h,"
replied Anton.

"No," said Bernhard, "I will merely listen, and you shall tell me about
your travels."

Anton began his recital: "I have seen of late what we have both of us
often wished to see--foreign scenes and a life of adventures. I have
found pleasant companionship in other countries, but the result of my
experience is that there is no greater happiness than that of living
quietly among one's own people. I have met with much that would have
delighted you, because it was poetical and soul-stirring, but
disappointment was largely mingled with it all."

"It is the same all over the earth," said Bernhard. "When a mighty
feeling shakes the heart, and seeks to impel onward, the world stains
and tarnishes it, and fair things die, and lofty aims become ridiculous.
So it is no better with others than with us."

"That is our old bone of contention," said Anton, cheerily; "are you not
converted, you skeptic?"

Bernhard looked down embarrassed. "Perhaps I am, Wohlfart."

"Oh ho!" cried Anton; "and what has brought this change about? Was it
some experience of your own? It must have been, I am sure."

"Whatever it was," said Bernhard, with a smile that irradiated his face,
"I believe that with us, too, beauty and loveliness are to be found;
that with us, too, life can give birth to great passions, holy joys, and
bitter griefs; and I believe," continued he, mournfully, "that even
with us many sink under the burden of a terrible destiny."

Anton listened anxiously to these words, and remarked that the large
eyes of the invalid shone with a sudden inspiration.

"No doubt," said he, "it is as you say, but the fairest and most
ennobling thing this life can boast is the triumph of the mind over all
external influences. I honor the man who lets neither his passions nor
his destiny overpower him, but who, even if he have erred, can tear
himself away and regain his liberty."

"But how if it be too late, and if the force of circumstances be
stronger than he?"

"I am not willing to believe in such force of circumstances," replied
Anton. "I imagine that, however sore pressed a man may be, if he sets
himself to work in earnest, he may hew his way out. True, he will bear
the scars of such an encounter, but, like a soldier's, there will be
honor in them. Or, even if he does not overcome, he can at least fight
valiantly, and if conquered at last, he deserves the sympathy of all;
but he who yields himself up without resistance