m leading you to; I only meant to tell you
that I am not a misanthrope. I love all men. I know that, at bottom,
they cannot be different from what they are, and that honest nature
still lies concealed beneath their frizzled, overloaded, glittering
masks. They cannot reveal it, however, and in spite of their false,
cunning ways, there still remains a great and wise precept: 'Forgive
them, for they know not what they do.' And now let me add that I
forgive your brother, too. He has deeply mortified me, for the deepest
mortification that one can suffer is at the hands of one's child.

"I cannot force Bruno to act against his will, nor do I wish to. It is
a strange world. The struggle between father and son drags on through
all ages. My son defends the old, and I the new; but I must bear with
it all.

"Freedom alone accords with the dictates of nature and reason. But you
cannot force one to be free; nor do I wish to force you, in any way.
Most women would rather yield to nature than affection, but I do not
regard you as an ordinary woman, nor do I wish you to be one. You
should--"

Although Eberhard had said that he did not wish to be interrupted,
something now came which did interrupt him.

It was a messenger with a letter for Irma. She recognized the
handwriting of her friend Emma, and hurriedly opening the letter, read
as follows:

"_Irma_: I cannot come to thee. I have said farewell to the world.
Three weeks ago to-day, my Albrecht lost his life through the bite of a
mad dog. My life for this world is also at an end. I humbly submit to
the inscrutable will of the Almighty. I have vowed to take the veil. I
am here now, and shall never again leave this spot. Come, as soon as
thou canst, to thy

"SISTER EUPHROSYNE,

"_In the convent of Frauenwoerth_."

Irma handed the letter to her father to read.

"And so the bite of a mad dog has destroyed two human lives. Who will
explain this?" exclaimed Irma.

"In that respect, religion is just as impotent as we are. Like reason,
she commands us to obey nature's law."

The messenger waited, and Irma went off to write an answer in which she
promised to come.

Meanwhile, Eberhard sat alone. He had confided the story of his life to
his child--and what would it avail? How often had he realized that no
teaching, be it ever so noble, can change the human mind. Life,
observation and experience can alone produce conviction