would be a Catholic, or a Jew of the old faith. But what is
our life? a walk in the open air, without limit, but also without a
destination! You see that I cannot but be sad, for I cannot compel
myself to anything different, to anything positive. And as it is with
me, so is it with this age, and yet we must regain something different;
our life ought not be simply a walk in the open air, but through the
open air to a firm, safe, home-like destination about which human
spirits may gather. Oh, if I could only define it, seize upon it, and
the millions of thirsting, pining human souls with me! And do you
know," Knopf concluded, "then I thought of you and Roland? Do you now
understand me?"

"Not perfectly."

"Ah, I have been too vague again. Plainly, then, this has been and is
now my thought,--whither can you lead Roland? Into the open air. But
what is he to do there? What will he find? What will he have? What will
restrain or draw him onward? That is the point, there lies the hard
riddle. The religion, the moral fortress, whither we have to lead the
rich youth, has no walls, no roof; it has no image, no music, no
consecrated form of words--there's the trouble! Do I make it clear to
you?"

"Yes, yes, I understand you perfectly," said Eric, seizing the hand of
his companion. "You express my very deepest thoughts; I hope, though,
that it may be granted us to give a human being something that he may
hold to within himself, without leaning on any outside support. Have
not we two, who now stand here, this inward hold?"

"I believe so, or rather, I am sure of it. I thank you, you make me
quite content," cried Knopf, with animation. "Ah, world! here we sit,
and look off into the distance, watching for some sign, some word,
which may penetrate and renew all our being; it comes not from without,
it comes only from within ourselves. And in Roland there lies a
complete human being, a genuine, primitive nature, in spite of all that
has been done to smother it; he has bold presumption and wonderful
tenderness, at the same time. He has many fine feelings, but youth
cannot explain its feelings; if it could, it would be no longer youth.
All sorts of elements exist in Roland, but we grown people cannot
understand a child's heart. Let us ask ourselves whether, in our
childhood, our best friends understood us as we really were. You will
accomplish this, you are called to it."

"I?"

"Yes, it is so. A great, inscrutable plan guides all