d to discern
it. We can err very easily in youth; and to find ourselves shooting at
a false mark uncontrollably must be a cruel thing. I cannot say it is
undeserving the scourge of derision. Do you know yourself? I do not;
and I am told by my Professor that it is the sole subject to which you
should not give a close attention. I can believe him. For who beguiles
so much as Self? Tell her to play, she plays her sweetest. Lurk to
surprise her, and what a serpent she becomes! She is not to be aware
that you are watching her. You have to review her acts, observe her
methods. Always be above her; then by-and-by you catch her hesitating at
cross-roads; then she is bare: you catch her bewailing or exulting; then
she can no longer pretend she is other than she seems. I make self the
feminine, for she is the weaker, and the soul has to purify and raise
her. On that point my Professor and I disagree. Dr. Julius, unlike our
modern Germans, esteems women over men, or it is a further stroke of
his irony. He does not think your English ladies have heads: of us he is
proud as a laurelled poet. Have I talked you dumb?'

'Princess, you have given me matter to think upon.'

She shook her head, smiling with closed eyelids.

I, now that speech had been summoned to my lips, could not restrain it,
and proceeded, scarcely governing the words, quite without ideas; 'For
you to be indifferent to rank--yes, you may well be; you have intellect;
you are high above me in both--' So on, against good taste and common
sense.

She cried: 'Oh! no compliments from you to me. I will receive them, if
you please, by deputy. Let my Professor hear your immense admiration for
his pupil's accomplishments. Hear him then in return! He will beat at me
like the rainy West wind on a lily. "See," he will say, when I am broken
and bespattered, "she is fair, she is stately, is she not!" And really
I feel, at the sound of praise, though I like it, that the opposite,
satire, condemnation, has its good right to pelt me. Look; there is the
tower, there 's the statue, and under that line of pine-trees the path
we ran up;--"dear English boys!" as I remember saying to myself; and
what did you say of me?'

Her hand was hanging loose. I grasped it. She drew a sudden long breath,
and murmured, without fretting to disengage herself,

'My friend, not that!'

Her voice carried an unmistakeable command. I kissed above the fingers
and released them.

'Are you still able to r