his own vessels were sailing, in clouds of steam;
in one capital and another, and in this great city, swarms of
people inhabited his houses--still he could not take that
sleeping girl by land or by water, to any city, or to any house.
To his eyes, which were raised toward her, a biting moisture
began to come, and gathered into drops, a number of which flowed
down his cheeks, and were shaken in every direction by quiverings
of the skin.

But at that moment appeared on his lips the smile, which, as
people said, was bristling with pin-points.

"What is this? Is it exaltation?"

He discovered exaltation in himself. A few days before, nay, down
to that very night, he would have laughed at the supposition that
in him it could darken judgment and clear vision. He thought,
however, that a man is at times to himself the most marvellous of
all surprises. Under various influences forces spring up in him,
the presence of which he is farthest from suspecting. Darvid
discovered, now in himself, the thing most unexpected:
exaltation. The habit of a life-time; that which he had always
considered as an unshaken conviction, rose now with loud laughter
at itself. Will he begin now as a poet to write a threnody over
his dead daughter, or like a monk yield himself to thoughts about
death? Misery! Earlier, that word had occurred more than once to
him, but only now does it career through his head freely. Still,
he will not let exaltation master him. He must stand erect and
look at things soberly.

He straightened himself; removed his shoulders from the wall;
calmed his face and glance; by strength of will brought a
greeting smile to his lips; and moved toward his guests. The
moment the hymn stopped he gave his hand to those present, in
very polite welcome, and thanked them with a few, but pleasant
phrases. This was the beginning of one of those herculean
struggles, the like of which he had fought many times in the
past. This, in its farther course, had an orgie of labor, which
he continued for a number of weeks, and which roused admiration,
or curiosity, in every on-looker.

One day, between his return from the city and the hour of
reception, he was standing in the blue drawing-room at the
window, thinking: What that peculiar movement was which on
returning from the city he noted while walking up the stairway.
Porters were bearing out articles of some sort, which he did not
examine, but which seemed to him pictures, and other things