noble Duchess Louisa, my master and friend. She is an
example of refined, womanly dignity; and you, Charles, are to be envied
the love of so estimable a wife and sweet mother for your children."

"Indeed I am," cried the duke, enthusiastically. "I could not have found
a more high-minded, lovely wife, or a more excellent, virtuous mother
for my descendants. But you know, Wolf, that your Charles has still
another heart, very susceptible and tender, which seeks for an affinity
to call its own, and vent itself in the pleasures of youth, in glorious
flirtations, melancholy signs, and blissful longings. You cannot expect
me at twenty-two to play the grandfather, and have no eyes or heart
for other captivating women, though I love my young wife most
affectionately, and bless Fate that I am bound with silken cords to
Hymen's cart--though I am forever bound, and you, Wolf, are happily
free!"

"Because grim Fate refuses to unite me to my beloved. Oh, Charlotte, if
you were free, how blessed would I be, enchained by you! Not to 'Hymen's
cart,' as the fortunate mocker says, but to the chariot of Venus, drawn
by doves, enthroned upon which you would bear me to heaven!"

"Do not blaspheme, Wolf," cried the duke; "rather kneel and thank the
gods that you are not fettered and your wings clipped. They wish to
preserve to you love's delusion, because you are a favorite, and deny
you the object adored. Beware of the institution which the French
actress, Sophie Arnould, has so wittily called the 'consecration
of adultery.' You will agree with me that we have many such little
sacraments in our dear Weimar, and I must laugh when I reflect for what
purpose those amiable beauties have married, as not one of them love
their husbands, but they all possess a friend besides."

"The human heart is a strange thing," said Goethe, as they descended the
hill, arm in arm, "and above all a woman's heart! It is a sacred
riddle, which God has given Himself to solve, and that only a God could
unravel!"

At this instant a flash of lightning, followed by heavy-rolling thunder,
was heard.

"Hear, Wolf--only hear!" laughed Charles--"God in heaven responds, and
confirms your statement."

"Or punishes me for my bold speech," cried Goethe, as the hailstones
rattled around him hitting his face with their sharp points. "Heaven is
whipping me with rods."

"And our carriage has descended with a quick trot into the valley,"
said the duke. "I will call it." He