fraid to appear as we
are? Your great rule is that we should follow out our natures. Why do
we not always do so? Oh, father, let me send up a joyful shout to my
native mountains, to the forests and the lakes! I'm with ye, again, my
constant friends! Let us live together! Hold fast by me and I will be
as faithful as ye are! I greet thee, sun; and yonder hill under which
my mother rests--"

She could not go on. After some time, the old man said:

"It would be well, my child, if we could live out our life in all its
native purity; but it is neither fear of ourselves, nor self-imposed
slavery that induces us to avoid such scenes, such violent agitation.
It is a deep-seated feeling that, by contrast, the next moment must
appear bald and commonplace. It would oblige us to plunge from a life
of excessive sensibility into the every-day world. It is for this
reason that we should, and do, exercise self-control; for such emotions
should not exhaust themselves in what might be called a devout
outburst, but should extend through all our acts and thoughts, even to
the smallest and most insignificant. That is the source of our noblest
aspiration. Yes, my child, the very ones who thus, as it were, divide
their life in two, profane the one-half of it, while they secretly
flatter themselves: We have had great and noble emotions and are still
capable of feeling them."

The old housekeeper brought the coffee. Irma waited on her father and
told him that she expected Emma and her betrothed. Eberhard said:

"When Emma was here, years ago, your thoughts ran in the same vein as
at present. We were on the Chamois hill, where a fine view of the great
lake can be obtained, and were waiting to see the sunrise. Emma, in her
matter-of-fact and plain-spoken way, said: 'I don't think it worth
while to lose one's sleep and go to so much trouble for this. I find
the sunset fully as beautiful and far less troublesome.' What did you
answer her at the time?"

"I can't remember, father, dear."

"But I do. You said: 'The sunrise is far more elevating, but I don't
know what one can do to have the rest of the day in keeping with the
lofty mood thus inspired. Sunset is better for us, because the world
then veils itself and allows us to rest. After beholding the highest,
there are only two things left us--sleep and music.'"

"But, father, I've ceased to think so. Yesterday, during the whole of
my drive, I was haunted by the thought: What are we in the wo