"You really ought to marry," was again Pilgrim's admonition. "You have
two classes to choose from: either a thoroughly well educated person,
like one of the Doctor's daughters--you could marry one of them if you
chose, and I advise you to propose for Amanda. It is a pity that she
can't sing like Bertha, but she has the best heart in the world, and
will honour you if you honour her, and she will esteem your talents."

Lenz looked into the glass, and Pilgrim continued--

"Or else you must make up your mind to be satisfied with an honest
farmer's daughter--I mean the bailiffs Kathrine. Franzl is right, she
would jump over hedge and ditch after you; she would be sparing and
frugal, and you would have fine healthy children--seven sons strong
enough to uproot the old firs in the wood of the Landlord of the
'Lion;' and you would become a man of substance too; but you must not
in that case expect your wife to understand anything of your vocation,
or of the many ideas you have in your head. You have the choice, but
choose you must. When you have made up your mind, let me know, and send
me to the family. I feel quite proud already at the thoughts of my
dignity as matchmaker; I will even put on a white neckcloth for the
occasion if necessary. Can I give you a more striking proof of my wish
to serve you?"

Lenz still continued to look at himself in the glass. Pilgrim had
excluded Annele from the possibility of his choice. After a long pause
Lenz said, "I should like to be in a large town just for once; I should
so enjoy hearing music played by a whole orchestra, and to hear the
same piece played five or six times over, then I feel I could arrange
it quite differently: it always seems to me as if there were certain
tones wanting, that I can never produce. They may praise me as much as
they like, but I can tell you that the pieces I set have not the right
sound, very far from it; I know it is so, and yet I can't alter the
tone. There is something squeaking, and dry, and hard, in the
instrument, like a dumb man who has been taught to speak; it is
something like our speech, but yet it is different. If I could only
succeed in getting this tone. I know what it should be--I hear it, but
I can't produce it."

"Yes, yes, I feel just the same; I imagine that there is a style of
drawing and colour that I must aim at. I am always in hopes that I
shall seize the idea, and hold it fast. But I shall die in obscurity
without ever having suc