s hand.

Wilhelm had sent to Berlin for a box of books, and tried to go on with
his work, but found no real pleasure in it. A deep despondency had come
upon him, and the idea that his life was wholly purposeless took more
and more hold upon him. Often, after studying earnestly for a day or
two, and making extracts for his book, he would ask himself, "Why take
all this trouble? Who is going to be made wiser or happier by this
rigmarole?" and his pleasure in the work was gone again for days. The
consciousness of exile, instead of being blunted by time, weighed ever
more heavily upon him. He never realized till now what an absolute
necessity it was to his nature to lean upon a kindred spirit, for he
had never before been without one. Since the death of his father he had
first had Paul, and then Dr. Schrotter, whom he had seen daily, and
thus had always had some one to share his mental life. Now he was
separated from Schrotter by distance, and from Paul by the great change
in their views, and found no sufficient support when left to himself.
If at times the sight of Paul's perfect self-content and happiness
roused in him the wish to follow his example, it was quickly overruled
by the conviction that neither Paul's commonplace, practical
occupations, nor his worldly success, would afford him, Wilhelm, the
smallest satisfaction.

He passed his days and weeks in self-communings and spiritual
loneliness, in spite of Paul's and Malvine's endeavors to interest him
in men and things. He allowed himself to be drawn into Malvine's
afternoon receptions, and the two or three parties they gave during the
winter; but refused to accompany them to other people's balls and
dinners. He was happiest of all with Willy, who was very fond of Uncle
Eynhardt. He took him for walks, told him stories, was never tired of
answering his endless questions, amused him with little chemical
experiments, and in default of the riding lessons let him ride upon his
knee. And as he passed his fingers through the child's long curls, he
often thought, in spite of all his philosophic doubts, how wonderfully
pleasant it must be after all, to bring forth some such sweet
golden-haired mystery that would cling to its parent and break away
from him--a continuation and yet a wholly new departure that had its
roots in the past, and yet struck out boldly into the future, and whose
bright gaze would be trying to penetrate the riddle of the universe
when he himself had l