ailway journey Pilar was
silent and moody. She felt that an enchanting chapter of her love-story
had come to an end, and a fresh one beginning, the unforeseen
possibilities of which filled her with alarm. She held fast to Wilhelm,
and would not let him go free; but what form was their life together
going to take in Paris? Not that she cared for the opinion of the
world--far from it; but other difficulties remained which menaced her
happiness. At the seaside all the circumstances had combined to aid and
befriend them. Surrounded by people to whom she and Wilhelm were alike
strangers, they were thrown entirely upon one another, and even his
scruples could find nothing to prevent him treating her openly as his
wife. In Paris, on the other hand, all the circumstances became
disturbing and inimical. Pilar had her circle of friends, and her
accustomed way of life, to which Wilhelm would have to adapt himself.
Would that occur without opposition on his part? Would not many a
tender sentiment be wounded beyond the power of healing in that
struggle? But of what avail were all these tormenting questions? She
had to look the future in the face, and prepare to engage in a struggle
in which he was determined to come off victorious.

From time to time she glanced at Wilhelm, and always found him deep in
thought. He was reviewing, with a touch of self-mockery, the latest
development of his affairs. Here he was on his way to Paris. He had not
chosen this destination. Once again another will than his own had
determined his path for him. He resigned himself without a struggle; he
allowed himself to be taken along like an obedient child. Was it
weakness? Perhaps. Possibly, however, it was not. Possibly he did not
think it worth the trouble to call his will into play. Why should he,
after all? As long as he might not live in Berlin, what did it matter
where he lived? and Paris was as good a place as any other. To have
resisted Pilar's persuasions would not have been an evidence of
strength, but simply the obstinacy of a conceited fool, who wants to
prove to himself that he is capable of setting somebody else at
defiance. So that after all he was going to Paris because he wished it,
or rather, because he saw no reason for not doing so. But as he spun
the web of these thoughts in his mind, he heard all the time a still
small voice, which contradicted him, and whispered: "It is not true.
You are not your own master; you are going you know not