ess; either openly
recognized as such, or concealed by our self-deception, and at last the
lie takes on the appearance of virtue, changes all the foundation of
our character, silences the protests which our better nature makes, and
says, you must not desert your friend; you have been friends so long,
you have received so much from him, and have done so much for him; it
would break up your whole life; you would take a large portion from it,
if you gave him up. No! you must now hold firmly together. And so the
lie grows and poisons life. All sorrow and all unhappiness, all
misunderstanding and deceit, arise from the fault that man will not be
faithful to himself. The devil of lies goes about, seeking whom he may
devour.

It is true there is no devil that you can see so as to describe him in
the military style, but close by every divine idea which in its
ultimate foundation is nothing but Truth, dwells the Lie, and is always
capable of assuming the form and language of its neighbor.

All these thoughts were tossing and raging in Eric's soul as he sat for
his portrait. Could any one at that moment have painted the picture of
his soul, it would, have been an unparalleled distortion.

At last, Bella declared she could not draw him as he then looked, and
the sitting was postponed.

They all went to dinner, which passed cheerfully, for the Doctor joined
them. In the evening, they went out rowing on the Rhine, and Roland
told how beautifully Eric could sing; but Eric could not be persuaded
to give them a single song. He was bantered on having displayed his
talent at the musical festival, by Pranken especially, who spoke in a
friendly tone, but with a most cutting manner.

In the evening, when the fire-flies were darting here and there in the
dusky park, Eric walked with Bella, while Clodwig sat in the balconied
room, turning over the leaves of an album filled with new photographic
views of Rome, and, at many a page, looking far away into the past.

Roland walked with Pranken, and they talked of Manna. Pranken knew well
how to suggest what he should write of him. In walking, they passed and
repassed Eric and Bella, and Pranken looked surprised at seeing his
sister leaning on the young man's arm. Like glancing fire-flies, the
brilliant flashes of wit lighted up their conversation, but left longer
trains of light behind them. Bella and Eric spoke in a low tone, and
often, as the others passed near them, they stopped speaking.