sion to their fate, and of base yearning toward the house of a
Philistine, and at the same time push the fortunes of his friend. If he
himself could once obtain free access to the house in the character of
_fiance_ to the worldly daughter, Elfinger would have no difficulty in
becoming more intimate with her spiritually-inclined elder sister, and
would undoubtedly be able to overcome those scruples that had
heretofore prevented this singular girl from accepting any of his
letters, or even from consenting to strike up an acquaintance with him
in the open street.

Confident in this belief, he determined upon the desperate step; and,
if he could not muster up sufficient courage, after the miserable
termination of his undertaking, to return to his friend with the bad
news, let us not think any the worse of his good heart.

Yet we must confess that, as far as he himself was concerned, he
regarded this crushing conclusion to the novel as beneficial rather
than lamentable. He had done his best, had displayed uncommon courage,
and had shown the beautiful being how serious he was in his intentions;
but now he felt that he had a right to rejoice in peace over an
honorable defeat that permitted him to go on setting his heart on
everything that was lovable and unattainable. When at last he stepped
out of the wine-room into the square, where the moonlight shone full
upon the five bronze statues standing rigidly in their regular rank and
file, a feeling of infinite satisfaction stole over him; a malicious
joy that he could wander here in flesh and blood beneath the changing
moon and have as many love affairs as he liked, while these celebrated
dignitaries stood on their pedestals unable to move a muscle. He even
caught himself beginning to sing in a loud voice; but a moment after he
came to a sudden stop. He felt that it was not at all the proper thing
for him to go about bawling merry songs, considering the mournful mood
he ought by good rights to be in.

So he composed his feelings, and wended his way home in a much more
subdued manner. But when he reached his street, and saw the lights in
Elfinger's windows blinking down at him, his heart quickly sunk into
his boots again. He could not bring himself to go up at this dead hour
of the night and confess to his friend how badly the affair had turned
out. So he turned swiftly upon his heel, and, taking a roundabout way,
finally reached his studio, where he knew he could find tolerable