American tours. He owns an estate near Cracow, and has asked me to visit
him there. Unless I accept his invitation sooner than I expect to, I
shall not see Berlin again for a long time."

The host served the lunch, consisting of baked potatoes, cabbage and
fried eggs. Though at any other time this would scarcely have satisfied
Frederick, he ate with a hearty appetite and, like Miss Burns, drank
American ice-water.

Miss Burns's manner in talking was thoroughly unconstrained and
sprightly. She had observed that the foundering of the _Roland_ was still
too vivid in Frederick's thoughts, and bearing Peter Schmidt's warning
in mind, purposely turned the conversation away from it. But Frederick,
for some reason dissatisfied with himself for his criticism of his
fellow-passengers, tried several times to revert to the shipwreck. His
whole demeanour showed that something was gnawing at him and tormenting
him.

"We speak of a justice imminent in the plan of the world. But why was
such a pitiful collection of men saved, while hundreds of others drowned?
Why did that splendid Captain von Kessel drown? I shall never forget him.
Why did all those splendid picked men of the crew of the _Roland_ drown?
Why and for what purpose was I myself saved?"

"Doctor von Kammacher," said Miss Burns, "yesterday you were an entirely
different man. You were full of brightness and life; to-day you are all
gloom. I think you are wholly wrong in not being simply grateful for your
good fortune. In my opinion, you are not responsible either for the
quality of those who were rescued, or for your own rescue, or for the
number of those that sank. The creation was planned and executed without
regard to you, and you have to accept it as it is. After all, to accept
life is the one art the practice of which is really of permanent use."

"You are right," said Frederick, "only I am a man. Besides I inherit a
most unnecessary instinct for ideal rather than practical activity. 'The
time is out of joint,' says your Danish Englishman, Hamlet. 'O cursed
spite that ever I was born to set it right.' I cannot get rid of that
absurd megalomania. To make matters worse, there is the Faust in me that
sticks in every good German who thinks anything of himself. 'I've studied
now Philosophy and Jurisprudence, Medicine,' and so on. As a result, a
man has all the more chances of being disillusioned at every turn, and so
would rather pledge himself to the devil. Strange to sa