assionate affection as soon as she stood before him in the full,
serene power of her beauty. He feared this power, and therefore
combated her claims.

The professor had returned from his excursion into the mountains, and
related what he had seen and heard. "Such excursions on historic
grounds," said he, "are interesting and instructive to the historical
inquirer. What historical sources hint at darkly become distinct, and
many incredible things become clear and intelligible. Thus, I once read
in an old chronicle that the monks during choral service sung with such
enchanting sweetness that the empress and her ladies and knights who
were present burst into tears. I smiled at this passage from the
garrulous old chronicler, and thought that the fabulous spirit of the
middle ages had descended into the pen of the good man. How often have
I heard Mozart's divine music, how often have I been entranced by the
stormy, thrilling fantasies of Beethoven! But I was never moved to
tears, and I never saw even delicate ladies weep. Two days ago, I
wandered alone among the ruins of the abbey of Hagenroth. I stood in
the ruined church; above was the unclouded sky, and high round about me
the naked walls. Here and there upon the walls hung patches of plaster,
and these were painted. I examined the paintings and found them of
remarkable purity and depth of sentiment. I examined the painted
columns in the nave and choir, and found a beautiful harmony. I admired
the excellence of the colors, on which it has snowed, rained, and
frozen for three hundred and twenty years. I then examined the fallen
columns, the heavy capitals, the beauty of the ornaments, and from
these significant remnants my imagination built up the whole structure,
and the church loomed up before me in all its simple grandeur and
charming finish. I was forced to recognize and admire those artists who
knew how to produce such wonderful and charming effects by such simple
combinations. I thought on that passage of the chronicle, and I believe
if, at that moment, the simple, pure chant of the monks had echoed
through the basilica, I also would have been moved to tears. If the
monks knew, thought I, how to captivate and charm by their
architecture, why could they not do the same with music?"

"The stupid monks!" said Richard.

"If you had spoken those words at my side in that tone as I stood amid
those ruins, they would have sounded like malicious envy from the mouth
of the s