rld for,
after all? Without us the trees would still grow; the beasts, the birds
and the fishes would still live without us. All these have a purpose in
the world; man alone is obliged to seek one. Men paint, and build, and
till the soil, and study how they may the better kill each other. The
only difference, after all, between mankind and the beast is that man
buries his dead."

"And have you ventured so far, my child? I am indeed glad that you're
with me once again. You must have had much to contend with. I trust you
will once more learn to believe that our proper destiny is, to live in
accordance with nature and reason. Look at the world!" said he, with a
smile. "A maiden twenty-one years of age, and a countess to boot, asks:
'Why am I in the world?' Ah, my child, to be beautiful, to be good, to
be as lovely as possible in mind as well as in outward form. Conduct
yourself so that you can afford to wish that every one might know you
thoroughly.--But enough of this, for the present."

The hour that father and daughter thus spent together in the arbor was
full of happiness for both, and Irma repeatedly expressed a wish that
she could thus live forever.

Oblivious of all else, each seemed to constitute the other's world.

"You've become my great tall girl," said her father. He had intended to
say: "You must have gone through a great deal, for you return to your
father and have nothing to tell about matters trifling or personal to
yourself." He had intended to say this, but simply repeated: "You've
become my great girl."

"And, father! you order me to remain with you, do you not?"

"You know very well that I've never ordered you to do anything, since
you were able to think for yourself," replied the father. "I'd have you
act according to your own convictions, and not against your will or
reason."

Irma was silent. She had not received the answer she had hoped for,
and, feeling that she must herself bring about the desired result,
determined to do so.

A forest-keeper came to receive instructions in regard to the woods.
Eberhard replied that he would ride out there himself. Irma begged to
be allowed to accompany him and, her father consenting, she soon
appeared in a hunting-dress and rode off with him across the meadows
and in the direction of the forest.

Her face glowed with animation while she felt herself moving along on
the spirited steed, through the shady, dewy forest.

While her father was giving his o