xpected every moment the decision on which depended his happiness
for life. He went into the hall where the desks of the clerks stood in
long rows. He went to the desks, looked at the writing of the clerks,
and knew not what he did, where he went, or where he stood.

The next day Herr Frank returned. Richard was called to the library,
where his father received him with a face never more happy or
contented.

"I have visited your bride," he began, "because I had a curiosity to
know personally the one who has converted my son to sound views of
womankind. I am perfectly satisfied with your taste, and also with
myself; for I have become reconciled with Siegwart, and find that he is
as willing to live with his neighbors in harmony as in discord. You now
have my blessing on your union. The marriage can take place when you
please; only it would please me if it came off as soon as possible."

Richard stood speechless with emotion, which so overcame him that tears
burst from his eyes. He embraced his father, kissed him tenderly, and
murmured his thanks.

"That will do, Richard," said Herr Frank, much affected. "Your
happiness moves me. May it last long. And I do not doubt it will; for
Angela is truly a woman the like of whom I have never met. Her
character is as clear and transparent as crystal; and her eyes possess
such power, and her smile such loveliness, that I fear for my freedom
when she is once in the house."

Crisp, cold weather. The December winds sweep gustily through the
streets of the city, driving the well-clad wanderer before them and
sporting with the weather-vanes. A carriage stops before the door of
the Director Schlagbein. Professor Lutz steps out and directs the
driver to await him.

Emil Schlagbein, Richard's unhappy married friend, had moved his
easy-chair near the stove and leaned his head against its back. He
looked as though despair had seized him and thrown him into it. Hasty
steps were heard in the ante-room, and Lutz stood before him.

"Still in your working-clothes, Emil? Up! the tea-table of the Angel of
Salingen awaits us."

"Pardon me; my head is confused, my heart is sad; grief wastes my life
away."

"War--always war; never peace!" said Lutz. "I fear, Emil, that
all the fault is not with your wife. You are too sensitive, too
particular about principles. Man must tolerate, and not be niggardly
in compliance. Take old Frank as a model. With Angela entered
ultramontanism into his house.