and her mortal pilgrimage. When he thought of the past, his reason told him what hindrances and impediments would have lain in his way with her. Reason is one-sided in judgment, and knows not how the roots of our life find nourishment here and there. Johannes also knew not that, deep within him, where the riddles of his being were awaiting their solution, there was somewhat which never ceased to pray for her and to mourn for her!

Lord Arthur would not let his old acquaintance go, when he rose to take his leave. He must remain and dine with him; it seemed as if Lord Arthur were seeking a pretext for detaining him longer. They began to talk of Johannes' immediate plans. Lord Arthur expressed himself most politely upon the events of the last year, until Johannes felt all his blood rush to his heart; and yet he could not deny the truth of the facts. The nobleman considered voluntary service a folly, when a man of cultivation, who can do more for the world, takes it upon himself. When such a man takes his musket in hand, with all his enthusiasm, he only enters into competition with one of the many poor devils who want bread and discipline, and who are everywhere to be picked in the streets. The nobleman expressed his

up

views on the Holstein movement; praised the valour and endurance of the little Danish nation, who inspired him with esteem: it was like the contest of the little David with the giant Goliath !

No understanding, no reconciliation of ideas, was here possible. Johannes was obliged to put a constraint upon himself, in order not with noisy vehemence to take part in the refined and sometimes discordant dinner conversation; feeling almost like a schoolboy, who would provoke a quarrel for the honour of his class. As he did not choose to speak with vehement freedom, he endeavoured to wound the other with politeness. Arthur looked at him now and then inquiringly, and almost with astonishment, as though he wished to know whether he had to make a new acquaintance. The nobleman seemed, however, not to be able to leave the subject of German misery and German disorder. The revolution in England, some hundred years ago, did its work otherwise,' he said, 'than the present one in Germany.'

'And yet we took the lead,' said Johannes, rising, before Arthur had concluded the repast. "The Reformation is the beginning from which our age reckons. In the Middle Ages we began our contest with the papacy; our emperors took it up

in the pride of power; the men of the German nation concluded it in another manner: they fought for the right of freedom of mind, for conscience and still in our conscience we inscribe the word of freedom! In our religious wars we lost too much blood and power; the heavy pressure lasted too long; our citizens had no more money, and therefore no power; these are commonplaces; I know it! We have come down, like a rich man impoverished, and who grasps all the more vigorously at the resources still left at his disposal, in his reason and his healthful frame. Those who from the first have been thrown upon these have exercised them and get on the easier.'

Lord Arthur smiled politely. When they were saying good bye, after dinner, he casually, as it were, took a small medallion from a case standing on his writing-table. It represented a child a little more than a year old-an angelic little head, with fair curls and large blue eyes; Arthur himself must have looked like it, when he was a child. As Johannes laid the picture down again, he said, in Shakespeare's words:

From fairest creatures we desire increase,

That thereby beauty's rose might never die.

'You remember our farewell in Genoa,' said the nobleman; it is actually four years ago! This

is all that is left me of that history. The boy died of scarlet fever. It touched me deeply; I could never forget that face. The mother fared well with me, as few of her like have done; as all her like, she will end.'

Lord Arthur indifferently replaced the picture in its case, and wished Johannes a pleasant journey. A passing flush had risen to his face, and his eyes for a moment were almost too bright.

CHAPTER III.

THE HOTEL-KEEPER'S WIFE.

THE rain was drizzling down, damp and cold. What we call an open winter in North Germany has much fog, damp, coughing, sneezing and other miseries in its train. A healthy frost seems to suit men better.

What a dull road and tedious drive, what a shaking and rattling in the post-diligence, through the long night! The old post arrangements were here still in force. Johannes was seated in a coach with leather curtains, which, shutting out all view during the day, left the occupant in darkness, and like a gutter conducted the water from the sky into his lap or on his feet, till the straw, which had been spread for the convenience of the traveller, had become thoroughly damp. He had come by Ostend, travelling through Aix-la-Chapelle, Cologne; and two Polish Jews, who were travelling for the fur trade, were seated beside him, for the railroad at that time only went as far as Cologne. Johannes had in