devotions: it
is only manner to be seen, but then the manner is good, agreeable,
and--false, the whole of it!

"No, no! I must away into conflict, into war, danger, distress; but
life, mighty, all-absorbing life, I must have. I scorn the whole world;
I hurl back in its face its honors, its caprices of philanthropy."

A horseman gallops into the court-yard, a tall figure in black. Is it
not Sonnenkamp? What can he want?

Sonnenkamp was announced.

"He is welcome," was her answer.

Sonnenkamp entered.

"Countess," he said, "I bring back to you what once I received from
you,--the courage of a hero."

"Ah, courage! I am in humiliation; deserted, broken, weak."

"You humiliated deserted, weak? You kindled in me a strength great
enough to defy the world: I am young again, fresh again. Countess, in
this bitter and critical hour I come to you, only to you. You alone are
now the world to me; you alone make the world of value to me; I would
gladly give you something, be to you something, that shall make the
world seem precious to you again."

Bella stood motionless, and he continued:

"Raise yourself above this hour, above this year, above this country,
above all conventionalities. If it be possible for any human being to
do this, you are that one.

"Bella, I might tell you that I would escape into the wide world; would
sacrifice, destroy every thing ruthlessly; put from me wife, children,
all, only on condition that you would follow me, that you would dare to
turn your back upon every thing, and be a free, independent nature: I
might tell you that, and it would be true. But it is not that which
should decide you. It is not for me you should live, but for yourself.
Bella, we read in old histories of men and women who bound themselves
together by a crime: such unions seldom last. I see your soul open
before me--no, I have it within me, and speak from it. You say as I do,
'Here I am in conflict with the world. The world requires concern for
others, and I have the spirit of egoism; I am no philanthropist, I am
no charitable institution.' You desire, as I do, to assert self; I
desire a thing for you, only because I desire it for myself. Others
would decoy you, persuade you with honeyed phrases; I honor you too
highly: you have courage to be yourself."

"I do not understand you. What do you mean? What do you desire for
yourself; what do you desire for me?"

"For myself, what have I left to desire? A bullet through my