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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 TWO FRIENDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 1934 
 
Cornell University Library 
 
www 
 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031325495 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT 
 
THE 
 
 COMEDY OF SENTIMENT 
 
 H moTCi 
 
 BY 
 
 DR. MAX NORDAU 
 
 ButboriseO Edition 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY 
 
 PUBLISHER 
 F 
 
THE WORKS OF 
 
 Dr. MAX NORDAU, 
 
 Author of " Degeneration," Etc. 
 
 12mo, cloth, $1.60 Per Volume. 
 
 The Comedy of Sentiment. 
 The Ailment of the Century. 
 
 The Right to Love. 
 
 For sale everywhere, or will be sent, 
 post-paid, to any address in the United 
 States, Canada or Mexico, on receipt of 
 
 price. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 
 Publisher, 
 NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 
 
 Copyright, 189S, 
 By F. TENNYSON NEELY. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 GuSTAv BruchstAdt had come to the con- 
 vention of German naturalists, which was held 
 at Magdeburg, in September, 1884, and now, 
 on the morning of the dull, rainy Sunday which 
 preceded the opening session, stood waiting in 
 front of the Hotel City of Prague for his in- 
 timate friend, Professor Friedrich Barwald, 
 who, with his wife, had agreed by letter to 
 arrive from Berlin at this hour, and stop here. 
 Ere long a carriage turned out of the Breiten 
 Weg into Barstrasse, and stopped before the 
 hotel. Even at a distance Bruchstadt recog- 
 nized his friend's long black beard, gold spec- 
 tacles, and broad-brimmed slouch hat, and 
 
 7 
 
8 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT, 
 
 waved his hand joyously. Barwald sprang 
 from the carriage almost before it stopped, and 
 embraced Bruchstadt with great cordiality. 
 Then both gentlemen turned to the hack to 
 help the professor's wife, and Bruchstadt now 
 noticed for the first time that the vehicle had 
 another occupant. 
 
 "Permit me to present Professor Bruch- 
 stadt," said Barwald. "Our charming little 
 friend, Frau Paula Ehrwein." 
 
 Bruchstadt bowed, saying : 
 
 "I think, madam, that I have already had 
 the honor of meeting you one evening at our 
 friend BSrwald's." 
 
 " That is certainly not the case. Otherwise 
 you would know, not think so." 
 
 This reply was made in a quiet, cool, un- 
 usually musical voice. 
 
 Bruchstadt now looked for the first time at 
 the lady who so audaciously displayed her self- 
 assurance. But she was right ; he would not 
 have forgotten even so brief a meeting. Her 
 delicate, extremely pallid face, with the large 
 blue eyes, slightly Roman nose, and pouting. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 9 
 
 childlike mouth, possessed such peculiar beauty 
 that it could not fail to attract attention among 
 hundreds. She wore a black lace scarf, fram- 
 ing her brow and cheeks — an unusual head- 
 covering for ladies in Germany, while travel- 
 ing, which gave her appearance a somewhat 
 foreign air, and therefore made it still more 
 impressive. As the scarf was pushed a little 
 awry, her shining, reddish — fair hair, natur- 
 ally curly, and lightly covered with gold-pow- 
 der, became visible. 
 
 Bruchstadt offered his arm to assist her out 
 of the carriage, but she did not seem to notice 
 it, and turning to Barwald, allowed him to help 
 her alight. Did she wish to punish the former 
 for his thoughtless remark ? He had spoken 
 in good faith. He really thought he had seen, 
 or heard a lady of her name mentioned, at one 
 of the evening parties which Barwald, since 
 his marriage, was in the habit of giving when 
 his friend came to Berlin, and at which the 
 latter was always introduced to a number of 
 girls and young married women. 
 
 The hotel servants had come out, and while 
 
lO THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 they were busied with the luggage, Bruchstadt 
 said, in a somewhat embarrassed tone : 
 
 " I ordered a room only for you and your 
 wife — I did not know " 
 
 "Nor I either," replied Barwald, smiling, 
 " Our friend did not decide until the last hour, 
 according to her impulsive way. But we can 
 probably be accommodated, even without a 
 previous engagement." 
 
 Bruchstadt shook his head in dissent. 
 " Unfortunately, there is not a single vacant 
 room." 
 
 "Well then," said Frau Ehrwein, "we will 
 get into the hack again and drive on. There 
 are probably other hotels in Magdeburg." 
 
 "Everything is full," replied Bruchstadt. 
 " I had trouble enough to get in here." 
 
 "We are provided for, I think," observed 
 Frau Barwald, somewhat pointedly. 
 
 "Pardon me," her friend answered gently. 
 " I thought we would wish to remain together. 
 But it doesn't matter. Don't disturb your- 
 selves. I will look for a room elsewhere, and 
 if I find none, I'll simply return to Berlin." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. n 
 
 She turned as if to get into the hack, when 
 Bruchstadt said : 
 
 " Permit me to give you my room, madam. 
 It is not very elegant, but it will spare you a 
 longer search and the separation from the 
 BSrwalds." 
 
 "Thank you, you are very kind," replied 
 Frau Ehrwein simply, and ordered the porter 
 to take her trunk down from the carriage. 
 
 " But what will you do?" asked Barwald. 
 
 "Have no anxiety on that score. An old 
 student easily finds a shelter. But you are 
 equipped as if you meant to take a journey 
 round the world," he added, as he looked at the 
 big trunks and the numerous boxes and ham- 
 pers brought from the carriage. 
 
 "Almost all the luggage belongs to our 
 friend," answered Frau Barwald, quickly. 
 
 "I am the culprit," said Frau Ehrwein turn- 
 ing. " Entertainments and receptions are to 
 be given, so I was obliged to bring some 
 dresses." 
 
 The party entered the hotel and were shown 
 to their rooms, while Bruchstadt informed the 
 
12 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 waiter that he had given up his. His luggage, 
 which he had not yet unpacked, was brought 
 down, and he went upstairs to take leave of 
 his friends. 
 
 "When shall I see you?" asked BSrwald. 
 
 "I'll come back at four, and then we'll re- 
 main together, if agreeable to you." 
 
 "Certainly," cried Barwald and his wife in 
 the same breath, holding out their hands to 
 him. Frau Ehrwein did the same. "Your 
 first remark was so uncomplimentary," she 
 said, " that I would not give you the pleasure 
 of telling you how much I had anticipated 
 making your acquaintance. But since you 
 have improved, I will confess that we talked 
 of nothing but you throughout the journey." 
 
 "We gave you plenty of puffing," cried Bar- 
 wald merrily. 
 
 " Very unwise, when it can be so speedily 
 contradicted," replied Bruchstadt, glancing at 
 Frau Ehrwein. 
 
 "No, no," she said smiling, "I won't grant 
 you the pleasure of contradicting you. I will 
 only say, 'Farewell till we meet again !' " Her 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 13 
 
 tone had become much warmer than before, 
 and she gave him her hand a second time, look- 
 ing him full in the face with her large eyes. 
 
 Bruchstadt reached the hotel in the after- 
 noon a little before the hour appointed, and 
 found no one except Frau Barwald, who was 
 waiting for him in the reading-room. " Fried- 
 rich will come presently," she said, "he has 
 been calling on his colleagues for two hours." 
 
 " I know it, " answered Bruchstadt. " I have 
 done the same thing, and we even met twice 
 at the same Privy Councillors'." 
 
 "And meanwhile I must sit alone in the 
 room," replied Frau Barwald, pouting. "I 
 can choose between knitting or writing a story 
 for the women's periodicals. That's the con- 
 sequence of being the dull wife of a professor, 
 instead of as lively as, for instance, Frau Ehr- 
 wein. How do you like her?" 
 
 The whole introduction had evidently been 
 jnade for the sole purpose of leading the way 
 to this question. 
 
 "Oh' I have seen her only so short a time," 
 replied Bruchstadt warily. 
 
14 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Let US drop diplomacy. So out with it: 
 what do you think of Frau Ehrwein?" 
 
 " But why " 
 
 "Simply because I should like to know 
 whether she turned your head at once, like all 
 the other men." 
 
 " Is it really so bad ?" 
 
 "You haven't answered me yet." 
 
 "Well then; Frau Ehrwein is certainly a 
 very beautiful woman." 
 
 " At any rate a very striking one in her ap- 
 pearance; that isn't to be denied. But is she 
 attractive to you?" 
 
 " How should I have formed an opinion, 
 when I have scarcely talked with her a min- 
 ute?" 
 
 "Fol de rol! You want to evade me. An 
 impression is received in an instant. And, 
 since you positively won't answer, I really be- 
 lieve that you, too, are in love with the lady." 
 
 "No," said Bruchstadt, smiling. "I don't, 
 move so fast. To be perfectly frank, I found 
 her character a trifle ingenuously egotistical. 
 Or perhaps she is only spoiled." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 5 
 
 "At last," cried Frau Barwald, eagerly. "I 
 think her not only a trifle, but unbearably in 
 love with herself." 
 
 "So she is not your friend?" 
 
 "Bruchstadt, you cannot seriously believe 
 that two young women, under the circum- 
 stances existing, can be friends." 
 
 "Yet you travel with her?" 
 
 "What of that? The woman asked to be 
 taken, and Friedrich instantly consented. You 
 know how he is. He considers her very clever, 
 and that is true. He says she stimulates him, 
 that it is refreshing to chat a little while with 
 her. She is so free, so independent in her 
 ideas. I can readily believe it. She is indiffer- 
 ent to everything. People like us must stick 
 to custom and usage, so we are commonplace, 
 uninteresting, tiresome. But if a woman be- 
 haves scandalously, she suddenly becomes quite 
 different — she is original and entertaining. 
 We might be so, too, if we desired to please 
 other men rather than our husbands." 
 
 She was evidently glad that she could pour 
 out her heart ! 
 
l6 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 " Does Friedrich know your opinion of the 
 lady?" 
 
 "He should divine it," cried Frau Barwald, 
 "he should feel it. But I cannot tell him. 
 He would think that I was jealous and laugh 
 at me. I really am not jealous. I know what 
 Friedrich is. Only it vexes me when I see 
 how easily even clever men allow themselves 
 to be deluded by a woman's most transparent 
 wiles." 
 
 " But who is Frau Ehrwein ? And where is 
 Herr Ehrwein, of whom you have not yet said 
 a word?" 
 
 " Yes — nor can I give you any definite in- 
 formation. I won't repeat what is said. Who 
 can distinguish truth from slander in the tattle 
 of evil tongues? What she herself says, is 
 this: she was born and educated in Riga as 
 the daughter of a German Consul, and married 
 a lawyer there, with whom she lived several 
 years in St. Petersburg ; he was a drunkard and 
 abused her, so she at last obtained a divorce 
 from him. During the past year, she has been 
 in Berlin with her two little children — for she 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 7 
 
 has two little children. She visits in very 
 good society, though not where she would meet 
 people from St. Petersburg." 
 
 " How did she come in your way?" 
 " We met her at Professor Burg's. How she 
 made his acquaintance, I don't know. But his 
 house is not much more difficult of access than 
 a Vienna caf6. What queer people are often 
 seen there! Well, you know the clever old 
 cynic. The woman's abominable speeches de- 
 light him, and he looks at her with swimming 
 eyes when she says something that fairly takes 
 your breath away. Professor Burg fathers, 
 mothers, or uncles her — whichever you please. 
 He is her prop in society. Friedrich chatted 
 with her several times at the Burgs' and was 
 also captivated by her audacity. After a short 
 acquaintance he invited her to our house, and 
 the woman came at once without waiting for 
 me to second the proposal. I did not like 
 her. But finally — I have no grown daughters, 
 and as she amuses Friedrich, I made no ob- 
 jection. Yet, willing as I am to please him, it 
 can't go on much longer. She is beginning 
 
1 8 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 affairs with all our friends — well, I'll say no 
 more." 
 
 " Are not you a little severe, my dear friend? 
 It isn't always the fault of a pretty, piquante 
 woman that men pay court to her, and there 
 is not necessarily any harm in it." 
 
 " Friedrich says so too. But I can't regard 
 the matter as so innocent." 
 
 At that moment Barwald hastily entered, 
 apologizing for being a little late. 
 
 "Never mind," replied Bruchstadt, "the 
 time has passed quickly with us. We have 
 been talking." 
 
 "And," cried Barwald, with a keen glance 
 at his wife, which brought the color into her 
 face, "about Frau Ehrwein. Of course. You 
 know, my friend, in order to obtain the actual 
 facts, you must extract the cubic root from 
 everything that Hedwig has told you." 
 
 "Even from the good?" asked Bruchstadt, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Why — not much of that was presented." 
 
 "Extract the cubic root! That's rather a 
 tiresome operation for any one who is not, like 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 9 
 
 you, a professional mathematician. It will be 
 a considerably shorter process, if you simply 
 tell me the unit." 
 
 " Well, Frau Ehrwein is a clever and some- 
 what peculiar woman, who was unfortunate in 
 her marriage. Her conduct in Berlin is per- 
 haps a little imprudent, at least for our prudish 
 notions. But I don't believe that there is any- 
 thing seriously wrong about her." 
 
 "Are we going to stay here?" asked Frau 
 Barwald, somewhat impatiently. 
 
 "Suppose we visit the Friedrich-Wilhelms- 
 garten, " suggested Bruchstadt. " The grounds 
 are pretty. And it has cleared up." 
 
 "Didn't you agree to wait here for Frau 
 Ehrwein ?" asked Barwald, turning to his wife. 
 
 "Don't worry about that," she answered 
 quickly. "She got into a cab with Dr. Jiir- 
 gensen directly after dinner, that he might 
 show her Magdeburg." 
 
 "In — de — ed!" said Barwald, smiling. 
 
 "She made Jiirgensen's acquaintance for 
 the first time to-day at the table d'hote," the 
 wife added, turning to Bruchstadt. " Now she 
 
20 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 is driving around the city with him. At least 
 the lady does not allow herself to be disturbed 
 by our prudish notions." 
 
 " We will leave a message with the porter to 
 tell her where we have gone, at any rate," said 
 Barwald. 
 
 On the way he again mentioned Frau Ehr- 
 wein, and, in reply to a question from Bruch- 
 stadt, said that she had begun to paint and 
 seemed to be talented. 
 
 "She certainly doesn't lack industry," ob- 
 served his wife ; " last week she spent almost 
 every day, from early morning until late at 
 night, with her teacher, the handsome Korne- 
 mann. If she doesn't make progress " 
 
 "Hedwig, you are unkind again," said thg 
 professor, with a reproving glance. 
 
 "Unkind? When I simply mention facts, 
 without comment ? Perhaps it will also be un- 
 kind, if I tell our friend that in July she went 
 to Sassnitz with Kornemann, and behaved in 
 such a way at the hotel, and on the beach, that 
 the people at the watering-place never called 
 the pair anything except 'the turtle-doves.' " 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 21 
 
 " That ' s foolish watering-place gossip . How- 
 ever, I'll admit that the trip was a piece of 
 imprudence. A woman in her position should 
 be doubly cautious. I preach that enough to 
 her. But she has a sufficient answer. ' I care 
 nothing about gossip,' she says. 'I won't sac- 
 rifice a single pleasant moment for the sake of 
 tattling women. They will do nothing for me. 
 And I am perfectly sure of myself. I run no 
 risk.' I believe her. Beneath the apparent 
 carelessness of her capricious little head is hid- 
 den cool judgment and an iron will." 
 
 After having heard all this, Bruchstadt now 
 remarked: "I will tell you something; the 
 woman. doesn't interest me in the least." 
 
 Frau Barwald gratefully pressed the arm on 
 which she leaned. 
 
 The Friedrich-Wilhelmsgarten was full of 
 naturalists, and it was not until after they had 
 exchanged numerous greetings, handshakings, 
 and introductions, that they finally reached a 
 vacant table. 
 
 They had been seated only a short time when 
 Frau Ehrwein appeared at the entrance, cast 
 
22 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 a searching glance over the terrace, and took a 
 few hesitating steps between the rows of tables. 
 Barwald noticed her first, and rose. She saw 
 him instantly and came swiftly forward, smil- 
 ing even when at a distance. Her delicate 
 figure, of middle height, was buttoned into a 
 close-fitting Scotch-plaid jacket, with numerous 
 pilgrim collars ; and she wore on her head a 
 little dark bead bonnet, h la Marie Stuart, 
 which admirably set off her shining hair and 
 pale face. 
 
 A tall, handsome, fair-haired man, at whom 
 she did not glance back even once, followed 
 her somewhat diffidently. On reaching the 
 table where her friends sat, she shook hands 
 with them all cordially, then turning to her 
 companion, said curtly, with a slight bend of 
 the head : 
 
 "Many thanks for the afternoon, Herr Dr. 
 Jiirgensen, and au revoir. " 
 
 The blond giant seemed somewhat discon- 
 certed by this abrupt dismissal, but as the 
 table would accommodate only four persons, 
 and no one invited him to remain, he took 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 23 
 
 leave in a somewhat embarrassed, awkward 
 manner. 
 
 "Well, have you seen Magdeburg?" asked 
 Barwald, when she had taken her place beside 
 him and opposite to Bruchstadt. 
 
 "Yes. I think I have 'done' the city. And 
 you, Frau Barwald, what have you accom- 
 plished?" 
 
 " I've been talking with Bruchstadt." 
 
 "You have chosen the better part," replied 
 Frau Ehrwein, glancing at him. 
 
 Bruchstadt contented himself with acknowl- 
 edging the extremely broad compliment by a 
 bow, while Barwald remarked : " You might 
 have had it, too. But you preferred Jiirgen- 
 sen." 
 
 " Pardon me. Professor Bruchstadt was not 
 there, Jiirgensen was. I preferred what I 
 could get." 
 
 "And now," said BSrwald, smiling, "since 
 the Moor has done his work " 
 
 "He can go," added Frau Ehrwein. "Cer- 
 tainly. What he could offer, namely, his com- 
 pany on a tour of investigation, he did, and 
 
24 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 now I have finished with the gentleman. So 
 each performs his part. He 'his, when he 
 serves me according to his ability and my 
 needs; I mine, when I accept his services." 
 
 Bruchstadt was secretly indignant. "You 
 don't appear to favor the equal rights of the 
 sexes, madam," he said, somewhat coldly. 
 
 "Why should I!" she cried gayly. "We 
 are certainly far better off with our privi- 
 leges." 
 
 "Yet I'll wager that you would unhesitat- 
 ingly exchange your favored sex for my out- 
 lawed one." 
 
 " You would lose your wager, my dear Pro- 
 fessor. I am glad I am a woman, and, if I 
 were not one, would wish to be." 
 
 " Few ladies say so." 
 
 " Because they don't express their own feel- 
 ings, but those of vain men. When men con- 
 sider themselves better and stronger than we, 
 it provokes me, but not nearly as much as it 
 amuses me when they appear to compassionate 
 us poor, feeble creatures. The pity is wholly 
 unnecessary, my proud lords of creation . That 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 25 
 
 we are handsomer than you, you sensibly ad- 
 mit " 
 
 "I by no means admit it, madam," inter- 
 rupted Bruchstadt. "You are undoubtedly 
 attractive to us men, but such an opinion is 
 certainly not objective. A being capable of 
 judgment, who was not a human creature, 
 and could regard our species as impartially 
 as we would look at a pack of hounds or 
 a herd of cattle, would infallibly find the 
 male of our species handsomer than the fe- 
 male." 
 
 "Very true," Barwald assented. "The fact 
 that the male is handsomer than the female 
 extends throughout the whole animal world." 
 
 "At least, through the higher ranks," inter- 
 posed Bruchstadt. 
 
 " You have nothing to say on this subject, 
 Professor Barwald," cried Frau Ehrwein. "it 
 doesn't come within the sphere of a physicist. 
 You, as a zoologist," she turned to Bruchstadt, 
 "can claim a prior hearing. But your com- 
 parative anatomy will leave you in the lurch, 
 when the point to be decided is whether we are 
 
26 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 superior to you or not. We have more real 
 power in our little finger — " 
 
 " In your rosy little finger," said Bruchstadt 
 sarcastically. 
 
 "That was another sensible remark. Very 
 true — in our rosy little finger than you have in 
 your whole clumsy bodies. We beckon, and 
 you obey. If your arrogance seeks to rebel 
 against our authority, we have allies in your 
 own hearts which instantly disarm you and lay 
 you as slaves at our feet." 
 
 "That may be true, madam, but were I in 
 your place, I would not pride myself on these 
 allies. They are the base, animal instincts 
 in us." 
 
 "Stop! there you betake yourself to your 
 scientific false path again. The true woman, 
 who is entitled to be mistress of the world, does 
 not refuse to let even the instincts which you, 
 as a zoologist, should be the last to scorn, fight 
 in her behalf. But when, by their aid, she 
 has conquered, she dismisses this troop from 
 her service ; she does not need them to main- 
 tain her mastery. That, my arrogant profes- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 2/ 
 
 sor, is woman's real triumph. When you have 
 satiated your desires, you must suddenly find 
 at your side no longer the tool of your sensual 
 pleasures, but a clever, stimulating human 
 being. Woman must possess the capacity to 
 be an attractive soul, after she has been an 
 alluring body." 
 
 Hitherto Frau Barwald had listened silently, 
 though -with increasing horror, occupying her- 
 self -with her cakes and coffee. But now she 
 could restrain herself no longer. " Frau Ehr- 
 wein! what subjects are you discussing? it is 
 shocking." 
 
 " How ? We are at a convention of natural- 
 ists, and certainly natural things may be men- 
 tioned." 
 
 "Very well. But in that case I earnestly 
 beg that we may cling to the mathematical- 
 physical, rather than to the zoological-anatom- 
 ical division." 
 
 "Or still better," said Barwald, soothingly, 
 "to the subdivision of the history of science 
 and biography of scholars. Tell us how you 
 like Brussels; how you are living there; in 
 
28 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 short, everything that you have not written in 
 your rare letters." 
 
 Bruchstadt obeyed the request. Life in 
 Brussels was very pleasant ; people readily ac- 
 customed themselves to slight deviations from 
 German manners; he had had a cotdial wel- 
 come from his colleagues and the students at 
 the free university ; on the whole he felt very 
 well satisfied. 
 
 " Do you find no difficulty in delivering your 
 lectures in French, old fellow?" 
 
 At first, they had naturally given him some 
 trouble ; but as he had taken great pains and 
 been very industrious, now, at the end of a 
 year, it was perfectly easy. 
 
 " I should be so delighted to hear you lecture 
 in French," cried Frau Ehrwein. 
 
 " For that purpose you would be obliged to 
 go to Brussels, and that, probably, would 
 scarcely be worth while." 
 
 "You won't need to tell me that twice, my 
 dear Professor." 
 
 " Yes, " Barwald chimed in, " take care. You 
 must not invite her to Brussels, for this little 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 29 
 
 lady is quite capable of instantly taking you at 
 your word. 
 
 Frau Ehrwein shook her finger at him, and 
 Frau Barwald, probably to give the light craft 
 of conversation a different direction by a slight 
 turn of the helm, said to Bruchstadt : 
 
 " Perhaps you were wrong, after all, in going 
 to Brussels. I fear you are permanently lost 
 to German science." 
 
 " The natural sciences are not national, it is 
 true, yet I should, of course, have preferred to 
 stay in Germany. But what was I to do? It 
 isn't exactly cheerful to spend eight years in 
 Bonn as a private tutor, and perhaps wait ten 
 years more before I became an unpaid pro- 
 fessor extraordinary. I should like to see the 
 man who, under these circumstances, would 
 have refused the call to Brussels ; especially if 
 he were not rich, and had duties to fulfil toward 
 an aged mother." 
 
 " You needn't defend yourself, my dear boy, " 
 observed Barwald. " A call to a foreign coun- 
 try, especially at the age of thirty-one, is, under 
 any circumstances, an honor to a German tutor. 
 
30 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 I am even confident that you will reach the 
 chair of a German professor more quickly by 
 way of Brussels than via Bonn." 
 
 While chatting thus for a time, it had grown 
 dark and chilly upon the terrace, and Barwald 
 suggested going, as they were still to attend a 
 meeting of their colleagues. They all rose, 
 and Frau Ehrwein took a step toward Bruch- 
 stadt, but Frau Barwald, who had sat beside 
 him at the table, anticipated her and took his 
 arm. When she had secured him, she let her 
 husband lead the way with Frau Ehrwein, and 
 followed at a short distance with Bruchstadt. 
 
 " You really are not jealous," the latter could 
 not refrain from saying. 
 
 " I am sure of Friedrich, I repeat, but I am 
 not of you." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " No, in all seriousness. The woman is evi- 
 dently making a dead set at you, so I feel a 
 little uneasy." 
 
 " Don't be anxious on my account, my dear 
 friend. There is really no danger. Even if it 
 were so, I am doubly warned — once by you. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 3 1 
 
 and a second time by Frau Ehrwein herself 
 through her fine theory of woman's right of 
 sovereignty. Besides, I don't believe that I 
 particularly interest her." 
 
 "You grown-up child ! Don't you see that 
 she is doing everything in her power to attract 
 your attention, and occupy your thoughts? 
 True, this is partly our fault. Your handsome 
 likeness is in two or three places in our draw- 
 ing-room, and we talk so much about you, your 
 hatred of women " 
 
 " Hatred of women ! How can you say so !" 
 
 " Why, surely you know what I mean : you 
 have no exalted opinion of us, and, at any rate 
 hitherto, have been armed against the whole 
 feminine sex. I am certain that she came to 
 Magdeburg principally on your account. She 
 will make every effort to harness you to her 
 triumphal chariot." 
 
 " I'm not very well adapted for the part of a 
 draught animal." 
 
 " So much the better. Nevertheless, be on 
 your guard." 
 
 They had reached the hotel ; Barwald accom- 
 
32 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 panied his wife to their room, but Frau Ehr- 
 wein went to the porter and asked if anything 
 had come for her. A letter from Berlin had 
 arrived. She took it and approached Bruch- 
 stadt, who stood in the corridor, waiting for 
 his friend. 
 
 "From my children," she said, "who are 
 required to write to me twice a day. My old- 
 est boy can make very good letters, if his 
 teacher helps him." 
 
 Bruchstadt bowed silently. 
 
 "There. Now good-by until to-morrow," 
 she added, holding out her hand and pressing 
 his warmly. At the first step of the stairs, to 
 which he accompanied her, she turned slightly, 
 saying quickly : " Our friends evidently do not 
 wish us to become better acquainted. But we 
 shall." 
 
 When Barwald came down, he found Bruch- 
 stadt lost in thought. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The opening session, at which Bruchstadt 
 was assigned the honor of an address, took 
 place the next morning. His work upon the 
 development of the nervous system in the ani- 
 mal kingdom excited enthusiastic applause. 
 While reading, he wondered whether Frau 
 Ehrwein was among the listeners. She was 
 not present at the commencement of the ses- 
 sion, and his short-sightedness prevented his 
 perceiving whether she had come since. He 
 saw her for the first time that day on board of 
 the little pleasure-boat, on which the natural- 
 ists were invited to take an excursion down 
 the Elbe. On this occasion she wore an otter 
 jacket and a little cap of the same velvet-soft 
 fur. As he stepped on the vessel's deck she 
 hastened toward him, held out both hands, and 
 said : " Many, many congratulations on your 
 
 success to-day. How well you read ! And how 
 3 33 
 
34 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 musical and strong your voice sounded in the 
 large hall! How dangerously handsome you 
 looked, too! I was really enraptured." 
 
 "You are far too kind; I did not know 
 whether you were in the hall." 
 
 " I'm aware of that, you abominable man. I 
 did everything I could to make you notice me. 
 I positively scandalized my neighbors. But 
 you did not look my waypnce." 
 
 "That is the fault of my near-sightedness." 
 
 " You near-sighted? That's only a pretence 
 to justify wearing the eye-glasses, which are 
 certainly very becoming. But you don't need 
 that little aid." 
 
 "I wear no glasses, madam." 
 
 " A proof that your near-sightedness is not 
 very great. It was arrogance that prevented 
 your looking at me. You are silent. That's a 
 confession of guilt, and shall be imputed to 
 you as a mitigating circumstance. But to be 
 sensible. I have never been so much inter- 
 ested in nerves as I was to-day, not even in 
 my own. What a pity that I did not hear the 
 beginning of the lecture." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 3S 
 
 "Ah, SO you came late?" 
 
 "Yes. I got up very late. I went to the 
 theatre yesterday evening." 
 
 " Impossible ! After you had done so much 
 during the day." 
 
 "That's the way with me. I feel that I am 
 alive only when I am in motion and receiving 
 impressions. Rest is death." 
 
 " With whom did you go to the theatre, if I 
 may ask?" 
 
 " I suppose that interests you very much?" 
 
 " I merely wished to know whether Frau 
 Barwald went too." 
 
 "Indeed? You merely wished to know 
 that?" 
 "What else should I desire?" 
 
 "Don't try to humbug me, Professor, you 
 are jealous." 
 
 "Jealous! I! Why should I be?" he cried, 
 in a tone of such unfeigned astonishment that 
 her face, hitherto so smiling and cajoling, sud- 
 denly became perfectly rigid. 
 
 "You are by no means civil," she said, in an 
 icy tone; turned from him abruptly, and went 
 
36 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 to a group on the deck ; where a noisy move- 
 ment of gentlemen hastily starting up, a zeal- 
 ous dragging forward of camp-chairs, and a 
 closer drawing together of the circle sufficiently 
 revealed to the distant onlooker how welcome 
 was her arrival. Bruchstadt stood still a mo- 
 ment in bewilderment. What a remarkably 
 whimsical creature! Just now so gracious, 
 and immediately after, almost without cause, 
 really insultingly rude. How was any one to 
 understand her? Then it suddenly came over 
 him like an illumination that this was evi- 
 dently a method ; her coquetry conducted its 
 career of conquest on this plan ; first she sur- 
 rounded the chosen victim with warmth and 
 promise, then she excited and bewildered him 
 with an unexpected dash of cold water; first 
 she lured the hand to catch her, then slipped 
 away with mockery and scorn, when it fancied 
 she was in its grasp. These were not bad tac- 
 tics, but they required great skill. If they 
 were not to be an absurd failure, it must be 
 ascertained that the attraction had acted suf- 
 ficiently to make the repulse keenly felt. For 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 37 
 
 if the lure had produced no effect, the rude re- 
 buff could only seem a violation of good taste. 
 This was emphatically his own case. 
 
 He closed his train of thought with a shrug 
 of the shoulders, and the resolve to trouble 
 himself no farther about the lady, and then 
 began to look for the Barwalds. Meanwhile 
 the boat had left the shore, and steamed slowly 
 into the middle of the river. A second fol- 
 lowed in its wake. If only his friends were 
 not on the other vessel! No. There sat 
 Frau Barwald leaning against the railing, gaz- 
 ing at the changing scenery of the bank, while 
 her husband stood before her, chatting with 
 some colleagues. The seat on the bench be- 
 side her was vacant, and Bruchstadt accepted 
 her invitation to sit down. They talked for 
 some time about his lecture, the somewhat 
 monotonous landscape, the people on board, 
 the acquaintances which had been made 
 or renewed, until, after a while, the lady 
 asked : 
 
 "Among others, haven't you seen Frau 
 Ehrwein?" 
 
38 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, smiling; "I have seen 
 and spoken to her," then after a brief pause, 
 he added, "I've even had a little affair with 
 her." 
 
 "You see!" cried Frau Barwald eagerly; 
 "you must tell me about it." 
 
 "Oh, it really isn't worth while, but if you 
 wish " 
 
 At that moment he felt some one slip softly 
 down upon the unoccupied end of the bench 
 at his side, which was scarcely large enough 
 to afford room for a seat. He instinctively 
 moved up a little and turned. Frau Ehrwein 
 sat there, gazing quietly at him. There was 
 a gentle expression in her eyes, which might 
 be interpreted as mild reproach and submis- 
 sion. He started up in surprise to make way 
 for her, and thus enabled Frau Barwald to see 
 her. The two ladies nodded to each other, 
 then Frau Ehrwein said: "Pray don't disturb 
 yourself. Professor ; there is room for us all. 
 Unless you avoid my vicinity." 
 
 "You don't really believe that," replied 
 Bruchstadt, resuming his seat. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 30 
 
 "You do what you can to make me," she an- 
 swered, in a subdued voice. 
 
 Frau Barwald, who noticed that Frau Ehr- 
 wein was beginning to whisper, turned to her 
 husband's group and mingled in their con- 
 versation. 
 
 As Bruchstadt did not contradict her for- 
 mer remark quickly enough, Frau Ehrwein 
 added : 
 
 "Tell me, why do you hate me?" 
 
 " How can you believe such a thing?" 
 
 "You compel me to do so. I feel so at- 
 tracted toward you — I let you see it so awk- 
 wardly — -and you — you haven't spoken a single 
 kind word. You haven't yet addressed ten 
 consecutive ones to me. You are so coldly re- 
 pellent " 
 
 Her beautiful blue eyes were fixed upon him 
 as she spoke. He grew confused, and could 
 make no answer except : " You must not think 
 so. That is my way. I am somewhat 
 clumsy " 
 
 "No, no! I know better. The BSrwalds 
 have raved about you to me often enough, told 
 
40 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 me what a peerless talker you were, and how 
 you bewitch every one, if you choose. Only 
 you don't care to please me. Or do you think 
 that indifference attracts me more certainly 
 than zealous effort?" 
 
 "I'll mend my manners, I promise you. 
 Henceforth I will pay court to you." 
 
 "For heaven's sake! anything but that. 
 The makers of pretty speeches over yonder 
 provide flattery enough. You are too good 
 for it." 
 
 "Then what shall I do to please you?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't ask much. Only be a little 
 nice to me. Be my friend." She held out 
 her little hand, somewhat too tightly gloved, 
 which he took hesitatingly, and only held 
 lightly in his clasp a moment because he 
 noticed that Barwald had been watching them 
 some time. The latter now approached, ask- 
 ing gayly : " What sort of contract have you 
 just closed with friend Bruchstadt?" 
 
 "Oh, how inquisitive you are!" she replied 
 in the same tone. " It was no contract, but a 
 treaty of peace." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 4I 
 
 "Indeed? Has there been a war between 
 you?" 
 
 "I was the peace-breaker. I have been 
 rude. But Professor Bruchstadt is indulgent 
 and has forgiven me." 
 
 Her freedom from embarrassment, her com- 
 posure, and her adroitness in all situations, 
 amused Bruchstadt. For the first time, he 
 said to himself that she was an unusual 
 woman. Perhaps at the moment he might 
 also have told her so, but there was no oppor- 
 tunity. Frau Ehrwein had just been drawn 
 into the general conversation of the circle, and 
 during the whole trip, both were so surrounded 
 that the renewal of any private talk was im- 
 possible. 
 
 At the landing she was forced away from 
 him a long time by the throng of passengers 
 leaving the boat, and Frau Barwald took ad- 
 vantage of the opportunity to ask : " Well ? 
 And your affair?" 
 
 "What affair?" 
 
 " The one you were going to tell me about 
 just now. With Frau Ehrwein." 
 
42 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Oh, yes. No. It was nothing. An in- 
 correct remark, which I misinterpreted. It 
 really isn't worth while to go back to it." 
 
 Frau BSrwald persisted no farther. A re- 
 ception was given in the Town Hall that 
 evening. Frau Ehrwein appeared in a toilette 
 which, among the naturalists' wives, most of 
 whom came from country towns, attracted at- 
 tention and almost roused indignation. She 
 wore a ruby silk dress, cut low in the front 
 and the back, and trimmed with gold and pearl 
 embroidery and cream-colored lace ; a necklace 
 of Egyptian scarabei set in gold, a ruby orna- 
 ment in the form of the Egyptian winged disk 
 of the sun in her gold-powdered hair; pale yel- 
 low, gold-embroidered gloves, reaching mid- 
 way up her arms ; a gold girdle, from which 
 hung, by a long gold chain, a large red satin fan 
 with an old ivory lace edge and gold sticks set 
 with rubies ; and below the edge of her dress 
 appeared her little feet in gold-embroidered red 
 satin shoes. She looked like a duchess who 
 had honored a plebeian ball with her presence. 
 She had come with the Barwalds; but Frau 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 43 
 
 BSrwald, who wore the simple travelling dress 
 of a plain housewife, did not feel comfortable 
 in her vicinity, and was glad that she soon lost 
 sight of her in a throng of young men, who 
 crowded around her, disputing for the honor 
 of offering her an arm, escorted her to the 
 sideboard; and strove to surpass each other in 
 the boldness with which they struggled to get 
 choice dainties for her. 
 
 Bruchstadt had arrived before his friends, 
 whom he soon saw and hastened to greet. He 
 also noticed Frau Ehrwein; but she was so 
 surrounded that he did not attempt to approach 
 her, and withdrew, with the Barwalds, to a 
 little vacant table in a corner of the large hall , 
 from which they could comfortably watch the 
 gay scene. They had sat there only a few 
 minutes When Frau Ehrwein also came up. 
 
 "I am always obliged to seek you first," 
 she said, holding out her hand to Bruchstadt 
 in greeting. 
 
 "It was impossible to get near you," he re- 
 plied apologetically, "you were so courted." 
 
 "A fine excuse!" she cried gay ly ; "couldn't 
 
44 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 you push the tiresome men aside and force 
 your -way to me as victor?" 
 
 " You apparently allot me a sort of Perseus 
 character." 
 
 " You ought to be flattered that I assign the 
 roles of such proud heroes." 
 
 Meanwhile her train of young private tutors 
 and school teachers began to gather around 
 the table, but Frau Ehrwein scarcely seemed 
 to notice them. She let her eyes wander 
 away from her immediate vicinity to the more 
 distant parts of the hall and, after a pause, 
 said: 
 
 " A pretty scene. I should like to sketch it. 
 Professor Bruchstadt, have you a sheet of 
 white paper and a pencil?" 
 
 The latter drew from his breast-pocket a 
 small note-book, tore out a leaf, and handed it 
 to her with the question : " Will this do?" At 
 the same time half a dozen other hands were 
 extended with bits of paper of various sizes. 
 Taking Bruchstadt's sheet and pencil, she be- 
 gan to draw. After a few strokes, she 
 crumpled the page and flung it on the floor. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 45 
 
 from which one of the group, with grotesque 
 devotion, picked it up and thrust it into his 
 vest-pocket. 
 
 " Have you another sheet?" 
 
 Bruchstadt tore out a second leaf and gave 
 it to her. A few minutes later it shared the 
 fate of the first. 
 
 "Another one, please." 
 
 "Give her the whole note-book at once," 
 said Frau Barwald, who was becoming very 
 impatient of this affectation. 
 
 " No, no," cried Frau Ehrwein, who did not 
 seem to notice her friend's sharp tone. "The 
 professor must have something to do, and not 
 remain idle while I am working. But I can't 
 accomplish it," she said, after a little pause, 
 pushing away the pencil and paper with a 
 short, nervous gesture. 
 
 Of course she could not; she wore tight 
 gloves, and her fingers were as clumsy as 
 though they were in a vice. 
 
 "Come, we'll walk about a little," she said 
 rising suddenly. Bruchstadt took his lead- 
 pencil and offered her his arm, on which she 
 
46 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 rustled away. Those who were left behind 
 exchanged glances. This time none of her 
 admirers followed. 
 
 There was little room between the tables, 
 and Bruchstadt had considerable difficulty in 
 piloting his fair companion through the hall. 
 Wherever they passed heads were turned and 
 put together, whispers and smiles followed 
 them. This was unpleasant to Bruchstadt, it 
 seemed to delight the lady. 
 
 "We are making a sensation," she re- 
 marked, pressing his arm. 
 
 " No wonder. You are so beautiful." 
 
 "You are certainly handsomer than I." 
 
 " Oh, Madame! You forbid me to pay court 
 to you, and now you are paying it to me." 
 
 "That is less commonplace than the other 
 way." 
 
 They had reached the end of the hall and 
 entered the next room, where an orchestra 
 was playing, and the younger guests had be- 
 gun to dance. To change the current of the 
 conversation, Bruchstadt asked : 
 
 "Do you dance, Frau Ehrwein?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 47 
 
 "No. I dare not. I have heart disease." 
 
 "Really?" he exclaimed, half incredulous, 
 half startled. 
 
 " Yes. It is serious. I know that I shall 
 not live long." 
 
 " Who has made you believe that?" 
 
 " At least half a dozen Russian and German 
 physicians, agreeing without consultation. 
 But it gives me no regret, believe me." 
 
 "'Life is not the highest good' is a noble 
 poetic saying, but it is unnatural on the lips of 
 a young and lovely woman. I will only be- 
 lieve that things are not as bad as you say. 
 At least there is no evidence of it." 
 
 "Yes. Appearances are deceitful. But I 
 know how I often feel." 
 
 " Yet you expect so much of yourself ? You 
 travel? You lead an exciting society life?" 
 
 "What am I to do? I must. I dare not 
 drink champagne, so I intoxicate myself with 
 the music, the lights, the women's jewels, the 
 covert warfare of drawing-room conversation. 
 I cannot live entirely without stimulus. You 
 forget how narrow and dull an ordinary wo- 
 
48 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 man's life is. We have no work which sup- 
 plies the place of the joys of existence. We 
 do nothing on which we can sustain ourselves, 
 which gives us self-respect and content. Per- 
 haps, in the future I may become an artist; 
 now I am still a pupil or a dabbler. What is 
 left me by which to escape from the penetrat- 
 ing sense of my nonentity? My personality. 
 Through it alone I can sometimes triumph. 
 And the only scene where I can produce an 
 effect by my personality is the drawing-room. 
 You have your audiences and your readers. I 
 have my admirers, and my envious rivals. 
 You influence by your words, I — so do I. 
 They need not necessarily be instructive ones. 
 If the effect of mine is aided by a pretty face 
 and a tasteful toilette, you probably will not 
 reproach me on that account. Now do you 
 understand why I go into society so eagerly?" 
 "You defend yourself so admirably, ma- 
 dam, that I no longer have the courage to 
 speak of levity and superficiality." 
 
 "Oh, Professor! Levity! Superficiality!" 
 "I have said nothing. On the contrary, I 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 49 
 
 perceive that your demonstration is convinc- 
 ing. Yet, if you must pay for your social tri- 
 umphs with your health, nay, even with your 
 life " 
 
 "What of that? My maxim is: Brief but 
 merry." 
 
 " A wicked proverb, when you have duties, 
 when you have children, to whom you owe 
 your life." 
 
 " Herr Professor, I will receive a lesson in 
 maternal love from no one." She spoke 
 harshly, and her little pouting mouth assumed 
 a stern expression. Bruchstadt thought that 
 the scene on the steamer was to be repeated. 
 But the cloud passed away from her face, and 
 she repeated with her former gentleness : 
 
 " The rude selfishness of men always cloaks 
 itself with our little ones. That is why rebels 
 often compel children to go before them when 
 they march against the soldiery. We are not 
 mere brooding machines, but human beings. 
 We have our own rights and needs, which 
 children cannot satisfy. Whoever asserts that 
 a young woman can live exclusively in her 
 
50 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 children is either ignorant or cruel. I know 
 this one thing ; when I have provided for my 
 children, a void remains in my soul — a void 
 which I should vainly try to fill by darning 
 their stockings. I repeat: if I could be cre- 
 atively active, perhaps I should need nothing 
 else. But as I cannot, there is only one thing 
 which would completely satisfy me, and for 
 which I long from my inmost heart, and that 
 is a great love." 
 
 While speaking, she raised her sparkling 
 blue eyes to his with such an expression of the 
 surrender of her whole being to him, that he 
 fairly started and whispered hastily : 
 
 " We are watched." 
 
 "Are you afraid that I shall compromise 
 you?" she asked, smiling, while the spell van- 
 ished from her eyes. 
 
 " No, it is just the reverse." 
 
 "Oh, I don't fear evil tongues." 
 
 A crazy student idea flashed through his 
 brain. What if he should test her fearlessness 
 and kiss her, then and there, in the midst of 
 the hall, before the gazers who were looking 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 5 1 
 
 at the dancers? Of course he banished the 
 temptation, but he flushed crimson, and it 
 almost seemed as though she divined what was 
 passing in his mind, for she pressed his arm 
 closely, guided him slowly back into the great 
 hall, and spoke only when she reached the 
 centre to say : 
 
 " Let us go back to the Barwalds. I am a 
 little tired." 
 
 Tuesday, the most zealous members of the 
 convention worked in the divisions, but the 
 majority made an excursion to the Harz. 
 Bruchstadt would gladly have attended the ses- 
 sion of his section, but the evening before he 
 had been obliged to promise to join the pleas- 
 ure trip. They met at the station, and the 
 Barwalds, Frau Ehrwein, Bruchstadt, and two 
 acquaintances from Berlin took their seats in 
 the same compartment of the carriage. Frau 
 Barwald already regarded it as a matter of 
 course that Frau Ehrwein and Bruchstadt 
 should join each other, and no longer at- 
 tempted to interrupt their intercourse. They 
 reached the valley about noon, and without loss 
 
52 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 of time set off for the Rosstrappe, where din- 
 ner was to be served at noon. 
 
 The excursionists trudged sturdily along in 
 groups, the Barwalds among the foremost. 
 Bruchstadt gave Frau Ehrwein his arm, and 
 wanted to keep pace with the others, but his 
 companion gently detained him, saying: 
 "Not so fast, I cannot." Slowly, falling far- 
 ther and farther back among the stragglers, 
 they crossed the quiet little square of the 
 Blechhiitte to the Bode Bridge, where Frau 
 Ehrwein stopped to take breath. Below, the 
 wild stream dashed between the echoing cliffs, 
 and the round whirlpools circling here and 
 there, in which the sunlight kindled sparkling 
 fiery rings, looked like the rolling eyes of 
 monsters in the depths. Frau Ehrwein leaned 
 against the railing, and gazed down into the 
 ravine filled with rushing motion, the blended 
 colors of the green waves, the white foam, and 
 the golden reflections, and a confused, infinite 
 melody. She enjoyed with all her senses the 
 impressions of the place, and several minutes 
 elapsed ere, starting as if from a dream, she 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 53 
 
 said to Bruchstadt, who meanwhile had been 
 watching her alone : "Come." 
 
 The whole party was already far in advance, 
 and the two found themselves alone on the 
 highway, which began to rise steeply. Slowly 
 as Bruchstadt walked, it was still too fast for 
 her. Every five steps she paused, pressing 
 her hand upon her heart, her breath became 
 more gasping, and when, after about two hun- 
 dred paces, they reached a place where an old 
 wooden bench stood by the wayside, she sank 
 down upon it, murmuring : " I can go no far- 
 ther." Her lips were white, her eyes closed, 
 and her heaving bosom panted for air. Bruch- 
 stadt, terrified, sat down beside her ; she leaned 
 her head on his shoulder and almost uncon- 
 sciously he bent down and kissed her silken, 
 red-gold hair. She opened her eyes, looked 
 at him with a faint smile, and moved her beau- 
 tiful pale face nearer to his rather than with- 
 drew it. His lips sought her brow, her eyes, 
 and her closed mouth, which shrank for the 
 first time under the sudden glow of a fervent, 
 burning kiss. 
 
54 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "We cannot stay here," she said, rising. 
 
 " But you can walk no farther," he answered 
 positively. "There is a carriage road to the 
 Rosstrappe. We must try to get a vehicle." 
 
 They turned, walked slowly back down the 
 steep path, and reached the Blechhiitte hotel, 
 where they found the landlord bargaining 
 with a fat, asthmatic Hamburg physician, who 
 also wanted to hire a carriage to save himself . 
 the labor of climbing. He guessed what the 
 couple desired, and invited them to ride with 
 him. This would make the expense consider- 
 ably less. Frau Ehrwein looked somewhat dis- 
 satisfied, but while the fat Hamburg doctor was 
 making the final arrangements with the land- 
 lord, Bruchstadt hastily whispered to her : 
 
 " It will be better so. We shall attract less 
 attention, if we arrive in his company." 
 
 During the dinner, on the walk to the Ross- 
 trappe and on the return to the valley, both 
 were more absent-minded and silent than 
 usual. Several times they endeavored to sep- 
 arate that they might not be constantly seen 
 together, but in vain. Without seeking each 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 55 
 
 other, nay, without even looking for each 
 other, after a few minutes they again found 
 themselves side by side, and at last gave up 
 playing an unskilful farce of indifference which 
 could deceive no observant eye. 
 
 For a moment, while on the summit, they 
 had felt that they might relax the constraint 
 of self -repression. It was when, after dinner, 
 the whole party had reached the Rosstrappe 
 and scattered along the verge of the pictur- 
 esque cliff to enjoy the view of the sheer preci- 
 pice, the riven bluff opposite, and the lovely, 
 sunlit plain beyond. Every one was absorbed 
 by his own impressions, and Frau Ehrwein 
 availed herself of the opportunity to whisper 
 to Bruchstadt: 
 
 " Professor Gustav, it is time for us to talk 
 seriously with each other undisturbed. This 
 will never be possible while we are with the 
 others. Come to me, then, in the hotel to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "To your room?" he asked, his eyes em- 
 phasizing the question far more strongly than 
 even his words and tone. 
 
56 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Of course," she replied quietly ; "but not 
 in the reading-room. Otherwise we might 
 just as well talk here." 
 
 " But suppose the Barwalds should see 
 me '' 
 
 "You must come just after ten o'clock, 
 when the public session has begun. Then the 
 coast will be clear." 
 
 He, too, really ought to have gone to. this 
 session. But surely he ought not even to let 
 it be guessed that he could waver a moment 
 between that duty and the beautiful woman's 
 invitation. Yet he ventured one more objec- 
 tion: "Are you not somewhat imprudent?" 
 
 "What a Philistine you are!" she answered, 
 smiling. " I must break you of it." 
 
 "Then it is settled. A little after ten to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Why did she wish to talk seriously with 
 him? What had she to say? He thought 
 continually of the approaching meeting, spent 
 a restless night, rose unreasonably early, and 
 was much agitated when, punctually at five 
 minutes past ten, he entered the door of the 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 5/ 
 
 City of Prague. He swiftly passed the porter, 
 who knew and bowed to him, had the good 
 fortune to meet no one on the stairs or in the 
 corridor, and, relieved from anxiety, hastened 
 to the room which, for one day, had been his 
 own. 
 
 "Come in!" called a voice at his knock, in 
 the firm tone whose musical cadence was so 
 peculiarly attractive. 
 
 He hurriedly opened it and glided in, cast- 
 ing one more glance behind him. Neither 
 waiter nor chambermaid was in sight. 
 
 Frau Ehrwein sat in a low arm-chair at the 
 window. She wore a long, light-blue silk 
 dressing-gown, trimmed with white lace, and 
 her shining hair floated loosely over her shoul- 
 ders. She did not rise at his entrance, but 
 merely held out her hand to him, saying: 
 
 "How do you do, Professor Gustav? Don't 
 look around, and don't look at me. I am 
 neither combed nor dressed." 
 
 "You are bewitching," he answered, raising 
 her hand to his lips. 
 
 "Flatterer! I haven't even put on my cor- 
 
58 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 sets. See." She took his hand and drew his 
 finger-tips lightly along her side. Clasping 
 her in his arms, he fell on his knees beside her 
 chair, and drew her to his heart. She made a 
 slight semblance of resistance, but he did not 
 heed it, and his lips eagerly sought hers. She 
 at first answered " no" by a shake of the head, 
 but without shunning his embrace, and a mo- 
 ment later they met in a passionate kiss. She 
 escaped from his clasp and with head thrown 
 back and closed eyes, murmured, " No, no — oh 
 — please — some one may come in at any mo- 
 ment." 
 
 He reached the door at a bound and shot the 
 bolt with a jerk that made a loud rattling 
 sound, at which she opened her eyes in alarm. 
 
CHAPTER III. * 
 
 " Do you know, Gustav, I can confess to you 
 now that, when I first saw you, down below in 
 the street in front of the hotel, my poor sick 
 heart suddenly stood still. I was familiar with 
 your picture, but you are so much handsomer. 
 At the sight of you I instantly felt : I have 
 met my fate." 
 
 " It was the same with me, Paula. Only I 
 had not even seen your picture, and you were 
 entirely a sweet surprise." 
 
 She clasped both arms around his neck, 
 kissed him, and whispered with her lips close 
 to his ear : 
 
 "Oh, Gustav, you only say so to please 
 me." 
 
 " No, child, it is just as I tell you." 
 
 " Well then, you knew how to conceal your 
 
 impressions wonderfully well. Far, far better 
 
 than I." 
 
 59 
 
6o THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "I know I am awkward, I am so unaccus- 
 tomed to pay attention to ladies." 
 
 " It's not a question of paj'ing attention. 
 There are gradations. But you were a block 
 of ice. Not a word, not a look betrayed that 
 I interested you even in the least." 
 
 "I'll make up for the omission," said Gus- 
 tav, drawing her to his breast to kiss her lips 
 and eyes. 
 
 "I really ought not to remain so passive," 
 Paula went on, but she made no attempt to 
 resist his caresses. "You have not deserved 
 it. I was obliged to make advances the whole 
 way, you did not spare me a single step." 
 
 Gustav constantly stopped her with kisses, 
 and she could only falter interruptedly, in 
 broken words: 
 
 "You really must despise me very much, 
 don't you? Tell me!" 
 
 " Paula, you do not really believe that you 
 are worthy of contempt?" 
 
 "I don't know — if I were a man — as a wo- 
 man of course I regard it differently. I find a 
 sufficient apology in my love. And yet — per- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 6 1 
 
 haps I ought not to have thrown myself at 
 your head." 
 
 " You just said that you felt no repentance." 
 
 " No. I do feel none. That is: only in one 
 case. Gustav, do you love me?" 
 
 "I love you, Paula." 
 
 " How do you love me?" 
 
 " I can compare it with nothing. Or shall I 
 quote poetry?" 
 
 " No. Do you love me as I do you?" 
 
 "At least." 
 
 " At most would be enough for me." 
 
 More rapturous caresses followed in which 
 every thought was submerged, and which were 
 not interrupted by a single word. When, 
 after a time, Paula opened her eyes, closed 
 in delight, and her glance rested upon the 
 watch which lay on the night-table beside 
 her, she released herself from Gustav's em- 
 brace. He tried to clasp her again, but she 
 answered : 
 
 " No, Gustav. Let us be sensible now. It 
 is already half -past eleven. We must talk 
 quietly together." 
 
62 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Drawing a second chair forward, she sat 
 down opposite to him. 
 
 " Now, tell me, Gustav, what are we to do?" 
 
 "Why should we busy ourselves with the 
 future? Let us remain in the present. It is 
 too beautiful." 
 
 "Yes. But the future also has its claims. 
 And if — and if this hour — should not remain 
 without its consequences?" 
 
 He looked at her in alarm. After a pause 
 he murmured : 
 
 "We must wait till they appear. Why 
 should we trouble ourselves now?" 
 
 " I think we must consider the case. Now 
 we are together. In three days we shall part. 
 Then everything will be much more compli- 
 cated. So tell me, dearest, what shall I do?" 
 
 A heavy weight seemed to oppress him, and 
 it was with difficulty that he uttered the words : 
 
 "Then — you must take a journey — some 
 pretext can probably be found — such things 
 happen daily." 
 
 " Is it not much simpler for us to marry in 
 time?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 63 
 
 He lifted his head with a gesture of sur- 
 prise, but did not answer. 
 
 "Then you will marry me," she continued, 
 taking his hand in hers, "and we shall save 
 ourselves an unpleasant situation by making 
 all our preparations without loss of time." 
 
 Gustav had partially recovered from his 
 surprise, and answered, though still hesitat- 
 ingly, cautiously choosing his words : 
 
 " Paula, there is as yet no reason for pre- 
 cipitate action. For the sake of a remote con- 
 tingency, we ought not to do anything which 
 we might afterward regret." 
 
 "I never should," she said, smiling quietly. 
 
 "You don't know that, Paula. A moment's 
 transport ought not to be decisive for the 
 whole life. We are no children. I am thirty- 
 two years old " 
 
 He paused a short time. She felt that the 
 hesitation contained a question, and said : 
 
 " I am ashamed. I am really too old for 
 you. Twenty-nine. " 
 
 " You" are certainly not too old, but you 
 should no longer commit school-girl follies. 
 
64 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 You have no acquaintance with me. You 
 know nothing about me. It would be un- 
 warrantable to place your fate so unceremoni- 
 ously in my hands." 
 
 "That does not apply to me, for I know 
 you, and everything about you, as well as 
 though I had lived with you from your birth. 
 But you may be speaking for yourself." 
 
 "Child, in speaking for you, I speak for 
 myself also. I will make you a proposal. We 
 will give each other six months for considera- 
 tion. Our blood will cool. We will calmly 
 and soberly examine ourselves, and then say 
 honestly what conscience dictates. If, at the 
 end of six months, we feel as we do to-day, 
 we will be able to bind ourselves to each other 
 for life without scruple. But, if it has been 
 only a transient ardor with you or with me," 
 he uttered the last three words with special 
 emphasis — " we shall certainly know it at the 
 close of six months, and can honestly tell each 
 other so, and thus protect ourselves from a 
 great folly." 
 
 She smiled and answered carelessly, as 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 65 
 
 though she had paid little heed to Gustav's 
 last words : 
 
 " As you please, dearest ; then we will allow 
 ourselves six months' time for reflection. But 
 tell me, Gustav, must we live in Brussels, 
 when we are married ? I would so much rather 
 stay in German)'. Can't you do something to 
 get a German professorship." 
 
 " Paula," replied Gustav very gravely, "you 
 are already offending against the agreement. 
 The time for consideration must be given in . 
 good faith, not as a mere formality and self- 
 deception, not with the secret thought that, 
 in reality, the decision is already made. 
 From to-day I shall consider you for six 
 months absolutely free, and you must so re- 
 gard yourself — and me also. Neither of us 
 is bound. The word that shall bind or release 
 must first be uttered" — he went through a 
 mental calculation — "on the 24th of March, 
 1885." 
 
 "Very well, I have accepted the condition. 
 Don't you think that you are just a trifle pe- 
 dantic, Herr Professor?" 
 5 
 
66 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "You see that you are not at all aware what 
 bad qualities I have." 
 
 " Fortunately, there are good ones, too," she 
 answered, passing her fingers lightly through 
 his thick brown hair. " Besides — that doesn't 
 matter. I'll undertake your education." 
 
 A short pause ensued, then Paula said sud- 
 denly : 
 
 " Poor Gustav, I really could have wished 
 you a better fate." 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 " You have no idea what a poverty-stricken 
 little creature you will marry, if you take 
 me." 
 
 " Paula, who desires to talk about such 
 things?" he answered repellently. 
 
 " They must be discussed, you grown-up 
 child. Most people consider these things the 
 principal affair, and they are not wholly wrong. 
 You ought to know my situation. I believe I 
 am considered to be well-to-do, because I sup- 
 port my children respectably and can maintain 
 my social position." 
 
 "I have not given it a thought, but I con- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. ^"1 
 
 fess — when I look at your toilettes, your 
 jewels " 
 
 "Yes. That misleads other people too. 
 The cost is supposed to be fabulous, yet after 
 all, it isn't so immense. It only requires a 
 little management. My jewels, yes ; there are 
 some fine ornaments among them. Wedding 
 gifts, presents from my parents and uncles. 
 I've often been tempted to sell them, but I 
 bravely resisted. Jewelry is the armor with 
 which a woman defends her position in the 
 drawing-room." 
 
 "But the dresses?" 
 
 " I have some gowns purchased when I lived 
 in St. Petersburg, which, it is true, are hand- 
 some. I alter the trimming a little, add a 
 flower, take off a bit of lace, and always seem 
 to wear new dresses which attract attention. 
 It costs scarcely a few marks, and merely re- 
 quires a little taste and the gift of invention." 
 
 She laughed merrily at some amusing re- 
 collection, and continued: 
 
 " Nothing is more comical than to have gen- 
 tlemen who are in pursuit of a rich wife, pay 
 
68 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 me desperate attention. I often think, 'If I 
 should take you at your word, you would be 
 finely duped.' I should really like to try it 
 once, merely to experience the farce. 'Ma- 
 dam, if I could obtain your hand' — 'you shall 
 have it, my dear sir ; but you know that I am 
 as poor as a church-mouse, and before our be- 
 trothal takes place you must pay some debts 
 forme.' The suitor's face!" 
 
 " Have you really any debts?" 
 
 " None worth mentioning. That was merely 
 a joke. But the only reason I am not much in 
 debt is because I can work wonders of econ- 
 omy. I am obliged to manage on very small 
 means. I have nothing except what papa 
 gives me, and as our relations are strained, 
 you can understand that I don't like to 
 ask." 
 
 " But I thought that your former husband 
 was a wealthy man." 
 
 "He is. But the verdict was against me. 
 Russian justice is so strange." 
 
 "Yet you were permitted to keep the 
 children?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 69 
 
 " Merely because their father cares nothing 
 for them. He leaves them with me because I 
 want them." 
 
 " Does not he provide for them?" 
 
 " Very little. Almost nothing. He is ready 
 to take them, if I will give them up, but so 
 long as they remain with me, he will do 
 scarcely anything for them. But I am not 
 willing to part with the children, though 
 financially they might perhaps be better off 
 with their father. Hitherto they were my 
 only support in life. I might say they were 
 the life-belt, which kept me above the water. 
 But for them I should have sunk." 
 
 Her face had clouded and her blue eyes 
 gazed dreamily into vacancy. After a short 
 pause, she continued: 
 
 "You see the situation, Gustav. I have 
 told you the simple truth. I took up painting 
 because I must earn money. But until art 
 brings me some revenue — at present it is still 
 an outlay — I must do a little conjuring to make 
 both ends meet." 
 
 " The thought that you have pecuniary anx- 
 
70 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 ieties is very painful, Paula. I hope you will 
 allow me, in urgent cases — — " 
 
 "Very gladly, Gustav," she said quickly. 
 " I am usually extremely proud, but from you 
 I will accept everything. It will be a sweet 
 feeling to be under obligation to you. And I 
 will tell you one thing for your satisfaction, 
 my darling. You will marry a poor woman, 
 it is true, but an excellent housekeeper. That 
 is worth something. You'll see what I can 
 accomplish with small means." 
 
 " That is, if, on the 24th of March, we de- 
 cide to belong to each other. Never forget 
 our compact." 
 
 "You take care that I shall not," she an- 
 swered somewhat irritably, and turned away, 
 pouting. But a few kisses and caressing words 
 from him very speedily dispelled the shadow 
 from her brow. 
 
 "Go now, Gustav," she said, rising. "It is 
 almost noon. I must dress. The Barwalds 
 may come in at any moment and see me." 
 
 Throwing both arms around his neck she 
 clung to him a moment in silence. Then he 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 7 1 
 
 hastily seized his hat and pushed the bolt cau- 
 tiously back. Paula opened the door and 
 looked out into the corridor ; no spy was in 
 sight. Gustav hurried out and succeeded in 
 leaving the hotel without meeting any one on 
 the stairs or in the entry. 
 
 He took a long solitary walk to the bank of 
 the Elbe and along the river, that he might 
 give himself up to his thoughts. He was 
 greatly dissatisfied with himself. He stood on 
 the brink of an adventure, whose possible de- 
 velopments might cause him great discomfort. 
 Two hours before he had hastened to the 
 meeting, longing for the woman, subject to 
 her sign, a slave of his excited senses, and yet 
 mentally free. Now he was cool and without 
 desire, his own will had resumed control of his 
 thoughts and deeds, the woman no longer pos- 
 sessed the slightest power over him, yet he was 
 inwardly in bondage. Bound by a serious 
 error which he had committed. He had not 
 been sincere. He had tried subtly to prove to 
 himself that he was not committed at all, that 
 he had avoided any promises, explicitly with- 
 
72 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 held liis decision, but he could not impose 
 upon himself. He had maintained the form 
 of his freedom in -words, but completely for- 
 feited it by his deeds. 
 
 Paula was certainly a beautiful, clever wo- 
 man, who appealed strongly to the senses. 
 He would have pitied the man who could cross 
 her path, without turning his head to look at 
 her. But marry her? That would not have 
 occurred to him even in a dream. It seemed 
 so foolish, so impossible, that he did not at 
 first even enumerate the reasons against it. 
 She was the very embodiment of egotism, and 
 as much in love with herself as a female Nar- 
 cissus. Though she had moments of devotion 
 to the man whom she loved, it was merely a 
 confirmation of the clever saying that love is 
 dual selfishness, and this kind of brief self- 
 forgetfulness was valueless for permanent 
 companionship. She was capricious, pleasure- 
 loving, inconstant as a will-o'-the-wisp ; he was 
 accustomed to a quiet, regular life of labor, and 
 nothing would have tempted him to become 
 the jealous guardian of a whimsical flirt. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 73 
 
 Then, apart from her traits of character, she 
 had a past, a history, she had been a wife for 
 years, she was the mother of two children. 
 The idea made him feel a repugnance, almost 
 a loathing, which for an instant involuntarily 
 closed his eyes and shook him from head to 
 foot. As a zoologist, he believed with the best 
 investigators, in spite of Settegast's opposition, 
 that a woman always retains the impression 
 made by the father of her first child, and his 
 indignation was almost awakened by the 
 thought that he, a young, vigorous man, 
 should marry to have children who would not 
 be wholly his own. 
 
 But, since he knew all this, why did he not 
 instantly tell her what he thought when she 
 made him that amazing proposal of marriage ? 
 Why did he not answer at once: "Marry 
 you ? Never. All my instincts rebel against 
 making the mother of another man's two chil- 
 dren my wife." Why had he used evasions, 
 spoken of a period of consideration, permitted 
 her to dream of a future which he knew that 
 she would never realize? Why had he told 
 
74 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 her that he loved her when, at the utmost, she 
 had merely attracted him sensually, and no 
 longer did even that? 
 
 Yes, why? Was it weakness? Was it cow- 
 ardice? He would not acknowledge to him- 
 self that it was this alone, but eagerly endeav- 
 ored to find explanations and excuses for his 
 conduct. No; he had no right to treat this 
 woman with the brutality of a pillaging soldier, 
 and say: "I wanted you, now I have pos- 
 sessed you, and that is all." Paula was no 
 wanton. If she had yielded to him without a 
 struggle, it was evidently because she loved 
 him. Others might condemn her. He alone 
 ought not. He might have refused her sacri- 
 fice. But he would practise no such rigid 
 morality, worthy of a Stylite, toward a charm- 
 ing woman. As he had accepted her love, he 
 at least owed her courtesy. It could not fail 
 to humiliate her deeply in her own eyes, if he 
 told her plainly that he did not love her and 
 that, from this time, she would be indifferent 
 to him. It must make her, in her own con- 
 sciousness, the lowest of the low. It was a 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 75 
 
 moral murder which he dared not commit. 
 Veracity certainly has its rights, but so has a 
 living human being. What harm would it do 
 if he did not turn his back abruptly, but grad- 
 ually, considerately, with chivalric courtesy, 
 which would preserve her self-respect? He 
 had required six months' time for considera- 
 tion. What might not happen in half a year! 
 He thought of the tale of the Persian Minis- 
 ter, who had promised his Shah to teach his 
 favorite ass to speak within ten years ! " In 
 ten years the Shah, or the ass, or I myself may 
 be dead." 
 
 Paula was fickle and capricious. In six 
 months she would probably forget him, espe- 
 cially if he carefully avoided feeding her flame. 
 And, fortunately, he could so easily do that. 
 He lived in Brussels, she in Berlin. She was 
 surrounded by admirers, she went to parties, 
 balls, the theatre. His image would doubtless 
 fade quickly from her mind, and she would 
 probably drop him long before March 24th, 
 the day appointed for the decision, had ar- 
 rived. Thus this adventure would end in the 
 
76 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 pleasantest manner for all concerned, and he 
 ■would be spared plain statements which were 
 so painful to him that, at present, he was 
 simply incapable of making them. 
 
 So he tried to soothe his conscience which 
 upbraided him with bad faith, but he did not 
 long succeed. As a consumptive person dares 
 not inhale a breath which will reach to the 
 bottom of the lungs, because he feels that be- 
 yond a certain spot the entering air would 
 cause coughing, stinging, and pain, he did not 
 extend his self-examination beyond a certain 
 very superficial point, because he feared a 
 ■mortifying perception if he penetrated farther 
 into the depths. 
 
 A note from Paula, which he found when he 
 returned to his hotel about two o'clock to dine, 
 informed him that the Barwalds intended to 
 go to the theatre that evening, that they had a 
 box and a seat for him, but he must decline 
 the invitation and come to her again after 
 seven o'clock. These were the first lines of 
 her writing which he had seen. Her paper 
 bore in one corner in relief a violet in the 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. ^^ 
 
 natural color aiid, like herself, diffused the 
 fragrance of this flower. She had a bold, dash- 
 ing chirography, and her letters were large and 
 heavy, like those of a man in a position of 
 authority. There was almost a contradiction 
 between the characters and the words, when 
 she addressed him as "my master, "and signed 
 herself, " your happy victim, Paula." 
 
 When he entered her room that evening he 
 found her dressed for the street, and after a 
 tender kiss, she said to him : " We will go out, 
 Gustav, I fear it will be noticed if we remain 
 here." Instead of replying, he continued to 
 kiss her. She slipped from his embrace, ex- 
 claiming, "You will rumple everything," and 
 the next moment had removed her hat, jacket, 
 and gloves, and was seated on his knee with 
 her head on his shoulder and no trouble- 
 some defense of outer garments against his 
 caresses. 
 
 Fully an hour and a half had passed when 
 he whispered in her ear : 
 
 "Well, Paula, were not we going out?" 
 
 "You are right," she answered, "although 
 
78 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 I think it is far pleasanter here." She rose, 
 groped her way to the table, and lighted the 
 candles. " Then," she added, while arranging 
 her hair before the glass and passing a damp 
 towel over her burning face and eyes, "we 
 must economize our time. Have you thought 
 how soon we shall part?" 
 
 "Yes, day after to-morrow." 
 
 " Doesn't it trouble you?" 
 
 "What is the use of disturbing ourselves 
 about it? We knew how brief this happiness 
 would be." 
 
 "Can't you come to Berlin with us for a 
 little while?" 
 
 " No, Paula; I must go home." 
 
 " Home ! The only home of lovers is with 
 the object of their love. When I return to my 
 apartments, I shall feel that I am going to a 
 foreign land, because you will not be there. 
 I am at home only when with you, and you 
 ought to feel so too." 
 
 "When I said, 'home,' I meant duty, and 
 the usual routine of life." 
 
 " Duty ! I hate duty. It would be so noble 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 79 
 
 if, for once, you would rebel against duty, like 
 a man, to live solely for your inclination." 
 
 " I do not know whether that would be so 
 very manly." 
 
 " Far more manly than weak subjection to 
 the constraint of official regulations." 
 
 " Child, you have the idea of a lover which 
 is derived from gilt-edged poetry. He is a 
 young prince and knight errant. He is alone 
 in the world with the object of his love. He 
 lifts her upon his proud steed and rides off with 
 her to Spain, when she wants sunshine and 
 oranges, and to the castle on northern seas 
 when she desires cool breezes. Unfortunately 
 real life is not so beautiful, and even a man in 
 love must consider all sorts of minor prosaic 
 details." 
 
 "You naturalists are insufferable Philis- 
 tines," she pouted. "There isn't a trace of 
 idealism in you. And that I should fall in love 
 with such a prosaic fellow!" 
 
 " Well, Paula, if you " 
 
 She suspected what he was going to say, 
 and interrupted him. "You need not an- 
 
80 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 swer everything I say. Let me chatter hap- 
 hazard." 
 
 She blew out the candles ; at the door they 
 embraced each other once more in the dark; 
 then she let him precede her and followed a 
 few minutes later. They walked through the 
 quiet streets arm in arm, in blissful silence, to 
 the restaurant at the railway station, where 
 they intended to take their supper. 
 
 After some conversation, which consisted 
 principally of low monosyllabic exclamations 
 and pet names, Paula said suddenly : 
 
 "My trip to Magdeburg will not have re- 
 sulted exclusively in happiness." 
 
 Gustav looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 " My first act on returning to Berlin will be 
 to dismiss an admirer." 
 
 "Only one?" 
 
 " Only one, you naughty man. The rest can 
 continue their service. They are merely orna- 
 mental." 
 
 "But this one?" 
 
 " Is serious, and therefore " 
 
 "Who is the unfortunate man?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 8 1 
 
 She hesitated slightly; then, watching the 
 effect of the name upon his face, said : " Herr 
 Kornemann." 
 
 Gustav did not move a muscle. 
 
 " Has nothing been told you about him in 
 connection with me?" 
 
 " I have probably heard his name, but I know 
 nothing in detail." 
 
 " There are no details to know, my Gustav. 
 But there is plenty of gossip. It will be better 
 for me to tell you things as they are, then you 
 will be armed against the serpent stings. 
 Kornemann is an artist and my teacher. Dur- 
 ing the lessons he fell in love with me. This 
 did not disturb me much — I am so accustomed 
 to it, and it did not injure his zeal as an in- 
 structor, on the contrary. He followed me to 
 the seashore in summer, and cannot let a day 
 pass without seeing me. He wants to marry 
 me, but hitherto I have been unable to make 
 up my mind to it. He earns a great deal of 
 money, it is true, and can help me on in my 
 career as an artist ; it has touched me, too, to see 
 
 that he loves my children, not like a father, 
 6 
 
82 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 but like a grandfather. But whenever I began 
 to soften, he repelled me by his savage jeal- 
 ousy and nervous restlessness. I cannot en- 
 dure it. Now all is over, and he will receive 
 his dismissal. Does what I say grieve you, 
 my dearest?" 
 
 His face certainly expressed deep discomfort. 
 
 " Well, it is not pleasant for me. I am sorry 
 that, through my fault, a man who loves you, 
 and seeks to marry you, must suffer." 
 
 " Think of yourself, Gustav, not of him." 
 
 " I am not thinking solely of him, but of 
 you also, child. It is a painful thought that 
 you are destroying the bridges behind you, 
 although you do not yet know whether you will 
 find compensation." 
 
 " Your solicitude is touching, Gustav. Am 
 I prudently to allow Kornemann to pay me 
 attention, while I belong to you?" 
 
 " I don't say that. It is just a fatality — • — " 
 
 " I understand that you do not wish me to 
 make a sacrifice for you. It is none. I do not 
 love Kornemann. If I did, I should not have 
 given myself to you. Or are you afraid 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 83 
 
 that between two chairs I might fall to the 
 ground?" 
 
 " Yes, if at the end of six months you do not 
 care for me." 
 
 " Have no anxiety on that score. My suitors 
 are as numerous as Penelope's. I have to re- 
 fuse one every week. If any day I should 
 merely desire to establish myself, if I want to 
 complete the furniture of my drawing-room 
 with a husband, the only difficulty will be to 
 choose. A few days ago the deputy Buckow, 
 you probably know him, the millionaire ship- 
 owner, closed a month's silent adoration by 
 laying his hand and heart at my feet. I told 
 the poor man, whom I highly esteem, how 
 sincerely I regretted that I could not recipro- 
 cate his feelings. But this did not deter him. 
 He declared that he should renew his ofifer 
 every few months, until I either thought better 
 of it or married some one else. You see, I still 
 have a sheet-anchor." 
 
 On the way home she walked very slowly, 
 complained of palpitation of the heart and op- 
 pression, and lapsed into a very gentle mood. 
 
84 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "I cannot believe," she sighed, "that I have 
 known you only four days, far less that I shall 
 be a hundred miles away from you day after 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Life is cruel," he murmured, but without 
 earnestness. 
 
 " And I fear, my Gustav, that we shall not 
 be able to remain here longer undisturbed. 
 We really must bid each other farewell now. 
 It is very sad." 
 
 He glanced hastily around him and, in the 
 empty street, pressed a long kiss upon her lips. 
 
 "Gustav," she said, drawing her veil down 
 over her face again, " I will not say to you, 
 ' Do not forget me, when I am far away. ' You 
 will never forget your Paula while life re- 
 mains. I know that." 
 
 He nodded assent. 
 
 " But this is not enough. Promise that you 
 will write to me every day." 
 
 "Every day?" he asked, startled. 
 
 " Every day. I exact that. I am not will- 
 ing to live a single day without a word from 
 you." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 8$ 
 
 He took the request figuratively. "Every 
 day," in her exaggerated language, probably 
 meant "often." He could promise that. 
 
 Thursday was very crowded. Public closing 
 session, banquet, and evening entertainment 
 occupied the members of the convention from 
 morning until midnight, with only a brief in- 
 terval of rest at a late hour in the afternoon. 
 They were constantly together, scarcely lost 
 sight of each other, but could have no private 
 conversation. Not until on the way home from 
 the farewell entertainment did Frau Barwald 
 find it possible to get possession of Bruchstadt 
 a moment. She had not been able since Mon- 
 day to speak to him, even once, without wit- 
 nesses. 
 
 "Well, my poor Bruchstadt, she said, "I 
 warned you and, so far, did my duty. I wash 
 my hands in innocence. " 
 
 "I don't understand you," he answered with 
 an air of innocence, which at the utmost was 
 sufficiently well feigned for the dark street. It 
 would not have borne broad daylight. 
 
 " Don't dissemble so. Of course you under- 
 
86 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Stand me. Frau Ehrwein wants to capture 
 you. She means to marry you." 
 
 " Why do you think so?" 
 
 " Because I see it. Other people see it too." 
 
 " If you suspect Frau Ehrwein of matrimo- 
 nial speculations, you ought to say to yourself 
 that I am the very last person she would be 
 likely to choose. I am no good match. I am 
 not rich. I am no society man. I live with 
 my mother, from whom I shall never part." 
 
 " The lady either does not know all this, or 
 hopes to manage matters in some way." 
 
 " But why should she, when she can carry 
 her point so much more easily ? She need only 
 stretch out her hand to find better matches. 
 Herr Buckow wants to marry her, so does the 
 artist Kornemann, and I don't know how many 
 others." 
 
 Frau Barwald stood still a moment in aston- 
 ishment. " Did she tell you that humbug?" 
 
 "I have heard it," he answered evasively. 
 
 " Don 't believe anything of the sort. Buckow 
 is an old man and perhaps capable of commit- 
 ting a folly. But Kornemann — no. He cer- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 8/ 
 
 tainly never wanted to marry her. She will 
 find no one at all in Berlin. Admirers, cer- 
 tainly. But a husband — no. He can at the 
 utmost be caught at a convention of naturalists. 
 Once more, Bruchstadt, keep your eyes open." 
 
 " Don't be troubled. It requires two to 
 marry." 
 
 " I shan't be at ease until I see you once 
 more in Brussels and the lady in Berlin." 
 
 She could say no more, for Frau Ehrwein, 
 who was walking in front with Professor Bar- 
 wald, stopped to let the other couple come up 
 and to question Frau Barwald about the de- 
 parture. She would willingly have spent all 
 the next day in Magdeburg and not set out for 
 Berlin until the evening train. But Frau Bar- 
 wald insisted upon leaving at ten minutes past 
 eight in the morning, and Paula was obliged 
 to yield, as she was still ostensibly under the 
 protection of the Barwalds. 
 
 It was again gray autumnal weather when 
 they took leave of each other the next morn- 
 ing at the train. Paula looked pale, perhaps 
 because she had been obliged to rise earlier 
 
88 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 than usual, perhaps merely on account of the 
 contrast between her delicate complexion and 
 the black lace scarf which she had again thrown 
 over her golden hair, but her face was calm 
 and her eyes were tearless. Bruchstadt had 
 been taken possession of by Barwald. 
 
 "We have really seen very little of each 
 other, old fellow," he said, slapping him affec- 
 tionately on the shoulder. 
 
 "It is always so among crowds of people," 
 Gustav answered apologetically. 
 
 "At least you have cultivated the Privy 
 Councillors? Have you done anything to 
 secure a call?" 
 
 "The competition was too strong," he re- 
 plied with a forced smile. The truth was that, 
 after the first day, he had seen no one, spoken 
 to no one, attended no session, simply vanished 
 from the convention. 
 
 The guard gave the summons to enter the 
 railway carriages. Gustav embraced Barwald 
 and warmly pressed the hand of his friend's 
 wife. Paula, self-willed as usual, entered last, 
 leaning lightly on Gustav's hand and shoulder. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 89 
 
 In that moment she whispered hurriedly: 
 "You'll write every day, won't you?" She 
 could say no more — Frau Barwald's bright 
 keen eyes were resting on them both. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GusTAV, -who had left Magdeburg two hours 
 after his friends, reached Brussels about half- 
 past four in the morning. He had charged 
 his mother not to meet him at the station, but 
 could not prevent her from receiving him at 
 home, affectionately bustling about to take his 
 travelling wraps and set before him the coffee 
 she had ready. While he was drinking it, she 
 sat opposite to him, asking a few questions 
 about the success of his journey and the friends 
 whom he had met. He answered in monosylla- 
 bles, and his mother did not urge her inqui- 
 ries, attributing his disinclination to talk to 
 the fatigue of travelling. 
 
 He allowed himself only a few hours' rest, 
 
 and early in the morning, sat down at his desk 
 
 with a somewhat bewildered brain. He felt 
 
 obliged to write to Paula at once, that she 
 
 might not be humiliated by the thought that 
 
 90 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 9I 
 
 she had so quickly ceased to interest him. 
 On the other hand, he did not wish to adopt 
 too warm a tone, that he might not increase 
 the sin of untruthfulness beyond the point 
 that seemed to him necessary. He therefore 
 believed that he had united chivalry and pru- 
 dence by writing, somewhat briefly, that he 
 had arrived safely, hoped that she had done 
 the same, would always remember the days in 
 Magdeburg with longing, and only regretted 
 that their young happiness should be so cruelly 
 interrupted by the speedy separation. 
 
 He was pleasantly surprised when, that very 
 afternoon, he received a letter from Frau Ehr- 
 wein. So she, too, had written directly after 
 her arrival. It ran as follows : 
 
 " My Gustav : Just returned home from the 
 journey. The excitement of the last few days 
 has made me ill. I am completely used up. 
 I think and feel only the one thing : that I no 
 longer belong to myself. My children are 
 well, and happy to have me with them again. 
 I am writing very disconnectedly, my blond 
 darling, but you will know how to read it, 
 
92 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 won't you ? I am expecting your letter to-day. 
 You had two hours in Magdeburg, and certainly 
 could not spend them better than in writing to 
 me. May it bring me news of your well-being 
 — so far as you can ever be happy again with- 
 out your Paula. I kiss your dear eyes, and 
 place myself in your hands, my Gustav. 
 
 "Paula." 
 
 He now felt sincere contrition for the neglect 
 of which he had been guilty. He really ought 
 to have written to her from Magdeburg. It 
 would have been so tender, so loving, to have 
 visited her by letter on the day of separation ! 
 To partially atone for the omission, he instant- 
 ly sent after the first letter, which had already 
 gone, a second, in which, far more tenderly 
 than in the first, he apologized for the Magde- 
 burg sin of omission on the ground that he had 
 been surrounded by colleagues who claimed 
 his attention, and referred to the letter sent 
 that morning which would show that he had 
 not lost a moment in communicating with her. 
 Sunday afternoon the mail brought another 
 missive from Paula. She wrote: 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 93 
 
 "GusTAV, MY GusTAV: — What does this 
 mean? What has happened? Nothing yes- 
 terday, nothing to-day — has anything befallen 
 you? Are you ill? Has a letter been lost? 
 Do you wish to torture me? I cannot rest 
 until I have heard from you. Telegraph me 
 at once that all is well with you. I will hope 
 that you have only been negligent. If it is so, 
 do not rely upon indulgence and forgiveness, 
 you naughty, dear, handsome man. 
 
 "Paula." 
 
 Telegraph to her ? No. That was no longer 
 necessary, for in a few hours she would cer- 
 tainly receive both the letters sent the day 
 before. But he must write to her again at once, 
 to soothe and conciliate her. He now awaited 
 with some anxiety her reply to his first two 
 letters. What impression had they probably 
 made upon Paula? He learned the next day. 
 Paula wrote : 
 
 "Dearest Gustav: — I have just received 
 your two letters at the same time. I ought 
 not to say so, you naughty, negligent man, but 
 they make me happy, and I thank you a thou- 
 sand times. Gustav, my dear dear husband, 
 
94 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 you will not forget me. I know it now, and 
 it gives me bliss. I wake in the morning and 
 see you before me, I fall asleep at night under 
 your eyes. Am I well? Fairly well. I am 
 very quiet and little inclined to be gay. I clasp 
 your dear face between my hands, and you — 
 you look so earnestly at me, and kiss me ten- 
 derly on the eyes and call me your Paula. I 
 am, I will be. Be happy, dearest, and con- 
 tinue to love me. Paula." 
 
 Now the letters followed one another daily ; 
 he answered punctually — courtesy surely re- 
 quired that. His mother was in the habit of 
 receiving every one who called upon him, even 
 the postman, if he had anything to say or to 
 ask. For a whole week he daily brought a 
 letter with insufficient postage, upon which the 
 postal fine must be paid. The first time Frau 
 Bruchstadt said nothing, the second time she 
 was perplexed, the third she grew angry. It 
 always came from Berlin, had the same hand- 
 writing, the same odor of violets. When the 
 impropriety was repeated a fourth and a fifth 
 time, she at last gave vent to her indignation. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 95 
 
 " What queer correspondent have you in 
 Berlin, Gustav? The fellow will ruin us. If 
 I were you, I'd send these letters back." 
 
 Gustav hastily seized the letter and said, not 
 without blushing: 
 
 "Who can be so mean, dear mother? It's 
 only twenty-five centimes." 
 
 " It isn't so much the money, but who is the 
 person that doesn't know that a foreign letter 
 costs double postage, and moreover has such a 
 mania for writing?" 
 
 "An acquaintance I made in Magdeburg. 
 The matter is of no consequence." 
 
 He held the letter in his hand, but did not 
 open it, as his mother was looking at him in- 
 quiringly. She noticed that he did not wish 
 to read it in her presence, and went out slowly 
 in silence. The little scene left Gustav in a 
 very uncomfortable mood, for his relations 
 with his mother were the most affectionate 
 imaginable, and had never been disturbed by 
 any discord. Frau Bruchstadt was a plain, 
 uneducated woman, but practical and endowed 
 with natural sagacity, and she idolized her 
 
g6 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 son, the only one of her three children left. 
 He was her whole life, her entire world. 
 The daughter of poor vine-dressers in Konigs- 
 winter, she had married a cabinet-maker who, 
 after scarcely ten years of married life, left 
 her a widow with two children. She could not 
 be a burden on her parents, so she opened a 
 little shop and bravely undertook the struggle 
 for existence for herself and her Gustav, whose 
 older brother had died of some childish disease, 
 as the first-born child, a girl, had done a few 
 years before. She supported herself honestly, 
 at first laboriously enough, afterward somewhat 
 more easily. Gustav's talents were early rec- 
 ognized; he attended, still supported by his 
 mother, first the grammar school and later the 
 university in his native city. He gained prizes 
 and scholarships, became successively assistant 
 and private tutor; and, when he grew up, a 
 handsome, proud young man, and began to be 
 ashamed of earning nothing, or so little that 
 he must still be supported by his mother, who 
 worked from morning till night in her shop 
 waiting upon the servants and seamstresses in 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 97 
 
 the neighborhood, it was Fran Bruchstadt who 
 exhorted him to have patience, entreated him 
 to wait until he obtained a professorship, in- 
 duced him by her persuasions to give up the 
 idea of adopting a more practical career, and 
 repeatedly showed him that the business would 
 yield them a few years longer the modest sum 
 with which they were content. She had un- 
 wavering confidence in his future, and she also 
 inspired him with it when he began to despair. 
 He would soon have a professor's chair, marry 
 a rich girl, and repay her in her old age for 
 what she had been to him in childhood and 
 youth. So he persisted : wrote popular articles 
 on the natural sciences for the newspapers, 
 which were well-paid ; delivered public lectures 
 which were very successful ; wrote a manual 
 of comparative anatomy, which was translated 
 into foreign languages; became, while still 
 young, distinguished among his professional 
 companions, and well known, almost famous 
 among the lay public, and finally received the 
 call to Brussels. At first he hesitated to accept 
 
 it, for he did not think for an instant of part- 
 7 
 
98 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 ing from his mother, and to transplant her, at 
 her advanced age, to a foreign country seemed 
 cruel. It was again Frau Bruchstadt who dis- 
 pelled his doubts. " You are going to Brussels, " 
 she said curtly and firmly, " and I am going 
 with you." She did not consider herself too 
 old to learn a little French yet, and she would 
 accommodate herself to foreign customs as far 
 as was necessary. So the old shop in Bonn 
 was closed, and Frau Bruchstadt moved with 
 her son into the pretty little house in the Rue 
 de Toulouse, in Brussels. 
 
 Gustav, who at last was independent, still re- 
 mained toward his mother the child he had 
 always been, even in the smallest trifles. He 
 faithfully brought her his salary, his lecture- 
 receipts, his examination fees, and the royal- 
 ties on his books, and was happy in the delight 
 which the large sums afforded her. He wanted 
 nothing for himself except a little pocket- 
 money, for which he always asked his mother, 
 as in the old student days. There was not 
 even the shadow of a secret between the two. 
 If he made a lecture tour, she had the right to.. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 99 
 
 Open his letters in order to forward urgent ones 
 and let unimportant ones lie. Everybody who 
 knew Gustav knew his mother, too, at least by 
 name and his description ; she even endeavored 
 to have an interest in his professional work, 
 though she could not understand it, and, if she 
 did not read his communications to the acade- 
 mies, he was always urged to tell her what the 
 other anatomists and physiologists said to them. 
 So maternal love still surrounded the man 
 of two-and-thirty with the warmth of the sit- 
 ting-hen, and there was not a line in his nature 
 and existence which was not open to the 
 mother's eye at every moment. And now, 
 for the first time, it happened that he had some- 
 thing to conceal from her, and what was the 
 most unpleasant part of it, the blunder of the 
 insufiBcient postage could not have failed to 
 bring to her notice, during the first few days, 
 that he was keeping secrets from her. It was 
 no longer possible to atone for this entirely, 
 but at least his mother's attention must not be 
 kept on the alert by a daily payment of the 
 postal fine. It was necessary to point out 
 
lOO THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Paula's thoughtlessness to her, but this neces- 
 sity was painful to him. Instead of resenting 
 this on Paula, as would have been just, he felt, 
 for the first time in his life, a vague sense of 
 shame for being such a "mother's boy;" the 
 maternal guardianship which, hitherto, had 
 been his happiness, and even his secret pride, 
 suddenly became oppressive, and he caught 
 himself wishing that he was less closely 
 watched, possessed more independence. The 
 liberty which hitherto, in his pure, trans- 
 parent life, he had not needed, he now missed 
 when he began to do things which he could 
 not confess. 
 
 He was unwilling to inform Paula of his 
 domestic relations; nay, he was reluctant to 
 mention his mother's name to her. He dreaded 
 her derision if he should tell her how com- 
 pletely he was still in leading-strings. Yet. 
 on the other hand, he shrank from appearing 
 in her eyes a niggard, who was annoyed by the 
 daily outlays of a few pennies, if, without giv- 
 ing the true reason for his request, he asked 
 her to put the correct postage on her letters in 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. Id 
 
 future. At last, he slipped out of the embar- 
 rassing position by giving the matter a jesting 
 turn which, however, of course did not prevent 
 his mother from being compelled to pay the 
 usual extra postage on the violet-scented letters 
 arriving with the customary punctuality on the 
 two following days. Both times she laid them 
 silently upon her son's writing-desk, without 
 asking for an explanation which was not volun- 
 tarily given. 
 
 On the third day the reply to his correction 
 came, at last with the proper amount of post- 
 age. As he read it, he thought he saw and 
 heard the Paula of the Elbe steamer. She 
 curtly requested him to inform her how much 
 he had expended; she would forward the 
 amount by return mail. She had supposed 
 that her letters possessed a certain value for 
 him ; from what he had written she must be- 
 lieve that, in his eyes, their worth did not 
 equal a few pennies. 
 
 This injustice exasperated him. He left 
 the letter unanswered, and did not write on the 
 following day, which was rendered easier by 
 
I02 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 the fact that Paula also remained silent two 
 days. The pause was welcome to him. 
 Hitherto, against his original intention, he 
 had obeyed Paula's caprice of hearing from 
 him daily, and he intended to profit by the op- 
 portunity of breaking the constraint of the 
 established custom. 
 
 On the morning of the third day, after his 
 lecture, one of the first of the winter term, he 
 was busy in the laboratory of the university, 
 when his mother suddenly entered and gave 
 him a telegram which had just arrived. Usu- 
 ally she would have opened it without hesita- 
 tion ; now her delicacy deterred her, as her son 
 evidently had secrets. But, as he rarely re- 
 ceived telegrams, she was anxious and brought 
 it herself in order to learn at once whether it 
 contained bad news. 
 
 Gustav flushed deeply, took the dispatch, 
 hastily opened it, and read: "Dearest, what 
 has happened ? Why do you torture me? Am 
 wretched without your letters." During this 
 time Frau Bruchstadt watched him anxiously. 
 "Nothing serious," he said, forcing a smile, 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. IO3 
 
 and thrust the paper quickly into his pocket. 
 His mother still stood before him, hesitating, 
 evidently with a question upon her lips. But 
 she repressed it when Gustav began to speak 
 of other things, and, in a few moments, went 
 away. He thought he saw while he accom- 
 panied her out that her eyes were filled with 
 tears. 
 
 His first emotion, when he was again alone 
 and had re-read the message several times, 
 was indignation. Always these sudden ca- 
 prices! Always this selfish lack of consider- 
 ation ! Could not Paula tell herself that he did 
 not live alone, that telegrams must startle the 
 members of his household, occasion questions 
 and answers ? Only the longer he examined 
 the page before him, the gentler became his 
 judgment, the more tender his mood. This 
 poor Paula was certainly touching, with her 
 original, vehement feelings, and her noble 
 disregard of all minor matters where love was 
 concerned. She loved him, and was suffering. 
 His mother's tearful eyes had completely van- 
 ished from his mental field of vision. He saw 
 
I04 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 only Paula's beautiful, pale face, whose large 
 blue eyes gazed at him with sorrowful entreaty. 
 Hastening without delay to the nearest tele- 
 graph ofEce, he wired to Berlin: "Silent be- 
 cause you were sulky. Will write to-day. 
 Believe in my love." 
 
 From this time letters were daily exchanged. 
 If Gustav, overburdened with professional 
 work, wrote briefly or not at all, complaints, 
 entreaties, reproaches instantly came. " Write 
 to me daily, and at length, at length," she said 
 once ; " you don't know what a letter from you 
 is to me." " I don't understand," Paula wrote 
 another time, "how you can sleep at night 
 without having written to me. Is it not a 
 proud feeling that you have the power to make 
 a poor fellow-mortal happy by a few lines from 
 your hand ? Do you not consider that it im- 
 poses a duty upon you?" Paula's letters grew 
 longer and longer; eight pages soon became 
 the rule. She apparently related the most 
 minute details of her daily life, a quarrel with 
 her landlord, an amusing speech of her oldest 
 boy, a disagreeable letter from Riga. She 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I05 
 
 mentioned visits which she paid and received, 
 every book, every newspaper which she read. 
 She often went to evening entertainments, and 
 then described how charming she looked in her 
 costumes, how one and another showed her at- 
 tention, how foolishly infatuated some one else 
 was with her. And if this childish vanity 
 made him impatient, he was immediately con- 
 ciliated by the following lines, in which Paula 
 told him how deeply she loved him, and how, in 
 the midst of all the people thronging around 
 her, she saw only his dear face, heard his musi- 
 cal voice. She possessed a matchless gift of 
 expressing her love in ever new and varied 
 forms, sportive and earnest, droll and touching, 
 with original exaggerations, unexpected turns, 
 at times as simple and delightfully awkward as 
 a schoolgirl in love for the first time. In not 
 a single letter did she omit to allude to his per- 
 sonality, his looks, to tell him how handsome, 
 how elegant, how interesting he was, what 
 wonderful eyes, what bewitching lips he had, 
 how rapturous it was to play with his thick 
 fragrant hair and silken-soft beard. These 
 
I06 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 flattering letters did not fail to produce their 
 effect on Gustav. He was not vainer than 
 other men, and though he knew that he was 
 attractive in his personal appearance — ^his 
 mother, in the absence of others, had told him 
 so often enough — hitherto he had set little 
 value on it. Now he began to be satisfied with 
 himself. Paula's caressing words awakened 
 the pride of the flesh. He rejoiced that he was 
 a handsome man, worthy of a woman as beauti- 
 ful as Paula. Her letters were beginning to 
 become a necessity to him. He waited with 
 increasing impatience for the hour in the after- 
 noon which brought the Berlin mail, and swal- 
 lowed with deep gratification the honey which 
 Paula daily presented for him. He always 
 read her letters twice and three times — often 
 still more frequently — to be sure that he omitted 
 nothing, to enjoy every word of love and ador- 
 ation as thoroughly as a child who is fond of 
 dainties devours a dish of sweet cream. He 
 always answered under the impression of her 
 letter. His tone increased in warmth with 
 hers. Unconsciously to himself, he strove to 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 10/ 
 
 emulate, if possible, to surpass her. Half in- 
 tentionally, half instinctively, he adopted the 
 same method which proved so admirable with 
 Paula's pen — acute, flattering admiration of 
 her personal charms, electric words of love 
 which were to encompass, stir, thrill her like 
 the gliding fingers of a rude hand. In the 
 midst of his numerous occupations it often 
 cost him a great sacrifice to find time for the 
 daily letter, but he fulfilled the new duty zeal- 
 ously and with increasing pleasure. All sorts 
 of vague, unacknowledged feelings blended 
 with it: a man's satisfaction in being able to in- 
 spire a cool, coquettish, admired woman with 
 an ardent love, the desire to foster, nay, if pos- 
 sible, fan it to a brighter blaze ; lastly, a certain 
 vanity of authorship. For he wrote with the 
 intention of producing an effect. He pondered 
 all day over new forms of homage. Then, 
 when he thought he had written with special 
 intensity, he was eager about the impression 
 which his words would make. He followed 
 the letter in imagination — now it was in Col- 
 ogne, now in Berlin, now she opened, now she 
 
I08 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 was reading it. What would she say to it? 
 Would she blush with pleasure, would she 
 smile? Would her heart beat quicker? How 
 often would she read the passage? He im- 
 patiently awaited the answer which would tell 
 him what she felt at his words, and when her 
 letter was more overflowing, sweeter, more 
 full of rapture than any of her former ones, he 
 rejoiced like a young actor at the thunders of 
 applause from an enthusiastic audience and 
 felt stimulated to still greater efforts. 
 
 The most evident result of this situation was 
 that his mind was filled all day with Paula's 
 image. She also took care in other ways 
 that he should be constantly engrossed by her. 
 Every one of her letters, between the descrip- 
 tion of her acts and feelings, and the admiration 
 of his appearance and manners, always con- 
 tained a little corner for some request or wish. 
 At first, these were very trivial; in fact, only 
 another form of tenderness. She enclosed a 
 lock of her beautiful golden hair and asked in 
 exchange " at least four times as much of his, 
 which was so much shorter." The habit of 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. IO9 
 
 accurate observation, which never deserts the 
 naturalist, instantly made him perceive, on 
 examination of the charming gift, that each in- 
 dividual hair had its root. The little curl had 
 not been clipped from the head, but was com- 
 posed of the hairs which came out in combing, 
 which she had saved with prudent caution. 
 Perhaps she had been collecting them for years, 
 and had a stock from which she could make an 
 adorer happy without being compelled to im- 
 pair the natural adornment of her head. At 
 first he was inclined to be irritated, for she 
 was really practising a little duplicity toward 
 him, but at last he smiled at the feminine 
 adroitness with which she combined apparent 
 readiness to sacrifice and actual avoidance of 
 any personal self-denial. Another time she 
 sent him her picture, and asked for his, " not 
 one of those which she saw at the Barwalds, 
 but a new one, taken for her, and representing 
 him as he looked now when he loved Paula." 
 To sit for a photograph required time, and he 
 had none. So he answered, somewhat care- 
 lessly, that when he found a convenient oppor- 
 
no THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 tunity he would go to the photographer's and, 
 according to her desire, have a picture taken 
 for her alone. But he found himself in a fine 
 pickle! Paula's next letter was very ungra- 
 cious. " When I do you the honor, " she wrote, 
 " to ask you to have your likeness taken for 
 me, you are not to attend to it 'at a convenient 
 opportunity, ' but at once. Do you understand, 
 Herr Professor? I will accept no apologies 
 and no evasions. You cannot have anything 
 more important to do than to gratify a wish of 
 mine. By way of punishment for your in- 
 civility, I will give you another task which will 
 also cost you time. You must always find time 
 for me." She enclosed a list of four or five 
 French books, which could certainly be ob- 
 tained more easily and cheaply in Brussels 
 than in Berlin, and which he must send her 
 that very day by mail. 
 
 After the books she asked for artificial 
 Sowers ; then for gloves of a certain make ; then 
 a few little bottles of her favorite perfume — 
 wild violet; then water and oil colors; then 
 chocolate almonds, " but only the finest of their 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 1 1 
 
 kind;" always with the argument that such 
 things could be had better and cheaper in Brus- 
 sels than in Berlin. Whether they were really 
 cheaper Gustav could not determine; they 
 seemed dear enough to him, for he was obliged 
 to pay for them out of his pocket-money, which 
 was not adapted to the liberality of a club-man 
 in love. He was obliged to apply to his mother 
 frequently, at very unusual times in the middle 
 of the month, for sums which seemed enormous 
 to the simple, frugal woman. This happened 
 for the first time in his life, and he did it with 
 an embarrassed manner, but gave no explan- 
 ation and his mother asked none. He was now 
 the bread-winner, the money he requested was 
 his own, and she was too wise, and possessed 
 too much delicacy of feeling, not to perceive 
 that she ought not to make the last remnant of 
 childlike dependence burdensome to the son 
 who had reached the age of two-and-thirty. 
 Yet it did seem oppressive, and he thought of 
 new ways of increasing his receipts which his 
 mother would not know. 
 
 About five weeks passed in this way, and 
 
112 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 October was nearly at an end, when one day the 
 usual letter from Berlin did not arrive. This 
 indicated some trouble, and he wondered anx- 
 iously about the cause of the silence. Nothing 
 came the following day, and, on the third, a 
 brief note from Fraulein Winter, the governess 
 of Paula's little boys, who "at Frau Ehrwein's 
 request, informed him that she had been ill 
 since the day before yesterday. The doctor 
 did not yet know what the ailment was, but 
 Frau Ehrwein feared that she should not be 
 able to write for the next few days, and there- 
 fore at least wished to tell him the cause of her 
 silence. If the illness should take a serious 
 turn, she would telegraph at once. Now Frau 
 Ehrwein had only one desire : to see him by 
 her sick-bed." 
 
 The letter made a very unpleasant impres- 
 sion upon him. If Gustav desired to be per- 
 fectly candid with himself, he could not help 
 admitting that he did not feel so much anxiety 
 concerning Paula's condition, or sympathy 
 with her suffering, as a vague dread of fresh 
 complications, and extreme discomfort at the 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. II3 
 
 thought that Fraulein Winter was evidently 
 conversant with everything. He desired no 
 witnesses of his little adventure, and hitherto it 
 had been a cheering thought that he had none. 
 But there could be no change, and matters 
 must take their course. 
 
 Fraulein Winter kept herprpmise faithfully. 
 The next day the first telegram came : " Mea- 
 sles. Serious heart-trouble. Please come here 
 at once." This was impossible, and he sent an 
 answer to that effect. The following day the 
 despatch reported : " Bad night. High fever. 
 She asks constantly for you." Gustav now 
 seriously considered the question whether he 
 should start immediately for Berlin, but he 
 could not resolve to do so. Measles! That 
 was not a dangerous disease. If he took the 
 journey, he would probably find Paula already 
 out of bed. He could not allow himself to be 
 persuaded into-foolish acts, either by the fears 
 of ignorant attendants, or by the sentimental 
 caprices of a love-sick woman. To go to Ber- 
 lin and not call on Barwald was impossible. 
 
 Yet what would his friend say, if he should ap- 
 8 
 
114 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 pear there abruptly in the middle of the term ? 
 He might as well tell him the whole affair with 
 Paula at once ! No. He would stay in Brus- 
 sels. And, day after day, for nearly a week, 
 a telegram summoned him, and the letters of 
 the governess, which described the sickness 
 itself in very indefinite terms, were perfectly 
 clear upon one point : Frau Ehrwein's principal 
 suffering was due, not to her illness, but to his 
 absence. 
 
 At last, after an interval of twelve days 
 Paula wrote again herself — deeply wounded 
 and offended. "I thank you very much for 
 your interest, people are extremely kind. If 
 you will have the goodness to write a few words 
 to me daily, you will contribute to my speedy 
 recovery. I hope that I shall not seem too ex- 
 acting. I intend to be as modest as decorum 
 requires. With renewed thanks for your 
 kindness, and cordial regards, your Paula." 
 Then came the postscript : " I believe the lines I 
 send to-day are not what I ought to write. For- 
 give me, Gustav ; but who is to blame that I am 
 embittered and no longer trust protestations?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. II5 
 
 Protestations! Had he ever assured her 
 that, at her first summons, without necessity, 
 to the neglect of every duty, he would fly to 
 Berlin? However, she was not now in the 
 condition to bear serious representations, and 
 on the contrary, he strove to soothe her by 
 words of love. He easily succeeded. She 
 was in a strangely gentle, melting mood, due 
 to convalescence, which really did not seem to 
 him quite warranted, as on the whole he had 
 received the impression that the illness could 
 not have been very severe. She spoke of her- 
 self as a beloved being whose life had been in 
 danger, and who had now risen from the grave. 
 She described her appearance as she sat up in 
 bed or in an easy-chair, robed in white, with 
 loosened hair; pallid, almost transparent 
 cheeks, a weary expression of suffering upon 
 her lips ; her eyes melting and radiant, as if 
 they could gaze beyond earthly things. She 
 described her visitors, how her appearance 
 touched them, how they looked at her in 
 silence, lowered their voices, could not turn 
 their eyes away. And how kind everybody 
 
Il6 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 had been to her during her illness, and were 
 still. The physician was evidently in love 
 with her, and was reluctant to leave the sick- 
 room. Her friends, even Kornemann (so he 
 had not yet received his dismissal?) watched 
 beside her couch in turn. Every day some 
 lady sent dainty dishes. The room was filled 
 with fresh flowers — how did she deserve all 
 this? He alone was cruel; for he did not 
 come, earnestly as she entreated him to do so. 
 This was the constant refrain at the close of 
 her hymns of self-glorification. 
 
 Paula had written that the doctor had or- 
 dered her to drink heavy Spanish wine, and 
 she feared that it could not be had unadulter- 
 ated in Berlin. Gustav hastened to send her 
 half-a-dozen bottles of the best Madeira. She 
 mentioned repeatedly and, as it seemed to him, 
 with peculiar emphasis, that, during her ill- 
 ness, Fraulein Winter's self-sacrifice and de- 
 votion had been extremely touching and well 
 deserved some token of gratitude, only, unfor- 
 tunately her situation would not now permit' 
 her to obey the impulse of her heart. He in- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. II7 
 
 stantly took the hint, and asked Paula what 
 ■would probably please the young lady, and 
 whether he might be permitted to show him- 
 self grateful in her place. Paula permitted 
 this with great kindness, and even thought 
 that the idea was very charming and did honor 
 to his heart. She advised him to send Frau- 
 lein Winter a Brussels-lace handkerchief in a 
 plain, but tasteful little box. In Berlin one 
 such as she described would cost from 20 to 25 
 marks. In Brussels it proved to be exactly 
 twice the sum, but, by way of compensation, 
 Gustav had the satisfaction of having Paula 
 write that "Fraulein Winter was delighted 
 with the gift, and now loved him almost as 
 much as she herself did." Meanwhile, she 
 added, he must not believe that he had dis- 
 charged his debt with the gift. She must see 
 him, have his companionship, and could not 
 be well and happy until she was clasped in his 
 arms. 
 
 For a week his power of resistance had be- 
 come more and more feeble. He was now 
 ready to compromise with his duty. He would 
 
Il8 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 merely report himself ill for two days. He 
 could give his mother some pretext for a jour- 
 ney of that length. But go to Berlin — no; 
 that he could not and would not do, on account 
 of the Barwalds. To put an end to Paula's 
 ceaseless entreaties and complaints, he made 
 a momentous resolution, and wrote that he 
 longed for her no less than she for him, he 
 was ready to come to her, but not to Berlin ; 
 they must meet in Cologne and spend thirty- 
 six hours together there, undisturbed. He 
 was very eager to learn how his suggestion 
 would be received. Paula wrote : " My dar- 
 ling, your proposal wounds me. I know that 
 you love me, but your way of showing it does 
 not please me. You are the languishing lover, 
 not the man who thinks seriously of a possible 
 marriage. Spending two days together is a 
 different thing from hiding a quarter of an 
 hour or so in a Magdeburg hotel. If I had 
 decided to become your wife, if you were cer- 
 tain that you had that goal in view, the case 
 would be different. I should then simply go 
 to the man who is my husband, though ex- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. II9 
 
 ternal circumstances compel him to conceal it 
 from the world for a time. But that is not the 
 state of affairs. We are living in a time of 
 consideration and trial. Is it testing ourselves 
 to indulge in a companionship of several days, 
 and perhaps say later: 'Do you know, I be- 
 lieve that I really can live without you?' " 
 
 She conjugated these thoughts through 
 eight pages, with numerous variations, and, 
 after a series of the most tender expressions, 
 concluded : " That is my feeling. But perhaps 
 I am wrong, and I desire nothing more ear- 
 nestly than to be thoroughly refuted by you." 
 
 It would not have been difficult for him to 
 contradict her. He could not consider their 
 Magdeburg relations as innocent as she appar- 
 ently did, and he did not perceive the slightest 
 distinction between their companionship in 
 that city and the one which he proposed at 
 Cologne. True, her scruples would have per- 
 mitted no contradiction if they had been made 
 prior to his visit to her hotel in Magdeburg. 
 Now they were sheer hypocrisy or affectation. 
 Yet, still under the impression of the idea that 
 
I20 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 he ought not to humiliate her in her own eyes, 
 he did not tell her all this, but simply an- 
 swered that she was right, he must yield to her 
 arguments, and repentantly withdrew his pro- 
 posal with an entreaty for pardon. 
 
 This turn of affairs seemed to surprise her 
 very much. She reproached him with vacilla- 
 tion and coldness. He evidently cared noth- 
 ing about seeing her again. He replied that 
 she had rebuffed him so sharply, that he would 
 never again undertake to approach her with 
 unseemly suggestions. Then she suddenly 
 repented. " My dear, darling Gustav, you can 
 dispose of me as you will. I will do whatever 
 you think right. We must see and talk with 
 each other, that becomes clearer to me day by 
 day. So decide. If you fix upon Cologne, I 
 will come there next week. The situation is 
 not normal, and I was foolish to try to rebel 
 against it." 
 
 The necessary arrangements were made, 
 and, on the last Friday in November, he left 
 Brussels at eleven o'clock in the- evening to 
 go to Cologne. He had one uncomfortable 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 121 
 
 moment to undergo before starting, when he 
 was obliged to inform his mother of his in- 
 tended jotirney, and to ask her for a sum of 
 money very large for his circumstances. His 
 mother had brought the notes from the desk 
 and given them to him with trembling hands, 
 gazing at him meanwhile with troubled eyes 
 from which he was forced to avert his own. 
 She asked no questions, and he said nothing, 
 but her silence was really the most painful 
 part of the affair. What did she probably 
 think of all these unusual occurrences? How 
 much he would have given, if he could have 
 guessed or learned ! 
 
 After a sleepless night he reached Cologne 
 at half -past six in the morning, and had nearly 
 three-quarters of an hour to wait for the Berlin 
 train. Wearied and worn, he had ample time, 
 during this period of lonely, tiresome expec- 
 tation) to dream himself into a feverish excite- 
 ment of sensuous yearning- for the beautiful 
 woman who, for two days and a night, would 
 be wholly his own. At last the whistle and 
 bell sounded and the longed-for train rumbled 
 
122 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 into the station. Gustav hurried to the sleep- 
 ing-car, on whose platform Paula smiled a 
 greeting. She wore the short cloak, with the 
 numerous pilgrim capes, and the little fur cap, 
 and, though pale, she did not look worse than 
 when he last saw her in Magdeburg. 
 
 "You show no traces of your illness," he 
 said, after lifting her down from the car- 
 riage. 
 
 "I recuperate quickly," she replied, in her 
 beautiful rich voice, her large blue eyes smil- 
 ing at him. 
 
 "Is this all?" he asked, pointing to the 
 little bag which she carried in her hand ; evi- 
 dently without effort. 
 
 " I suppose you think that I always travel 
 with a dozen big trunks, as I did at Magde- 
 burg. A toothbrush, a comb, and a hand- 
 glass are enough for. such expeditions." 
 
 They walked slowly, arm in arm, to the 
 Cathedral Hotel, where a well-heated room 
 had been ordered. Paula had sent his letter 
 engaging it, signed with an assumed name, 
 from Berlin. The hotel was very empty at 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 123 
 
 this season of the year, and the servants lav- 
 ished upon the new guests attentions with 
 which they would willingly have dispensed. 
 They were glad when the formality of regis- 
 tering their names in the book was over, and 
 they at last found themselves alone in the ele- 
 gantly furnished drawing-room on the second 
 story, where a colossal tile-stove was diffusing 
 its pleasant warmth. Now, for the first time, 
 they could embrace and kiss each other to 
 their heart's content, and Gustav's passionate 
 caresses scarcely gave Paula time to remove 
 her outdoor wraps. 
 
 When sensible .conversation was again pos- 
 sible, Paula said : 
 
 "You make me perform fine tricks, you 
 dear, naughty man ! Of course, no one in Ber- 
 lin must suspect that I have gone out of the 
 city. The visitors who call to-day and to- 
 morrow will be told merely that I am not at 
 home. I hope it will occasion no remark. 
 Fraulein Winter is the only person who must 
 know the truth." 
 
 "The young lady appears to be aware of 
 
124 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 everything," remarked Gustav somewhat re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 "Is that unpleasant to you?" asked Paula. 
 
 "And to you?" 
 
 " Yes. But it could not be avoided. I must 
 be frank to the members of my household. I 
 cannot live within my own four walls in an 
 atmosphere of deception and secrecy. Be- 
 sides, she could not help noticing the daily 
 arrival of a letter from Brussels, and the nu- 
 merous packages. So I told her that we had met 
 and loved each other, and should be married if 
 our feelings did not change. Don't be angry, 
 dearest, the matter will not expose you, but at 
 the utmost me." 
 
 " Is not that enough?" 
 
 " Certainly. But I bear it willingly. If, in 
 the future, we do not belong to each other, 
 the shame of the overthrow, if I may so ex- 
 press it, will be mine. I have told my secret, 
 and Fraulein Winter will know that it was you 
 who drew back." 
 
 They did not go out that day. Their meals 
 were brought to the room, and the waiter and 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 125 
 
 chambermaid served them with faces expres- 
 sive of smiling sympathy and secrecy delight- 
 ful to behold. It was evident that they sup- 
 posed the couple to be bride and groom, and 
 Paula, who perceived it, was charmed. She 
 was gay, almost playful, to a degree which 
 Gustav had never seen. Intervals of passion- 
 ate love-making alternated with hours of in- 
 exhaustible conversation, which would have 
 done no discredit to the free, brilliant friend 
 of Pericles. One droll conceit crowded upon 
 the heels of another, sensible remarks were 
 followed by a shower of merry, though some- 
 what hoydenish jests ; she spoke of the art ex- 
 hibitions, of her progress in painting, of the 
 evening parties ; she mimicked comically and 
 yet pleasantly, all her acquaintances — not 
 merely their movements, voices, and manner 
 of speech, but even their trains of thought and 
 opinions; while at intervals she had little 
 attacks of sentimentality and quoted stray 
 verses from Heine and Geibel, or sang Rus- 
 sian folk-songs softly in a sweet voice. Then 
 a sort of transport seized Gustav, and he 
 
126 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 almost crushed her with his wild caresses till, 
 with a comical pout, she struck at him, whis- 
 pering in his ear with a kiss : " You cannibal. " 
 It was the first time that he had experienced 
 such an adventure. During his former little 
 love affairs, when he was a merry Rhine 
 student, yet at the same time a carefully 
 watched "mother's boy," the full power of a 
 woman's charm, with all its demoniac attrac- 
 tion, had never been revealed to him. The 
 feeling which the lion may have when he has 
 dragged his prey into his den, the triumph of 
 undisturbed possession, the tumult of arbitrary 
 delight to satiety, he now learned for the first 
 time, and the situation produced a mood 
 in which all the excitement which poetry 
 and music had ever aroused again echoed. 
 The hours passed as if in a dream, and when 
 darkness closed in, Gustav clasped her in 
 his arms and, pressing a long kiss upon her 
 lips, said, "Are you always so bewitching, 
 Paula?" 
 
 " If I were with you I should be always as I 
 am now," she answered, throwing her arm 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 12/ 
 
 around his neck and pressing her head, with 
 its golden curls, upon his breast. 
 
 The next day, after dinner, they determined 
 to leave the hotel and see a little of Cologne, 
 ■with which Paula was not familiar. Gustav 
 did not feel quite comfortable, for he had re- 
 peatedly delivered lectures in the city, and was 
 obliged to guard against being seen by ac- 
 quaintances. But he bravely showed her the 
 cathedral and the Rhine, and the late autumn 
 sunlight even lasted long enough for a hur- 
 ried visit to the glorious old masters of the 
 Wallraf museum. Time had wings, and, ere 
 they were aware of it, the hour for Paula's de- 
 parture came. It was very difficult for Gustav, 
 but he was obliged to allude to an extremely 
 prosaic and, as it seemed to him, somewhat 
 ticklish matter. 
 
 "Pardon me, Paula, I don't wish to offend 
 your delicacy, but the affair cannot be avoided. 
 You were compelled to make some outlay for 
 the journey — may I know " 
 
 Without a trace of embarrassment, she 
 quietly named a certain sum. It included not 
 
128 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 only the berth in the sleeping car, but evi- 
 dently also the carriage to and from the sta- 
 tion. Paula was an accurate accountant. 
 
 "Give me your little purse," Gustav whis- 
 pered in her ear. 
 
 She gave it to him and, turning away, with 
 shamefaced, secret movements, he thrust 
 something into it, and kissing her on the eyes, 
 that she might not see, he slipped it back into 
 the pocket of her dress. 
 
 "You child," she said, smiling, as she re- 
 leased herself and felt whether it was in the 
 right place. 
 
 He was disposed to grow sentimental again 
 at the farewell, but Paula was not at all 
 so. 
 
 "Those were two glorious days," he said 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 "Yes. And they must be frequently re- 
 peated." 
 
 "That will be difficult." 
 
 "You must make it possible. It is your 
 fault. Now the lioness has tasted blood and 
 wants more. You ought not to have yielded 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 29 
 
 to my caprice. Since you have done it once, I 
 shall constantly want you again." 
 
 " Then I shall simply be compelled to learn 
 to oppose your whims." 
 
 " I'm not afraid of that, dearest. Now I will 
 never again be more than four weeks without 
 seeing you. I cannot. I came to Cologne with 
 somewhat anxious feelings. I did not know 
 you. It is always a dangerous test to be with 
 a person uninterruptedly thirty-six hours. We 
 weary of most of them in a much shorter time. 
 You have borne the trial splendidly. I go 
 away more in love with you than I came, you 
 darling fellow. But it will impose new duties 
 upon you." 
 
 "The old ones take precedence, Paula." 
 
 " The new will conquer them, my dearest, 
 have no anxiety on that score. The next time 
 yoii will come to Berlin." 
 
 "Impossible." 
 
 "You will come. I tell you so." 
 
 He smiled incredulously. She smiled tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 It was time to go. They were obliged to 
 9 
 
130 IHE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 leave the hotel, through the ranks of servants 
 smiling kindly at them, and hasten to the rail- 
 way station. His train did not start until sev- 
 eral hours after hers. 
 
 "This time you must think only of me," 
 said Paula, after the last embrace. " Not do 
 as you did in Magdeburg. To be certain of 
 it, I will give you a task. Write poems to me 
 until your departure, and send them this very 
 day. Will you?" 
 
 "Yes, Paula," he answered. 
 
 The train started. Paula stood at the win- 
 dow of the sleeping-car, gazing with dry, 
 bright eyes at Gustav. He wore a very sor- 
 rowful expression, and his eyes were misty as 
 he stood looking after her as long as he could 
 see her ; when the train had gone beyond his 
 range of vision he went back to the waiting- 
 room, sat down at a table, and asked for writ- 
 ing materials. His melancholy countenance, 
 required by the rule. of art of his part, reacted 
 upon his mood, he wrought himself into the 
 feelings of a passionately enamored swain, 
 from whom a cruel parting tears the object of 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 131 
 
 his love, and after this stimulus to his imagi- 
 nation, powerfully aided by Paula's violet per- 
 fume still hovering around him, and the 
 memory of the hours in the comfortable, warm 
 drawing-room of the Cathedral Hotel, it was 
 not difficult for him to write this poem : 
 
 " Blessings be on thee, dear Cologne, 
 Thy faithful shelter we have known ; 
 May the Cathedral and the Rhine 
 Be blessed, and every stone of thine. 
 
 A singing bird will build its nest 
 Where her foot the earth hath pressed, 
 A rose exhale its perfume rare 
 Where my love hath breathed the air. 
 
 Song and perfume will proclaim 
 To distant ages still the same 
 Words. This sacred spot revere ; 
 Lovers once were happy here !" 
 
 Another traveller, who sat opposite to him 
 at the table, gazed wonderingly at Gustav as, 
 while seeking a rhyme, his glance wandered 
 sometimes into the distance or upward to the 
 ceiling of the room, then returned to the page, 
 
132 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 on which his faltering hand, with pauses, now 
 and then wrote a short line. Gustav noticed 
 it, and this suggested the second poem : 
 
 " Lonely I sit in brooding thought. 
 
 My neighbor's eyes with wonder scan 
 My face, as if he vainly sought — 
 
 What grief doth haunt this pallid man? 
 
 His grief is that the hot tears throng 
 Till they well-nigh his lids o'erflow, 
 
 His g^rief is that he must in song 
 Express in fitting words this woe. 
 
 My heart-throbs he can almost hear. 
 But verses none will they indite ; 
 
 In heavy drops falls many a tear — 
 Alas ! my tears no rhymes will write !" 
 
 He had now worked himself up completely 
 into the lyrical mood, and without difficulty 
 poured forth ardent verses of complaint and 
 longing. When he flung his letter into the 
 mail-box, it contained six poems. This time 
 Paula had not been a good psychologist. 
 While his train was bearing him toward the 
 Belgian frontier, Gustav thought, not of the 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 33 
 
 object of his love, but of his poems ; his brain 
 teemed with images and rhymes, and the feel- 
 ing which kept him awake longest, after he 
 had stretched himself wearily on the seat in 
 his compartment of the railway-carriage, was 
 satisfaction with the poetical work of the last 
 two hours. 
 
CHAPTER V, 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt was a plain, unculti- 
 vated woman, who knew nothing about the 
 amorous novels which constitute a large share 
 of the main object of existence among the up- 
 per classes. In her own earnest life there 
 had been no room for what she termed " the 
 follies." Therefore she judged all love affairs 
 with the inexorable harshness of chaste wo- 
 men, who have never known temptation, far 
 less fallen into error. The only relations of 
 the heart which she understood and consid- 
 ered allowable, were those which follow hon- 
 orable marriage. Irregular relations seemed 
 to her not only immoral, but vulgar beyond 
 measure. She knew that maidservants went 
 gadding about with apprentices and soldiers, 
 and that factory-girls coquetted with their 
 sweethearts behind street-doors. In that rank 
 
 of life such proceedings afforded no cause for 
 134 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 3$ 
 
 •wonder. But that people of education and 
 position, gentlemen and ladies, could behave 
 like train-hands and kitchen-maids, she was 
 unable to understand. Persons who belonged 
 to good society lost caste in her eyes by a 
 doubtful relation, as completely as if they had 
 leaped about publicly on the floor of a common 
 dance-hall, or drunk liquor in a workman's 
 pot-house. 
 
 Therefore it not only caused her deep sor- 
 row, but also intense shame, when she was 
 forced to perceive that her own Gustav, her 
 pride and her joy, was dishonoring himself by 
 an impure connection; for, notwithstanding 
 her inexperience in such matters, she soon 
 divined that he had become entangled in 
 something of the kind. 
 
 The daily letters from Berlin, with their 
 abominable perfume, the telegrams, Gustav's 
 tremendous expenditure of money, his jour- 
 ney — there must be a woman at the bottom of 
 all this, and a worthless one; for if it were 
 a respectable girl whom Gustav wished to 
 marry, he would have made her known to his 
 
136 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 mother in these two months. Nor could she 
 doubt that the affair had commenced in Magde- 
 burg. Who could the miserable person be for 
 whose sake her son, a scholar, a professor, for- 
 got his dignity, and even his filial love? The 
 question ceaselessly occupied her mind and, 
 during the two days of his absence, her anxiety 
 increased to such anguish — the idea that she 
 was being robbed of her Gustav, that his rep- 
 utation, his career, his whole future might be 
 seriously endangered, took possession of her 
 mind so completely, that she knew no other 
 way of seeking counsel and help than by pour- 
 ing out her tortured heart to Frau BSrwald. 
 This dear friend had also been in Magdeburg, 
 she lived in Berlin, she undoubtedly knew the 
 person in whose net Gustav was snared ; she 
 could perhaps help her to release him, or at 
 any rate remove the intolerable uncertainty 
 which makes any threatening danger appear 
 far more terrible than it may possibly be in 
 reality. So she wrote to Frau Barwald, be- 
 wailing, in her clumsy but all the more for- 
 cible manner, the complete change in Gustav 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 13/ 
 
 since his visit to Magdeburg, his estrange- 
 ment from her, his extravagant expenditure, 
 his neglect of his official duty, his incompre- 
 hensible journey in the middle of a term ; she 
 told the story of the daily letters from Berlin 
 and the telegrams, expressed her suspicion 
 that a woman was turning her Gustav's brain, 
 and begged her to tell her frankly what she 
 had heard of this matter in Magdeburg or 
 Berlin. 
 
 Gustav had been at home several days after 
 his visit to Cologne when Frau Barwald's 
 letter arrived. Gossip, she wrote, she mor- 
 tally detested, but in this case her warm 
 friendship for Frau Bruchstadt and her son 
 rendered it a duty to enlighten the justly anx- 
 ious mother. She saw with deep pain that 
 the professor was on the verge of committing 
 a folly which must destroy his happiness for 
 life. It was to be hoped that his mother still 
 possessed sufficient influence to withhold him 
 from a step which seemed like suicide. He 
 had made the acquaintance of an adventuress 
 — unfortunately she and her husband were 
 
138 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 partly to blame for it — who had gone to 
 Magdeburg for the special purpose of catching 
 a husband. She was a divorced woman, the 
 mother of two children, nearly as old as the 
 professor, in delicate health, without property, 
 of doubtful reputation, and certainly not calcu- 
 lated to make a man happy. She did not 
 know how far the professor had committed 
 himself to this woman. She boasted that he 
 was betrothed to her, and that the marriage 
 would take place in the early spring. But she, 
 Frau Barwald could not believe it; for she 
 had warned him repeatedly and earnestly 
 against the woman. She thought that a 
 frank word from his mother would open 
 his eyes, and show him the gulf on which he 
 stood. 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt's heart stood still as she 
 read this letter. She was alone in her room. 
 Locking the door, she threw herself on her bed, 
 and sobbed and wrung her hands in her de- 
 spair. Had it gone so far? The whole struc- 
 ture of her future, which she had mentally 
 created, fell with a shock as if hurled down 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 39 
 
 by an earthquake. Now she understood ev- 
 erything. The journey — was to celebrate the 
 betrothal. Since the summer, there had been 
 an attraction between him and a pretty young 
 girl", Fraulein Alice Fahrbach, the only child 
 of a wealthy Frankfort banker, who lived in 
 Brussels. Mutual friends had introduced Gus- 
 tav to the family, the two young people ap- 
 peared to be pleased with each other, the 
 parents liked Gustav, and all parties concerned 
 regarded an engagement as certain. But, 
 since his journey to Magdeburg, Gustav had 
 shown a strange reluctance to return to the 
 hospitable house where both mother and son 
 had been so cordially welcomed. She now un- 
 derstood why, and was inconsolable over it; 
 for the pretty, kind-hearted, well-bred, and 
 wealthy Alice was the very wife of whom she 
 had dreamed for her Gustav, and he was now 
 in the act of trifling away the happiness of his 
 life — for what? She could not lie quietly on 
 her bed any longer as she thought of it, but 
 was obliged to pace up and down the room, 
 tottering, striking against all the pieces of 
 
140 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 furniture, like a person who does not know 
 what he is doing. 
 
 At last she formed a resolution. She had 
 neither the strength nor the courage to speak 
 frankly to Gustav. She dreaded an explana- 
 tion. Now she could still hope, still believe 
 in her child. Perhaps everything was not 
 true. But if she required an explicit avowal, 
 and he should tell her that he had thrown 
 himself away, that he had sacrificed himself, 
 his mother, to an adventuress, all would be 
 over and she could not survive that moment. 
 But she might obtain certainty concerning the 
 situation of affairs in a roundabout way. She 
 had an excellent opportunity. Frau Fahr- 
 bach had called and, for the sake of being sure 
 of them, invited her and her son to spend 
 Christmas Eve; expressing on this occasion 
 her regret that his visits had been so rare dur- 
 ing the past two months. At supper, Frau 
 Bruchstadt, who during the interval had been 
 trying to recover her calmness, told her son 
 about Frau Fahrbach's call, and the Christmas 
 invitation. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 141 
 
 "You didn't accept it, mother dear?" asked 
 Gustav, quickly. 
 
 " I could not without consulting you, but we 
 will go, shall we not?" 
 
 " No, mother ; I would rather spend Christ- 
 mas at home, alone with you. I want no 
 strangers on that day." 
 
 " Strangers ! We all believe that Alice will 
 remain no stranger to you." 
 
 "What do you mean by that, mother?" he 
 cried, his face betraying unpleasant surprise. 
 
 "I wonder at your question, child. You 
 know very well why Professor Dugu^'s wife 
 introduced us at the Fahrbachs'. You know, 
 too, that the family credit you with serious in- 
 tentions. And Alice is rich,, beautiful, highly 
 educated; you will never find a better wife." 
 
 " Say no more en that subject, mother, I be- 
 seech you. I hope that my conduct has war- 
 ranted no one in drawing false conclusions. 
 But since the matter is so regarded, I will 
 n3ver set foot in the house again, at any 
 rate." 
 
 "But why, Gustav? I don't understand 
 
142 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 you. You fairly thrust your good fortune 
 from you." 
 
 "Mother, you don't understand," he an- 
 swered soothingly, with a somewhat forced 
 smile. " Fraulein Fahrbach is a dear, sweet 
 girl, but I do not love her." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense about your silly love!" ex- 
 claimed Frau Bruchstadt, wrathfully. "You 
 are no child, and ought to talk like a sensible 
 man. Alice is an excellent match " 
 
 " Once more, mother," he vehemently inter- 
 rupted, "that is enough. I will not sell my- 
 self. I have showed you that I can earn 
 bread for us both, even without a rich wife. 
 So leave me in peace." 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt now knew enough. Large 
 tears rolled down her face. Gustav tried to 
 comfort her, kissed her hands and her cheeks. 
 She struggled a few minutes, but could control 
 herself no longer, and, laying her fork down, 
 burst into sobs and left the dining-room. 
 
 Gustav remained alone in a very uneasy 
 mood. It grieved him sorely to cause his 
 mother sorrow, but he could not marry for her 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I43 
 
 sake ! To return to Alice with an ardent letter 
 from Paula in his pocket, and an equally fer- 
 vent reply in his mind, seemed to him abom- 
 inable treachery to the young girl, who had 
 not deserved such base treatment from him. 
 For he had really not been wholly indififerent 
 to her, and perhaps would have sought her 
 hand if this unexpected adventure with Paula 
 had not interposed. Paula had promised 
 to dismiss Kornemann, but hitherto did not 
 appear to have kept her word. He had 
 promised nothing; but he would have de- 
 spised himself if he had continued the rela- 
 tions commenced with a respectable girl, 
 while he was exchanging love-letters with 
 Paula. Since the meeting at Cologne these 
 letters had become still more ardent. For- 
 merly the material for fostering them had al- 
 ways been somewhat scanty. Now the thirty- 
 six hours which they had spent in the most 
 intimate companionship afforded a thousand 
 connecting links. Paula seemed enraptured 
 with Gustav's personality, and the bliss of love 
 which she had found with him. " I am new- 
 
144 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 born," she wrote. "My life begins wifh the 
 Friday morning in the Cologne station. All 
 that went before is effaced. Until now I 
 dreaded the future, I did not wish to think of 
 it. Then I asked myself : ' How will this end ? ' 
 I found no answer, and felt that my heart was 
 heavy. The 24th of March seemed veiled in 
 a mist of anxiety. Now all is changed. I am 
 calm and happy. I know that you are mine, 
 and will remain so. And the 24th of March 
 lies before me bright as sunshine, a true be- 
 ginning of spring." 
 
 Gustav dared not permit her to remain in so 
 confident a mood. He felt it his duty to warn 
 her gently, and did so, though with considera- 
 tion. She must not forget their agreement 
 and anticipate the decision. She must con- 
 stantly say to herself that human hearts, espe- 
 cially women's hearts, are incalculable, and 
 during a period of nearly four months every- 
 thing might yet change. It would be perilous 
 to lull herself prematurely in security, from 
 which one might easily awake to painful dis- 
 appointment. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I45 
 
 Paula received this jet of cold water more 
 calmly than he had expected. " A disappoint- 
 ment," she wrote, "cannot be experienced, 
 because I do not deceive myself. Your heart 
 can no longer recede, and your reason has 
 never been opposed to me. And I believe 
 that your reason rules your heart. Whatever 
 your decision in four months and a half may 
 be, it cannot change the fact that I am now 
 having happy days. I love you, and wish to 
 be loved in return, though it is only until early 
 spring. What you give me now, no one can 
 take, and I am content. You need not con- 
 stantly remind me of the agreement, I am not 
 offending against it by being happy now. Do 
 not prevent my drinking full draughts from 
 the magic goblet of your love ; it is so sweet. 
 How the dregs will taste is a matter of no im- 
 portance, so long as I have not yet reached 
 them." 
 
 When she spoke in this way his conscience 
 
 had nothing with which to reproach him, and 
 
 he could continue to give her the love-potion 
 
 as lavishly as she desired. But Paula was not 
 10 
 
146 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 easily satisfied and, in every letter, asked him 
 to come to Berlin. He had no duties at Christ- 
 mas-time and must devote his holidays to her. 
 Besides, it was so hard to see each other but 
 once a month, when they lived only in the 
 minutes in which they were together. Gustav 
 objected. He could not leave his mother 
 alone on Christmas Eve. 
 
 " I am really jealous even of your mother," 
 Paula answered. "You ought to hold no one 
 dearer than myself. But I'll forgive you this 
 time. You shall not be compelled to choose 
 between your mother and me. Your heart 
 would bleed, if you were obliged to sacrifice 
 your mother, mine, if you could sacrifice me. 
 So it is better to spare you the conflict. Am 
 I kind, dearest?" 
 
 "Yes, you are kind," Gustav wrote in reply, 
 and entreated her, although he could not come, 
 at least to be permitted to give her pres- 
 ents. He was unskilled in divining what 
 might please a beautiful young woman, and 
 a list of articles she would like would be a 
 welcome assistance. Paula did not require 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I47 
 
 urging. The list came, and was admirably 
 complete. 
 
 Neither the two children nor Fraulein Win- 
 ter were forgotten, in fact no one was omitted. 
 For herself she desired a ring with a ruby, her 
 favorite stone. Not a " cheap and poor" one, 
 but something pretty and suitable, worthy of 
 himself and of her. She was a judge of gems 
 and it would not be easy to impose upon her. 
 What she would think of a ring which she 
 received from him might be a matter of indif- 
 erence to him. Or should she tell him? 
 
 No, she did not need to tell him. He has- 
 tened to execute her commissions. He was 
 somewhat startled when the jeweller told him 
 what a ring with a beautiful ruby cost, but he 
 would not show himself a niggard. For the 
 first time in his life, he incurred a debt. To 
 ask his mother for money to make his pur- 
 chases was not to be thought of. So he left 
 his visiting-card at . the shop, and requested 
 him not to send the account until after New 
 Year's day. When he received his salary in 
 January he did not give Frau Bruchstadt the 
 
148 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 full amount, as heretofore, but only a portion. 
 When she looked at him in surprise, he said 
 with forced indifference : 
 
 "Your housekeeping money, mother dear." 
 
 "And the rest?" 
 
 " Locked up, of course." 
 
 "Indeed," she said, looking her son in the 
 face. He averted his eyes and pretended to 
 be Dusied at his writing desk. 
 
 " It is your own money, and you owe me no 
 account," she said at last, after a long pause, 
 and, as he made no answer, slowly left the 
 room. Gustav uttered a sigh of relief. He 
 had a feeling of exhaustion, as if he had just 
 performed a very arduous, difficult, and dan- 
 gerous task. Yet it must be so. He must 
 attain his majority, and it was better for his 
 mother's peace of mind if she did not know 
 and ponder over every penny he expended. 
 
 Paula had been delighted and touched by 
 his gifts, and forgave him for not having come 
 at Christmas. But now the holidays were 
 over, now he no longer had the excuse that 
 he must devote himself to his mother ; if he 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 149 
 
 loved her even a little bit, he would not leave 
 her to languish longer. She had come to Co- 
 logne at his first hint, and showed him that 
 she would make any sacrifice for him. But he 
 seemed willing to do nothing for her. Was 
 this the love which he daily filled pages in 
 protesting? And day by day she repeated the 
 entreaties, the reproaches, the complaints that 
 she was ill from pining for him, and could find 
 no rest until she had seen him. 
 
 There was great discord in Gustav's feel- 
 ings. He had determined not to go to Berlin ; 
 first, on account of his mother, who could not 
 fail to be seriously troubled by these mysteri- 
 ous absences, and secondly, because he did not 
 wish to yield to the whims of a tyrannical wo- 
 man. She must see that she could not have 
 her way with all men, that she need not merely 
 beckon with her little finger to have him fol- 
 low weakly. But then he said to himself: 
 Was this the proper opportunity to show his 
 strength ? Was it so heroic, so praiseworthy, 
 to cause her pain? She loved him. She 
 longed to see him ; she was happy when she 
 
150 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 had him for a few hours. Besides, this whole 
 love-dream would not last long. On the 24th 
 of March it would be over — oh yes, certainly 
 it would. Until then he owed her at least as 
 much compassion and indulgence as the cir- 
 cumstances permitted. She had declared that 
 she expected nothing from the future, the 
 present sufficed. Was it not his duty to ren- 
 der this brief present as bright as possible? 
 Finally, it was a peculiarly elevating thought 
 to be able to afford a human being perfect, 
 complete happiness. It made the dispenser 
 better and prouder himself, endowed him for 
 the moment with the fairest prerogative of the 
 Deity. He involuntarily carried the idea far- 
 ther, and suddenly caught himself imagining 
 a scene in which he appeared before the anx- 
 ious, despairing Paula, clasped her in his arms, 
 and said : 
 
 " I have decided. I will fold you into my 
 life. Be mine forever," whereupon she ut- 
 tered a shriek of joy and sank senseless at 
 his feet. It must be a wondrous vision — ^but 
 he instantly thrust it vehemently from his 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. Igl 
 
 mind. No, no. That was sheer madness. 
 Purely artistic pleasure in a charming scene 
 could not be carried so far as to forfeit the 
 happiness of a life. Marry her? Never. He 
 did not even love her. But she loved him, 
 and he ought to be grateful to her for it. So 
 he resolved to go to Berlin — out of tenderness, 
 chivalrous generosity, as he persuaded him- 
 self. That the pleasant gratification of know- 
 ing himself beloved by a beautiful woman, 
 and the memory of the rapture of the days in 
 Cologne, had a share in the decision, he was 
 scarcely clearly conscious himself. At least 
 he did not admit it. 
 
 His resistance had lasted more than four 
 weeks, but now all the arrangements were made 
 for the journey, which he had finally promised 
 to take at the end of January. He could not 
 remain in Berlin more than twenty-four hours. 
 This, with the travelling to and fro, made a 
 three days' absence from Brussels. Paula en- 
 gaged a room for him near her apartments, 
 and conveyed him to and from the station. 
 He was with her all day. She denied herself 
 
152 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 to all visitors, no one interrupted them, no 
 one needed to see him, and he at last knew 
 her in her daily surroundings, her usual life. 
 
 Not until the day that he was to leave Brus- 
 sels on the 1 1 : 10 train, did he say to his mother, 
 at supper, in a tone of assumed indifference, 
 as if he were telling her something absolutely 
 trivial : 
 
 " I wanted to say — you know, mother dear, 
 that I am going away this evening. But I 
 shall stay only three days." 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt turned very pale, and asked 
 in a trembling voice : 
 
 " Indeed ! And — where are you going?" 
 
 Gustav hesitated slightly, then answered: 
 "To Berlin." 
 
 " Ah ! And — what calls you to Berlin ?" 
 
 "I must go," he answered evasively. "I 
 am expected." 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt could now control herself 
 no longer. All the pent-up bitterness of the 
 last four months overflowed with a sudden 
 outburst. 
 
 "Gustav," she shrieked, "you are going 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 53 
 
 again to the miserable person who has be- 
 witched you. Gustav! Don't throw yourself 
 away! Have pity on yourself and your old 
 mother." 
 
 "Mother! Why do you talk so?" 
 
 " Why do I talk so ? Do you think me blind 
 and deaf? Do you suppose I don't see what 
 is passing around me? You would tell me 
 nothing. I was obliged to ask others. I 
 know all. You are lost. You have betrothed 
 yourself to a worthless adventuress ; a sickly, 
 wretched, elderly wanton ; a beggar who drove 
 her husband away, and wants you to lift her 
 out of the mire with her children, whose father 
 is heaven knows who. Gustav, Gustav ! have 
 I reared you, have I grown old for this?" 
 
 She wrung her hands and sobbed pitifully. 
 
 Every one of his mother's words pierced 
 Gustav's heart like a dagger-thrust. It seemed 
 as if he must avenge this vulgar abuse of 
 Paula without delay, at the present moment ; 
 but how could he do so, upon his mother? 
 Starting up, he stepped before the old lady, 
 and said in a tremulous voice : 
 
154 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Mother, you are committing a heavy sin." 
 
 "And you? And you?" she passionately 
 interrupted. 
 
 " Some one has slandered the lady and me 
 to you. It is all untrue." 
 
 "What is untrue?" 
 
 " First of all, that I am betrothed to her." 
 
 " But she says so herself. She boasts of it." 
 
 " I simply do not believe it. " 
 
 "Then Frau Barwald has lied." 
 
 Gustav paused in surprise. He did not ex- 
 pect to hear his friend's name at this moment. 
 
 " It is true, you unhappy child, it is true. 
 
 God, O God! that I must experience this. 
 Child, child, consider! Be my Gustav again. 
 
 1 have no one in the world but you. Don't 
 cast off your mother for a wanton." 
 
 "Mother!" he exclaimed, in a voice whose 
 tone was ominous ot anger. But Frau Bruch- 
 stadt had lost every remnant of self-control, 
 and was again completely the woman of the 
 people, with her natural passionateness, and 
 language wholly destitute of the varnish of 
 education. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 15$ 
 
 "For a wanton," she shrieked still louder 
 than he, stamping her foot furiously, "for a 
 shameless wanton ! For that she is and noth- 
 ing else. Don't you see that she only came to 
 Magdeburg to catch you ? And, like a simple- 
 ton, you let yourself be caught." 
 
 He could listen to the abuse no longer, and 
 made a movement to leave the room. Then 
 his mother threw herself at his feet, clasped 
 his knees, and raising her gray head and sor- 
 rowful face, down which tears were stream- 
 ing, groaned from her breaking heart : 
 
 " Gustav, you will not do this to me. If you 
 marry her, I will leave the house. I cannot 
 witness it. I would rather die among stran- 
 gers." 
 
 His mother's despair was unendurable to 
 Gustav. Deeply agitated and crushed, he 
 raised the sobbing woman, stroked her hair 
 and cheeks and, choked with emotion, said : 
 
 " Mother, you are making yourself and me 
 ill. And what is the cause of all this? Who 
 tells you that I intend to marry? There has 
 never been any question of it." 
 
IS6 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt released herself from his 
 embrace, and said amid her tears : 
 
 " Then let the person go. What is the use 
 of so many letters? And the terrible amount 
 of money which you squander for her? And 
 these journeys?" 
 
 "Mother, you don't understand." 
 
 " If it were anything honest I should under- 
 stand already, or you could explain it. If you 
 can't, it is, at any rate, something wrong, 
 which ought not to be. Promise me that you 
 will not go to Berlin, Gustav." 
 
 Gustav silently turned away. 
 
 "Gustav, you will not go," she repeated, 
 clinging to him again. 
 
 " I must," he answered in a troubled tone. 
 
 She released him, and again threw herself 
 on the floor, which her gray head struck hea- 
 vily. Gustav raised the struggling, wailing 
 woman, and, while large tears fell from his 
 own eyes, said : 
 
 "Consider how unreasonable you are, 
 mother. Let us talk sensibly to each other. 
 Either you believe me, when I say that I do 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 157 
 
 not love the lady — then surely you need not 
 fear that I shall marry her, and all your ex- 
 citement is foolish; or you believe that I do 
 love the lady enough to marry her, in spite of 
 everything against it — then certainly you must 
 regard me as half crazy, and should have some 
 pity for me, and not treat me harshly and un- 
 lovingly." 
 
 "I must save you." 
 
 " That would not be the way to do so, 
 mother." 
 
 She made no answer, but wept quietly. 
 
 "Be calm," Gustav continued. "I love no 
 one but you, and you may trust me." 
 
 "Then you won't go?" 
 
 " Mother, once more, have confidence. The 
 journey means nothing." 
 
 "You are lost, Gustav," she sobbed, with 
 fresh vehemence. " You use fine words, but 
 it is all lies and deceit. I no longer have a 
 child. God has taken the last one from me. 
 I do not know by what sin I have deserved 
 it. He is punishing me too severely. O 
 God! OGod!" 
 
IS8 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Gustav could listen to this no longer, and 
 left the room. This time his mother let him 
 go. From the very depths of his heart he 
 cursed the journey and the whole affair, but 
 he believed that he could not draw back now. 
 Paula certainly did not deserve the insults 
 with which his mother had loaded her. This 
 shame was inflicted upon her for his sake, on 
 account of her great, sinful love for him. He 
 owed her compensation, and such was the visit 
 to Berlin. 
 
 So he quitted his home without having seen 
 his mother again, and, during the whole jour- 
 ney, throughout the sleepless night which he 
 spent on the railroad, he wrought himself into 
 a mood of defiance toward her which made the 
 scene before the departure more endurable. 
 
 Paula a wanton ! Fie, fie ! She was an un- 
 fortunate woman whom life had dealt with 
 harshly. An adventuress ! What abominable 
 injustice! Perhaps she had really gone to 
 Magdeburg with the design of angling for a 
 husband ; at any rate, she had not treated him 
 so for a moment. There was neither calcula- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 159 
 
 tion nor wile in her manner toward him. 
 People who are trying to catch a husband do 
 not begin with, as it were, throwing them- 
 selves away at the first meeting. So gross an 
 error would not be committed by a woman so 
 clever, so accustomed to society, so cool, so 
 equal to every situation as Paula. When she 
 threw herself into his arms with such bewil- 
 dering passion, it was the best proof of her 
 love. If she had had the slightest selfish in- 
 tention, she would not have been so foolish as 
 to play her largest trump as the first card. 
 His mother had done very wrong to insult her. 
 His mother was wrong altogether ; for if she 
 supposed that he loved Paula madly enough to 
 marry her, she ought not to mortally wound 
 him by coarse remarks against the object of 
 his affections. That was not maternal love. 
 That was no comprehension, no consideration 
 for the feelings of the child. He repeated 
 these thoughts to himself with a sort of obsti- 
 nacy, until he had persuaded himself that his 
 conduct was perfectly justifiable. 
 
 In Berlin, Paula, closely veiled, was waiting 
 
l6o THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 for him at the station. She only pressed his 
 hand nervously, and hastened with him to the 
 carriage. Not until they were seated inside, 
 and it began to roll along, did she throw back 
 her- veil and seek his lips, clinging to them 
 until her breath failed. 
 
 " It was such an anxious time when I was 
 waiting for the train. So many acquaint- 
 ances. One is so easily noticed. But now 
 we are safe." She snatched her hat from her 
 head and thrust it carelessly into the corner of 
 the carriage, that she might nestle close to 
 Gustav. 
 
 When the first hunger for caresses was ap- 
 peased, Paula drew off the glove from her left 
 hand, and raising her ring-finger to the level 
 of his eyes, asked : 
 
 " Do you know that, you dear fellow?" 
 
 It was the ruby ring. 
 
 Gustav smilingly kissed the pretty finger. 
 
 Paula touched her lips to the place where 
 his had lingered, and said : 
 
 "It ought not'to be just a gold hoop?" 
 
 Gustav made an undecided gesture. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. l6l 
 
 "I am a child," she murmured, smiling; 
 "true; you have no experience in these 
 things." After a brief silence, she continued: 
 
 " But you ought to have had something en- 
 graved. Your name and mine. And the 
 date." 
 
 "What date?" 
 
 "You are right again. I am very stupid 
 to-day. We don't know it yet." 
 
 Paula drove Gustav first to the woman at 
 whose house she had engaged a room for him 
 — her brother, she said — waited in the draw- 
 ing-room till he had freed himself from the 
 dust of the journey, and then went the short 
 distance to her own home with him on foot. 
 
 At her ring, the door was opened by a pretty 
 young lady, who embraced Paula and, smiling 
 pleasantly, made a graceful courtesy to Gustav. 
 
 "Fraulein Winter," said Paula, presenting 
 him, "our little guardian spirit." 
 
 "Oh, you Lorelei," replied the girl, laugh- 
 ing, and pressed Paula's hand as if she were 
 in love with her. 
 
 Gustav felt somewhat embarrassed by the 
 II 
 
l62 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 merry eyes which watched him very closely. 
 But Fraulein Winter was entirely at ease, like 
 an old friend who regarded everything which 
 passed around her as perfectly natural. Every 
 movement revealed her extreme satisfaction at 
 being made cognizant of a secret, and permitted 
 to aid a hidden love affair. 
 
 "I gave my maid permission to go away 
 until to-morrow," said Paula, while Gustav 
 was taking off his overcoat, "and Fraulein 
 Winter has put the children to bed. We shall 
 now be entirely uninterrupted." 
 
 The table was laid in the room. " You must 
 take things as they come, dearest," said Paula, 
 motioning him to the chair opposite. "You 
 will get nothing but tea, cold meat, eggs, and 
 a sweet dish. I thought you would rather 
 have me treat you without ceremony." 
 
 "Thank you, Paula," he answered, pressing 
 her hand. 
 
 At the meal a surprise awaited him. The 
 tea-cup which stood before him bore the in- 
 scription in gilt letters: "Gustav BruchstSdt," 
 and on the opposite side: "Welcome." He 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 163 
 
 flushed crimson, and murmured: " Oh — Paula 
 — what an idea — when did you have it made?" 
 
 Paula, who was gloating over his emotion, 
 replied : 
 
 " I ordered the cup when I knew that you 
 were coming. It shall be a souvenir in future 
 of your first entrance into Paula's home." 
 
 An hour later, Fraulein Winter who, up to 
 that time, had remained with them, silently 
 retired, leaving the two alone. It was fully 
 midnight when Paula gave Gustav the key of 
 the house-door and sent him away. But he 
 was obliged to promise to come as early as 
 seven the next morning. 
 
 The following day Fraulein Winter opened 
 the door and pressed his hand familiarly in 
 the antechamber. " You know the way, Herr 
 Professor," she said, with a peculiar smile, and 
 let him go in alone to Paula, who, still in bed, 
 stretched out both arms to him. 
 
 At breakfast, about two hours later, Gustav 
 for the first time saw Paula's children, who 
 were called in to bid their mother and the new 
 friend good-morning before going with Frau- 
 
164 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 lein Winter to the house of a family of their 
 acquaintance, 'where they were to spend the 
 whole Sunday. They looked at Gustav very 
 curiously, at first shyly, but soon grew bolder 
 when their mother encouraged them and Gus- 
 tav drew them kindly toward him. The older 
 boy could already talk sensibly about his 
 school and his Christmas presents, but the 
 younger was too small to understand anything 
 but caresses and merry rides on the knees. 
 
 When they had gone, Gustav at last suc- 
 ceeded in looking at the suite of apartments. 
 The dining-room appeared also to serve as a 
 drawing-room, and the chamber as a studio. 
 These two were in front. Paula did not take 
 him to the bedrooms occupied by Fraulein 
 Winter and the children, which looked out 
 upon the courtyard. The place had a Bohe- 
 mian aspect — the word slovenly would be a 
 trifle too strong — which impressed Gustav very 
 unpleasantly. The furniture was extremely 
 scanty, and yet was pretentious rubbish ; the 
 sofa and armchairs were covered with red vel- 
 vet and had gilt frames, but were shabby and 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 165 
 
 worn on the edges; there were small inlaid 
 tables, but their tops were scratched and 
 cracked. Little worthless articles were scat- 
 tered everywhere, german favors and ball 
 souvenirs, that were evidently intended to do 
 duty for fashionable ^'bibelots." Gustav had 
 certainly not been born with a silver spoon in 
 his mouth and reared in the laps of duchesses. 
 In his childhood he had known want, in his 
 youth pouerty. But though accustomed to pro- 
 vincial simplicity, he was also to absolute clean- 
 liness, rigid order, and proud acknowledg- 
 ment of industrious poverty, and had no taste 
 for shabby gentility, and the artistic effect of 
 negligence and motley confusion. His train- 
 ing in swift observation led him to notice 
 many other things. On one wall hung a large 
 oil-painting, representing Paula in a very low- 
 necked ball-dress. It was signed "Korne- 
 mann." Upon a bureau, in studied confusion, 
 lay numberless photographs of young and el- 
 derly men, often with very gallant dedications, 
 among them his own, which he had been 
 obliged to have taken solely for her. On the 
 
1 66 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 broad -window-sill there were ash-holders and 
 a Japanese dish containing half -smoked cigar- 
 ettes. Did men smoke with her? Did she 
 smoke ? Both were an unbearable abomination 
 to him. 
 
 Gustav was confined to the house all that 
 Sunday. He dared not venture into the 
 street, that he might not be recognized in the 
 neighborhood where he had so many acquaint- 
 ances. Barwald lived only four hundred paces 
 from Paula's residence. When he thought of 
 his friend, and the game of hide-and-seek he 
 was playing with him, a burden weighed upon 
 his heart. But Paula took care that he should 
 not have much time to devote to reflection. 
 She was constantly hovering around him or 
 seated in his lap, and the time which was not 
 devoted to caresses she filled with lively chat- 
 ter. She brought out mementos, pictures, 
 letters, and told anecdotes concerning them. 
 For instance, she showed the likeness of an 
 ordinarily good-looking young man, and said : 
 
 " Just think, Gustav ; ■ this gentleman shot 
 himself five days ago." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 167 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " It is not known yet. He was well, pros- 
 perous, fond of life and, so far as strangers 
 could see, happy. In their search for a mo- 
 tive people said: 'Unhappy love.' And for 
 me!" she added. 
 
 As Gustav looked at her with surprise, she 
 went on quickly : 
 
 " Of course, that's sheer nonsense. He paid 
 me attention, like everybody else, but love 
 was never mentioned between us. Then I 
 hear suddenly that he has committed suicide. 
 He had been with me a great deal. I felt 
 obliged to attend the funeral. I was dressed 
 entirely in black, with a long black veil. 
 When I left the carriage in the cemetery, and 
 approached the open grave, a thrill of horror 
 evidently ran through the others who were 
 present at the burial. They drew back on 
 both sides, making way for me. I walked 
 slowly, almost floated forward between the 
 ranks, without looking at any one, only gaz- 
 ing with fixed, dilated eyes into vacancy. 
 Then my pale cheeks, the black dress, the 
 
1 68 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 crfepe, I looked like a Niobe. The whole affair 
 did not actually concern me at all, but the 
 scene was so wonderfully pathetic, the people 
 all appeared to be so deeply moved by the 
 sight of me, the report that he had died for 
 my sake was so evidently in the thoughts of 
 all, that it seized and overpowered me also. 
 I tottered mechanically to the open grave and 
 sank beside it. Those who were nearest 
 caught me in their arras, they devoted them- 
 selves to me ; I was the centre of attention in 
 the whole funeral ceremonial ; people said, with 
 agitated faces, "Come, madam, you ought 
 not to stay here," and I allowed myself to be 
 led slowly back to the carriage like a help- 
 less child. I was completely exhausted by it 
 the next day. What do you say to that, my 
 darling?" 
 
 " I say that you can throw yourself into a 
 part with uncomfortable perfection." 
 
 " Yes. I have always said that a great ac- 
 tress was lost in me." 
 
 This story made Gustav unusually reflective. 
 He did not dwell upon the absurdity of her 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 169 
 
 calm, as it were objective, self-reflection and 
 self -admiration ; for a more serious thought 
 occupied his mind. A faint suspicion was 
 dawning that her love for him might also be 
 mere acting. If this were the case he need 
 not commiserate himself, for what was he 
 doing save playing upon her feelings? What 
 a punishment for him to be paid in the same 
 coin ! What a pitiable fool he would then be 
 to have been guilty of all these absurdities and 
 falsehoods out of sensitive consideration for a 
 passion which had no more actual existence 
 than his own ! 
 
 Paula also spoke repeatedly of the future, 
 mentioning the 24th of March as an appointed 
 holiday, the fixed date of her formal betrothal, 
 until, in his increasing impatience, he was at 
 last unable to refrain from mildly remonstrat- 
 ing: 
 
 " We do not yet know anything at all of the 
 future, which is not to be decided until the 
 24th of March." 
 
 "I have already decided," said Paula, with 
 a triumphant smile, kissing him. 
 
I/O THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "I have not," replied Gustav. 
 
 "Why, why," she answered, in a jesting 
 tone. " I even believe, Professor, that you arc 
 rattling the chain and trying to release your- 
 self." 
 
 " I have no occasion to do so," he said grave- 
 ly, "for I am not yet bound." 
 
 " Do you really think so?" 
 
 "That is the distinct agreement." 
 
 "The letter kills, the spirit makes alive. 
 According to form you are not bound, accord- 
 ing to reality you are. Do not struggle, my 
 Gustav. Rather begin to accommodate your- 
 self in mind to our mutual life." 
 
 "You do not see one great obstacle, Paula?" 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "My mother." 
 
 "Why should she be an obstacle?" 
 
 " She is an old lady, and has her own ideas. 
 Her ideal of a daughter-in-law is entirely un- 
 like you. More conventional, more shallow, 
 but unlike. She would never feel kindly tow- 
 ard you." 
 
 " Let that be my care. I will win the dear 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I /I 
 
 lady in a week. It would be the first time, if 
 I did not succeed when I made the attempt." 
 
 " My mother is not a man." 
 
 " Women do not resist me any more than 
 men, you uncivil bear." 
 
 "I do not share your confidence." 
 
 Paula became irritable. "Very well. In 
 that case, you are of age, and need not consult 
 your mother." 
 
 " Hush, Paula, hush, you don't know what 
 my mother is to me. I owe everything to 
 her. She has toiled for me, she has supported 
 me, she has sacrificed her whole life for my 
 sake. I can never thank and reward her for 
 it sufficiently. But at least I can give her old 
 age peace and content. Before I would cause 
 her sorrow, I would a thousand times rather 
 tear the heart out of my breast." 
 
 "Do not excite yourself," said Paula sooth- 
 ingly, when she saw him so deeply agitated. 
 " You imagine bugbears which will never be 
 realized. You stupid, clumsy men can do 
 nothing but run plump against an obstacle. 
 With you it is always bend or break. This 
 
172 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 method, of course, causes bruises and wounds. 
 We women manage more skilfully. We know 
 how to go around an impediment, without 
 hurting it or ourselves. Trust your Paula, 
 and be of good courage, Gustav. " 
 
 The time did not pass so swiftly for him in 
 Berlin as in Cologne, but a winter day is short, 
 and the hour of parting soon struck. Paula 
 went to the station with him and wanted to 
 stay until the train started ; but it made him 
 nervous when he saw her constantly glancing 
 in all directions lest a familiar face should ap- 
 pear, and he begged her to go. After some 
 display of reluctance she yielded and, with a 
 long pressure of the hand, left him. " Fare- 
 well," she said, "always remember that I love 
 you. And the next time you come, you will 
 bring a message of joy." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The first thing Gustav did after his return 
 was to write to Barwald a letter of gentle re- 
 proach, in which he complained that Fran 
 Barwald had gossiped to his mother about 
 Frau Ehrwein, and thus rendered her seriously 
 uneasy. 
 
 " I can see nothing worthy of censure in 
 Hedwig's letter to your mother," was Bar- 
 wald's reply. " We were both amazed to per- 
 ceive, by your mother's communication, that 
 you had not yet told her anything. I think it 
 was your duty to inform her, since the affair 
 had progressed so far. You ought to have 
 told yourself that she would learn it sooner or 
 later from another source, if you did not an- 
 nounce it to her. I do not understand your 
 secrecy. Your mother surely must know it 
 when you marry. As to your resolution itself, 
 permit me to maintain my previous reserve. 
 
 173 
 
174 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 You have asked no advice, and therefore I 
 have none to give you. Finally, you are old 
 enough and sensible enough to know what you 
 are doing. You probably did not expect my 
 approval, and it is not a necessary condition of 
 your happiness. The latter I wish .you with 
 all my heart, and am the more desirous to 
 avoid disturbing you with doubts, because it 
 is already too late to change anything in the 
 accomplished facts." 
 
 Gustav instantly replied that it was perfectly 
 incomprehensible why Barwald should speak 
 of accomplished facts. If he had formed so 
 important a resolution as a betrothal, he 
 would probably have communicated it to his 
 dearest and oldest friend. There was not the 
 most remote question of it. Frau Ehrwein 
 and he had become friends in Magdeburg; 
 he cherished feelings of warm and respectful 
 regard for her, but there was nothing of im- 
 portance in the matter. 
 
 Barwald's answer came without delay. 
 "Forgive an old friend's sincerity," he wrote, 
 " but your letter of February 7th completely 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 75 
 
 puzzles me. I had the information of the 
 betrothal from Frau Ehrwein herself. After 
 receiving your reply, I went to her to call her 
 to account. Perhaps you -will consider this an 
 unwarranted interference, but you and your 
 affairs are sufficiently important to me to jus- 
 tify this step to my own conscience. Frau 
 Ehrwein, after a few evasions, admitted that 
 a formal betrothal had not taken place. This 
 lifted a heavy burden from my heart, for it 
 relieved you of the guilt of actual falsehood. 
 But when I seriously remonstrated with the 
 lady about the recklessness with which she 
 herself was circulating such inventions, she 
 only listened silently, though with a peculiar 
 smile and, instead of answering, opened a 
 drawer which was filled to overflowing with 
 your letters. A chill ran through my veins 
 when I saw the piles. You cannot have done 
 anything for months except write to Frau 
 Ehrwein. She fished out a few haphazard 
 from the heap, and gave them to me to read. 
 Gustav — well, I will say nothing more. You 
 know best what you have written to the lady. 
 
176 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 You say there is nothing of importance in the 
 matter. Friend, that does not agree. In that 
 case, people do not write letters fairly blazing 
 with ardor. I should be glad to find mitigat- 
 ing circumstances for your conduct, and will 
 see in it only the proof that you conceal the 
 real state of affairs from me because you 
 rightly feel what a stupendous folly you will 
 commit if you marry Frau Ehrwein. So far as 
 lies in your power, release yourself from her. 
 She is certainly a pretty creature, but no wife 
 for you. I only fear — I fear — that it is use- 
 less to preach reason to a man so thoroughly 
 in love as you must be, according to your 
 letters." 
 
 Gustav was benumbed when he read these 
 lines. How could she show his letters to 
 strangers, even if they were the most intimate 
 friends ! How could she thus expose herself 
 and him ! Did she not say herself that he was 
 not yet anything more than a happy lover? 
 Does a woman boast of such relations ? Did she 
 forget that he had a right to break off his con- 
 nection with her on the 24th of March? And 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 77 
 
 if he did, how would she stand then? Her 
 conduct could be explained only by her foolish 
 belief that her charms were irresistible. Yet 
 was it not monstrous that vanity should make 
 her forget all prudence and caution? He 
 would tell her his opinion. He would free his 
 soul from the intense humiliation inflicted by 
 Barwald, by writing Paula a vehement letter. 
 Yet, at last, he did not do it. Of what avail 
 would it be ? In six weeks all would be over, 
 and until then it was not worth while to quar- 
 rel with her. It was more sensible to use no 
 minor matters as pretexts, but at the appointed 
 date sever the relation for important motives. 
 In this mood he was by no means accessible 
 to Paula's skilful flatteries. She wrote what 
 a great impression he had made upon her 
 children and Fraulein Winter. The young 
 lady was completely in love with him, and 
 raved so foolishly over the handsome pale pro- 
 fessor that she was almost jealous. And the 
 little boys never ceased talking about him. 
 They asked her when he would come again, 
 
 and why he had gone away so soon ; the older 
 12 
 
178 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 one wanted his likeness to put on his desk ; he 
 inquired why the professor had such a beauti- 
 ful voice and such handsome eyes, and whether 
 she would not send him to Brussels, he would 
 like to live with him a while ; in short, within 
 the little home which Gustav now knew, 
 every one dreamed and talked of him alone, 
 and the memory of him was imprinted upon 
 all living beings as well as the inanimate 
 things. 
 
 Gustav did not believe that he could have 
 produced such an impression on little thought- 
 less children as she alleged, and her evident 
 intention of tickling his vanity humiliated 
 him. Again he felt the doubt which, during 
 Paula's description of her appearance at the 
 suicide's funeral, had flashed for the first time 
 through his brain: as she tried to impose 
 upon him with descriptions of the admiration 
 of the children and the governess for him, she 
 might also deceive him in other things. 
 
 It was not only this suspicion which kept 
 him in a very uncomfortable state. All hap- 
 piness and peace had vanished from his home, 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 79 
 
 which was now pervaded with the chill and 
 desolation of the grave. Frau Bruchstadt did 
 not talk with her son, and avoided looking at 
 him. During the meals she sat opposite to 
 him at the table, but the rest of the time she 
 remained alone in her room. She grew pale 
 and thin, her eyes were dull and almost al- 
 ways misty with tears ; she aged visibly, and 
 glided about like a shadow on the wall. At 
 last Gustav could bear it no longer, and one 
 day, late in February when, as was now her 
 custom, she softly entered the dining-room 
 and took her seat in silence, he started up, 
 hastily went to her, took her gray head in his 
 arms, and said in a trembling voice: "Mother 
 dear, be kind again." 
 
 She did not try to release herself, but nei- 
 ther did she make any movement of response. 
 Resting her head on his breast, she began to 
 weep quietly. Gustav kissed her closed eyes, 
 and continued : 
 
 "Mother, you will break my heart." 
 "You have broken mine," she sighed, al- 
 most inaudibly. 
 
l80 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Be sensible, mother, you are causing you 
 and myself needless sorrow. Nothing has 
 happened, and nothing will happen which 
 need make you anxious." 
 
 "The perfumed letters come every day." 
 
 "Don't let that disturb you, mother. It 
 will be over on the 24th of March." 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt looked up in surprise. 
 "Why just then?" 
 
 " Don't ask an explanation. You have no 
 experience in such things " 
 
 "Thank heaven!" she interposed. 
 
 — " and would not understand me. In the 
 circles in which you have not lived and do not 
 know, many things are different from what 
 you imagine." 
 
 " You need not reproach me with my ori- 
 gin," said Frau Bruchstadt bitterly, drawing 
 herself away from him. " I know that I am a 
 plain woman. I would have wished you a 
 more aristocratic, better-educated mother. 
 But you will not have to be ashamed of me 
 much longer." 
 
 "Mother," Gustav interrupted, pressing her 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. l8l 
 
 more closely to his heart, " Mother, you are 
 ill, or you would not talk so. I owe you 
 everything that I am and have, and no king 
 need be ashamed of you." 
 
 As she made no answer, Gustav continued : 
 
 " Three weeks will soon be over. Then you 
 
 will be convinced that you have no reason to 
 
 grieve. Surely you can have confidence in 
 
 me so long." 
 
 The truth is that she could only half trust 
 him,. for the letters, those unlucky letters, with 
 their shameless violet fragrance, came with 
 the wonted regularity — often even twice a day. 
 Paula was rapturously in love, thrilling with 
 passion and confident happiness, full of dreams 
 and plans for the glorious future now so close 
 at hand. Gustav ventured several times to 
 warn and prepare her, but he did it so timidly, 
 so cautiously and vaguely that it made no im- 
 pression. He intimated that his mother's op- 
 position was unyielding, he betrayed that he 
 was madly jealous of her past and would re- 
 ceive a stab in the heart every time that he 
 was obliged to see her children, but as he al- 
 
1 82 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 ways hastened to add that he loved her un- 
 speakably, she dwelt only upon the last words, 
 did not heed what preceded them, and at the 
 utmost scoffed pleasantly at his scruples. 
 
 Thus the second half of March approached. 
 
 "What a week!" Paula wrote on Tuesday, 
 eight days before the 24th, " I am standing 
 at the bar. Life or death? What is your 
 mood? How much am I to you? And when 
 we have decided, what days will follow? 
 Strange hours ! It seems as if I were dream- 
 ing. You poor fellow. I pity you infinitely. 
 Pity, if you must renounce your happiness, 
 pity also if you destroy your future by placing ' 
 it in the hands of an invalid wife." 
 
 "Needless pity," thought Gustav, but nev- 
 ertheless wrote a letter to her overflowing 
 with tenderness. 
 
 " I must stop in the midst of my work," she 
 wrote on the 19th; " I have been reading your 
 letter received to-day, and feel a mad longing 
 for you. If I had you now, I would bite your 
 white breast for joy. Here the sun is shining 
 brightly, presaging happiness. For five days 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 83 
 
 more I will still behold the sun without and 
 within. You call me a sweet creature. Am 
 I? Will you always think so? I believe it." 
 
 On the 20th she again mentioned how little 
 Stephan, her younger boy, asked constantly 
 for him, and added : " A week from to-day I 
 shall have your letter. One ought really to 
 sleep for a week. Gusti, Gusti, give me calm- 
 ness. The torturing unrest — the ardent long- 
 ing — six months like these consume life. Yet 
 what does it matter? The sun is shining. 
 The most beautiful spring is opening." 
 
 On the 2 1st she sent a letter which Gregor, 
 the older boy, had written, "entirely of his 
 own inclination." "When will you come to 
 us again?" it ran. "The next time you must 
 stay a long while, for we love you very 
 dearly." Paula added : " I am living in a state 
 of stupor. I am both happy and miserable. 
 I don't wish to rouse myself. You will, do 
 that. Decide freely — I will accommodate my- 
 self bravely to your resolution, whatever it 
 may be." 
 
 Gtfstav uttered a sigh of relief. 
 
1 84 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Two more letters arrived before the 24th of 
 March. On the 2 2d Paula wrote: "You will 
 receive one more letter from me to-morrow. 
 Then I must keep silence and wait. I love 
 you very dearly. Do you believe it?" And 
 on the 23d: "I send my greetings, Gusti. 
 Read them twice, thrice, and say to yourself 
 all that it is impossible for me to utter to-day, 
 now. Paula." 
 
 On the 22d of March, Gustav wrote to her 
 for the last time in his usual strain of exag- 
 geration, saying at the close : " I shall not 
 write to-morrow. The day must be devoted 
 to serious self-examination. But on the day 
 after, love, you will hear from me." 
 
 The hour of decision had now come. It 
 really was none for him ; he had known all 
 the past six months what he meant to do, and 
 at the utmost had had only a few seconds' wa- 
 vering, which proceeded from moments of self- 
 deception. The only unspeakably cruel diflS- 
 culty was to find the fitting words for what he 
 had to communicate. He had always been 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 85 
 
 aware that it would not be an easy matter to 
 bring the adventure to a peaceful and seemly 
 termination. But he had never imagined it 
 to be so difficult as the reality proved. False- 
 hood has its logic as well as truth. With iron 
 inflexibility it leads far beyond the point to 
 which the liar originally desired to go. There 
 is but one way for the sinner to break the 
 spell which holds him captive, a frank admis- 
 sion of guilt. But how many people have the 
 moral courage to make the redeeming confes- 
 sion : " I have lied" ? Gustav did not possess 
 it. On one point his mind was made up, that 
 he could not write to Paula: "It was all a 
 farce. Let the cruel sport close. I do not 
 love you, and all is at an end between us." 
 This was not honesty, but cynicism. Paula 
 had heart disease. Such an abrupt knock on 
 the head might have serious consequences, and 
 no dictate of truthfulness could force him to 
 become a murderer. Even if he desired to do 
 so, he was even less willing now, than six 
 months ago, to humiliate her in her own eyes 
 by openly telling her that she was unable to 
 
1 86 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 inspire him with love. She must believe her- 
 self beloved. She must retain the consolation 
 that he withdrew, not because her charm was 
 not strong enough to bind him, but because 
 outward circumstances were still stronger. 
 These were the motives of his acts which he 
 admitted to himself. But in the shadowy 
 background of his thoughts, other forces were 
 acting which he perceived only vaguely, be- 
 cause he intentionally avoided fixing his eyes 
 intently upon them. For months, Paula had 
 daily called him her angel, her god. She ad- 
 mired as much as she loved him. It was a 
 delightful feeling to live in the soul of a beau- 
 tiful woman as a supernatural being, sur- 
 rounded by a golden halo of saintship. He 
 did not wish to lose his aureole. He did not 
 desire to be flung down from the altar an ordi- 
 nary man among the common herd of human 
 beings. In a woman's eyes the principal sign 
 of a lofty, exceptional nature is constancy in 
 love. The true hero to a woman is " one of the 
 Afra, who die if they love;" on the contrary, 
 nothing is more base than the transitoriness 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 87 
 
 of this feeling — in a man, of course. If he 
 told Paula that he no longer loved her, she 
 would despise him as a base nature ; if he told 
 her that he had never loved her, she would 
 despise him still more as a hypocrite and a 
 liar. But she must not scorn him. In short, 
 his real, unconfessed feeling was this: true, 
 the relation must end, and he become free, 
 but he would still remain the hero of love and 
 loyalty he had hitherto appeared, and Paula 
 should adore him as before. 
 
 So, on Tuesday afternoon, after receiving 
 Paula's last lines, which resembled an ejacu- 
 latory prayer, he sat down and wrote the fol- 
 lowing letter: 
 
 "Dear, dear Paula: 
 
 "After two sleepless nights, two days of 
 the keenest anguish of soul, in which I have 
 suffered in advance all the sorrow that the 
 lines I write to-day can cause you, I now see, 
 with fatal clearness, where my duty lies, and 
 which path I must enter. I have struggled 
 against my own point of view until all my 
 powers were exhausted, but resistance is fu- 
 
1 88 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 tile. The word which I must utter will de- 
 stroy my own happiness for life, but fate com- 
 pels me to pronounce it. My worshipped 
 Paula, I must give you up, you cannot be mine 
 for life. Do not ask my reasons; they are 
 stronger than my will, and my boundless love 
 for you is powerless against them. Through 
 you, I have known the most glorious emotion ; 
 you have unspeakably enriched my life, and I 
 can never again be absolutely poor, for the 
 remembrance of you will abide with me. Be- 
 fore I knew you, I cared little for women. 
 Henceforth they will be nothing to me. My 
 life will now be dark and melancholy, you will 
 remain the only bright star in it. I have had 
 a sweet dream. It has vanished. I must pur- 
 sue my toilsome way without you. Forget the 
 lonely, sorrowful wanderer, or think of him 
 pityingly, without resentment. You are a ra- 
 diant creature, Paula. You are created to dif- 
 fuse happiness. You will yet find it yourself 
 and, I hope, soon cease to feel my loss. Do I 
 really desire this? I will not venture to con- 
 fess to myself what I actually desire. Fare- 
 well, my Paula; you will hear nothing more 
 from me, but I shall remain till my last breath 
 your unhappy Gustav." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 89 
 
 He mailed the letter himself, and then felt 
 the need of a long walk. When he returned 
 home, he went to his mother and said to her 
 without any preface : " It is done. No one will 
 stand between us any longer." 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt sighed deeply, and an- 
 swered : 
 
 "I have prayed enough. Our Lord has had 
 mercy upon you and me." After a short pause 
 she added sadly : " But Fraulein Fahrbach was 
 betrothed several weeks ago." 
 
 "That shows you how little I was to 
 her." 
 
 "But, Gustav, when a girl has been so 
 treated! She could not go into a convent, 
 because you deserted her." 
 
 It was painful to him to dwell upon this 
 subject now, and he turned the conversation 
 to his plans for the summer. His mother, too, 
 was thoughtful, and could not immediately 
 regain her former frankness. 
 
 The next day he experienced strangely min- 
 gled emotions. He felt anxious concerning 
 the effect of his letter, shame for the part 
 
190 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 wliich he had played during half a year, relief 
 that it was at an end. For the first time in 
 months the daily letter from Berlin did not 
 come and he was obliged to write none. He 
 almost missed both. At any rate, this inter- 
 ruption of a custom rendered him fully con- 
 scious that an important era in his life had 
 ended, and a new one was beginning. Early 
 Thursday morning he reckoned that Paula 
 now had his letter. Would she ever answer 
 it? Scarcely. She could not help being too 
 deeply offended. She had too high an opinion 
 of herself to admit that a man whom she 
 had not dismissed could withdraw from her. 
 Probably, she now hated him. That was 
 a pity. Perhaps it might help her over the 
 crisis. 
 
 It was nearly ten o'clock, and he was pre- 
 paring to go to the university when Frau 
 Bruchstadt entered his room with a telegram. 
 His hands trembled slightly as he opened it 
 and read : 
 
 " Must see you. Ought not to sentence me 
 unheard. Wire reply. Paula." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I91 
 
 As his mother stood before him, anxiously 
 watching him, he handed the sheet to her. 
 
 "Don't yield!" she cried, when she had 
 glanced over it ; " this is a feint to draw you 
 into her snare again." 
 
 "Don't be so cruel, mother," pleaded Gus- 
 tav. " Surely you now see that I am in earnest. 
 The relation is broken. It will not be re- 
 newed. But I cannot refuse a last request 
 from a woman who has done me no wrong." 
 
 " You are weak ; she will entreat and weep, 
 you will yield. Child, let her go. Don't an- 
 swer. Or reply that what you told her you 
 meant, and will persist in. If you go to her 
 she'll catch you again." 
 
 " Don't be anxious, mother; I am not weak, 
 only courteous." 
 
 " Gustav, let me write to the woman. She 
 must let you alone." 
 
 "You cannot interfere in such a matter. 
 Have confidence in me." 
 
 "Child, the whole story is beginning over 
 again. God grant that I may be mistaken. 
 But I see it coming." 
 
192 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 " You shall see what a bad prophetess you 
 are. Only have a little patience with me this 
 time." 
 
 " I cannot. The danger is too great. You 
 cannot cope with such women." 
 
 Gustav put one arm around her and laid his 
 hand upon her lips to prevent her uttering any 
 more angry words. As Frau Bruchstadt saw 
 that her advice and warning were useless, she 
 released herself and, with a sorrowful face and 
 manner, left him. 
 
 Gustav telegraphed back to Berlin : " Where 
 and when you wish." He heard nothing until 
 the afternoon of the next day, when Paula 
 wrote very briefly that she would not ask him 
 to come to Berlin, she did not now desire to 
 see Cologne again ; he would share her feel- 
 ings, so she had decided upon Aachen. She 
 would start Saturday evening. He must tele- 
 graph whether he would be at the railway 
 station in Aachen at ten minutes past nine 
 o'clock Sunday morning. The letter was al- 
 most business-like, without a tender word at 
 the beginning or end, but traces of tears were 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENt. 1 93 
 
 visible oti the pages, and, -when he uiifolded 
 the sheet, a violet fell out. 
 
 "Will be at the place/' tvas Gustdv's reply 
 to the letter, and the next evening he set out 
 for Aachen. This time his mother packed his 
 hand-bag and accompanied hina to the car-- 
 riagfei She embraced and kissed him as if on 
 the eve of a long Separation, and left him ■With 
 the words : " May God help you, child ! Re- 
 member your old mother." 
 
 Gustav had to wait several hours in Aachen 
 before the arrivstl of the Berlin train. It was 
 a repetition of the meeting at Cologne, and yet 
 how totally different to-day was from the for- 
 mer time ! He would have given something 
 to be twenty-four hotlrs earlier. Yet the ex- 
 perience must be undergone^-^it was the just 
 punishment of his offence. 
 
 At last Paula arrived. She nodded siletitly 
 when she saw hifflj leaned on his arm for sup- 
 port in descending from the car, and answered 
 his inquiry for her health, in a forded, cool, 
 expressionless voice: "Tolerably well." She 
 
 was perhaps somewhat paler than usual, but 
 13 
 
194 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 that might be due to the night-journey. They 
 ■walked to the door of the station in silence. 
 Not until Paula turned toward a carriage did 
 Gustav say : " The hotel is directly before us. 
 The distance is not a hundred paces." 
 
 They crossed the short space without ex- 
 changing a word, and a few minutes later the 
 hotel servants left them alone in their room. 
 
 Gustav had not kissed her when they greeted 
 each other, and did not do so now. He stood 
 behind her while she removed her hat and 
 outside wraps before the mirror, and still found 
 nothing to say. Suddenly she turned to him 
 and, drawing his letter from the pocket of her 
 dress with a nervous gesture, asked : 
 
 " Gustav, were you able to write this ? ' 
 
 "I was obliged to do so," he answered in a 
 stifled voice. 
 
 "But why, Gustav, why?" 
 
 " Do not ask, Paula. Spare me from saying 
 things to you which must be unspeakably 
 painful to us both." 
 
 " I cannot spare you. I wish to know your 
 reasons. You must give them. You have no 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. I95 
 
 right to condemn me to death, without telling 
 me -why." 
 
 " To death ! Paula ! Why do you use such 
 exaggerated forms of speech?" 
 
 "Do you call them forms of speech? You 
 are mistaken, Gustav. Look at me. You see 
 I am perfectly calm, I am not excited, I know 
 exactly what I am saying. Well then, I swear 
 to you by my children's lives, by my love for 
 you — if I must lose you, it will be my death." 
 
 She went to the sofa, sat down in the corner, 
 and wiped the tears from her eyes. Gustav 
 had never seen her weep. The sight caused 
 him keen suffering. 
 
 "Well, Gustav," she began again, as he did 
 not answer, "why must you give me up?" 
 
 " You might guess. I have intimated it to 
 you frequently enough." 
 
 "Your mother?" 
 
 Gustav nodded. 
 
 " What has your mother against me?" 
 
 "You have been slandered to her." 
 
 "And you did not defend me?" 
 
 "Something always clings." 
 
196 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "So yom will sacrifice me fof the sake of 
 miserable gossip?" 
 
 "Apart from gossip, the true condition of 
 affairs still remains, and my mothfer -vvill never 
 be reconciled to it." 
 
 " I understand," said Paula bitterly. " Your 
 mother wants you to marry a money-bagj and 
 will not forgive tne for being poor." 
 
 " You misjudge my mother. Money is not 
 the main thing to her. It is — your family 
 relations." 
 
 Paula sat silent a while. Then she raised 
 her bowed head and said in an agitated Voice : 
 
 " Did you tell your mother that you loved 
 me?" 
 
 "Child, she is inaccessible to such reasons." 
 
 " Gustav, you slander your mother. She is a 
 woman. She has a heart. If I appear before 
 her with you, if I kneel at her feet and say : 
 'Your son loves me. He calls me the happi- 
 ness of his life. He cannot live without me, 
 nor I without him. Have pity upon hitn and 
 me. ' Do you believe that a mother, a wdtnan, 
 will still remain itiflexible?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIlVfENT. I97 
 
 It was very difficult to parry this direct 
 thrust. He p9,ced up and down several steps, 
 then drawing a chair toward the sofa and seat- 
 ing himself, he said : 
 
 " It is not only my mother." 
 
 She glanced up in surprise, and asked: 
 "What else?" 
 
 " Do not torture me, Paula ; do not force me 
 to give you pain." 
 
 " I wish to know all. You cannot wound 
 me more than you have done already." 
 
 " your children " 
 
 " My children !" she vehemently exclaimed. 
 " They must now be an obstacle. Gustav, that 
 is ppt hones^. I had my children when you 
 made my acquaintance. Then why did you 
 love me? Why did you not keep aloof from 
 me?" 
 
 " I did not know myself that I could not en- 
 dure it. I was obliged first to experience how 
 it affects me to have your past constantly in 
 living form before my eyes. Your children 
 are charming. My heart would go forth to 
 them wherever I might see them- But as they 
 
198 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 are your children, they never allow me to for- 
 get that you have been the wife of another." 
 
 "Think that I am a widow." 
 
 "I could never marry a widow with chil- 
 dren." 
 
 "But if you love her?" 
 
 "Precisely because I love her. If I were 
 indifferent to her, and wished to make a mar- 
 riage of convenience, her children would not 
 be annoying to me." 
 
 " I do not understand your feelings, Gustav. 
 Can I help the past? Is it my fault that I did 
 not know you sooner?" 
 
 " I certainly am not reproaching you. It is 
 simply a fatality against which we cannot 
 rebel." 
 
 " But if the case were reversed, I would not 
 see an obstacle in it a moment. You will soon 
 be thirty-three. You might have been mar- 
 ried eight years. You might also have two 
 children. I should consider myself happy to 
 be a mother to the children of the man whom 
 I love. They would be one bond the more to 
 unite me to you." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 1 99 
 
 "Paula, you are so acute; how can you 
 say such, things? It is not the same case. 
 Paternal and maternal feelings are totally 
 different." 
 
 " I do not perceive that." 
 
 "You cannot enter into a man's feeling." 
 
 Another pause ensued. 
 
 "Listen, Gustav." Paula again broke the 
 silence, and her faltering voice betrayed deep 
 emotion. "You do not know how a woman 
 loves as I love you. I will show you. I 
 am ready to make the greatest sacrifice 
 for you that a mother can offer. I am 
 ready to part from my children. I will send 
 them back to their father. What do you say 
 now?" 
 
 Gustav thought of the Countess von Orla- 
 munde.* 
 
 "I can never accept this sacrifice," he an- 
 swered quickly. " You would always have a 
 longing for your little ones. Your heart would 
 
 * Countess von Orlamunde is said to have murdered 
 her two children, because they were an obstacle to 
 her second marriage. 
 
200 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 be only half mine, I phould have robbed, chil- 
 dren of their mother, and yet not made you 
 happy. No, Panla, that cannot be." 
 
 "Gustav, do not drive me mad. I am ca- 
 pable of everything. I must have yotj, do you 
 hear? J must have you. You cannot marry 
 me on account of your mother. You canijot 
 live with me on account of my children. Gus- 
 tav, I will submit to everything. Do not 
 marry me, do not live with me, but let me 
 be yours." 
 
 " What do you mean by that?" 
 
 " This red head has never yet humbled it- 
 self, it does so Eiow. I -have no more pride. 
 I love you too much. I will be your love. I 
 will go to Brussels. You shall give me an 
 hour every day. You shall not see my chil- 
 dren. I will be no burden upon you, You 
 shall find with me only happiness and love. 
 But do not abandon me." 
 
 " Paula, you rend my heart. How can I ac- 
 cept such a proposal? You do not know for 
 what you declare yourself ready. Such a re- 
 lation cannot remain secret. It is a breach 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 20I 
 
 with t^e -whole warld, with all your friends, 
 with your family." 
 
 " I need no one, if I have you." 
 
 " No, no, Paula, that is impossible. Suppose 
 that I should die. You will remain dishonored. 
 Return to the world will be prohibited," 
 
 "You die! That is mockery, Gustav. I 
 have heart disease, Perhaps I have only a 
 few months to Ijve. In a year you will prob- 
 ably be rid of me. During this year let me be 
 happy. I am begging for a last happiness for 
 so short a time!" 
 
 Gustav silently averted his head. He felt a 
 sort of surpripe that falsehood, even in the 
 mouth of so distinguished a dialectician, pos- 
 sesses so little power of conviction. 
 
 As Paula vainly waited for a word, she be- 
 gaq aigain : 
 
 " I have tortured my poor brain to death to 
 find some expedient. You reject everything I 
 propose. Very well. I know of nothing more. 
 Do you think of something. Propose some 
 thing. I wiil accept everything. If only 
 I have you." 
 
202 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Paula, your excitement will not last for- 
 ever. You will gradually recover from my 
 loss. You are admired " 
 
 "Shame, Gustav, shame!" she interrupted. 
 " Shame on you ! Do you suppose that I can 
 ever again belong to any man ? Do you think 
 so humbly of me and of yourself? Is there 
 any other man upon the earth for me? Is 
 not every one else a horror, since I have loved 
 you? TAnd then — what respectable man would 
 care for me now? You spoke of my honor. 
 Do you forget that you have compromised 
 me?" 
 
 "I have compromised you?" he cried in be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 " Who else ? Every one knows that we love 
 each other." 
 
 " But, Paula, surely it is not my fault that 
 you revealed our secret. No one knows it 
 from me. You have forgotten that our rela- 
 tion was no settled one, that we were in a 
 period of probation " 
 
 "It was no period of probation," she pas- 
 sionately interrupted. "You loved me. You 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 203 
 
 daily protested it. I could not help believing 
 myself sure of you. If you wished to draw 
 back, why did you write to me daily? Why 
 did you send for me to come to Cologne? 
 Why did you come to Berlin?" 
 
 " Did you not request it, Paula?" 
 
 "You ought not to have yielded to me. You 
 can certainly resist me well to-day." 
 
 "Paula, you are very unjust. You now 
 think that after my return from Magdeburg 
 I ought to have broken off my relations with 
 you. What would you probably have said, if 
 I had done so?" 
 
 " I would have said to myself that you were 
 like all other men. A woman is weak enough 
 to throw herself at your head, you take her, 
 and cast her aside when your fancy is over. 
 That happens every day. I should not have 
 reproached you, only myself. If you had not 
 spoken of my weakness you would have ful- 
 filled the whole duty of a respectable man. 
 Silence was all that I had a right to expect 
 from you." 
 
 "Your instruction comes somewhat too 
 
2Q4 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 late," he sai4, in an icy tone. "Yet I thaxik 
 you for it. Only tell me one thing more. If 
 I had acted as you say, how woiald you after- 
 ward have regarded this Magdeburg episode? 
 How would you have seemed to yourself?" 
 
 " I should h^ve tried not to think of it. If, 
 nevertheless, it had entered my mind, I should 
 have blushed. I would have endeavored npver 
 to Tjieet you agq.iu» Put thege considerations 
 are now useless. A lifelong love has grown 
 out of our meeting. You have kept me me 
 for six months in ^ dream of bliss. You must 
 not rudely wake me. Gustav, do you think 
 you have a right to kill me?" 
 
 "No. But I shall not kill you." 
 "To liye I must have you. I must." 
 " If you must have me, I will not fail you. 
 But I must be convinced that I am really a 
 necessity of life to you." 
 
 "Oh, Gustav -" 
 
 " Paula, your assurance will not suflBce ; you 
 believe to-day that you cannot live without 
 me. Perhaps to-morrow, or in a few weeks 
 or mouths, you will see that you are mistaken. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 205 
 
 The trial mtist be mjide honestly and serious^ 
 ly. We -will not repeat the errors of the past. 
 We must riot artfully agitate eaeh other, and 
 forcibly prevent time from doing its work. 
 We will no longer write to each other, no 
 longer meet. You will- resume your usual 
 life, go into society, amuse yourself. Only if 
 even under such circumstances you cannot 
 conquer your heart, if even then you still feel 
 that you cannot live without me, I will be 
 yours, in some way. But Paula, I know that, 
 if you struggle honestly and seriously fulfil my 
 conditions, you will soon feel yourself that you 
 do not need me." 
 
 " They are hard conditions, Gustav, but they 
 do not alarm me. Anything rather than lose 
 you. So you will remain mine?" 
 
 She held out her hand. He clasped it hesi- 
 tatingly, and replied : 
 
 " If I become convinced that I am a neces- 
 sity of life to you?" 
 
 "In that case, I have no fear," she said, 
 clasping her arms around his neck. 
 
 "No, Paula," he murmured, trying to with- 
 
206 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 draw. " I no longer have a right to take you, 
 since I have given you up." 
 
 Paula made no reply, but seated herself in 
 his lap and pressed her lips to his. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt sat in her room, with 
 eyes that showed traces of tears, when on 
 Monday afternoon her son entered to embrace 
 her. He had a guilty conscience. He had 
 gone with the firm resolve to spend only the 
 day in Aachen, returning Sunday evening, but 
 had remained over-night and did not part from 
 Paula until Monday morning. 
 
 His mother rose eagerly and went to meet 
 him. 
 
 "I expected you early to-day," she said, 
 after Gustav had kissed her. 
 
 " I know, mother dear, but I did not want 
 to sacrifice the night for the sake of gaining a 
 few hours." 
 
 Frau Bruchstadt looked him in the eyes. 
 
 He turned away and busied himself with his 
 
 hand-bag. 
 
 307 
 
208 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "Well?" asked Frau Bruchstadt after a 
 pause. 
 
 " It is over," he replied, without pausing in 
 the task of unpacking his combs and brushes. 
 
 "Are you entirely free from her?" 
 
 " I tell you, mother, that it is over. Let us 
 say no more about the niattet. Try to forget 
 it, that you may At last find peace, you And I." 
 
 His mother made no answer, but she was 
 not yet relieved frotn all anxiety. During the 
 ttext few days, she Watched the arrival of the 
 mail with special attentioh, took the lettet-s 
 from the box at the door of the hotlse herself, 
 and scanned each one that bore a German 
 stamp distrustfully. She estamined the post- 
 mark and the address, and even smelt the let- 
 ter if it seemed suspicibus. For five dkys 
 nothing doubtful appea,red. Gtistav was be- 
 ginhihg to hope that Paula was honestly striv- 
 ing t5 crush down her love, and he punctilious- 
 ly refrained from any new advance to her, 
 though he would have been glad to know what 
 she was noW thinkihg and seeiilg, and her si- 
 lence really surprised him. For, after his ex- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 209 
 
 planation with her in Aachen, she had again 
 become perfectly trustful and confident. Her 
 love was as ardent as ever, and her last words 
 at parting were : " I have your promise, Gus- 
 tav, you will be mine, if I must have you," to 
 which he answered : " But only if you really 
 must have me." 
 
 Easter came on the following Sunday. Gus- 
 tav had gone with his mother to the Bois de 
 Cambre, to enjoy with her the fresh green of 
 the meadows, the young leafage of the trees, 
 and the throng of people in holiday cheerful- 
 ness. When they returned home, Frau Bruch- 
 stadt brought the afternoon mail, which, mean- 
 while, had arrived, from the box, glanced 
 hastily at the four or five letters and papers 
 which it contained, and suddenly exclaimed: 
 "There!" handing Gustav at the same time, 
 with an angry gesture, a letter. 
 
 Yes ! Those were the familiar, large, mas- 
 culine characters, the Berlin stamp, and the 
 treacherous violet perfume. 
 
 Gustav hesitated a moment, then he reso- 
 lutely opened the envelope in his mother's 
 14 
 
210 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 presence. It did not contain a word, not even 
 a sheet of paper, only a few lilies of the valley 
 and daisies. Gustav, much relieved, showed 
 them to his mother. " An innocent remem- 
 brance, that is all." 
 
 " Do you call it innocent?" said Frau Bruch- 
 stadt angrily. "The brazen woman wants to 
 capture you again. These are the little wiles 
 of a wanton." 
 
 " Mother, do not be so harsh. She does not 
 deserve such names, believe me." 
 
 " Gustav, can you still defend this person ? 
 You break with her, yet she comes rushing to 
 Aachen ; you do not write to her, and yet she 
 sends you flowers. Is that the conduct of 
 a woman who has a vestige of pride or de- 
 cency? She is a common adventuress, that's 
 what she is." 
 
 Gustav made no reply, in order not to in- 
 crease his mother's irritation. But she went 
 on: "Well, and you? Of course you'll hurry 
 off a letter to thank her for the trash ?" 
 
 "No, mother, I shall not." 
 
 "You surely will not?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 211 
 
 "I promise you." 
 
 He kept his promise. He did not write. 
 But he felt intense pity for poor Paula, who 
 evidently was unable to sever all the ties be- 
 tween herself and him. Pride? No. That 
 she did not possess. Not even self-respect. 
 He regretted it, for he had relied strongly on 
 her pride. It would render the sundering of 
 the connection easier, make his rejection effec- 
 tual at once. But if she endured a humilia- 
 tion without resenting it, if she defended her- 
 self, if she followed him as a petitioner when 
 he retired, to what was it due except her love? 
 No selfish designs could now be imputed to 
 her, since she had declared herself ready to 
 be his without conditions. Strange power of 
 passion, in whose flames even the most inflexi- 
 ble arrogance melts! Yet all this did not 
 avail. He dared not stretch out his hand to 
 her again, he dared not, by a tender or even 
 a pitying word, weaken her in her conflict 
 against her own feelings. 
 
 Five more days passed, — then a letter again 
 came from Berlin, but it did not rouse Fran 
 
212. THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Bruchstadt's suspicion, since the address was 
 in an unfamiliar hand. It was written by 
 Fraulein Winter. She could no longer en- 
 dure, she said in the letter, to see her dear 
 Frau Ehrwein suffer so. She did not know 
 what had happened, but suspected it. At any 
 rate, she saw that no letters had come from 
 him for a fortnight. She found Frau Ehrwein 
 in tears whenever she went into her room, and, 
 in reply to her questions, she had confessed 
 that the cause of her sufferings was ardent, 
 unconquerable longing for him. She had 
 vainly endeavored to comfort and to cheer 
 her. She knew positively that Frau Ehrwein 
 would not be at peace until she had heard from 
 him. Therefore he might send a message con- 
 cerning his health to her, even if, for any rea- 
 son, he did not wish to write to Frau Ehr- 
 wein. 
 
 Poor Paula! He need not deny her the 
 comfort of a message through a third person. 
 He replied that he was tolerably well, only it 
 made him very unhappy to know that Frau 
 Ehrwein was suffering. He thought of her 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 213 
 
 constantly and loved her madly, but there was 
 no hope, so he must desire that time might ac- 
 complish its work of healing upon the beloved 
 woman. If Fraulein Winter wished to write 
 to him again, he begged her to direct to the 
 post-office to certain initials. 
 
 When, a few days later, he went to the 
 office to ask whether there was anything for 
 him, he received a letter from Paula which 
 had lain there twenty-four hours. It ran as 
 follows : 
 
 " I have struggled with superhuman power, 
 my Gustav ; I have made desperate efforts to 
 live without you, you will admit that. But I 
 can hold out no longer. My heart was full to 
 bursting, yet for a fortnight I have refrained 
 from pouring it out to you. Now I will tor- 
 ture myself no longer. Why should I ? The 
 situation is now clear between us. You will 
 not marry me, and I do not expect it. So it 
 seems unnecessary that we should even deny 
 ourselves the consolation of writing to express 
 our feelings to each other. How do you live 
 without your Paula? Has the atmosphere of 
 your home become cheerful again ? Have you 
 
214 THE COMEDV of sentiment. 
 
 at least regained your mother's heart by your 
 sacrifice? If I did not write for so long, it was 
 principally that I might not disturb her by my 
 letters. But why have you remained silent, 
 you naughty man? Do you not miss me? I 
 shall be able to utter my thoughts more freely, 
 now that I can direct to the post-ofSce, marked 
 to be kept till called for. Do you love me, my 
 Gustav? Until death your Paula." 
 
 Gustav hastened to answer, protesting with 
 tender reproach against the statement that he 
 did not wish to marry her. She knew well that 
 he had only given her up, with a heavy heart, 
 because the obstacles were unconquerable. 
 Concerning himself and his state of feeling he 
 would be silent. If it was a relief to her, let her 
 write to him calmly. Besides, he was more 
 than ever convinced that she would gradually 
 regain her peace of mind. 
 
 At the end of four days he again called at 
 the post-office, and this time found two letters, 
 the first had arrived three days before. He 
 reproached himself for his indifference, and 
 resolved henceforth to go more frequently. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 2l5 
 
 This was necessary; for at first his letters 
 were answered by return mail; then Paula 
 sometimes felt the necessity of writing to him, 
 even on days when she had heard nothing, 
 and long before Whitsuntide they were again 
 maintaining the regular daily correspondence. 
 True, its character had changed in some de- 
 gree. The key-note of his was now a deep 
 melancholy, due to the inexorable fate which 
 pursued their love, a melancholy which often 
 increased to actual complaints. Then Paula 
 used to console him, and, in spite of his 
 renunciation, assure him of the eternity of 
 their love. Soon little allusions to a possible 
 change of circumstances followed. Only the 
 weak relinquish hope before the last breath. 
 True love is always allied with conflict. The 
 brave man does not throw away his gun. The 
 memory of his letter of March 24th and their 
 meeting in Aachen, to which at first she used 
 to allude with bitter remarks, gradually faded. 
 Paula became cheerful again, used droll ex- 
 pressions and playful turns of speech, and 
 Gustav could scarcely doubt that she was the 
 
2l6 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 same as before in every respect. She again 
 went into society a great deal, and mentioned 
 the gentlemen who paid her attention. She 
 referred with special frequency to a good-look- 
 ing, amusing pianist, of whom Gustav might 
 be jealous, if he were so inclined. True, 
 when Gustav replied that he felt a certain mel- 
 ancholy satisfaction in perceiving that her re- 
 covery had progressed so far, that he was not 
 warranted in feeling jealousy, and, if another 
 now occupied his place in her heart, he only 
 wished that she might be happier with his 
 successor than with him, she became extreme- 
 ly irritable, asked how she had deserved that 
 he should wound her so, and covered the sheet 
 with large tear-stains which blotted half the 
 writing. From that time she did not allude 
 to her successes with gentlemen. On the 
 other hand, she described the enthusiasm 
 which she created once as Mary Stuart, and 
 again as Lorelei, in tableaux at the artists' fes- 
 tivals, sent him the newpapers, in which her 
 appearance was described in flattering terms, 
 and added to the account of her triumph the 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 217 
 
 wish that she might appear some time in a 
 tableau with her handsome Gustav — they 
 would make a far greater sensation together 
 than she alone. She also had much to say 
 about her progress as an artist. Kornemann 
 was no longer her master. In his despair that 
 she did not return his feelings, the poor man 
 had married some one else ; and his wife, silly 
 little goose, in her furious jealousy, forbade 
 him to see his old flame. Professor Geiseler 
 was now her teacher, and she had gained by the 
 exchange in every respect ; not only because 
 Geiseler was more famous than Kornemann, 
 but also because, as a happy married man, 
 with a quiver full of -little children, he would 
 probably give less cause for the gossip of evil 
 tongues than the other. She was exhibiting 
 with success, the critics were beginning to 
 notice her pictures, she had even sold some of 
 them well. How happy she could be if Gustav 
 wished ! 
 
 So the summer came, and Paula began to 
 make plans for travelling. She asked Gustav 
 to devote his vacation, or at least a part of it, 
 
2l8 THE COMEDY OF SENTlMENt. 
 
 to her. They must spend three weeks, or 
 even a fortnight, in August, in some secluded 
 spot — a quiet Norwegian fjord, free from the 
 burdensome regard for the world, living only 
 for each other and their love. Such weeks, 
 such days, would compensate her for much 
 sorrow, and give her fresh courage, new power 
 of endurance. Gustav resolutely declined this 
 proposal. It wounded her deeply, and she 
 complained that he did not love her. He pro- 
 tested that she misjudged his heart, but repre- 
 sented how much a long companionship would 
 disturb the necessary self-examination which 
 was to enable her to perceive whether or not 
 she could live without him. Fortunately, Paula 
 allowed herself to be easily soothed, and soon 
 informed him that, as he was not to be had 
 and, after all the excitements of the past year, 
 she was less able than ever to dispense with a 
 journey of recreation, she had determmed to 
 go for a few weeks to Warnemiinde. It hap- 
 pened luckily that she had arranged a family 
 settlement. She only hoped that the Mecklen- 
 burg watering-place would be very cheap, or 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENt. 219 
 
 it might happen that she would be kept in 
 pawn there. Would he redeem her? Gustav 
 understood the hint, and sent her ample means 
 for the trip. The remittance was gratefully 
 accepted, not without an allusion to her pride, 
 which was transformed to humility only tow- 
 ard him, and the remark that, since he now 
 knew her, he would probably see in the docile 
 submission with which she allowed him to be- 
 stow gifts upon her, the strongest proof of her 
 love. 
 
 Gustav spent his vacation at Ostend with 
 his mother. There were many pleasant ac- 
 quaintances from the Rhine and from Berlin 
 at the fashionable seaside resort, and it gave 
 him little pleasure to note that apparently his 
 entire circle of friends either knew of his affair 
 with Paula, or at least had a vague idea that 
 something was going on between him and her. 
 He lived in perpetual anxiety lest some 
 thoughtless woman's tongue should let fall an 
 incautious word in his mother's hearing which 
 would excite and grieve the old lady again. 
 Fortunately, this did not occur; but when he 
 
220 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 was alone people imposed less restraint upon 
 themselves, and one or another turned the 
 conversation frequently enough to the beauti- 
 ful Frau Ehrwein, concerning whom there was 
 so much gossip in Berlin. Gustav was forced 
 to learn many things which made a painful 
 impression. However numerous Paula's ad- 
 mirers might be, she evidently had few friends. 
 All Berlin talked of her coquetry, her freedom 
 of manner, and her doubtful position in so- 
 ciety. Remarks were made upon her dress, 
 the numbers of men who frequented her house. 
 People told all sorts of ambiguous stories, and 
 even mentioned names. Her relations with 
 Professor Geiseler were spoken of with special 
 indignation. He was completely enthralled 
 by the Circe. His poor wife was obliged to 
 witness it, and it occasioned her such suffer- 
 ing that her mind had become affected. It 
 was said that, in spite of his six little children, 
 he wanted to get a divorce from the poor woman 
 to marry Frau Ehrwein. Besides, everybody 
 knew that he painted her pictures. 
 
 Gustav believed none of these things. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 221 
 
 Paula's beauty simply excited the women's 
 envy, and they avenged themseves upon her 
 with spiteful gossip, for which her imprudent 
 actions certainly afforded ample cause. There 
 was nothing serious behind these stories. He 
 was firmly convinced of that. He only needed 
 to read the letters which arrived every morn- 
 ing from Warnemiinde. Frivolity had no such 
 language. A deceitful woman did not find 
 these notes of love, the gentle submission, the 
 passionate longing. He took up her cause. 
 He defended her against the gossips who de- 
 famed her, cautiously, it is true, and always 
 emphasizing the fact that he had known her 
 personally only a few days in Magdeburg, and 
 spoke merely from the verj' favorable impres- 
 sion which he had received there. The sole 
 effect of his words was tolerably open warn- 
 ings against the dangerous woman, and signi- 
 ficant expressions of pity for the unfortunate 
 man who allowed himself to be fooled by her. 
 Poor Paula was certainly to be deeply pitied 
 for having so evil a reputation, though she had 
 in no way deserved it. Yet she could not be 
 
222 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 entirely absolved of blame. Why did she so 
 defiantly offend conventional people? Why 
 did she so carelessly quarrel with the "great 
 Galcoto"? Could she not guard her character 
 ■with a little more solicitude? He must call 
 her attention to this, since no one else did. 
 He informed her in a letter, that, at Ostend, 
 chance had thrown him into a circle which 
 contained some of her enemies, and, beginning 
 with cautious allusions to the slanders he had 
 heard, he pointed out to her how necessary it 
 was for a woman in her circumstances to reckon 
 with the social criticism which deals not with 
 the reality, but the appearance. 
 
 The reply to his admonition was a letter 
 which bore more numerous and larger tear- 
 stains than any which had been received for a 
 long time. She knew well what was said of • 
 her. But what could she do? She was de- 
 fenceless. She had no one to protect her. 
 She stood entirely alone. The only person 
 whose duty it was to defend her honor lived 
 far away, and perhaps now also disowned 
 her. His good counsel was cruel mockery. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 22 3 
 
 He alone had it in his power to restore her 
 reputation. A word from him would silence 
 the hissing of the serpents. If she were liv- 
 ing with him, she would commit no indiscre- 
 tions. He would guide, advise, vindicate her. 
 Under his wings she would make herself so 
 small, she would be so quiet and happy, that 
 gossip itself would forget her. How long 
 would he , still leave her to buffet the surges 
 without stretching out his hand? How long 
 would she vainly call for aid? 
 
 He was startled as he read these tear-stained 
 lines. So this was the condition of her soul. 
 She depended upon him, claimed him. His 
 letter of renunciation had been written in vain. 
 His words in Aachen had gone to the winds. 
 He was again as firmly bound by the chain as 
 at any time prior to the 24th of March. The 
 more seriously he considered the situation, the 
 more troubled he felt. The hot fever with its 
 swift course had become a lingering disease, 
 which might last heaven knew how long. 
 Formerly an end of the affair could be seen. 
 If he was becoming doubtful, he ^eed only 
 
224 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 say to himself that the appointed day, like the 
 cock-crow of popular superstition, would drive 
 away the ghost. Now the outcome of the 
 matter could no longer be perceived. There 
 was no reason that the relation might not last 
 for years, perhaps forever. Paula certainly 
 wou.ld not break it. Why should she? She 
 was entirely comfortable. She lived her usual 
 life, she sacrificed nothing, she received, she 
 went into society, she allowed men to pay her 
 attention, she visited watering-places, and 
 meanwhile her whole existence was warmed 
 and irradiated by a love in which she found 
 recompense and happiness ; and she cherished 
 the hope of his possession, which was evidently 
 in a fair way of being transformed into a cer- 
 tainty. But he was simply being ruined by 
 this connection. It occupied his mind inces- 
 santly. It distracted his thoughts, and made 
 him incapable of the concentration and undi- 
 vided attention which scientific work required. 
 He wasted the best portion of his time in daily 
 visits to the post-office and in letter-writing. 
 He exhausted his resources in gifts beyond his 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 22$ 
 
 means. And, worst of all, the farce of pas- 
 sionate love, which he had now played so long, 
 filled him with loathing of himself. The false- 
 hood, like a slow poison, acted upon his whole 
 spiritual life, and made him dishonest to his 
 mother, to himself, to the entire world. He 
 still had enough self -perception to notice the 
 steady degeneration of his character. He exe- 
 crated the weakness which had led him to 
 Aachen. The relation had been broken. He 
 had permitted it to be renewed. He must 
 now absolutely make a new effort to save him- 
 self. But how much harder it was now than 
 in March ! And could he; dared he still act as 
 his own salvation demanded ? He had said to 
 her : " If I am a necessity of life to you, you 
 shall have me." True, he had said it in the 
 conviction that she would not need him to con- 
 tinue to live. But suppose that he was mis- 
 taken? Suppose that he should kill her by 
 thrusting her from him? Dared he release 
 himself at this peril? He could not dwell 
 upon the torturing thought. He suppressed 
 t with the idea that Paula was certainly too 
 IS 
 
226 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 frivolous to feel a great grief long, if he did 
 not keep it alive artificially. And then : had 
 he only duties, and not rights also? Was it 
 really base and vulgar to think a little of him- 
 self? The continuance of the relation would 
 certainly destroy him, its rupture might only 
 possibly kill Paula. Did not the certainty 
 ■weigh more heavily in the scale than the pos- 
 sibility? Thus opposing forces struggled for 
 the possession of his soul, and, amid the tu- 
 mult of contending thoughts, he could not see 
 the path which led to the desired goal of free- 
 dom. 
 
 It was Paula who, without knowing or in- 
 tending to do so, suddenly threw light into 
 the darkness, and pointed the way for his de- 
 cision. On the 2 1st of September she wrote 
 the following letter : 
 
 "My Worshipped Gustav: 
 
 "Do you know what day this is? Does 
 the date say nothing to you ? Do you remem- 
 ber that it is a year to-day since I first beheld 
 you ? What a recollection ! I can still see you 
 standing in front of the hotel, with your hand- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 22/ 
 
 some fair face turned toward us, gazing at me 
 with a stranger's eyes and greeting your 
 friends so warmly, me so coldly. I knew at 
 once tliat I had met my fate in you, and I had 
 but a single thought — to banish the look of in- 
 difference from your dear eyes, force them to 
 speak to me with glances of love. This wish 
 was soon fulfilled. But then I had another. 
 I have it still. You know it, my dear one. 
 And you must have it too, have it even per- 
 haps unconsciously to yourself. We belong 
 to each other, and vainly rebel against our 
 destiny, when we remain parted. Consider, 
 my Gustav; I have held myself with iron 
 bonds, I have not asked you to come to me, 
 I have always hoped that you would do 
 so voluntarily, for you must miss me also, you 
 must long for your Paula, as she longs for you. 
 I have waited in vain. You have had the 
 strength to live half a year without seeing me. 
 I admire you, but I do not want you to show 
 heroic courage in this way. You will die of 
 renunciation and longing, and so shall I. 
 What does this avail? Why do we torture 
 ourselves? Why this yearning, doubting, 
 hoping ? I will confess something to you. Per- 
 haps I ought not. Do you know, Gustav? I 
 know you better than you know yourself. 
 
228 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 You are one of those natures that must be 
 forced to their happiness. You will do rioth- 
 iiig to attain it. You even resist when I try 
 to lead you to it by the hand. Now I know 
 what I must do. I will use force. I will act 
 for you. At first it will alarm you. But 
 when it has been done you will be grateful to 
 me for it all your life. I have determined to 
 give up my home here and move to Brussels. 
 Are you startled, my Gustav? Yet you cannot 
 prevent it. I have a right to live where I 
 please. And when 1 am once living in Brus- 
 sels, everything, everything will be changed. 
 I know how I will color my life then. What 
 do you say to it, my loved one?" 
 
 He actually felt his heart stop beating as he 
 read these lines. He saw at a single glance 
 the situation which would arise if Paula settled 
 in Brussels. He would then be obliged to re- 
 nounce the hope of ever being free. His sen- 
 tence to lifelong imprisonment in his falsehood 
 would be sealed. Secret destruction, public 
 scandal, his mother's despair, would be the 
 inevitable consequences of her step. To at- 
 tempt to dissuade her from it was futile. He 
 
THE COMEDV OF SENTIMENT. 229 
 
 knew that. Sensible reasons would make no 
 impression. This woman, with her positive 
 will and resolution in action, was inaccessible 
 to sophistry. Now candor was necessary. He 
 was driven to the wall, and must defend his 
 life or perish. And yet — ^ even now he be- 
 lieved he might still refrain from bluntness. 
 Even now he wished to follow the surgical 
 practice of using chloroform before the opera- 
 tion, and rendering the cut painless by stupe- 
 fying the victim with loving words. So the 
 next day he wrote : 
 
 " My Ardently-loved Paula : 
 
 "Your letter of the 19th of this month 
 rouses me suddenly from the dream in which 
 I have been held captive for months. We 
 have both lost sight of reality. We have both 
 lived in fairyland. That cannot last. You 
 act with perfect consistency in wishing to 
 come to Brussels. But it would be criminal 
 on my part to let you form a decision which 
 would mean certain ruin for us both. You 
 have entirely forgotten the situation of affairs, 
 which I described to you accurately six months 
 •"go. I despairingly accuse myself of permit- 
 
230 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 ting this. Now I dare not keep silence longer, 
 though frankness will inflict unspeakable sor- 
 row upon myself and you. We can no longer 
 remain in a state of 'longing, and doubt, and 
 hope. ' You say so, and I feel it. Therefore 
 only one thing remains, the most bitter which 
 my life can contain. I must say to you : ' Paula, 
 you cannot belong to me, it is impossible; fate 
 is against it. ' 
 
 "When I look back, I see a single fault 
 which weighs upon me, an inexplicable one. 
 After Magdeburg, you had so little belief that 
 you had permanently decided your future, that 
 you were certainly a little surprised when you 
 saw me take our relation so tragically. Be- 
 fore our visit to Cologne, you expressed posi- 
 tively and unequivocally the opinion that our 
 meeting might mean the end of our relations. 
 Until the 24th of March you were obliged to 
 keep in view the possibility of a rupture ; this 
 was a very grave and very solemn compact. 
 
 "On the 23d and 24th of March I suffered 
 the greatest sorrow which a human being can 
 experience. I do not know whether I endure 
 as much to-day as I did then. There are 
 pangs which a mortal cannot feel twice with 
 the same violence. Then I wrote you the let- 
 ter which I was compelled to write, which my 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. i^l 
 
 conscience, my judgment, my self-knowledge 
 alike dictated. In doing so I killed a part of 
 my life, cut off a portion of myself, impover- 
 ished and crippled the remainder of my exist- 
 ence ; but it was done, and, since it was done 
 from iron necessity, there can be no change. 
 
 " At that time I took upon myself the heavy 
 sin of perhaps destroying two human beings. 
 You cannot forgive me for it, nor can I for- 
 give myself. Instead of being a man as I 
 ought, I was a weak, cowardly, pitiable child. 
 I saw only your present suffering. I did not 
 think of the future. I had only the one idea 
 of soothing you for the time. And so I acted 
 and spoke in a way which created fresh delu- 
 sions in your mind, urged us farther into a 
 fatal, impossible situation. I shall forever re- 
 proach myself. I do not even attempt to offer 
 an excuse. For I knew that we could never 
 belong to each other, and I ought not to have 
 allowed you to hope that this state of affairs 
 might change. 
 
 " You one love of my life ! I beseech, I im- 
 plore one thing : do not seek the cause of my re- 
 nunciation in yourself. It is not your traits of 
 character, nothing that you can alter. What 
 separates us is not in you, but in circumstances 
 for which neither is responsible. 
 
232 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 " If I had not been cowardly and weak on 
 the 24th of March, all would now be over. 
 You would long ago have regained your peace 
 of mind. I thought I was doing right. But 
 what have I really done ? We must pay hor- 
 ribly dearly for a few months of ecstasy. I 
 must deal 9, de^th-blow twice instead of once, 
 to myself as well as to you. 
 
 " Paula, I know one thing positively : we 
 cannot become, strangers to each other. We 
 are more than blood-relations. So long as we 
 both walk on the earth, we will desire to be- 
 long to each other in some way. You cannot 
 be my wife. You have always rebelled against 
 my being a brother to you. And yet that is 
 possible and desirable. Do not reject a love 
 and loyalty which you will scarcely find again 
 in life, and which henceforth, without selfish- 
 ness, without hope of happiness, will have only 
 one aim : to be a shelter to your head and a 
 staff in your hand. You need both. Why 
 will you not permit the man who loves . you 
 rnore than any other, to be both as a 
 brother? 
 
 "We have sorrowful weeks before us, but 
 you will live through them. You must, for 
 you have duties in the world. You under- 
 stand me. 
 
THE CQMEPV OF SENTIMENT. 233 
 
 "Paula, curse me, detest me, despise me; 
 only believe that I am deeply -wretched. 
 " Ever your 
 
 " GUSTAV. 
 
 "Postscript. I cannot stop talking to you; 
 I must add a few words. I believe it will be 
 ■well not to pain you with more letters (for 
 they can only pain you if they contain no 
 revocation, which is impossible) so long as 
 you are not entirely at peace. We must both 
 break o|f sweet, perilous habits, Certainly 
 this seems terrible at first, and we are 
 sure that we cannot bear it. Yet we shall 
 bear it, and a few months later we shall 
 wonder that we suffered so sorely from the 
 deprivation." 
 
 Warned by experience, Gustav believed that 
 he could plainly foresee what would happen 
 now. Paula would demand a meeting, try to 
 soften him again ; but he would remain firm 
 and not make weak concessions. To be pre- 
 pared for everything, he went to the telegraph 
 office and arranged to have any dispatches 
 which came for him during the next three 
 days sent to the university, instead pf to his 
 
I 
 
 I 
 234 The comedv o? sentiment. ,/ 
 
 home. He would not have his mother dis- 
 turbed again by mysterious telegrams. 
 
 Paula must receive his letter early in the 
 morning of September 24th. During that 
 Thursday, Gustav was very nervous. He spent 
 nearly the whole day in his laboratory, anx- 
 iously awaiting some tidings. But the hours 
 passed, evening came, and nothing had ar- 
 rived. He went to bed more at ease than he 
 had been for weeks. Thank God ! This time 
 she had taken what he said as final. At last 
 her pride had stirred. She undoubtedly felt 
 deep grief, but apparently still greater irrita- 
 tion. She accepted his refusal, and no longer 
 attempted to struggle against it. Breathing 
 lightly and easily, like a person relieved from 
 a heavy burden, he fell asleep. 
 
 The next day he had the feeling that the 
 real danger was over. If she had wished to 
 do any impulsive act, she would doubtless have 
 executed it under the immediate impression 
 of his letter. As the day brought no tele- 
 gram, at the, utmost only an epistolary thun- 
 derstorm was impending, and that would not 
 
THE COMEDV OF SENTIMENT. 235 
 
 be too difficult to endure. He -worked at home 
 all the morning, and waited until after dinner, 
 which Frau Bruchstadt, true to her provincial 
 habits, served punctually at twelve, before 
 strolling slowly to the university to see if 
 anything was there. He entered the porter's 
 room, but before he could ask a question, the 
 latter gave him a telegram. Somewhat star- 
 tled, Gustav opened the sheet and read: 
 "Arrive in Brussels 1:50. Paula." 
 He almost let the paper drop out of his 
 hand. That was impossible. How could 
 she get from Berlin — he looked at the 
 dispatch more closely. Now he noticed for 
 the first time that it had not been sent from 
 Berlin, but from Cologne, at five minutes 
 past eight that morning. Now everything 
 was plain. After receiving his letter, she 
 had instantly formed her resolution, started 
 by the evening train, and had not informed 
 him until she reached Cologne, when it 
 was too late for him to do anything which 
 could prevent her from executing her plan. 
 It was now nearly half -past one. He had 
 
236 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 barely time to throw himself into a carriage, 
 engage a room in a hotel near the Northern 
 railway station, and hasten to the station, 
 where he arrived only a few minutes before 
 the hour appointed. What a dangerous, un- 
 accountable creature this Paula was ! How in- 
 calculable! How difficult to manage! What 
 new folly would her passion probably inspire? 
 With such a temperament one ought really to 
 be prepared for anything. He had no time 
 to devote himself longer to his anxious 
 thoughts, for the train was already rolling 
 into the station, and a few minutes after, Paula 
 left it. As usual, she was tastefully dressed, 
 and her luggage was as scanty as ever. She 
 approached Gustav with a firm step, and took 
 his arm. Her eyes were dry, and her features 
 calm. There was no trace of excitement in 
 her manner. She walked across the short 
 space to the carriage by his side, a living, op- 
 pressive enigma. 
 
 When she was seated in the vehicle, she 
 said in her musical voice, which sounded cold 
 and steadfast: 
 
THE CDMEDY of sentiment. 237 
 
 "I suppose you were silt-jitised, Gustav?" 
 " It is a crazy Jierfbrindlice, Patila. How 
 could you do this?" 
 
 "Vfery simply. When I am suffering so 
 keenly that I cannot endure it, aiid I know 
 that a railroad journey of seventeen hours will 
 bring me healing, or at least relief, I should 
 be very foolish not to S6ize the remedy." 
 
 Gustav made no ailSwer, but looked but of 
 the carriage-winddw. 
 
 After a short silence she begaii again : 
 "What strange tricks chance often plays. 
 As I entered the station yesterday evefaing, 
 whom should I see? Your friend, Ffiedrich 
 Barwald. Of course he came up to me at once, 
 and asked: 'A night-journey? Where are 
 you going, fair lady?' 1 aflswered evasively; 
 he watched me closely, arid did hot stir from 
 my side. I cdiild nbt send hitft away, and 
 time pressed. Unless I wished to lose the 
 train I was obliged to hasten. The professor 
 saw me enter the office for distatit places, and 
 heard me ask for a ticket to Brussels. Then 
 I held out my hand in farewell; he said fioth- 
 
238 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 ing, clasped it firmly for a while, shook his 
 head, and held up his finger warningly. So 
 much the •worse." 
 
 They had reached the hotel, and Gustav led 
 Paula to the room which he had engaged, say- 
 ing a word or two to the waiter as he passed 
 him at the door. 
 
 " Have you had anything to eat on the way?" 
 he asked, while she was removing her wraps. 
 
 " I drank a cup of coffee in Cologne. " 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "That is all." 
 
 "Then it is high time for you to dine." 
 
 " I am not hungry." 
 
 "The dinner is already ordered. Here 
 it is." 
 
 Some one knocked at the door; the waiter 
 entered, and placed on the table on which a 
 cloth was already spread a plate containing a 
 dozen oysters. Paula glanced hastily at them 
 and said: 
 
 "Very well. But that is enough. I can eat 
 nothing more now." 
 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 239 
 
 "Sure. Perhaps later." 
 
 Gustav gave the servant, who had waited, 
 the necessary order, and the latter went out. 
 
 Bruchstadt could not yet understand Paula. 
 She had behaved like an insane person, and 
 she now talked as quietly and sensibly as a 
 lawyer discussing business affairs. Between 
 the fact of her sudden journey to Brussels, and 
 her conduct since her arrival, lay a contrast, 
 which at first he could not comprehend. Yet 
 he, too, became more confident, when he saw 
 her so calm. She sat down upon the sofa, be- 
 fore which the table stood, and Gustav took his 
 place opposite. 
 
 "What is the meaning of your last letter?" 
 she began again, still in the same composed 
 tone. 
 
 "I think it says all that there is to say, 
 Paula," he replied uneasily. 
 
 " What have I done that you have changed 
 your mind so suddenly?" 
 
 "I have not changed my mind. I have 
 merely repeated what I said six months ago." 
 
 "And your promise in Aachen?" 
 
240 THE CdMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 "What promise?" 
 
 "That you will be mine, if I must hdve 
 you." 
 
 " If ydu cannot live without me." 
 
 " I cannot live without ydu and you know it." 
 
 Gustav was silent. 
 
 "Then you intend to break your word, 
 Gustav?" 
 
 " I gave it conditionally." 
 
 " But you accef)ted me Unconditionally. 
 You ought not to have done it, if you 
 doubted that you would make rhe yotirs." 
 
 "Paula," he cried, in pained surprise, "do 
 you reproach me for that? That is not fair. 
 You khdw that I withdrew, and it was you 
 who wished it." 
 
 "You are a man. You are a conscientious 
 man. Ydu ought to resist. Since, after our 
 explanation, you received me again, I ought, 
 I could not help beiiig convinced that you had 
 repented of your renunciation." 
 
 Gustav hung his head. 
 
 "There is no answer to that. YdU are 
 right. I have erred* I dught td have been 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 241 
 
 Strong. You will never see me weak again, 
 I promise you." 
 
 During all this time Paula had been playing 
 with an oyster without eating it. Putting it 
 back on the plate, she asked again : 
 
 "Then you will renounce me, Gustav?" 
 
 "No," he answered quickly. "I will re- 
 main your brother until death." 
 
 "That's very well said," she replied, with- 
 out raising her voice; "but it is nonsense. 
 We can only be to each other what we have 
 been hitherto, or we shall be dead to each 
 other. Do not deceive yourself, and do not 
 try to deceive me." 
 
 "I dare not." 
 
 " Is that your final resolve?" 
 
 Gustav nodded, without looking at her. 
 
 "Then, this!" she shrieked suddenly, and 
 
 dealt a terrible blow with the knife which she 
 
 held in her right hand on her left wrist. It 
 
 was done with such lightning-like speed that 
 
 she had given three strokes, ere the horrified 
 
 Gustav could reach her side at a bound and 
 
 grasp her arm, which was raised for the fourth 
 16 
 
242 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 time. He violently seized her hand, the fin- 
 gers relaxed feebly, the blood-stained knife 
 fell from them, she sank back upon the sofa 
 with half-closed eyes, all her energy seemed 
 exhausted, and the wild excitement melted 
 into loud sobs, which made her bosom heave 
 and wet her face with streaming tears. 
 
 Gustav took the left arm, which hung loose- 
 ly by her side, and examined the wounds. 
 The skin was cut, and there were three gashes 
 side by side, from which slowly oozed large 
 drops of crimson blood, trickling in slender 
 lines along the white arm, half-way around 
 which they formed a sort of bracelet of three 
 narrow streaks, an ornament of rubies, Paula's 
 favorite stones. It did not spurt out anywhere, 
 so no artery was wounded. The bleeding must 
 come merely from the veins in the skin, and 
 was not dangerous. He considered the injury 
 so slight that he took the responsibility of not 
 summoning a doctor. It would have been 
 very unpleasant to him, had he been obliged 
 to call in a Brussels physician and make him 
 the sharer of his secret. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 243 
 
 He washed the wounds in the skin with the 
 drinking-water which stood upon the table, 
 tied his handkerchief around the wrist, and 
 carried Paula to the bed. She submitted to 
 everything, did not move a limb to offer the 
 least resistance, and only wept quietly like an 
 inconsolable child. 
 
 When Gustav had laid her down he went to 
 the bell and rang. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" asked Paula 
 faintly. 
 
 He made no reply. 
 
 In a few minutes the waiter appeared. 
 
 " Please get me, at the nearest drug-store, a 
 vial of carbolic water, a small package of sali- 
 cylic wadding, and a roll of linen bandages. 
 A little accident," he added, as he saw that 
 the waiter's eyes wandered from him to the 
 bed in amazement. Fortunately, he did not 
 notice the blood-stained knife on the floor. 
 
 "Shall I get these things without a pre- 
 scription?" asked the waiter. 
 
 "Yes. Only go." 
 
 The man went out, and Gustav sat down by 
 
244 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 the bed to await his return. Silence reigned 
 for several minutes, — ^then Paula stretched out 
 her right hand toward his face, and tried to 
 stroke his cheeks. He withdrew his head. 
 
 " Look at me, Gustav," she softly entreated. 
 
 He glanced away from her out of the win- 
 dow. 
 
 "Are you angry, Gustav?" she said, in a 
 low, caressing tone. 
 
 "Yes," he answered gruffly. 
 
 " Is it very wicked in me to love you?" 
 
 "That is no love," "he replied harshly. 
 "That is madness and crime. Did you not 
 think of your children?" 
 
 " I thought only of you," she sighed, and let 
 her head sink back upon the pillows. 
 
 " If you thought of me, you ought not to 
 burden my life with a memory of this kind?" 
 
 What he did not say was, that he considered 
 her p.bominably inconsiderate to entangle him 
 in an affair which, in case of an unpleasant 
 termination, would involve him with the po- 
 lice and courts of justice and bring his name 
 into all the newspapers, render him the sub- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 245 
 
 ject of the most disagreeable gossip, and prob- 
 ably make it impossible for him to hold his 
 position in Brussels, and perhaps in any of the 
 universities. 
 
 Paula did not guess what selfish thoughts 
 filled his mind exclusively at this moment. 
 
 "Come, kiss me," she whispered, turning 
 her tear-stained face to his. 
 
 He remained motionless in his chair, and 
 said nothing. 
 
 "Gustav, do not be so cruel. What must I 
 do to make you kind again ?" 
 
 "Promise me to be sensible." 
 
 "I do promise." 
 
 "You will not begin again?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Upon your word?" 
 
 "Upon my word." 
 
 He bent over her and kissed her on the fore- 
 head, but she clasped his neck and sought his 
 lips, which he did not withdraw. 
 
 The waiter came back, bringing the articles 
 for which he had been sent. Gustav untied 
 the handkerchief, and convinced himself that 
 
246 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 the bleeding had stopped. He now bandaged 
 the wounds carefully, almost professionally, 
 and when he had finished, he saw to his great 
 relief that Paula was beginning to doze. For 
 hours she lay in a light-half -slumber, uncon- 
 scious of the flight of time, frequently opening 
 her eyes, smiling mournfully at him,, and fall- 
 ing asleep again. Gustav sat patiently beside 
 the bed all the time, one hand resting on her 
 head, the other clasping her right hand, fol- 
 lowing his own thoughts. He mentally lived 
 over again the agitating scene through which 
 he had just passed, and, shuddering, imagined 
 the consequences which might have followed an 
 unfortunate termination. Gradually, however, 
 these unpleasant and exciting visions faded, 
 his first indignation at the malice or thought- 
 lessness with which she had chosen for her 
 desperate deed Brussels, this hotel chamber, 
 and his presence, subsided, and there re- 
 mained only the one great fact that this wo- 
 man had sought to kill herself out of love for 
 him. Deep compassion for the poor sufferer 
 awoke in his heart, which increased almost to 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 247 
 
 tenderness, as he saw her lying there, pale and 
 beautiful, with an expression of suffering rest- 
 ing on her lips, often uttering heavy sighs in 
 her light slumber. 
 
 Darkness gradually gathered. Gustav loosed 
 Paula's hand and drew out his watch; it was 
 half -past six. Paula, roused by the move- 
 ment, sat up in bed. Gustav rose also from his 
 chair and stretched his limbs, which ached 
 from their long immobility. 
 
 "How do you feel, child?" he asked. 
 
 "Pleasantly rested, my dearest." 
 
 " It has grown late. I must go." 
 
 "You will not leave me?" she asked, pout- 
 ing. 
 
 " Yes, child, or there will be great anxiety 
 at home. I am expected at supper." 
 
 "But you will come back presently?" 
 
 "As soon as I have laid down my fork. 
 Meanwhile, you will eat also, will you not?" 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 "Unfortunately, that cannot be helped. 
 There, child. Farewell. I'll soon see you 
 again." He kissed her, and, for a moment, 
 
248 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 ■with closed eyes, she leaned her head upon 
 his breast. 
 
 "Then I can go without anxiety, may I not? 
 You have given me your promise." 
 
 " It is not a man's word, it is true, but I 
 will keep it," she replied, with a mournful 
 smile. 
 
 Gustav really did return in less than an 
 hour, for, notwithstanding her promise, he had 
 no peace so long as he knew that she was 
 alone in the hotel chamber. 
 
 He found Paula sitting on the sofa. The 
 room was filled with the violet perfume. A 
 glance around showed that she had employed 
 the time in thoroughly bathing and dressing, 
 and had done ample justice to the meal 
 ordered. 
 
 "How do you feel, Paula?" he asked, after 
 he had kissed her. 
 
 "Very well, Gustav. Can we go out a little 
 while now?" 
 
 He looked at her, but quickly suppressed 
 any air of surprise. Yet the line from Faust, 
 "Tears gush, the earth has me again," came 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 249 
 
 to his memory and, for the first time in seven 
 hours, he drew a long breath of relief. 
 
 "Where do you want to go?" 
 
 " I should like to see something of Brussels. 
 You probably know what you can show me in 
 the evening." 
 
 He took her to the Grand Place — where, in 
 the vivid electric light, the Gothic architecture 
 of the superb Hotel de Ville looked like some 
 unreal stage-scene with the projections unduly 
 white and the shadows too black — and to St. 
 Hubert's Gallery. 
 
 Paula showed the keenest interest in every 
 thing she saw, evinced a childish pleasure 
 in hearing French spoken around her, and 
 stopped at every shop. The show-window of 
 a milliner attracted her so strongly, that she 
 could not resist the temptation of going in and 
 trying on the charming little bonnets which 
 had lured her. The saleswoman was skilful 
 and obliging, and uttered exclamations of ad- 
 miration whenever Paula placed one of her 
 works of art on her red-gold hair. A small 
 toque of ruby beads, with a plain gold torsade, 
 
250 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 Specially pleased her faacy. She inquired the 
 price. When she heard 125 francs, and Gus- 
 tav, in reply to her question, explained that 
 it was 100 marks,* she was startled, and hastily 
 left the shop, followed by the saleswoman 
 with looks of offended dignity and profound 
 contempt. "Things are three times as dear 
 here as they are in Berlin," said Paula out- 
 side. Thanks to her commissions, Gustav had 
 often made this discovery within the past year. 
 
 Paula seemed tireless and indefatigable. 
 She wanted to see still more of Brussels. 
 She asked to go into the Operetta Theatre, 
 whose entrance is in the St. Hubert Gallery. 
 Gustav refused. She was making too great a 
 demand upon her strength, and, after the long 
 railway journey and the excitement of the 
 day, she required rest. After some little re- 
 luctance, she yielded. On the return to the 
 hotel, Gustav asked the question which he had 
 had on his tongue for the past two hours. 
 
 " When did you tell them that you would 
 return home?" 
 
 * About twenty-five dollars. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 25 1 
 
 " I did not name any time. I did not ex- 
 pect to return alive," she answered softly. 
 
 He pressed her arm to intimate both that he 
 understood her and that she must not revert to 
 the subject again. 
 
 "When do you intend to go now?" 
 
 "Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?" 
 
 "Paula, why are you malicious? It must 
 be discussed. You cannot travel to-night. 
 You must sleep. There is an excellent train 
 for you early to-morrow morning. You start 
 in the morning, and reach Berlin about half- 
 past ten." 
 
 "At what time does it leave?" 
 
 " Five minutes past six." 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" she cried, 
 with droll horror. "That's far too early for 
 me. 
 
 "Then a train goes at 1:35 in the afternoon. 
 By that you will reach Berlin at eight the 
 next day." 
 
 "I don't want to get to Berlin in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Very well, then there is only the evening 
 
2S2 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT, 
 
 train at ii:io, the one which brought me to 
 you last winter." 
 
 " Well, ril use that. Then I will have you 
 one whole day more. Who knows whether 
 it will not be the last which I shall spend with 
 you." 
 
 They had reached the hotel. He raised her 
 hand to his lips, pressed a long kiss upon it, 
 and said: "Good-night, my dearest." 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. " Are you 
 not coming up with me?" 
 
 " No," he answered firmly. 
 
 She fixed her large blue eyes on him a 
 long time, — he returned the gaze steadily. 
 Then she bowed her head, said sorrowfully: 
 "Good-night then, you cruel man," turned 
 away, and slowly ascended the stairs to her 
 room. 
 
 The next morning he did not appear too 
 early. It was after ten o'clock when he en- 
 tered Paula's room. She was still sitting in 
 her dressing-gown, with her hair unbound, 
 complained of a headache, and said that it 
 would do her good to be in the air a short 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 253 
 
 time. Gustav put on a fresh bandage, to 
 whicli she silently submitted, and again as- 
 sured himself that the injuries were slight. 
 He could give her the pleasant news that he 
 would be at liberty all day, and could devote 
 himself to her until the time of her departure. 
 He took her first to the Royal Museum, and 
 then was going to show her the Wiertz Mu- 
 seum, but she declared that she had seen 
 plenty of pictures. Then they made an ex- 
 cursion to Braine I'Allend, and to the battle- 
 field of Waterloo, and the trip in the railroad 
 and the drive in the carriage afforded her 
 great pleasure. She was gay and animated all 
 day long, and seemed to have entirely forgot- 
 ten what brought her to Brussels. She barely 
 paused an instant in her merry chat about in- 
 cidents in Berlin when her glance unexpect- 
 edly fell upon her bandaged left wrist. She 
 made Gustav think of a brave soldier who, 
 after fighting with complete scorn of death, 
 and firing his last cartridge, sees the impossi- 
 bility of farther resistance, and, with the peace 
 of a good conscience, and the consciousness of 
 
2 54 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 having fulfilled all the rules of war, lays down 
 his arms. 
 
 Not until the evening, after they had had 
 supper together and returned to the hotel, did 
 she say, seating herself in his lap, and tenderly 
 stroking his hair : 
 
 " Gustav, you ought to have sent me away 
 yesterday evening. You were so sweet to-day ; 
 it will be much harder now for me to leave 
 you." 
 
 " Do not let us tear our wounds open again, 
 my Paula," pleaded Gustav. 
 
 "You are right, my darling. You are 
 doubly right. I am talking nonsense. On the 
 contrary, I am infinitely grateful to you for 
 this day. I had resolved to die. This day 
 has given me strength and courage to live on. 
 Now I know that you love me, and will not 
 cease to do so. I shall take with me a mem- 
 ory on which I will exist." 
 
 Gustav kissed her, and she remained silent 
 for a time, gazing dreamily into vacancy. 
 Then she began again : 
 
 " Gustav, you shall see of what a loving wo- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 255 
 
 man's heart is capable. I don't wish you to 
 be troubled. I desire you to regain your peace 
 of mind and your pleasure in work. I release 
 you. Be happy without me." 
 
 "Oh, Paula, you know that is impossible." 
 
 " Yes, I do know it. But you shall at least 
 be calm, if you cannot be happy. One thing I 
 still say: I shall remain yours. If you are 
 ever sorrowful, if you ever long for a human 
 being who will understand, cheer, love you, 
 come to me or summon me. Here is one 
 heart which is yours, now and twenty years 
 hence." 
 
 She said this very softly, her voice trembled, 
 and her large blue eyes were dimmed by tears. 
 Gustav kissed her hand. He was sincerely 
 touched. At this moment he asked himself 
 whether, after all, he had not perhaps really 
 loved her. Her sorrowful renunciation made 
 a far deeper impression upon him than her 
 vehemence the day before. 
 
 "One thing more," Paula added, after a 
 pause. "What shall we do with Professor 
 Barwald? He knows that I went to Brussels, 
 
256 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 He will, of course, learn that I have btoken 
 with you. We must give him some kind of 
 an explanation." 
 
 " Have no anxiety, Paula. I will write to 
 him ; I will confess that we have passed through 
 a severe crisis. I will beg him to look after 
 you daily until you are completely cured." He 
 uttered the words slowly, and in a lower voice: 
 "Thus I shall have frequent news of you, for 
 you will not wish to write to me yet." 
 
 "That is, you don't wish to write to me?" 
 
 " I think it will be better for us both if, at 
 first, we do not excite ourselves with letters. 
 Later, when we have obtained peace of mind, 
 we shall again find the way to each other." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," she said, after a 
 brief pause of reflection. 
 
 When he had taken her to the railway sta- 
 tion, he turned to go to the office. 
 
 "What are you doing?" asked Paula. 
 
 " I must get you a ticket." 
 
 " I have a return ticket," she said frankly. 
 
 "Indeed!" he contented himself with an- 
 swering. But a world of thoughts passed 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 257 
 
 through his brain . The ten der emotions which 
 he had just experienced had vanished, and 
 Paula perceived, with some little surprise, how 
 frank and careless was his farewell, when he 
 had just seemed so gentle and loving. 
 
 Now there still remained the duty of writing 
 the promised letter to Barwald. He under- 
 took this extremely disagreeable task the fol- 
 lowing day. Paula herself, he began, had ini- 
 tiated him into the commencement of their 
 romance by showing him his letters ; the ac- 
 cident that took him to the station when she 
 set out on her journey to Brussels had made 
 him a witness of the last chapter. Meanwhile, 
 much of the story must remain incomprehen- 
 sible to him. At their first personal interview 
 he would clear away the darkness. Now, he 
 could say only this : he had found himself in 
 a torturing position which, for a year, had ex- 
 erted a destructive influence upon his life. For 
 a long time it was impossible to make any al- 
 teration in it because he had felt compelled to 
 • show consideration for a loving, trusting 
 heart. But, finally, the relations grew intoler- 
 17 
 
258 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 able, and he had told Paula frankly that their 
 connection must end. This almost produced a 
 catastrophe. Gustav briefly related the scene 
 in the hotel, and added that she had returned 
 to Berlin, he believed, quieted, but her dispo- 
 sition was so variable, that it would be a great 
 comfort to him if Barwald would look after the 
 poor woman, comfort her, exhort her to be 
 sensible, aid her by his sympathy through the 
 sorrow of separation. He hoped that he would 
 write how he found her in health and spirits, 
 and he relied in this crisis upon his friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Barwald answered in a few days. 
 
 " Dearest Friend, 
 
 " You will understand that it is not exactly 
 agreeable to me to be involved in this — I will 
 use no stronger term — very unedifying busi- 
 ness, but my friendship for you is strong 
 enough to induce me to do even very disa- 
 greeable things for your sake. Yet, by asking 
 my aid, you have given me the right to be 
 perfectly candid toward you, and you must 
 permit me to make full use of this liberty. 
 
 " Your behavior in this repulsive affair is xxn- 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 259 
 
 pardonable. You tell me that you do not love 
 Frau Ehrwein, and it is only from some con- 
 sideration, of which I am ignorant, that you 
 have continued a whole year in a relation 
 which does you little credit. Your action ap- 
 pears to bear witness that this is the truth, 
 for you evidently wish to break with the lady. 
 Yet, if this is your intention , how is it to be 
 understood that you were continually singing 
 to her, like a tenor, your ardent, eternal love ? 
 I have read your last letter to Frau Ehrwein. 
 She showed it to me. It is incomprehensible 
 how you could write such an epistle. First 
 you break with her, and then whimper for 
 pages over your despair at losing her! Don't 
 tell me, by way of apology, that this was the 
 sugar with which you wished to hide the bitter 
 pill. When so small an amount of bitter is 
 wrapped in so vast a quantity of sugar, the 
 pill can no longer act as a remedy. You as- 
 sert that you wish to put an end to the rela- 
 tion. Do you seriously believe that you will 
 attain that object with such a letter? The 
 woman glances carelessly over the renuncia- 
 tion, and dwells only upon the vows of love 
 and outbursts of anguish. You cannot blame 
 her' if she persuades herself that, in reality, 
 you do not wish to give her up, that you are 
 
26o THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 only wavering and struggling with yourself, 
 and that, by a resolute step, she can again 
 have you in her power. 
 
 " I have been obliged to do what should 
 really have been your duty. I told the lady, 
 without false consideration, the plain truth. 
 I told her that you do not love her, and cer- 
 tainly will not marry her. She did not be- 
 lieve me. She knew better. Then I showed 
 her your letter to me. That certainly con- 
 vinced her, or at least it proved that you used 
 a totally different tone to me from the one you 
 adopted to her. The truth, as it always does, 
 worked wonders. Frau Ehrwein instantly 
 had done with you. She no longer sighed, she 
 was no longer downcast, only somewhat bitter, 
 for which I cannot blame her. She will also 
 soon recover from this also, — that is, if you 
 do not again disturb the process of healing. 
 
 " Be a man at last ; know what you want, and 
 want it in earnest. If you love Frau Ehrwein, 
 make an effort, and marry her. That is al- 
 ways more estimable than to wail and moan. 
 But if, as you tell me and as I believe, you do not 
 love her, don't feign the contrary, but confess 
 your real feelings. Then you will see how 
 marvellously simple is the situation which ap- 
 pears to you so complicated. Frau Ehrwein 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 26 1 
 
 will be cured of her love, as she is already- 
 healed physically of her slight wounds, and 
 you will be free from all molestation. 
 
 "So, don't spoil the good I have accom- 
 plished; don't write to the lady again that you 
 love her madly and suffer beyond human en- 
 durance, — and be assured that her peace of 
 mind is only a question of a short time. 
 
 " Do not take offence that I have told you 
 the truth plainly. You needed the example. 
 
 " In constant fidelity, your old friend, 
 
 " Friedrich." 
 
 The letter was harsh, but Gustav could only 
 bow his head and confess that he had deserved 
 it. That Paula now believed him at least 
 double-tongued was painful, yet it took a 
 weight from his heart to know that she was 
 calm and well. He kept his promise, and did 
 not write to her. She, too, was silent, and he 
 only learned from Barwald that she was com- 
 pletely her former self again, that she painted, 
 jested, paid and received visits, and went once 
 more into society. Several weeks elapsed, and 
 he could scarcely doubt longer that she had 
 conquered her grief, when Barwald wrote that 
 
262 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT, 
 
 on Christmas Eve she had given an entertain- 
 ment at which she had been extravagantly 
 gay. 
 
 New Year's Day again gave him a shock. 
 It brought a letter from Paula. She wrote : 
 
 "My Gustav! 
 
 " I am better than you. I do not allow the 
 New Year to pass without telling you that I 
 remember you. Otherwise the New Year 
 would be too desolate and sorrowful for you. 
 I can venture to write to you now, and you 
 can answer confidently, for I am calm, and you, 
 probably, have always been so. I want noth- 
 ing more from you, I expect nothing from 
 you, you are only a memory to me. Yet I 
 shall not, and do not desire to, forget that I 
 owe you the sunniest hours of my life. Let 
 that pass 
 
 " You deeply wronged me by disowning me 
 to your friend Barwald. I would have wished 
 you to be more manly. I should have ex- 
 pected you to acknowledge me as proudly as I 
 did you. But I forgive you. Your overthrow 
 is like that of the Apostle Peter. You sin in 
 good company. I hope, in future, that you 
 will no longer be ashamed of your love. I 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 263 
 
 have deserved it, and it does your heart more 
 honor than flippancy or hypocrisy. 
 
 " I do not tell you that I love you. You 
 need not know it. I do not even ask whether 
 you love me. But I may feel an interest in 
 you, and I know that you will in me. From 
 time to time, I will tell you of myself, and 
 you will tell me how you are faring. Your 
 success will give me pleasure, and I hope you 
 will be spared sorrow. So we shall yet know 
 that we are not dead, and that the world 
 around us is a reality. 
 
 " I warmly press your hand. Ever your 
 
 "Paula." 
 
 He could enter into this tone without hesi- 
 tation. He would gladly remain her brother, 
 her friend. To exchange a letter with her 
 every fortnight or three weeks was no burden. 
 And they did not write to each other more 
 frequently. If Paula needed a piece of advice, 
 a little aid, she applied trustingly to him, and 
 he hastened to assist her ; for it was a satisfac- 
 tion to make sacrifices for her sake. He be- 
 lieved that, in this way, he atoned to himself 
 and to her for his former falsity. His letters 
 
264 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 and hers were only current accounts of the in- 
 cidents in their lives, and they spoke of their 
 love at the utmost only occasionally, in deli- 
 cately veiled allusions, melancholy, half trans- 
 parent expressions, as parents speak of an only 
 child whom they have lost and buried to- 
 gether. They devoted to it as a dear memory 
 a sort of pious, sacred fostering, by marking 
 the anniversaries of all their meetings, the 
 happy as well as the sorrowful ones, with 
 gifts of flowers, little poems, or at least melan- 
 choly allusions to the beautiful past. No at- 
 tempt to recall the dead to life was ever made. 
 But both maintained an aspect of quiet renun- 
 ciation, behind which eternal regret and con- 
 stant sorrow were scarcely concealed. True, 
 certain tales which now and then reached Gus- 
 tav's ears did not fully harmonize with the 
 picture which he could not help obtaining from 
 Paula's letters, but he partly did not believe 
 the gossip, partly was disposed to bestow the 
 most lenient judgment upon reliable accounts 
 of incidents which, at least, were grave indis- 
 cretions. Poor woman! She was evidently 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 265 
 
 trying to deaden herself. She was striving to 
 fly from him and from herself. Even if she 
 really did have moments of recklessness, could 
 he reproach her for it? Did he not share the 
 blame, if she erred? Hadnot the heavy dis- 
 appointment, which he had inflicted upon her 
 great, trusting love, destroyed her moral poise 
 and rendered her inwardly and outwardly des- 
 titute of support? If she were weak, if she 
 sank, her fate would be an accusation against 
 him. 
 
 For several years the regular correspond- 
 ence lasted with the same warmth and famili- 
 arity. Then toward the end of September, 
 1889, Gustav received the following letter: 
 
 "Dear Friend Gustav : 
 
 " I shall marry, on the 8th of October, the 
 attorney, Herr Otto Tillius. You are the 
 first person to whom I announce it. You will 
 expect no comments from me. If, in future, 
 I address you more formally, and do not write 
 immediately, you will understand it. I shall 
 remain unchanged in my constancy, and am 
 sure that you will not wholly forget me. 
 
 "Paula." 
 
266 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT, 
 
 Gustav, surprised, read the letter three or 
 four times. Ten days before she had written 
 a very sentimental one, reminding him that 
 the 2ist of September, the day on which, five 
 years ago, she first saw him, was the greatest 
 festival in their calendar of love. The name 
 of Tillius had never appeared in her letters. 
 And in what a clever, matter-of-course manner 
 she told him the news ! - He certainly would 
 never have managed to announce his betrothal 
 to her so cheerily and gayly. This woman was 
 decidedly stronger than he. 
 
 Now his romance, for the first time, really 
 came to an end. He was glad of it, but his 
 satisfaction blended with another vague feel- 
 ing, not really mortification or anger, but 
 rather a sort of faint self-mockery. Gustav 
 was no ladies' man. In his earnest life of toil, 
 he had never had time for what people term 
 conquests. He possessed no museum of love 
 mementos, and Paula's letters were the only 
 ones of this kind. He opened the drawer of 
 his writing-desk, where they lay neatly ar- 
 ranged, and which they almost filled, drew 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 267 
 
 several hap-hazard from the collection, and 
 glanced dreamily over the lines. In each his 
 eye fell on passages like these : " What are all 
 other men beside you — you sweet, darling, 
 peerless fellow? You alone are my entire 
 world, and there is nothing for me except 
 you." " I understand the Indian widows. If 
 I no longer had you, I should not know what 
 I still wanted on earth. My life begins with 
 the day I found you. It would end with the 
 day when I lost you." He took out the whole 
 bundle, added the announcement of the mar- 
 riage, wrapped the package in a large sheet 
 of white paper, sealed it, and wrote on the 
 back: 
 
 i 
 
 p 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 m 
 
 t^*- 
 
 W R V 
 
 ^ 
 
 While he was painting the notes, he softly 
 hummed the words : " La donna e mobile qual 
 piuma al vento." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GusTAV spent the Easter vacation of the 
 year 1890 in Berlin with the Barwalds. He 
 desired a little counsel from the feminine del- 
 icacy of feeling of his friend's wife. Frau 
 Tillius, since her marriage, had given letters 
 of introduction to him to two or three people 
 who came to Brussels, and behaved in a per- 
 fectly unembarrassed manner, as if they were 
 still the best friends in the world. How 
 should he treat her now ? Should he leave his 
 card at her door, perhaps call on her, or wait 
 until his departure, and then write that, to his 
 deep regret, he had had no time to call? 
 
 "You are really giving yourself needless 
 anxiety, my dear Bruchstadt," was Frau Bar- 
 wald's reply. "Simply don't trouble yourself 
 about the lady." 
 
 "That won't do. Surely I owe her civil- 
 ity?" 
 
 368 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 269 
 
 "Owe?" replied Frau Barwald. "You owe 
 nothing at all to a person who so abominably 
 deceived you." 
 
 " You judge too severely. She has consoled 
 herself, it is true. But I really cannot re- 
 proach her on that account." 
 
 "Who is talking about her marriage? I 
 mean the affair with Hans Danewitz." 
 
 "I know nothing about it." 
 
 " Danewitz, the pianist, who was her lover 
 directly after the visit to Magdeburg, at the 
 very time when she told us that you were en- 
 gaged to her." 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear friend, but I simply 
 do not believe it. At the utmost, the affair 
 can be only mere gossip." 
 
 "Very well," said Frau Barwald quietly. 
 "We will get you proofs." 
 
 "That would be difficult." 
 
 "Easier than you suppose. I have read, 
 with my own eyes, the love-letters which 
 Danewitz at that time daily received from the 
 lady. I'll borrow some for a day, and show 
 them to you." 
 
270 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 " And do you imagine that a man will give 
 you the love-letters of a woman whom you 
 know?" 
 
 " Danewitz ? If he were asked to do so, he 
 would give a public reading from his love- 
 letters." 
 
 " But who is this fellow?" 
 
 "A very good-looking, very talented pian- 
 ist, who has only orie disagreeable failing, 
 that of boasting of his conquests." 
 
 Gustav remained incredulous. There might 
 certainly have been something between Paula 
 and this Danewitz, perhaps before their love 
 romance, perhaps after Paula's journey to 
 Brussels, but directly after the Magdeburg 
 convention — ^impossible ! 
 
 When Gustav came to the breakfast-table 
 on the second morning after this conversation, 
 Frau Barwald silently pushed several letters 
 toward him. He examined them. There 
 was Paula's large masculine chirography, the 
 still lingering violet perfume, the violet 
 stamped in the corner of the sheets of paper 
 which he drew from the envelopes. And the 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 2/1 
 
 postmarks showed the dates of November, 
 December, 1884, January, and February 1885. 
 He read them — there were the same intoxicat- 
 ing words, which he knew so well, which she 
 had also written to him on the same days, 
 probably the same hours — " before going into 
 society, I still have time to send you a thou- 
 sand greetings. I suppose it costs you an 
 effort to remember me? Is it so? Or do you 
 love me? Say yes, dear Hans." "Did I 
 forget nothing yesterday ? Think — did I kiss 
 your neck too,? I love you, you sweet man, 
 and when I close my eyes, in imagination 
 I hold your head in my arms, you keep 
 very quiet and let yourself be loved. You 
 dear, dear, dear Hans — I hold out both hands 
 to you, and my head and my lips — all." 
 Gustav read one, two letters carefully, glanced 
 hastily over a third and fourth, of the two 
 remaining he looked only at the date; then 
 he laughed aloud and, returning the little 
 package to Frau Barwald, he said : 
 
 "Nowthe affair is complete. There is 
 nothing lacking." 
 
2/2 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 " Well ? Do you know now who your Paula 
 is?" asked Frau Barwald, less triumphantly 
 than reproachfully. 
 
 "Yes," replied Gustav. After a short pause 
 of reflection, however, he added : 
 
 " Yes, and no. I don't understand the wo- 
 man. Why did she always pretend to care for 
 me?" 
 
 "That is perfectly evident. Because she 
 wanted to be married." 
 
 "No, my dear friend. In that case, she 
 would have managed the matter differently." 
 
 "You mean because she threw herself at 
 your head. She took a fancy to you, and a 
 woman of this sort has no moral scruples. As 
 you did not turn from her with contempt " 
 
 " I thought that she had erred from love." 
 
 " Of course. You clung to her steadfastly. 
 You are no drawing-room Don Juan, but a 
 grave scholar. The experienced woman of 
 the world instantly perceived this, and planned 
 her method accordingly. She pretended to be 
 in love, and you lords of creation always fall 
 into that .snare." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT, 273 
 
 Gustav shook his head. " The explanation is 
 not yet sufficient. I was no good match for 
 her." 
 
 "But you were a match," cried Frau Bar- 
 wald somewhat impatiently, " and the woman 
 had no choice." 
 
 " But I cannot believe that a woman like her 
 desired marriage at any cost. Liberty must 
 be more agreeable." 
 
 " Perhaps you do not know that, according to 
 all the stories, her position in society was be- 
 ginning to be untenable, and that her father 
 had also withdrawn his aid. If a respectable 
 man married her, it meant social rehabilita- 
 tion, and reconciliation with her wealthy fa- 
 ther. Then she could continue her reckless 
 life again, even if her husband were not 
 rich." 
 
 " Very well. But if so, how could she be so 
 unwise as to dally at the same time with this 
 Danewitz?" 
 
 "You don't take iuto account recklessness, 
 
 and the audacity of a disreputable woman." 
 
 "That is true. And yet— one thing still 
 18 
 
274 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 remains incomprehensible. The attempt at 
 suicide. That went beyond jesting." 
 
 " Humbug, too, " cried Frau Barwald. " Just 
 like her notorious heart disease. She weighs 
 at least a hundred and fifty pounds now, and 
 can out- waltz half-a-dozen lieutenants." 
 
 " No, my dear friend, I know better. The 
 wound was clumsy, but it was dealt in earnest. 
 We do not carry hypocrisy so far." 
 
 Barwald, who hitherto had eaten his break- 
 fast in silence, and read his newspaper, as if to 
 show that the conversation was not very agree- 
 able to him, now spoke for the first time. 
 
 "You see, my friend," he said, "human 
 beings are not simple sums in arithmetic, but 
 very complicated equations in algebra. Your 
 withdrawal wounded the lady's vanity. Your 
 resistance roused her obstinacy. She grew ab- 
 sorbed in the conflict. Even her deception be- 
 came an imperious law to her. She was like 
 the chamois hunter who has climbed too high. 
 She could not go back. She had done and 
 said too much for that. She must move for- 
 ward at the risk of breaking her neck." 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 275 
 
 Gustav had listened with bowed head. 
 
 "Yes. That is it," he murmured. 
 
 "But I think we have now devoted time 
 enough to this affair," Barwald continued. 
 
 "You are right," Frau Barwald assented. 
 " Perhaps our talk wounds yovi. I fear that 
 you still love this woman." 
 
 "Have no anxiety on that score," replied 
 Gustav. "That is the less likely to be the 
 case, as I have never loved her." 
 
 "Come, come," said Frau Barwald, smiling 
 incredulously. 
 
 "I repeat it, I never loved her." 
 
 " I know you always told Friedrich so. But 
 — ^pardon me — you asked just now why the 
 lady feigned love for you. With far more 
 reason, we may inquire: Why did you do 
 it?" 
 
 " I can explain, though I can scarcely apolo- 
 gize for it. It was forbearance, consideration, 
 weakness " 
 
 "Not a touch of vanity, too?" interposed 
 Barwald. 
 
 " Vanity also. I can confess my sin, for I 
 
2/6 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 have bitterly expiated it. I almost broke my 
 poor mother's heart, and I fear she has never 
 entirely recovered from the shock. I have 
 lost a charming girl, with whom I should 
 probably have been happy. I have almost 
 forfeited your friiendship, and completely de- 
 stroyed my own self-respect. A fruitful year 
 of my life has been ruined. And, what per- 
 haps is the worst of all, I have trifled away 
 faith in love itself." 
 
 "I don't perceive why that should be," said 
 Frau Barwald. 
 
 " Yes. I have seen that, without loving, all 
 the words, movements, and acts, which appar- 
 ently only the most ardent love inspires, can 
 be feigned. Can you wonder then if, after 
 the experience which I have had in my own 
 person, I think doubtfully at the spectacle of 
 any love — Who knows whether it is genuine? 
 And I consider that the greatest impov- 
 erishment which any human heart can en- 
 dure." 
 
 A pause followed, which Barwald was the 
 first to interrupt. 
 
THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 277 
 
 " Do you know, you ought to write out your 
 romance." 
 
 "Why?" asked Gustav. 
 
 "To publish it." 
 
 "For heaven's sake!" cried Frau Barwald. 
 
 "Certainly," her husband persisted. "The 
 story is typical. It might serve as a warning 
 to others. It has such an edifying moral: 
 Veracity forever!" 
 
 "No," said Gustav," no one will be made 
 wiser by reading. It must be personally ex- 
 perienced." 
 
 " Apart from that consideration," Frau Bar- 
 wald eagerly interposed, "novels are written 
 principally for women ; and I hope you do not 
 believe that you would awaken any sympathy 
 for your hero in their hearts. They never 
 forgive hypocrisy in love." 
 
 " That is, in the man," remarked Barwald. 
 
 "You are perfectly right, my dear friend. 
 It will be best to keep the affair for myself, 
 and draw from it, solely for my own benefit, 
 the moral that I have been a monumental 
 blockhead." 
 
2/8 THE COMEDY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 " Yes, my poor Bruchstadt, " said Frau Bar- 
 ■wald, smiling; "a sensible man ought to tell 
 himself that he must necessarily be the dupe 
 if he plays a comedy of sentiment with a 
 woman. In that she is always his superior." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 LOVE LETTERS OF A WORLDLY WOMAN. 
 
 Mrs. W. K. Clifiord. 
 
 ON A MARGIN. Julius Chambers. 
 
 FOR LIFE AND LOVE. Richard Henry Savage. 
 
 THE PASSING SHOW. Richard Henry Savage. 
 
 DELILAH OF HARLEM. Richard Henry Savage. 
 
 THE MASKED VENUS. Richard Henry Savage. 
 
 PRINCE SCHAMYL'S WOOING. 
 
 Richard Henry Savage. 
 
 THE LITTLE LADY OF LAGUNITAS. 
 
 Richard Henry Savage. 
 
 "NANCE. A Kentucky Romance. Nanci Lewis Greene. 
 
 MADAM SAPPHIRA. Edgar Saltus. 
 
 ARE MEN GAY DECEIVERS? Mrs. Frank Leslie. 
 
 MISS MADAM. Opie Reed. 
 
 THE FALLEN RACE. Austyn Granville. 
 
 A YOUNG LADY TO MARRY, and Other French 
 Stories. Claretie, Mairet, Guy de Maupassant, Coppee, 
 Noir, and Gr6ville. 
 
 THE ADOPTED DAUGHTER. Edgar Fawcett. 
 
 SWEET DANGER. Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 
 
 BITTER FRUITS. Madam Caro. 
 
 L'EVANGELISTE. Alphonse Daudet. 
 
 REMARKS BY BILL NYE. Edgar Wilson Nye. 
 
 HYPNOTISM. Jules Claretie. 
 
 For -Sale iy all Booksellers, or will be sent postpaid »» 
 receipt tf price iy the Publisher. 
 
Neely's Popular Library 
 
 RETAIL PRICE, 25 CTS. 
 
 THE DEEMSTER. Hall Caine. 
 
 THE WHITE COMPANY. A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 THE BONDMAN. Hall Caine 
 
 BURKETT'S LOCK. M. G. McCleilan. 
 
 THE CHILD OF THE BALL. DeAlarcon. 
 
 CLAUDEA'S ISLAND. Esm6 Stuart. 
 
 LYDIA. Sydney Christian. 
 
 WEBSTER'S PRONOUNCING DICTIONARY. 
 
 (Illustrated.) 350 pages. 
 AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS. 
 
 Jules Verne, igo pages. 
 THE HOUSE OF THE SEVbN GABLES. 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne. 192 pages. 
 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE. J. M. Barrie. 28S pages. 
 A TALE OP TWO CITIES. Charles Dickens. 262 pages. 
 BEYOND THE CITY. A. Conan Doyle. 
 THE MAN IN BLACK. Stanley J. Weyman. 
 THE MAHARAJAH'S GUEST. An Indian Exile. 
 THE LAST OF THE VAN SLACKS. 
 
 Edward S. Van-Zile. 
 A LOVER'S FATE AND A FRIEND'S COUNSEL. 
 
 Anthony Hope. 
 WHAT PEOPLE SAID. An Idle Exile. 
 MARK TWAIN— His Life and Work. Will M.Clemens. 
 THE MAJOR. Major Randolph Gore Hampton. 
 ROSE AND NINETTE. Alphonse Daudet. 
 THE MINISTER'S WEAK POINT. David Madura. 
 AT LOVE'S EXTREMES. Maurice Thompson. 
 BY RIGHT NOT LAW. R. H. Sherard. 
 SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGkT. 
 
 Beatrice Harraden. 
 DODO; A Detail of the Day. E. F. Benson. 
 A HOLIDAY IN BED, and Other Sketches. 
 
 I. M. Barrie. 
 
 Li: — 
 
 CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS; HIS LIFE AND 
 
 VOYAGES. Franc B. Wilkie. 
 IN DARKEST ENGLAND AND THE WAY OUT. 
 
 Gen. Booth. 
 UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. Harriet Beecher Stowe. 
 DREAM LIFE. Ik Marvel (Donald G. Mitchell). 
 COSMOPOLIS. Paul Bourget. 
 REVERIES OF A BACHELOR. 
 
 Ik Marvel (Donald G. Mitchell). 
 WAS IT SUICIDE? Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 
 POEMS AND YARNS. 
 
 James Whitcomb Riley and Bill Nye. 
 AN ENGLISH GIRL IN AMERICA. 
 
 Tallulah Matteson Powell. 
 SPARKS FROM THE PEN OF BILL NYE. 
 PEOPLE'S REEERENCE BOOK— 999,999 Facts. 
 MARTHA WASHINGTON COOK BOOK. 
 HEALTH AND BEAUTY. Emily S. Bouton. 
 SOCIAL ETIQUETTE. Emily S. Bouton. 
 LOOKING FORWARD. Illustrated Visit to the 
 World's Fair. 
 
 Ber Sale by all Booksellers, or wtll be sent postpaid on 
 receipt 0/ price by the Publisher 
 
IN THE QUARTER. 
 
 BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS, 
 
 Author of " The King in Yellow." 
 
 PRESS NOTICES: 
 New York " It Is a story ol life in Paris. . . that haa 
 World good descriptions ol dramatic scenes." 
 
 Book Buyer, " It is a story of a man who tried to recon- 
 New Tork cile irreconcilable facts. . . Mr. Cham- 
 
 bers tells it with a happy choice of words, thus putting ' to 
 proof the art alien to the artists.' . . It is not a book for 
 the unsophisticated, yet its morality Is high and unmis- 
 takable. . ." 
 Brooklyn Citizen " Full Of romantic incidents. . ." 
 Boston Courier "Interesting novel of French life. . .' 
 Boston "Astory of student life written with dash . . 
 
 Traveller and surety of handling. . ." 
 Boston "Well written, bright, vivid; the ending la 
 Times highly dramatic." 
 
 New Tork " Charming story of Bohemian life, with its 
 
 Sunday World buoyancy, Its romance, and its wild joy ol 
 youth . . . vividly depicted In this graceful tale by one 
 who, like Daudet, knows his Paris. Some pages are ex- 
 quisitely beautiful." 
 Philadelphia " Idyllic— charming- Mr. Chambers' story 
 Bulletin is delicately told." 
 
 N. Y. Evening "It is a good story in its way. It is good 
 Telegram in several ways. There are glimpses of 
 
 the model and of the grlsette— all dainty enough. The 
 most of it might have come from so severe a moralist as 
 George Eliot or even Bayard Taylor. . ." 
 N.Y.Comiuercial "Avery vivid and touchingly told story. 
 Advertiser The tale is interesting because it re- 
 
 flects with fidelity the life led by certain sets of art 
 students. A genuine romance, charmingly told." 
 Congregationalist, " Vivid, realistic. There is much oJ 
 Boston nobility in it. A decided and excel- 
 
 lent moral influence. It is charmingly written from cover 
 to cover. . ." 
 Vogue, " The authoris to be congratulated on the liter- 
 
 New York ary skill shown In what is reported to be his 
 first attempt at novel writing, his characterization being 
 especially clever. The author treats his theme with a re- 
 finement that softens, but does not gloss over, the excesses 
 of temptations that beset youths ; and he shows himself 
 keenlyobservantoteveryday life of the Latin Quarter. . ." 
 Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50 Cents. 
 
 R. TENISIYSOISI NEELY, 
 
 Chicago. New York. 
 
FATHER STAFFORD 
 
 BY ANTHONY HOPE. 
 
 The Mosi Remarkable of Mr. Hope's Stories. 
 
 Minneapolis " This story is In the genuine Hope style 
 Tribune and for that reason will be widely read." 
 
 Public licdger, " ' Father Stafford " is extremely clever, 
 Fhlladelplila a bold privateer venturing upon the 
 
 high seas." 
 San Francisco " It Is a good story, the strong parts of 
 Chronicle which are the conflict between love and 
 
 conscience on the part of a young Anglican priest. The 
 charm of the booh, however, lies in the briskness of the dia- 
 logue, which Is as finely finished as any of Hope's novels." 
 Nashville " 'Father Stafford' is a charming story. The 
 Banner whole book sustains the reputation that An- 
 
 thony Hope has made, and adds another proof that as a 
 portrayer of characters of sharp distinctness and individ- 
 uality, he has no superior." 
 Evening " A writer of great merit. . . . Mr. Hope's 
 Wisconsin work has a quality of straightforwardness 
 that recommends it to readers who have grown tired of 
 the loaded novel." 
 Phlllipsburg " This is considered by his critics to be one 
 Journal of the strongest, most beautiful and in- 
 
 teresting novels Mr. Hope has ever written. There is not 
 a dull line in the entire volume." 
 Amusement "The dialogue is bright and worldly, and 
 Gazette the other characters do not suffer because 
 
 so prominent Is the hero ; they are well drawn, and quite 
 out of the ordinary." 
 Tanity, " A very Interesting narrative, and Mr. Hope 
 
 New York tells the story after that fashion which he 
 
 would seem to have made peculiarly his own. " 
 Kansas City "There is something more than the romance 
 Journal of the action to hold the reader's mind. It 
 
 is one of the author's best productions." 
 
 Every Saturday, " Anthony Hope Is a master of dialogue, 
 Elgin, lU. and to his art in this particular is due 
 
 the enticing interest which leads the reader on from page 
 
 to page." 
 Hebrew "The strife between the obligation of a vow of 
 Standard celibacy and the promptings of true love are 
 
 vividly portrayed in this little book. ... It contains an 
 
 admirable description of English country life, and is well 
 
 written." 
 Boston Dally "It has enough of the charm of the au- 
 Globe thor's thought and style to identify it as 
 
 characteristic, and make it very pleasing." 
 
 Buckram, Qilt Top. Retail, 75 Cents. 
 
The King in Yellow. 
 
 By ROBERT W. CHAAABERS. 
 
 Edward " The author is a genius without a living equal, 
 EUls so far as I am aware, la his peculiar field. It 
 
 is a masterpiece. ... I have read many portions sev- 
 eral times, captivated hy the unapproachable tints of the 
 painting. None hut a genius of the highest order could 
 do such work." 
 N. Y. Commercial "The short prose tale should be a syn- 
 Advertiser thesis ; it was the art of Edgar Poe, 
 
 it is the art of Mr. Chambers. . . . His Is beyond ques- 
 tion a glorious heritage. ... I fancy the booli will 
 create a sensation ; ... in any case It is the most 
 notable contribution to literature which has come from an 
 American publisher for many years ; and fine as the ac- 
 complishment Is, ' The King In Yellb w ' is large In promise. 
 One has a right to expect a great deal from an author ol 
 this calibre." 
 Times- " The most eccentric little volume of Its (little) 
 H«rald day. ' The King In Yellow ' is subtly fascinat- 
 ing, and compels attention for its style and its wealth of 
 strange, Imaginative force." 
 New York "Mr. Robert W. Chambers does not have a 
 Times system to work up to ; he has no lad, save a 
 
 tendency to write about the marvelous and the Impossible; 
 painting pictures of romance that have a wild inspiration 
 about them. Descriptive powers of no mean quality are 
 perceptible In this volume of stories." 
 The N. Y. " Mr. Chambers has a great command of 
 World words ; he Is a good painter. His situations 
 
 are most delicately touched, and some of his descriptions 
 are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors 
 rather than ideas. . . . The best drama In the volume 
 means madness. The tenderest fancy is a sad mirage. 
 . . . ' The King in Yellow ' is a very Interesting contri- 
 bution to the present fund of materio-mysticism. . . . 
 To read Mr. Chambers' little book is to escape from the ac- 
 tual on poetical wings." 
 Minneapolis "They have a mysterious, eerie air about 
 Tribune them that is apt to stimulate the reader's 
 
 curiosity." 
 Fhiladelplila " Charming, delicate, skillful, vivid." 
 Times 
 
 FhUadelphla " Expected to make a sensation, charming, 
 Item full of color and delicately tinted." 
 
 Cleveland " It Is wondrous strong, dramatic, lull of color. 
 Gazette weird, uncanny, picturesque, and yet a gem 
 
 ot exquisite coloring, dreamy, symbolic, exciting." 
 Detroit " ' The King In Yellow ' compels attention." 
 Journal 
 
 Denver "Treated In a most fascinating way! Weird, 
 limes mysterious, powerful!" 
 
 Buckram, Qilt Top. Retail, 75 Cents. 
 

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