beloved child," said her mother in the kindest tone, "I
shall feel your heart, though I do not quite comprehend your words."

Dorothea hesitated, looked at her beseechingly, and said at last, in
embarrassment, and with a beseeching voice: "Often have I put the
question to myself, in hours of solitude I have earnestly examined
myself, and then it appeared to me, as if I could join hands with the
worthy man, whom you all, whom all the world respects, were he only
not----"

"Well?" cried the mother.

"Were he only not pious," said the daughter hastily.

A long pause of embarrassment ensued. Dorothea's face had turned of a
glowing red, the sisters shrank back in affright, the mother cast a
look downwards, and then turned it with the severer scrutiny on the
poor girl, who seemed to all, and to herself, almost a monster. At last
the mother said: "Well, really, I cannot help feeling surprized at
this, and if I understand what you have expressed, it would be enough
to fill me with horror. So then you make open profession of your
apostasy from God? You are conscious then, that every thing holy is an
offence and an abomination to you? You cannot love what is love itself?
Go then and deny every thing divine, live a reprobate and die forsaken
by heaven."

"You do not understand me," cried Dorothea with deep indignation: "it
is the very misfortune of my life, that every thing is misunderstood in
me, however well I mean it. Perhaps M. von Wallen would be quite to my
mind, if only I did not know that he is so pious, perhaps even I might
then think him pious."

"Excellent!" said the mother in a painful state of irritation: "when we
are ourselves depraved, it is certainly most convenient to doubt the
virtue of persons of worth. Herein at the same time you express, what
you think of me, and what I have to expect from your filial affection!"

"You must, you shall find your error!" cried Dorothea, almost angry: "I
will do more for love of you, than I can justify to myself. I will this
evening, I give you my word, betroth myself to Baron von Wallen."

A general burst of joy, tears, embraces and sobbings, interrupted and
filled up the place of conversation. The dispute changed into the
loudest and most joyous hubbub; all had lost their composure, and
expressed love and rapture in vehement and exaggerated terms. Only
Dorothea, after her last words, had suddenly grown quite cool again,
and gave herself up quietly without any return to