing in. 

"Onkelchen, Onkelchen! have you come back?" he shouted, long before hereached Wilhelm, and stretched out his little arms to him. He had notgrown much, but was plump and rosy as a ripe apple. Wilhelm kissed him, and stroked the soft, fair curls that felt so much like Pilar's silkyhair. 

"Have you been a good boy all this time?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes, very good--haven't I, father?" the boy cried eagerly. "And Ican read now--everything--the newspaper too. I got a beautiful big boxof bricks for it at Christmas. "

Wilhelm had taken him on his knee, but the lively child would not keepquiet for long. He jumped down and hopped about in front of hisgodfather and chattered away. 

"I say, Onkelchen, you have just come in time for my birthday, haven'tyou?"

Wilhelm had not thought of it. 

"When is your birthday, my boy?" he asked, rather crestfallen. 

"Why, don't you know? It is the day after to-morrow. And what have youbrought me?"

He did not wait for an answer, having caught sight, at that moment, ofFido, who, shy as all dogs are in a strange place and among strangepeople, had crept away under a table, and sat there very still with hiseyes firmly fixed on Wilhelm. 

"A dog! A spitz!" Willy shrieked with joy. "Is he for me, Onkelchen?"

He rushed at Fido, took hold of him by the paw, and dragged him out. 

Malvine cried anxiously:

"Let him go, Willy!"

But Wilhelm reassured her. 

"He won't hurt him, he is quite gentle. "

Fido allowed himself to be dragged without much resistance into themiddle of the room, only turning his head away nervously and eying thechild askance, as if doubtful as to his intentions. But when Willybegan to pat and stroke him kindly, and set him on his hind legs in thefirst position for begging, Fido realized that no harm was going tobefall him, and attached himself instantly to the new friend with thateasy confidence which was this sociable creature's great fault ofcharacter. He fell to wagging his bushy tail in a highly expressivemanner, tried to lick Willy's rosy face, and was altogether so overcomeby pleasing emotions that he got a severe attack of coughing, sneezing, and snorting, and Willy exclaimed:

"My Spitz has caught a cold on the journey. We must give him someblack-currant tea, mother!"

The boy took a great delight in the dog, playing with him the wholetime of Wilhelm's visit, feeding him at dinner, and even wanted to makehim drink beer, which Fido steadfastly refused to do, and was muchdisappointed when, at leaving, Wilhelm prepared to take the dog withhim. 

"Didn't you bring him for me?" he asked with a pout. 

Wilhelm consoled him by promising that he should see Fido every day, and solemnly transferred to him all legal rights to the animal. Onthese conditions Willy was content that Fido should go on living withWilhelm, and that he should come frequently on a starring tour, as itwere, to the Carlstrasse. 

Wilhelm's first visit to his friends on the Uhlenhorst did not tend tolighten his spirit. In their home he breathed a pure and wholesomeatmosphere, which, it seemed to him, he must contaminate by the heavy, noxious perfume which still clung to him, and which he could not getrid of. Their life was as transparent as crystal, every moment wouldbear the scrutiny of the severest eye. He, on the other hand, had muchto conceal. His memory recalled many a scene; he saw himself again invarious situations, and thought--what would they say if they knew? Pauland Malvine told him cheerfully of all that had occurred to them duringthe last eight months; he was condemned to lock away his experiences inthe depths of his heart. His open and confiding nature was little usedto keeping a secret. It rose to his lips as often as he found himselfalone with his friend, and his longing to unburden himself was all themore intense that he had himself formed no certain judgment on hiscourse of action, and yearned to hear from the mouth of an unprejudicedperson of sound moral tone and worldly experience, that he had done nogreat harm. He carried in his own breast an accusing voice which calledhim faithless and mean-spirited, and showed him Pilar as the victim ofhis treachery; and he had need of an advocate, seeing that he washimself unable to refute these accusations with any sort of confidence. 

He was to receive the support he longed for. Soon after his arrival inHamburg he had written to Schrotter, telling him of his change ofresidence, and expressing, at the same time, his intense desire to seehim again after their long separation, also, if it would not be askingtoo much, to propose that he, Schrotter, should make a short journey, say to Wittenberg, where they might meet and spend a few days together, if it were possible for Schrotter to get away from Berlin for a shorttime. 

Schrotter answered by return of post. He was delighted to find thatWilhelm was so near, and promised to take advantage of the first finedays of April to make his little excursion to Hamburg. He would arrangeit so that he could at least spend a week with Wilhelm. It was notimpossible that he might bring Bhani with him. 

Only a fortnight had passed since Wilhelm received this letter, when, on his return one afternoon from the Uhlenhorst, the hotel porterinformed him that a gentleman had arrived from Berlin, and had askedfor him; that he was expecting him in his room, the number of which hementioned. With joyful foreboding Wilhelm hurried upstairs so fast thatFido could not follow, and knocked at the door. A familiar voiceanswered. "Come in!" and the next moment he was in Schrotter's arms. 

The first greetings over, Schrotter gave his young friend a long andpenetrating look from under the half-closed lids, and remarked

"I suppose you are surprised that I did not wait till April, butdropped down upon you unawares like this?"

"I am too delighted to be surprised, " answered Wilhelm, and pressedSchrotter's large, strong hand. 

He had scarcely altered at all in the year and a quarter, and with hisherculean shoulders and powerful head, his fair hair, blushed into agreat tuft above his forehead, only just beginning to turn gray, he wasstill the very type and picture of ripe manhood and strength. 

"But I had a reason for changing my original plan, " Schrotter went on. "Unwittingly I have committed a breach of good manners against you, forwhich I must personally ask you to forgive me. " He drew a letter out ofhis breast-pocket and handed it to Wilhelm. "This letter cameyesterday. Seeing the address, I took it for granted that it was forme, and so I read it, and discovered then that it was for you. "

Wilhelm turned pale as Schrotter handed him the letter. It bore theParis postmark, and Schrotter's name and address in a large, clumsyhand. Nothing on the outside to betray that it was for Wilhelm. Auguste--Wilhelm divined at once that he was the writer of theletter--had not thought of putting it in a second envelope directed toWilhelm, or of adding his name to the original address. 

Wilhelm's hand shook as he unfolded the letter, and a veil fell beforehis eyes. For one moment he had the idea to put the letter in hispocket, and say he would read it later on, for it was torture to himthat Schrotter should be a witness of the emotion he knew he must feelon reading it. But of what use was it to dissemble? Schrotter wouldhave to know. He glanced over Auguste's stiff characters. 

The man wrote in his ill-bred tone, with spelling to match:

"PARIS, March 26, 1880. 

"MONSIEUR LE DOCTEUR: It is a week now since you left, and time thatyou should know what has been going on during that time. It was as goodas a play! But you shall hear. 

"When Madame la Comtesse came home, and I opened the door to her, Isaid nothing, but I thought to myself--what a row there will bepresently. And sure enough, she had hardly set foot in her rooms whenwe heard an awful scream. It didn't scare me, because I knew all aboutit; but Isabel came tumbling out, and howled in French and Spanishmixed: 'Is it a fire? Are there thieves in the house?' It was enough tomake you die of laughing. 

"I was called upstairs and questioned by Anne--the countess had not thestrength. She was kneeling in her ball-dress beside the bed, her faceburied in the pillows that still showed the pressure of your head, andcrying as if her heart would break. I know that madame cries veryeasily--she has always been that way as long as I have known her--but Ireally should not have thought, to look at her, that she could holdsuch a quantity of tears. Anne cross-examined me like a magistrate, butof course I made an innocent face, and knew nothing at all. I sawplainly that she did not really care a bit, the viper, for while shewas cross-questioning me she gave me a look once or twice that told mequite enough. But Madame la Comtesse is very sharp. She saw at oncethat I knew more than I had a mind to tell. She turned a face to me, aswhite as a cheese, and looked at me with such eyes, that I might wellhave been frightened if I had not--I may say it without boasting--beenborn in Carpentras. At first she tried it with kindness, and then shethreatened to turn me out of the house that minute, and then she wantedto bribe me by all sorts of promises--ma foi! it was not a very easymoment, but I stood firm, and madame threw herself back on the bed, andthe tap was turned on full again. Would you believe it, that that Annehad the face to say to madame she had better look in the bureau to seeif her money and jewels were safe. 'Silence, wretch!' cried Madame laComtesse, so that the windows rattled, and gave the person a look thatmade her double up like a penknife. She does not come from Carpentras. To make a long story short, none of us went to bed that night. Madametook it into her head you might have gone for a little walk in themiddle of the night, and would come back. Good idea, wasn't it? Butwhen the morning came, she saw that the bird had really flown, and thatchanged the whole affair. She took to her bed, and stayed there forfive days with the room all darkened, ate nothing, drank nothing, wasdelirious, had four doctors called in each at fifty francs the visit, beside priests and nuns, and Madame la Marquise, her mamma, got threetelegrams, one longer than the other, and arrived here the day beforeyesterday, and now they are trying which can cry the most. But thedaughter has the best of it. Since she had her mamma with her, madameseems calmer. She got up yesterday for the first time, and--not to keepback anything from you--I have great hopes that in a fortnight or threeweeks' time we shall see her going to balls again. That will do her aworld of good. 

"She had your things taken up to the box-room, so that she might notsee them any more, and Madame la Marquise has your room, but Madame laComtesse never sets foot in it. The artist in hair says that there istalk of renting a new house, or even of going to Spain. I should bevery sorry to leave Madame la Comtesse, but to Spain I would not go. 

"I should be glad to know from Monsieur le Docteur whether, aftermadame has consoled herself a little, I may give her monsieur'saddress, that his things may be forwarded. I hope you are well, andthat you will write me a line. You need not be anxious about madame, she will soon be all right again. You were not the first, and, let ushope, you will not have been the last. 

"I salute Monsieur le Docteur, "Your very obedient servant, "AUGUSTE. 

"POSTSCRIPT. --In spite of her desperation, madame had the presence ofmind to try and persuade Anne you very probably had to fly from yourpolitical enemies, or had even been carried off and murdered byPrussian agents. Anne said, 'Yes; such things have happened. ' Theviper! You did well to take yourself out of this. "

Wilhelm was unaware that he read the letter twice or three times overwithout a pause between. When he was beginning for the fourth time, hesuddenly remembered that he was not alone, and that Schrotter wassitting there watching him. He folded the letter in confusion. He hadnot the courage to say anything, or even to look at his friend, butdropped his hands and his head, and cast down his miserable eyes. 

Schrotter was the first to break the silence. 

"I must beg you once more to forgive me for opening the letter. Ofcourse, I could not have an idea--"

"No, " said Wilhelm in a low voice, "it is for me to ask yourforgiveness for not having been open with you. But I had everyintention of making good my fault. It was for that I asked you to meetme at Wittenberg. "

"Spare yourself the telling of anything that might be painful to you, "said Schrotter, with kindly forethought. "I can guess the drift of it, and now understand your last letter. I thought you would probably be ina frame of mind to need a friend near you, and so I came without delay. "

"I will not leave you to guess anything, " Wilhelm returned, and pressedSchrotter's hand. "I will tell you all; it is an absolute necessity tome, and will, at the same time, be a kind of atonement. "

And he began his confession in a low, dull voice, and with downcasteyes, like a sinner acknowledging a shameful deed, and Schrotterlistened to him gravely and in silence, like a priest before whom somepoor oppressed soul is casting down its burden of guilt. Wilhelm keptnothing back, neither the mad intoxication of the first weeks, nor thebitter humiliation of the last. He disclosed Pilar's passion and hisown weakness, the pagan sensuality and the artifices of the woman'sinsatiable love, and the unworthy part he had played in her housebefore the servants and strangers. He spoke of his tormenting doubts asto the justice of his actions, and concluded: "And now, tell me, shallI answer this letter?"

"What are you thinking of?" cried Schrotter, when Wilhelm stoppedspeaking, and looked at him in anxious expectation. "Your only plan nowis to keep dark. If, notwithstanding your silence, they write to youagain, I would advise you to burn the letters unread. That will demanda certain amount of fortitude, no doubt, but as the letters will cometo my address, I will do it for you, if you authorize me. "

Wilhelm tried hard to make up his mind. 

"No, do not burn them unread, " he said, after a pause; "open theletters, and then judge for yourself, in each case, whether you willlet me know the whole or part of the contents. "

"Always the same want of will power!" returned Schrotter. "First youfree yourself, and then have not the courage to burn your ships behindyou. Believe me, it is best that you should have no further news fromParis, and after some months you can send for your things through athird person. Have you anybody in Paris who could arrange that for you?"

"No. "

"Then I will do it. And even if you were to let the things go, it wouldbe no great loss. Above all things, no renewing of old fetters. Thislackey takes a healthy enough view of the matter, for all hiscynicisms. You must not take it too tragically. You have passed throughyour heart crisis--it comes to most of us--only with you it hashappened late, and under unpropitious circumstances. That has tended tomake it more severe than is usually the case. But now, let it be pastand over, though naturally it will take some little time for your mindto regain its normal balance. What I regret most in the affair is, thatit precludes the idea of marriage for you for some time to come, and Ihad wished that so much for you. As long as the fascinations of thissiren are fresh in your memory, no respectable German girl will haveany attraction for you, and the love she is able to offer you will seemflat and insipid. "

"You only speak of me, " Wilhelm ventured to remark, "but that is notthe worst side of the story; what weighs most heavily on my mind is, that I have broken my faith with her. "

"Do not let that worry you, " Schrotter replied. "You were in such aposition as to be forced to act in self-defense. It would have beeninexcusable in you to have stayed any longer where you were. For aliaison of that kind is only conceivable when the man loves the womanvery deeply. You, my friend, did not love the lady at all. If you haveany doubts about it in your own mind, you may take my word for it--hadyou loved her, you would not have parted from her. You would, ifnecessary, have carried her off from Paris, and continued to live withher in some world-forgotten spot, as you did at St. Valery. Or youwould have gone off to the Philippines, and fought her husband to thedeath, in order to gain free possession of her or die in the attempt. That is how love acts when it is of that elemental force which alonecan justify such relations before the higher natural tribunal ofmorality. But if your love is not strong enough to prompt you to dothese things, then it is immoral, and must be shaken off. "

Wilhelm was still unconvinced. 

"I surely owe her gratitude for having loved me? That imposes certainduties upon me; I have no right to break a heart which gave itselfwholly to me. "

"Your idea has a specious air of generosity, " answered Schrotterfirmly, "but in reality it is morbid and weak. Love accepts no alms. One gives oneself wholly or not at all. Do you imagine that any womanof spirit would be satisfied if you said to her: 'I do not love you, Ishould like to leave you, but I will stay on with you because I do notwish to give you pain, or from pity--soft-heartedness. ' Why, she wouldthrust you from her, and rather, a thousand times, die than live onyour bounty. On the other hand, the woman who would still hold fast toa man after such a declaration, must be of so poor a stuff that I donot consider her capable of feeling any violent pain. Woman, ingeneral, has a far truer and more natural judgment in this question. Where she does not love she has no scruples about want ofconsideration, and the knowledge that it will hurt the man's feelingshas rarely restrained her from rejecting an unwelcome suitor. There issuch a thing as necessary cruelty, my friend--the physician knows thatbetter than anybody. "

Wilhelm shook his head thoughtfully. 

"Your cruelties are not for your own advantage, but for that of yourpatient. I have no such excuse to offer. "

"Yes, you have, " cried Schrotter. "You cure the countess of a morbidand hysterical sentiment. This Auguste is right--she will consoleherself. "

"And if does not?"

"If not--why, what can I say?--we must simply wait and see. But itwould surprise me very much. The worst is over. In such cases, if womenmean to commit some act of madness, they do it in the first moment. Thecountess has her mother with her, she has three children, she has, fromall I hear, an extremely buoyant nature, her despair will soon calmdown. If not, it is always open to you to return in a year's time anddo the prodigal son, and have the fatted calf killed for you. "

As Wilhelm looked at him with suppressed reproach, Schrotter laid hishand on the young man's shoulder. 

"You no doubt think me a hard-hearted old fogey--you miss the ring ofromance in what I say. That is quite natural. The language of reasonalways sounds flat to the ear of passion--and not to passion only, butto sentimentality and feebleness. Let us finish. You know my advice. Give no sign of life, and so give time a chance to do its work. Try toforgot the past, and help the lady to do likewise, and do not remindher of it again by letters, or any other kind of communication. And nowlet us talk of something else. What are your plans?"

"I have none, " answered Wilhelm, with a dispirited gesture. "I have notforgotten what you wrote to me at New Year. If our wishes make up ourfuture, I have no future before me, for I have no wish. "

"Not even to be near me again?" asked Schrotter. 

"Ah, yes, " answered Wilhelm quickly, and looked him affectionately inthe deep-set blue eyes. 

"You see now. This wandering life is no good for you. You must seeabout getting back to Berlin. "

"Yes, but you know--"

"Of course I know. But something must be done. You must apply to theauthorities to withdraw your sentence of banishment. "

"And you advise me to do this?"

"Unwillingly, as you may well suppose. But I see nothing else for you. "

"And how should I word such a petition? I could neither acknowledge atransgression in the past, nor promise amendment in the future. "

"No, it would be of no use going into details. It would have to be abald petition for pardon. " And seeing Wilhelm recoil involuntarily, headded: "It does not do to be too proud in such a case. In thepreposterously unequal struggle between the individual and theorganized power of the State, it is no disgrace to declare yourselfbeaten and ask for quarter. "

"A petition without any gush or protestations of loyalty, in which Iwould simply say: 'Please allow me to come back to Berlin, because Iprefer it to any other place of residence, ' would certainly beineffectual, and I should only have humiliated myself for nothing. "

"We must get somebody to take up your cause. I shall do all in my powerto make the Oberburgermeister put in a good word for you. "

"Would you yourself do what you are advising me to do?"

Schrotter was silent for a moment. 

"I am not in the same case. If Berlin were as much a necessity to me asit is to you I would do it--most certainly. "

Wilhelm looked as if he were swallowing a bitter draught. ButSchrotter's strong hand lay tenderly on the dark head. 

"Yes, friend Eynhardt, " he said; "you will send in the petition, and itwill, I hope, have the desired result. Do it for my sake. Yes, look atme; I have need of you. I miss you. I am getting to be an old man. Atsixty years of age one does not make new friendships. All the morecarefully does one keep those one has. Berlin has seemed to me adesert--almost unbearable, without you. You do not know how impossiblethings have become there. They are misusing, without one pang ofconscience, the most touching and lovable characteristic of ourpeople--its sense of gratitude, which it exaggerates to the point ofweakness. They are doing all they can to bind Germany hand and foot, togag her and drag her back into absolutism before her sentimentalitywill allow her to put herself on the defensive. They are pandering tothe lowest instincts of the people, and enervating their manhood byevery artifice in their power. Thus they have successfully achieved theintroduction into Germany of that most degraded form ofself-worship--Chauvinism. They poison her morality by wisely organizingthat every conscience, every conviction, should have its price. Theydebase her ideals by decreeing that henceforth the officer is to be thenational patron saint to whom the people are to offer up their devotionand worship. The press, literature, art, lecturing-room--all preach thesame gospel, that the highest product of humanity is the officer, andthat "soldierly discipline and smartness"--in other words, slavishsubmission, self-conceit, arrogance, and the upholding of mere bruteforce--are the noblest qualities of a man and a patriot. The army istaught to forget that it is the armed population of the country, and istrained to be a band of body servants. And even when the soldiersreturn to private life, the idea of servitude is carefully kept up, andhe finds again in the military 'Verein' the beloved barrack life, withall its servile submissiveness and abnegation of free will. Whicheverway I look, I am filled with horror. Everything is ground down, everything laid waste, the governing spirit has not left one stonestanding upon another. Even our youth, with whom lies our hope for thefuture, is rotten in part. In many student circles I see a want ofprinciple, a low cringing to success, a cowardly worship of animalstrength, that is without its parallel in our history. Instinctively, this corrupt youth sides, in every question, with the strong againstthe weak, with the pursuer against the pursued, and that at the agewhen my generation exerted itself passionately, without a question asto right or wrong, for everyone oppressed against every oppressor. Ofcourse we were simpletons, we of '48, and the golden youth of to-dayscoffs superciliously at our naive ideals. In the present order ofthings everything has become a curse--even the parliamentary system. For that gives the people no means of making its will known, and hassimply become a vehicle for general corruption at the elections. Ourofficials, on whose independence of spirit we used to pride ourselvesso much, have sunk into mere electioneering agents, and unless theypursue, oppress, and grind the opponents of the government, have nochance of promotion. It is a Police State such as we have never known, not even before '48. For at least every man got his rights in thosedays, scanty as those rights may have been, and the official was notthe enemy of the citizen, but his somewhat despotic guardian andprotector. Shall I say all? The most consoling class to me in Germanyto-day are the Social Democrats. They have independence of spirit, self-denial, character, and idealism. Their ideals are not myideals--far from it--but what does that matter? It is relief enough tofind people who have any ideals at all, and who are ready to suffer anddie for them. I fear that not till this generation has passed away willthe German people become once more the upright, true-hearted, incorruptible idealists they were, who, at every turning-point of theirhistory, were ready to bleed to death for freedom of opinion, and otherpurely spiritual advantages. I take a very black view of thingsperhaps. If only the harm done is not permanent, if only Germanyretains sufficient virile strength to throw off the poison instilledinto her veins and recover her former health!"

In his excitement he had risen, and was pacing the room like an angrylion in a cage. Wilhelm did not like to interrupt the stream of words, which seemed to be forced from him by some powerful inward pressure. Now he said:

"I can well understand your point of view. You emigrated in '48, andkept your democratic ideas fresh in your heart. Twenty years ofabsence, and an intense longing for your home, glorified the Fatherlandin your eyes. You come back and find a country whose historicaldevelopment has taken a totally different turn in the meantime, and theplain reality in nowise corresponds to the poetical picture you hadpainted for yourself. Naturally you are painfully disappointed. I knowthat of old from my own father. But may I venture to remark that yourcriticism is hard, and perhaps not altogether well founded? A system ofgovernment passes--the people remain. In its inner depths it isuntouched by official corruption, and you yourself acknowledge that theaggressive boasters only formed a small part of our youth. I am notuneasy for the future of my country. "

"You may be right, " returned Schrotter, grown calmer meanwhile, andstanding still in front of Wilhelm. "But the present is gloomy, that isvery certain. But enough of this. I came to cheer you, and have insteadlightened my own heart. It was overflowing, and I have no one in Berlinto whom I can unburden myself. You see, I must have you near me. Sowrite your petition, and if it is not accepted, why then--then we willgo together to Switzerland or America, and love our country from afar, and without any admixture of bitterness, just as I did in India. "

In face of this deep and unselfish concern over the condition of thecommonalty which trembled in Schrotter's voice and spoke from hisgloomy blue eyes, Wilhelm felt half ashamed of having made so much ofhis own small troubles. He declared himself willing to send in thepetition, and for the first time for weeks he was able to think ofsomething else than Pilar and his dealings with regard to her. 

Schrotter stayed for a few days, which he passed almost exclusivelywith Wilhelm and Paul. All three felt themselves younger by ten yearsin this renewal of their intimacy, and Paul said more than once, "Wouldit not be splendid, Herr Doctor, if you two would buy some propertynear me? Then, in the summer months at any rate, we could all livetogether, so to speak. I am quite convinced that that would be a sureway of keeping ourselves young forever. " Schrotter smiled at thisproposal. All he wanted was to have Wilhelm near him once more. In themeantime, Bhani, his patients, his poor, recalled him to Berlin, and heleft in hope that Wilhelm might be able to follow him ere long. 

Schrotter lost no time. He did his utmost to persuade influentialpeople to exert themselves on Wilhelm's behalf, but the difficultieswere greater than he had imagined. Wilhelm was in very bad odor withthe police authorities, who would not believe that he was not aSocialist, and that he did not afford that party valuable support inthe shape of money. 

Some three weeks after Schrotter's visit to Hamburg another letter camefrom Auguste. He was surprised, he said, that Monsieur le Docteur hadnot answered, and proceeded to inform him of a new turn in the affair. They had discovered that Madame la Comtesse injected herself secretlywith morphine, pricked herself, Auguste said, and two Sisters of Mercyhad to watch her day and night to prevent it. Schrotter judged itunnecessary to inform Wilhelm of the contents of this letter. 

Schrotter's visit had had an extremely salutary effect on Wilhelm. Hisself-torture grew less poignant, the memory of Paris receded into thebackground, and in proportion as it paled the red returned to hischeeks and the light to his dull eyes. He still held aloof from thebusy turmoil of the world, and was still dominated by a profoundconsciousness of the aimlessness of his life, and yet, for the firsttime for years, perhaps since he took his degree, he entertained adesire, a hope, that he might be permitted to return to Berlin. 

On the last Sunday in April Wilhelm was spending the afternoon at theUhlenhorst. The family were preparing to remove shortly to Friesenmoor, and Paul had gone over to the estate to make some arrangements. He wasexpected back in the evening, when they were all to go for a row on theAlster. 

Spring was unusually early that year; the trees showed gay sprigs ofgreen already, the air was wonderfully mild and balmy, and in theexhilarating blue of the sky feathery white cloudlets were floating, whose course one was fain to follow with sweet dreams and fancies. Itwas a sin to stay indoors on such a lovely afternoon, Malvine declared, and so proposed that they should go out to the terrace overlooking thewater and sit there till Paul came home. 

The terrace belonged to the villa in the Carlstrasse, laying on thepath round the shore which bears with perfect right the name "An derschonen Aussicht"--the beautiful view--and was built out in a squareinto the Alster. A low stone parapet surrounded it on three sides, thefourth--that toward the pathway--being formed by an iron paling with alocked gate in it. One corner of the terrace, which was otherwise pavedwith asphalt, was laid out in a round flower bed, in which theprimroses and violets were just beginning to come up. Near thebalustrade at the waterside, under a large tentlike umbrella, stood agarden table and a few chairs. Here Malvine and Wilhelm seatedthemselves, while Willy played about with Fido. To the right of theterrace was a narrow little bay where the shallow boat was fastened inwhich they were to make their pleasure trip later on. The boat was tiedto a wooden landing-place, which inclosed the little bay on the sideaway from the terrace, and from which a few mossy steps led down to thewater. The Alster was swollen with melting snow and spring rains, andalmost washed the foot of the terrace; only one of the steps of thelanding appeared above the surface of the water. Willy, finding itrather dull on the terrace, elected to play on the pier, and beganjumping in and out of the boat, into which Fido refused to follow him, as he was afraid of the water. 

The view was enchanting. The opposite shore gleamed silvery blue in thedelicate white light of a northern spring day. In the distance, themasses of houses and the spires of Hamburg hung upon the horizon like afaintly tinted, half-washed out transparency. A light breeze ruffledthe broad bosom of the Alster, and the red and green steamboats ploweddark furrows in its brightness, which remained there long after theboats had passed, and faded away finally in many a serpentine curve. Numbers of little rowing and sailing-boats floated upon the slowcurrent, peopled by couples and parties in their Sunday clothes, theirtalk and merry laughter sounding across the water to the shore. Asailing-boat passed quite close to the terrace on its way to theFahrhaus. A young boatman handled the sails, a little boy was steering, and in the stern sat a young man and a pretty rosy girl, their armsaffectionately intertwined, softly singing, "Life let us cherish. "Malvine smiled as she caught sight of the little idyll, and turning toWilhelm, who was gazing dreamily into the quiet sunny beauty of thesurrounding scene: "Can you imagine any more delightful occupation on aspring day like this, " she said, "than to go love-making like those twolittle people over there?"

A shadow passed over Wilhelm's face. He saw himself lying in the highgrass under a wide-spreading tree in St. Valery, and over him therehovered a white hand that strewed him with fresh blossoms. 

At that instant they heard a little frightened cry, followedimmediately by a second one, and then a gurgle. Both sprang to theirfeet, and Malvine uttered a piercing shriek of terror. Right in frontof them, not more than a step from the terrace, they saw Willy in themidst of a whirl of foam which he had churned up round him with hisdesperate, struggling little limbs. His arms were tossing wildly abovethe water, but the head with its floating golden curls dipped underfrom time to time, and the little distorted mouth opened for anagonized breath and scream, only to be stopped by the in-rushing water. The boat rocking violently close by explained with sufficient clearnesshow the accident had happened. The boy had clambered on to the edge ofthe boat to rock himself, had overbalanced and fallen into the water, and in his struggles had already drifted some paces from the shore. Fido stood barking and gasping on the step and dipping his paws intothe water only to draw them out again. 

Malvine stretched out her arms to the child, but her feet refused theiroffice, she stood rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but utterterrible inarticulate screams. Only a few seconds elapsed--just longenough to realize what had happened--when Wilhelm sprang with lightningrapidity on to his chair, and from thence, with one bound, over theparapet into the water. He disappeared below the surface, but roseagain at once just beside the child, who clung to him with all hisremaining strength. How he managed it he did not know, but, although hecould not swim, he managed to push the boy in front of him toward theterrace, crying anxiously, "Catch hold of him! Catch hold of him!" Lifereturned to Malvine's limbs, she leaned over the parapet and stretchedout her arms. Wilhelm made a supreme effort and lifted the boy so farout of the water that she could grasp him, put her arms round him, anddrag him up, and with him apparently Wilhelm, for his head andshoulders rose for a moment above the water. With a jerk she draggedthe fainting boy over the parapet and held him in her arms, while shecontinued to scream for help. People came running from the shore theCarlstrasse, the Fahrhaus, and in an instant the terrace was crowded. They relieved the still half-demented mother of the dripping child tocarry him across to the house. She was pushing her way through theclosely packed groups and tottering after them when a cry reached her. "There is another one in the water!" Only then did she rememberWilhelm. Terrified to death, she turned and flew back to the edge ofthe terrace. A crowd stood there gesticulating wildly, all talking atonce, and obstructing the view. A gap opened when two or three men withmore presence of mind than the rest rushed down to the landing, jumpedinto the boat, untied it, and pushed off from the shore. And now, toher unspeakable horror, she saw that Wilhelm had disappeared, and thethick muddy waters gave no clew to the spot where he had gone down. This was too much, and she altogether lost consciousness. When she cameto herself she was lying on the sofa in her husband's smoking room, herdress in disorder, and the maids busy about her. She first looked roundher startled, then her memory returned with a flash, and she cried withquivering lips: "How is Willy--and Dr. Eynhardt?"

"Master Willy has quite come round, and they are putting him to bed, "the servants hastened to answer. 

"But Dr. Eynhardt?"

To that they had no reply. 

Malvine jumped up and would have rushed out. 

"Gnadige Frau!" cried the girls, horrified, "you can't go out likethat!"

They held her back; Malvine struggled to free herself, but at thatmoment there was a sound of heavy footsteps and a confused murmur ofvoices in the hall, some one flung open the door, the man-servant putin his head, but started back at sight of his mistress and closed thedoor abruptly. Then he went on, and the footsteps and murmuring voicesfollowed him. 

"They are bringing him in!" shrieked Malvine, and they could hold herback no longer. A moment later and she knew that she was right. On thebilliard-table, in the room to the right of the hall, lay Wilhelm'smotionless form, while the people who had carried him in stood round. Water flowed from his clothes and made little pools on the green clothand trickled into the leather pockets of the billiard-table. His breastdid not move, and death stared from the glazed, half-open eyes. 

A doctor was soon on the spot, the curious were turned out of thehouse, and they began the work of resuscitation. They had laboreduninterruptedly for nearly an hour when Paul burst in, crying in achoking voice: "Doctor--doctor, is he alive?" The servants had told himall in flying haste outside. 

The doctor shook his head. "There is nothing more to be done. "

But Paul would not believe it. He would not suffer them to cease theirefforts. The rubbing, the movements, the artificial respiration had tobe kept up for another full hour. But death held his prey fast, andwould not let them force it out of his clutches. 

Two days later, on a gray rainy day, they buried him. Schrotter cameover from Berlin for the funeral. He looked quite broken down, andgrief had aged his leonine features to an appalling extent. Malvine andWilly were lying ill in bed, so that Paul and Schrotter followed theirfriend alone to his last resting-place. When the coffin was carried outand lifted into the hearse, and Paul came out of his house, he sawthrough the veil of tears that obscured his vision that several hundredmen were standing in orderly array on the opposite side of theCarlstrasse. They were young for the most part, but there was asprinkling of older men among them; all were poorly, but cleanly anddecently dressed, and every man had a red everlasting in hisbuttonhole. They stood as motionless as a troop under arms, andapparently followed the orders of a gray-bearded man who pacedauthoritatively up and down the silent line. 

Paul was surprised, and asked the undertaker, who was waiting for himbeside the hearse, who these people were. He had not invited anybody, and did not expect there would be a crowd of any kind, although theHamburg papers had devoted whole columns to the accident. 

The undertaker went over and addressed himself to the man who wasevidently the leader of the party. He informed Paul on his return:"They are workingmen's societies from Hamburg and Altona. Their leadersays the deceased was not one of them, but they wanted to show him thislast mark of respect because he had been kind to them during hislifetime. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

UDEN HORIZO. 

On the first of May of the following year, which happened to fall on aSunday, a long procession of carriages drove along the road fromHarburg to Friesenmoor. They stopped at the entrance to the estate. Before them rose a triumphal arch composed of branches of fir garlandedwith flowers, and adorned with flags and ribbons, and a goldinscription on a blue ground, which ran as follows:

 "A gracious Sovereign's due Reward To fruitful Labour, honest Work. "

A "Verein" with its banner was posted beside the arch. There was a roarof cannon, the banner waved, the Verein gave three "Hochs!" and itschief, or spokesman, stepped up to the first carriage, in which sat ayoungish gentleman with spectacles, and an officer in the gorgeousuniform of a Landwehr dragoon, his breast covered with stars andcrosses. The spectacled gentleman was the Landrath of the circuit, andthe cavalry officer was no other than Paul Haber, now Herr Paul vonHaber. For he had been raised to the nobility, and celebrated hisauspicious event to-day in the midst of his retainers and a host ofinvited guests, whom he had fetched in a dozen carriages from thestation at Harburg, supported by his distinguished young pupils. 

The spokesman of the Verein, a man of some fifty years of age, with agrizzled beard, addressed the proprietor in a glowing speech, in which, among other things, he assured him--the man of thirty-seven--that "Weall look upon you as our father, and honor and love you as if we wereyour children. " Paul smiled, and returned thanks in a few warm words, then renewed "Hochs!" more waving of banners and firing of cannon, andthe procession set itself in motion again. 

At the entrance to Kaiser Wilhelm's Dorf there ensued a second and moreelaborate welcome. Here too there was a triumphal arch and cannons, andinstead of one there were three Vereins with flags and banners, alsothe schoolchildren, headed by the pastor and the schoolmaster, and thewhole female portion of the community lining the roadway on eitherside, or massed round the base of the arch. The pastor made a speech, afair-haired schoolgirl recited a long piece of poetry composed by themaster in the sweat of his brow, the Choral Verein sang, the YoungMen's Verein--who were given to instrumental music--piped and blew achorale, and not till the all-prevading joy and enthusiasm had foundsufficient vent in the firing of cannon, in speeches, poetry, andmusic, did the carriages move on, and finally reach the steps ofFriesenmoor House, where the guests were received by Frau von Haber, assisted by Frau Brohl and Frau Marker. At the moment of leaving thecarriages three flags were run up the flagstaff on the tower--theblack, white, and red flag of the empire, then the white and blackPrussian one, and finally a green, white, and red banner with a largecoat-of-arms in the center. This third flag, somewhat enigmatical tothe guests, was the new family banner of the House of von Haber, withthe coat-of-arms of that noble race, now displayed for the first timeto the admiring gaze of the beholders. 

The designing of a coat-of-arms had been no light task to Paul. Fromthe moment--now five months ago--that he knew his promotion to thenobility was a settled affair, he had devoted the best part of histhoughts to this weighty question. He hesitated long between medievalsimplicity and modern symbolism. An illustrative crest that should be aplay upon his name was out of the question; for of course it was onlyanother of Mayboom, the farce-writer's, jokes--he had taken him intohis confidence on one of his visits to Berlin--to suggest a sack ofoats, gules on a field, vert. After devising a dozen crests, each ofwhich he thought charming, only to reject it a day or two afterward asinappropriate, he finally fixed on the one which now adorned his proudbanner. It displayed on a field, vert, three waving transverse barsargent, and in a free quarter-purpure-dexter a medal of theFranco-Prussian War in natural colors. The waving bars were in allusionto the drainage canals on his marsh estate, and the medal to his careerin the war. He did not forget that he owed the realization of hislife's scheme to his wife's marriage-portion, and wished to show hisappreciation of the fact in a delicate manner by crossing thetransverse bars with a marshmallow in natural colors. However, heabandoned this design when they pointed out to him at the Herald'soffice that the crest would be rather overladen thereby, and at thesame time would betray too plainly the "newly-baked" aristocrat. Paulleft nothing undone. He provided himself with a motto. The incorrigibleMayboom recommended, "The Moor has done his duty. " Paul decided on"Meinem Konige treu"--True to my king. Somebody at the Herald's officesuggested putting it "Minem Kunege treu, " but he had not the courage. 

But though his promotion had occupied him almost exclusively during thelast few months, necessitating frequent journeys to Berlin, he did notcease to think of poor Wilhelm. For a whole year he, as well as Malvineand Willy, wore deep mourning for the friend who had sacrificed himselffor them, and Paul erected a magnificent monument over him in the St. Georg Cemetery in Hamburg, on which neither marble nor gilt nor verseswere spared. The monument is one of the sights of the churchyard, andpointed out to visitors with great pride by the sexton. Old Frau Brohl, too, kept green the memory of the departed friend. Her speciality nowwas the manufacturing of flags and banners since Paul had founded quitea number of Vereins among the settlers on his estate--latterly aMilitary Verein, and one for Conservative electors. She was hard atwork from morning till night on these objects of art, which sheconstructed out of heavy silk, and covered so thickly with symbolicaldevices, and embroidered mottoes and inscriptions, that they were asstiff as boards, and would neither flutter nor roll up. But whenWilhelm's funeral monument was to be dedicated, she put aside Paul'sbanner and coat-of-arms, upon which she was engaged, and wove a wreathof wire and black and white and lilac beads, a yard and a half indiameter, on which, between laurel leaves, were Wilhelm's name and thedate of his death, and the words: "Eternal gratitude. " Nothing theleast like it had ever been seen in Hamburg before, and it was muchadmired on the occasion of the ceremony. 

Paul showed himself throughout as a man of feeling and character. Whenhis patent of nobility was signed, and he came to Berlin to be admittedto the emperor, to thank him for the honor accorded to him, he went toSchrotter, and begged him, as a personal favor, to accept hisinvitation to the festivity which should take place on his estate onthe first of May. "I look upon you as Wilhelm's substitute here onearth, " he said, "and our friend must not be absent from my side onthis joyful occasion. I owe everything to him. He laid the foundationof my prosperity, and preserved my heir to me, for whom alone I amworking and striving. If Wilhelm were with us now, he would not refusemy request, and with that thought before you, Herr Doctor, you will notpain me by refusing. " The words came from Paul's heart, and showed thathe felt keenly the desire to do homage, in his way, to Wilhelm'smemory. Schrotter could not but accept. 

To all outward appearances he had recovered from the terrible shock ofhis friend's death, in reality, however, he was all the less likely tohave got over his loss, owing to the circumstance that he was oftenbusied with the management of Wilhelm's affairs, and thus the wound wasinevitably kept open. 

Wilhelm left no will. After much inquiry, it was discovered that he hada very distant relative living at Lowenhagen, near Konigsberg, marriedto a poor village smith, and lavishly endowed with children. The housein the Kochstrasse went to her--a very windfall, for which the honestwife and mother was too thankful to be able to simulate grief at thedeath of the relative she had never known. She generously handed overall Wilhelm's papers to Schrotter, after having assured herself byinquiries in various quarters that they would only fetch the value oftheir weight. Schrotter gave them to the young man whom he and Wilhelmhad supported in his studies out of the Dorfling legacy. The recipientwas clever and shrewd, and justified the confidences his patrons hadplaced in his future. He found that the first volume of the "History ofHuman Ignorance, " testing of the early ideas of mankind and theirpsychological reasons, was completely ready for the press; and all thenotes and literary sources for the two following volumes only neededputting together to bring the work up to the end of the eighteenthcentury, and the experiments of Lavoisier, from which theindestructibility of matter was deduced. 

The first volume appeared in the autumn. On the title page he gave hisown name as the author, but did not omit, as a man of honor, to mentionin the preface that in compiling the work he had availed himself of"the preparatory notes of the late Dr. Wilhelm Eynhardt, an eminentscholar, lost all too early to the scientific word by a tragic death. "In the ensuing editions which followed rapidly upon the first, the bookmeeting with great success, this preface was omitted as unnecessary. The second volume appeared in the following year; the third--veryprudently--not till two years later. There were no more. In the twolast volumes there was no more mention of Eynhardt. After thepublication of the first volume, the young man whose name adorned thetitle-page received a call to a public school, of which he now formsone of the chief ornaments. To various inquiries with regard to aconcluding volume which should treat of the nineteenth century, hereplied by pointing out the doubtful wisdom of a history or criticismof hypotheses and opinions which were as yet incomplete and still underdiscussion, and put them off with vague promises for the future. Schrotter only shrugged his shoulders. He knew Wilhelm's views on thesubject of posthumous fame, and the immortality of the individual, andconsidered it inexpedient to punish the clever young professor forbeing a man like the rest. 

About three months after Wilhelm's death Schrotter received one moreletter from Auguste. He observed curtly and dryly that Monsieur leDocteur evidently did not wish to have anything more to do with him; hewrote, however, once more, and for the last time, in order to give himhis new address in case he might desire to answer. He had been obligedto look for another place, the game was up at the Boulevard Pereire. Inspite of all their watchfulness, madame had managed to obtain morphine, and one night in July, when the sister who shared her room was asleep, she had given herself so many "pricks" that they had been unable tobring her round again. Anne declared that it was on the anniversary ofthe day on which Madame la Comtesse had made the acquaintance ofmonsieur. At the breaking up of the household, Monsieur le Docteur'sthings had been handed over to him, Auguste, and he held them atmonsieur's disposal. Schrotter wrote in answer that he might keep them, and sent him a small sum of money as a bequest from Wilhelm. 

Pilar's suicide made somewhat of an impression on him. So there werewomen, after all, who could die of love, and that not in the firstmoments of a mad and passionate grief, but after months, when thenerves have had time to cool down. "She was hysterical, " Schrotter saidto himself, endeavoring thereby to dispel various uncomfortablesuggestions. He did not wholly succeed. 

As Paul begged him so earnestly to come to his festival, he acceptedthe invitation, and found himself, on the first of May, among theguests whom Malvine received on the steps of Friesenmoor House. 

In the great oak-paneled dining room, with its windows looking to thewest, a banquet was laid for twenty-four guests. Following the countrycustom, they sat down to table at twelve o'clock. Malvine, handsomelydressed and richly adorned, sat enthroned in the middle of the longside of the table, and had Chamberlain von Swerte (of the House ofHellebrand) and the Landrath, to right and left of her. Paul, who satopposite, insisted against all the rules of etiquette on havingSchrotter beside him as his left-hand neighbor. On his right, FrauBrohl, in rustling silk, sat in rapt silence. The ever-modest FrauMarker was content to take a lower place. 

The pastor said grace before the dinner began, which seemed to surprisethe Landrath, but the Chamberlain was much edified. The Young Men'sVerein played dance-music and marches in front of the open windows. Paul proposed the health of the emperor, whereupon the Landrath, in acarefully worded speech, drank to the host and the ladies. They allclinked glasses with an enthusiasm which was in no way feigned, butperfectly accountable after so splendid a dinner and such well-assortedwines. In the midst of the gayety and noise, and while the clarionetsand trumpets blared away outside, Paul turned to his neighbor, andtapping the foot of his glass against the edge of Schrotter's, hewhispered to him, unheard by the others: "To HIS memory!" He turned hishead away abruptly, bent over his glass, and was busily engaged infurtively passing his table-napkin across his face and eyes. Schrotterput his lips to his glass and closed his eyes. One could positivelytrace upon his broad brow how a thought passed over it like a shadow. 

The dinner lasted fully two hours, and brought Malvine in many a fierycompliment, especially from the chamberlain, which she could acceptwith a good conscience, knowing well how much she would have to pay tothe great Hamburg pastry-cook who had provided it. At dessert the heirwas handed round. Willy, who was really beginning to grow a little, wasunquestionably a well-bred child. He went with much dignity andpropriety from guest to guest, closely followed by Fido, who had grownfar too stout, offered his cheek politely to each one, shook handsprettily, and was permitted to withdraw, accompanied by hisshort-winded dog, after they had all sufficiently admired him. 

After dinner the guests amused themselves according to their severaltastes. Some went to enjoy Paul's excellent cigars in the smoking room, others went down to the village to look on at the rural festivalarranged by the master for his people, and where, between singing, music, dancing, and drinking, the fun ran high; others again took awalk through the fields of the estate where the young crops were justcoming up, spreading a green haze over the yellow coating of sand. Itwas altogether a radiant picture of joy and prosperity; and thehappiest of all, whether of the guests flushed with the good dinner orthe villagers stamping on the green, seemed to be the master of thehouse. He was rich, respected, full of health and spirits, his familylife unclouded; he had a high position, possessed numberlessdecorations, was a captain of the Landwehr, had been promoted to thecavalry, and now was even raised to the nobility. What more could hedesire?

Well then, if he seemed happy appearances were deceptive. A worm gnawedat his heart. He had hoped to be created Freiherr--baron--and here hewas a simple "Herr von. " How rarely is happiness perfect here below. 

Pleading important business next morning in Berlin, Schrotter left soonafter four o'clock. He would not hear of Paul's deserting his guests toaccompany him to the station, as he was most anxious to do, but drovealone to Harburg, and took the train that left at five o'clock, bringing him to Berlin by way of Uelzen. 

It was nearly two in the morning when he reached home. He stole ontiptoe into his room, but Bhani, whose sleep was light and restlesswhen he was not there, heard him directly. She stretched out her armsto him with a low exclamation of joy, pressed him to her bosom while hekissed her on the brow, and was for jumping up and attending to hiswants. He would not suffer it, and declared that he wanted nothing. Soshe remained where she was, only following him with her eyes while heunpacked his bag and put everything in order. He then went into hisstudy adjoining and locked the door behind him. Bhani heard him walkingup and down for awhile, and then caught the sound of a creaking as of adrawer being opened. She knew what that meant and heaved a deep sigh. He was taking out the great leather book with metal-bound corners; hisdiary, which had become his sole confidant now that Wilhelm was dead. Guided by the delicate tact of the Oriental, the poor simple creaturedivined easily enough that her sahib had cares which she could notunderstand and sorrows which she might not share, and yet how happy shewould be if he would but deign to enlighten her ignorance, to explainit all to her and disclose his heart to her fully. But, proud andreserved, he scorned to acknowledge his troubles to any but himself, and it was only in his diary that he unburdened himself of all thatweighed upon his heart and mind. 

And now he sat at his study table and wrote in the big book. 

"My poor Eynhardt! Only a year since he departed, and already it is asif he had never been. What remains of him? A book that bears astranger's name upon the title-page; a little dog that is perhapshappier now than when it belonged to him; a child like a dozen others, who will presumably grow up to be a man like a dozen other men; and amemory in my heart which will cease with the day, not far hence, whenthis heart shall cease to beat. Now if Haber were to die to-day, aflourishing tract of land and a hundred people whose existence he hasimproved would testify aloud that his term on earth had not been invain. 

"And for all that, Eynhardt was a rare and noble character, and Haberthe personification of all that is commonplace and work-a-day. Eynhardt's gaze was on the stars, Haber's eyes fixed on the ground athis feet. Wilhelm plucked that supremest fruit of the Tree ofKnowledge, the consciousness of our ignorance; Paul has the conceit tothink himself a discoverer, to have solved enigmas. But the noble, soaring spirit leaves no trace behind, and the dull, mediocre personplows his name in deep and enduring characters in the soil of hisnative land. What was wanting in Eynhardt to make him not only aharmonious but a useful being? Obviously only the will. But was thiswant an organic one? I do not think so, for his lofty moral beauty wasperfect in proportion and balance, and this noble nature could notpossibly have been born incomplete, impossible that in a being soperfectly formed in all other respects such an important organ as thewill should be missing. His absence of volition was but the result ofhis perception of the vanity of all earthly ambitions, and his absenceof desire the outcome of his contempt for all that was worthless andtransitory, his aversion to the ways of the world a tragic foregoing ofthe hope of ever getting behind it, and reaching the eternal root andsignificance of the thing itself. 

"Why was this German Buddhist not endowed with Haber's cheerfulactivity? What an ideal and crowning flower of manhood would he nothave been if he had not only thought but acted! But am I not desiringthe impossible? Does not the one nature preclude the other? I fear so. In order to attack unconcernedly that which lies nearest to us, we mustbe unable to see beyond, like the bull charging at the red cloak. Hewould not do it, if behind the red rag, he saw the man with the sword, and behind the man with the sword the thousand spectators who will notleave the arena till the sharp steel has pierced his heart. He who seesor divines behind the nearest objects their distant causes, paralyzedby the vision of the endless chain of cause and effect, loses thecourage to act. And inversely, to retain that courage, to strive withpleasure and zeal after earthly things, one must make use of the worldand its ordinances, must move the pieces on the chess-board of lifewith patience, and, according to its puerile rules, attach importanceto much that is narrow and paltry, and that is what, in his superiorwisdom, the sage will not stoop to do. 

"I always come back to this thought. If the world consisted entirely ofHabers the earth would flourish and blossom, there would be abundanceof food and money, but our life would be like that of the beasts of thefield that graze and are happy when they chew the cud. If, on the otherhand, there were only Eynhardts, our existence would be passed inwandering delightfully, our souls full of perfect peace, through thegardens of the Academos in company with Plato; but the world wouldstarve and die out with this wise and lofty-minded race; unless, indeed, the sun took pity on them, and brought forth grains and fruitswithout their assistance, and unless a few flighty little women, particularly inaccessible to the higher philosophy, should surprisethese transcendental and passionless thinkers in an unguarded moment, and beguile them into committing some slight act of folly. 

"To combine in one intelligence Haber's circumscribed vision, naiveself confidence, and enterprising activity with Enyhardt's sublimeidealism and knowledge of good and evil is outside the range ofpossibility. And which of the two is of the greater benefit to theworld? Which of them raises mankind to a higher level of development?Which of them best fulfills his purpose as a human being? Whose pointof view of the world and of life is the more correct? Which of the twowould I set up as a model before the child whom Eynhardt snatched fromdeath at the price of his own body, and in whom his life as it werefinds its continuation? My old friend Pyrrhon, thou who hearkened, twothousand two hundred years before my day, to the profound wisdom of theBrahmins, I can but answer in thy words, 'Uden horizo, '--I do notdecide. "

THE END.