is it the man, the christian, or
the priest, that has been speaking from your lips, but your guild and
fraternity. Farewell, if with such feelings you can."

They parted, both much out of temper.

* * * * *

The young Florentine who had met the funeral procession in the city,
dasht like a madman through the gate, and then gallopt with reckless
vehemence across field and wood. When he found himself in the open
country, he hurled forth imprecations against the world and fate, tore
his hair, curst his stars and his youth, and then rusht almost
unconsciously onward. He spurred in the face of the wind that arose at
nightfall, as though seeking to cool the fire in his cheeks.

When it grew later, his horse, which had often stumbled already, and
which he had pulled up furiously every time, dropt exhausted to the
ground, and he was forced to pursue his way on foot. He knew not where
he was, still less whither he should go; only there stood before him
with inextinguishable features his own misery, and the vanity of the
world, and the treacherous inconstancy of all happiness.

"Accursed madness of life!" cried he in his despair through the
darkness: "thus, thus cruelly dost thou awaken me out of my slumber! I
cannot choose but hate thee mortally for thy jugglings, thy
presumption, and for all those senseless hopes which smile upon our
youth and go along with us so like friends upon our journey, and, when
they have beguiled us into the wilderness, fly away from us and grin
and make mows at us. Life! what is this web of folly, this silly dream
of a feversick heart? One faint shivering-fit follows another; one
crazy phantom drives another out; our wishes caper around in the bald
waste, and do not even know themselves again. O death! O rest! O
nothingness! come to me, let me embrace thee, and set this stormy
heart free. O that I could but gasp out my last convulsive breath this
very instant! that tomorrow's sun might no more find my place upon
earth, that no thought might rise within me to greet its returning
ray! Am I not the very wretchedest creature that breathes? and so much
the poorer, for that a few hours since I deemed myself the happiest.
Woe be to youth! woe to love! Woe to the feelings of the heart, that
let themselves be so readily, so grossly deceived!"

A shower now drizzled through the cold air, and soon the drops grew
larger and thicker. The youth knew not whither he had strayed; t