conflict she was kindling in him, and
how hard, if not impossible she was making the victory. Now he knew
that the woman in his arms was his, that his brother had defrauded him
of her and her of him. Now he knew it, while the woman in his arms
revealed to him the greatness of the happiness of which his brother
had robbed him. The brother had stolen her and had ill-treated her;
and for all that he had suffered and done for his brother's sake, he
now persecuted him and sought his life. Did the woman belong to him
who had stolen and ill-treated her, to him whom she hated--or to him
from whom she had been infamously stolen, who loved her and whom she
loved? These were not clearly defined thoughts, but countless detached
sensations which, borne along in a stream of deep, wild feeling,
rushed through his veins and made taut the muscles in his arms--to
clasp to his heart that which was his! But a vague, dark fear rose
counter to this current and stiffened his muscles in a convulsive
cramp--the feeling that he wanted to do something and did not know
what it was or where it might lead him, a far-off recollection that he
had made a vow and would break it if he now let himself be carried
away. He struggled for a long time beneath the flow of intoxicating
sounds before he realized that he was struggling and that the thing
for which he struggled was clearness, the fundamental requirement of
his nature. At last this clearness came to him and said: "The vow that
you have made is to uphold the honor of your house, and what you want
to do now will destroy it forever." He was the man, and must answer
for himself and for her. The treachery of which he with a touch, with
a glance, might be guilty toward this woman whose trust in him was so
unbounded, stood before him in all its blackness. There still stood,
protectingly, a holy reserve between him and her, which a single
touch, a single glance might dispel forever. He looked anxiously about
for a helper. If only Valentine would come! Then he would have to let
her go from his arms. Valentine did not come. But shame at his
weakness that sought help from without, became his helper. He gently
laid the defenseless woman down. Not until he felt the soft limbs slip
from his grasp did he lose her. He had to turn away and could not
choke back a loud sob. Just then the youngest boy peeped curiously
into the yard. He hastened to him, took him in his arms, pressed him
to his heart and placed him betwe