you. I could with ease have saved
a creature that was dear to you, and I did not do it. My conduct has
brought tears to your eyes--hurt your feelings. When you went away to
regain your composure, and to show your offender a serene, reconciled
countenance, it made my fault more distressing. Forgive me; do not
consider me hard and heartless, but see in me an unfortunate who
forgets himself in musing."

She looked into Frank's handsome face as he knelt before her, in such
sadness, lowering his eyes like a guilty boy, and smiled sweetly.

"I will forgive yon, Herr Frank, on one condition."

"Only speak. I am prepared for any penance."

"The condition is, that you burn those godless books that make you
doubt about the noblest things in man, and that you buy no more."

"I vow fulfilment, and assure you that the design of those books, which
you rightly call godless, is recognized by me as a crime against the
dignity of man--and condemned."

"This rejoices no one more than me," said she with a tremulous voice.

He stood up, bowed, and returned to his former place.

"But, my dear neighbor, how did this singular affair happen?" said the
proprietor.

Frank told him about the death of the chicken.

"The love of the hen for her chickens is remarkable. She protects them
with her wings and warns them of danger, which she knows by instinct.
How easy would it have been for the hen to have taken the young one
from the water with her bill--the same bill with which she broke their
food and gave it to them. But she did not do it, because it is strange
to her nature. This case is another striking proof that animals act
neither with understanding nor reflection. Acts beyond their instinct
are impossible to them. This would not be the case, if they had souls."

The old servant stood with an empty basket before the library of the
son, as he had stood before that of the father. Buechner, Vogt, and
Czolbe fell into the fire. Jacob shook his head and regretted the
beautiful binding; but the evil spirits between the covers he willingly
consigned to the flames.

Again the cars stopped at the station; again the two gentlemen stood at
the open window of the car to receive their returning friends. The
travellers took a carriage and drove through the street.

"Baron Linden has indeed gone headlong into misery," said Lutz
humorously. "Eight days ago the young pair swore eternal fidelity. It
was signed and sealed. Until to-day no could