feeling called upon to make any reply? He would seem to
himself a ridiculous pedant if he tried to talk logic to the woodland
birds, and reason to the waterfalls."

And yet, when he came again, it almost always happened that the
conversation went back to the same point at which it had been broken
off the last time. Then they exchanged parts, and it was his turn to
give utterance to his thoughts and rhapsodize undisturbed over the most
important questions. It was the strangest dialogue in monologues that
can be imagined, since twice four and twenty hours usually elapsed
between question and answer.

Was the cause of this, his fear of making the contrast between their
natures too perceptible, the dread that any dispute must instantly part
them forever, while he still considered it almost a duty, when the
matter had once more become indifferent to her, not to withhold his
opposition or deny his opinion. Or did he suspect that he should lose
all mastery over himself, if he obtained more and more control over her
and gradually harmonized and assimulated the heterogenious traits in
her character? And what was the use of this daring venture? What
was to be hoped for, even in the best case? To tame a gazelle, an
antelope--what can it avail in a zone and on a soil that are not
created for tropical animals--

It was on a gloomy afternoon in September, the first autumn rain was
falling, and the wind sweeping chilly through the empty street, the
windows were closed and a little fire was burning on the hearth, though
rather for the pleasure afforded by the sight of the bright flames,
than through any necessity for warmth. The beautiful girl, who had
often boasted that she had never been really sick, complained of a
slight headache, sent away the carriage which was to convey her to the
theatre, and threw herself on the sofa in the little red dining room,
with her feet toward the flames, whose red flickering light lent some
color to her pale cheeks.

"Read something aloud to me, Doctor," she said. "If I fall asleep over
it, so much the better. But don't choose Hermann and Dorothea; I don't
wish to offend you, as we have already quarrelled over it once, and yet
I can't help being lulled to sleep by the wonderful verses, as if I
were in a cradle, gladly as I would keep awake to listen to the
beautiful story. Do you know that I consider this Dorothea a very
enviable person, nay I have really never found the fate of any heroine
in a