into a consuming passion.

He was proud, and man enough to subdue his feelings. But he yearned more
than ever, and was tortured by his yearnings to know something more than
the vague knowledge he had at present about that glass case, that
spirit-chest in which, so near and yet so far, this lovely creature
lived, impervious to the touch of mortal hands and immune to the flames
of love.

"You are rejecting me, then?" he asked.

"Well, it is at least advisable that for the time being we avoid each
other's presence."

"Advisable for me, you think. And for the time being? How am I to
interpret that?"

"Well, let us say for five years."

"Why exactly five years? Why not twenty? Why not fifty? It would be all
the same."

"It seems to me that five years is just the right amount of time,
Eberhard."

"Five years! Each year has twelve times thirty, fifty-two times seven
days. Why, the arithmetic of it is enough to make a man lose his mind."

"But it must be five years," said Eleanore gently though firmly. "In
five years I will not have changed. And if I am just the same in five
years from now, why, we'll talk it over again. I must not exclude myself
from the world forever. My father often says: What looks like fate at
Easter is a mere whim by Pentecost. I prefer to wait until Pentecost and
not to forget my friend in the meantime."

She gave him her hand with a smile.

He shook his head: "No, I can't take your hand; another one of those
shudders will run through you if I do. Farewell, Eleanore."

"And you too, Eberhard, farewell!"

Eberhard started down the hill. Suddenly he stopped, turned around, and
said: "Just one thing more. That musician--Nothafft is his name, isn't
it?--is engaged to your sister, isn't he?"

"Yes, Gertrude and Daniel will get married some day. But who told you
about it?"

"The musician himself was in a restaurant. The fellows were drinking,
and he was so incautious as to raise his glass, and, somewhat after the
fashion of an intoxicated drum-major, he himself drank to Gertrude's
health. For some time there was talk of his marrying you. It is much
better as it is. I can't stand artists. I can't even have due respect
for them, these indiscreet hotspurs. Good night, Eleanore."

And with that he vanished in the darkness.

IN MEMORY OF A DREAM FIGURE

I

One evening Daniel called on Benda to take leave of him for a long
whi