of the greatest of men, and
though when the head is strong and clear, and there is plenty of light
and good company, it is highly satisfactory and proper to smile
condescension upon female inanity, there are times when it is not
unpleasant to be at the mercy of kind arms that pity without asking a
reason, and in whose presence one may be foolish without shame. And it
is not ill, perhaps, for some of us, whose acutely strung minds go up
with every discovery, and down with every doubt, if we have some
humble comforter (whether woman or man) on whose face a faithful
spirit has set the seal of peace--a face which in its very
steadfastness is "as the face of an angel."

Such a face looked down upon Friedrich, before which fancied horrors
fled; and he wound his arms round Marie's neck, and laid down his
head, and was comfortable, if not sublime.

After a dozen or so of purposeless kisses, she spoke--

"What is it, my beloved?"

"I--I don't think I can get to sleep," said the poet.

Marie abstained from commenting on this remark, and Friedrich was
silent and comfortable. So comfortable that, though he despised her
opinion on such matters he asked it in a low whisper--"Marie, dost
thou not think it would be the very best thing in the world to be a
great man? To labour and labour for it, and be a great man at last?"

Marie's answer was as low, but quite decided--

"No."

"Why not, Marie?"

"It is very nice to be great, and I should love to see thee a great
man, Friedrich, very well indeed, but the very best thing of all is to
be good. Great men are not always happy ones, though when they are
good also it is very glorious, and makes one think of the words of the
poor heathen in Lycaonia--'The gods have come down to us in the
likeness of men.' But if ever thou art a great man, little brother, it
will be the good and not the great things of thy life that will bring
thee peace. Nay, rather, neither thy goodness nor thy greatness, but
the mercy of GOD!"

And in this opinion Marie was obstinately fixed, and Friedrich argued
no more.

"I think I shall do now," said the hero at last; "I thank thee very
much, Marie."

She kissed him anew, and bade GOD bless him, and wished him
good-night, and went down the ladder till her golden plaits caught
again the glow of the warm kitchen, and Friedrich lost sight of her
tall figure and fair face, and was alone once more.

He was better, but still he could not sleep. Wearied and ve