want of sensibility. Like a
venturesome miner, I descended into the psychological depth. I
shuddered at what I there discovered, and at the inferences which
Isabella's conduct forced upon my mind. No, father, no," said he
impetuously, "I will have no such nuptials--I will never rush into the
miseries of matrimony!"

"Thunder and lightning! are you a man?" cried Herr Frank. "Because
Emil's wife and Isabella are good-for-nothings, must the whole sex be
repudiated? Both cases are exceptions. These exceptions give you no
right to judge unfavorably of all women. This prejudice does no honor
to your good sense, Richard. It is only eccentricity can judge thus."

The train stopped. The travellers went out, where a carriage awaited
them.

"Is everything right?" said Herr Frank to the driver.

"All is fixed, sir, as you required,"

"Is the box of books taken out?"

"Yes, sir."

The coach moved up the street. The dark mountain-side rose into view,
and narrow, deep valleys yawned beneath the travellers. Fresh currents
of air rushed down the mountain and Herr Frank inhaled refreshing
draughts.

Richard gazed thoughtfully over the magnificent vineyards and luxuriant
orchards.

The road grew steeper and the wooded summit of the mountain approached.
A light which Frank beheld with satisfaction glared out from it. Its
rays shot out upon the town that, amid rich vineyards, topped the
neighboring hill.

"Our residence is beautifully located," said Herr Frank. "How cheerful
it looks up there! It is a home fit for princes."

"You have indeed chosen a magnificent spot, father. Everything unites
to make Frankenhoehe a delightful place. The vineyards on the slopes of
the hills, the smiling hamlet of Salingen to the right. In the
background the stern mountain with its proud ruins on the summit of
Salburg, the deep valleys and the dark ravines, all unite in the
landscape: to the east that beautiful plain."

These words pleased the father. His eyes rested long on the beautiful
property.

"You have forgotten a reason for my happy choice," said he, while a
smile played on his features. "I mean the habit of my friend and
deliverer, who, for the last eight years, spends the month of May at
Frankenhoehe. You know the singular character of the doctor. Nothing in
the world can tear him from his books. He has renounced all pleasure
and enjoyment, to devote his whole time to his books. When Frankenhoehe
entices and captivates the man of