be looked in," answered Goethe, slightly
annoyed. "I came to see you, and if you run away I shall go also, and
I advise you not to try to prevent me." His voice resounded through the
apartment, growing louder as he spoke, his cheeks flushed, and his high,
commanding brow contracted.

"Jupiter Tonans!" cried Moritz, regarding him, "you are truly Jupiter
Tonans in person, and I bow before you and obey your command. I shall
remain to worship you, and gaze at you."

"And it may be possible to speak in a reasonable manner to me," said
Goethe, coaxingly. "Away with sentimentality and odors of incense! We
are no sybarites, to feed on sweet-meats and cakes; but we are men who
have a noble aim in view, attained only by a thorny path. Our eyes must
remain fixed upon the goal, and nothing must divert them from it."

"What is the aim that we should strive for?" asked Moritz, his whole
being suddenly changing, and his manner expressing the greatest
depression and sadness.

Goethe smiled. "How can you ask, as if you did not know it yourself.
Self-knowledge should be our first aim! The ancient philosophers were
wise to have inscribed over the entrances to their temples, 'Know
thyself,' in order to remind all approaching, to examine themselves
before they entered the halls of the gods. Is not the human heart
equally a temple? only the demons and the gods strive together therein,
unfortunately. To drive the former out, and give place to the latter,
should be our aim; and when once purified, and room is given for good
deeds and great achievements, we shall not rest satisfied simply to
conquer, but rise with gladness to build altars upon those places which
we have freed from the demons; for that, we must steadily keep in view
truth and reality, and not hide them with a black veil, or array them
in party-colored rags. Our ideas must be clear about the consequences of
things, that we may not be like those foolish men who drink wine
every evening and complain of headache every morning, resorting to
preventives."

Did Goethe know the struggles and dissensions which rent the heart of
the young man to whom he spoke? Had his searching eyes read the secrets
which were hidden in that darkened soul? He regarded him as he spoke
with so much commiseration that Moritz's heart softened under the genial
influence of sympathy and kindness. A convulsive trembling seized him,
his cheeks were burning red, and his features expressed the struggle
within