and attach me to your triumphal car, to display to the world that
you have succeeded in taming the lion, and have changed him into a
good-natured domestic animal. Go! you do not deserve that I should love
you, cold-hearted, cruel woman!"

He threw her arms from him, with tears in his eyes. Charlotte von Stein
regarded him with anger and indifference.

"Farewell, secretary of legation. It seems to please you to insult and
offend a poor woman, who has no other protection than her honor and
virtue. Farewell! I will not expose myself to such offences; therefore I
will retire."

She turned slowly toward the door, but Goethe bounded forward like a
tiger, interrupted her path, falling upon his knees, imploring pity and
begging for pardon. "Oh, Charlotte, I will be gentle as a child, I will
be reserved, I know that I am a sinner! It is warring against one's own
heart to seek comfort in offending what is dearest to it in a moment
of ill-humor. But I have again become a child, with all my thoughts,
scarcely recognizable for the moment, quite lost to myself, as I consent
to the conditions of others with this fire raging within me. Oh, beloved
Charlotte, forgive me! I submit to all that you wish." [Footnote:
Goethe's words.--See "Letters to Charlotte von Stein," roll., p. 358.]

"Will you be satisfied to love me as your friend and sister?"

"I will be," he sighed. "Only in the future you must endeavor to
persuade yourself into such a sisterly way that you will be indulgent to
my rudeness, otherwise I shall have to avoid you when I need you most.
Oh, Charlotte, it seems terrible to me that I should mar through anguish
the best hours of my life, the blissful moments of meeting with you, for
whom I would pluck every hair from my head if it would make you happy.
And yet to be so blind, so hardened! Have pity upon me. Again I promise
you that I will be reasonable. Do not banish me from your presence.
Extend to me your hand, and promise me that you will be my friend and
sister!" [Footnote: Goethe's words.--See "Letters to Charlotte von
Stein," roll., p. 358.]

"Then here is my hand," said she, with a charming smile.

"I will be your friend and sister, and--"

"What now, my Charlotte? do finish--what is it?"

She laid her hand gently upon his shoulder, and her words fell on his
ear like soft music. "When my dear friend and much-beloved brother has
conducted himself very prudently for two or three happy weeks, I will
send him a r