of the whole, to which we hang by a thousand unknown
threads. Let us not either be too arrogant in our bearing toward our
fellow-men, in whose company we are the involuntary puppets of unknown
laws of development which are leading humanity on to a given epoch."

This conversation had taken Wilhelm's mind off his misfortune, and he
had almost forgotten his adventure with Pechlar. He was reminded of it,
however, on reaching home about three o'clock, by finding Paul, who
always 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 incident
again.

Paul seemed quite stunned while Wilhelm was speaking, and then sprang
up 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 shaking
him. "Surely you are not in earnest? You are an officer--you have been
a student--you will never let that fool of a fellow place you in a
false 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 your
own, to punish the fellow. You won't appear like a coward in a woman's
eyes."

"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 my
relations with Fraulein Ellrich, and then I shall not be in a position
to fight for her."

"That is very chivalrous!"

"That is silly! Just think of this situation: suppose I wound or kill
the offender--come back from the duel, and find the young girl, who is
the cause of the quarrel, ready to offer me the prize. I answer: 'Many
thanks, fair lady, I do not now wish for it,' and straightway leave
her, 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 fight
him, I will."

"Are you mad?"

Paul began to explain that he had the right to do it; he worked himself
into a fury, he stuck to