CHAPTER I.

"ONLY A WOMAN."

Upon a bright, sunny day, at the house of Professor Moellner in N---- there were gathered the principal Professors of medicine and philosophy in the town. The table provided for the guests was loaded with everything that could rejoice the hearts of men who had spent the morning in delivering lectures. Lunch was not the only end for which this assemblage was gathered together. These learned gentlemen had taken this occasion to discuss a very ludicrous matter,--nothing less than an application from a lady for permission to attend the lectures and to graduate at the University of the place.

Moellner had invited these gentlemen to his house for the purpose of this discussion. There sat the physiologist Meibert, the anatomist Beck, and the philosophers Herbert and Taun, leaning back in comfortable arm-chairs,--their throats very dry,--regarding with longing eyes the various bottles that stood as yet uncorked, as if awaiting the magic word that should make them yield up their contents. Hector, too, Moellner's large dog, was devouring with his eyes, at a respectful distance, the delicacies upon the table, quite unable to understand how the gentlemen could refrain so long from falling to. He would have done very differently had he been a man.

The Staatsraethin entered the room, and with dignified repose and kindliness of manner greeted the guests, who rose as she appeared. "I have just learned that my son is not here to receive his friends," she said. "Allow me to act his part. You must need refreshment after the lectures."

"Thanks, thanks! you are most kind," was heard from all sides as the Staatsraethin filled the glasses. Herbert, the philosopher, was foremost in his acknowledgments; for he was a great favourite in society, and aspired to unite the solidity of the scholar with the grace of the man of the world. "We are greatly privileged in being allowed to kiss the hand whose tasteful care we have already admired in the charming, arrangement of this table."

"Professor Herbert's gallantry is well known," said the Staatsraethin dryly.

"It is true," he replied, "that I endeavour always to give expression to the sentiments of respect and admiration that I entertain for your sex, madam, in spite of the failure of my attempts."

"Good-morning, mamma,--good-morning, gentlemen," cried a clear, ringing voice, and there came tripping into the room a figure so full of life and bloom that its joyousness was instantly reflected upon every face.

"Angelika," said the Staatsraethin, embracing her, "have you come without your husband? What is the matter? You were not invited;--it was _he_. Is it a mistake?"

"Oh, Frau Staatsraethin, we are entirely satisfied with the exchange," laughed the professors; and, Herbert taking the lead,--they gathered about Angelika, enjoying the atmosphere of youth and grace that encompassed her everywhere.

"I know perfectly well, mamma, that only Moritz was invited, but I have come too. I so wanted to hear judgment passed in this august assembly upon my former playmate. I may stay, may I not?"

"If your husband is willing, and these gentlemen do not object," said the Staatsraethin.

"No, oh, no,--we certainly do not object," cried all the gentlemen, with the exception of Herbert, who remarked softly, with a thoughtful air, that he feared that their charming associate might hear some observations on this occasion not flattering to her sex.

"Oh, I cannot fear anything of the sort from you, the acknowledged champion of dames, the most gallant of men," laughed Angelika,--"and the other gentlemen will not be too bard upon us."

Herbert shrugged his shoulders.

"Besides," Angelika continued gaily, "I have been a little hardened in the matter by my stern lord and master, who has very little consideration for our sex."

"Scarcely to be wondered at in a practising physician," Herbert said in a low tone to his associates; then, turning with his sweetest expression to Angelika, "Could you not have taught him better long ago?"

"Oh, no," complained Angelika.

"He considers his wife an exception," interposed the Staatsraethin; "she seems to have left no room in his nature for sympathy with the rest of womankind. I have never seen a man so exclusive in his regard."

"Such a wife deserves it all," said Herbert, kissing Angelika's hand.

At this moment the door opened, and old Heim, his fine head crowned with locks of silvery whiteness, entered. All bowed low to this "Nestor of science," as he was called. After the death of his king he had accepted a call to N----, and had for eight years occupied the chair of pathology in the University there. He was followed by his adopted son, for whom he had created a professorship for the cure of diseases of the eye,--a fair, handsome young man, slender in figure and gentle in demeanour, with hands so small and well shaped that they seemed formed for the very purpose of handling such a delicate piece of mechanism as the eye. The Staatsraethin and Angelika greeted them both with all their old cordiality, and Professor Herbert said aloud, "How fresh and strong our revered associate looks! he must teach us how to retain our youth."

"Yes, indeed," said Meibert, "if Bock could see him he would recall his cruel assertion that man retains full possession of his mental powers only until the age of fifty!"

"He will soon recall that when he has passed fifty himself," said a deep, powerful voice. All turned to the new-comer.

"Ah, Moellner, have you been listening?"

"Oh, no; but I could not help hearing, as I came in, that you were making pretty speeches to one another,--just as if you had cups of tea before you, instead of glasses of good wine. Pray, what has made you so sentimental?"

"Your protracted absence, probably," said Angelika, relieving her brother of his hat and cane.

The strong, fine-looking man threw an affectionate glance at her. "Indeed! let me entreat forgiveness, then. One of my experiments was unsuccessful, and I was obliged to repeat it. That is why I am late!"

"I suppose, then, you have been torturing some unfortunate dog or rabbit," said Angelika in a tone of distress. "Poor thing!"

"For shame, Angelika!" said her brother. "Those are not words for the sister of a physiologist,--a woman who ought to understand the object of science."

Angelika made no reply, but observed, well pleased, how tenderly Johannes stroked Hector, who came to greet his master.

The door was flung violently open, and in rushed, in a great hurry, Angelika's husband, Moritz Kern, Clinical Professor and practising physician. His figure was not tall, but muscular,--his eyes were black and sparkling, his features sharply cut, and his stiff black hair close cropped around his head. "Morning, morning," he cried, quite out of breath, but in high good humour, as he threw his hat and gloves upon a table and himself into a chair. "Excuse me for my tardiness. Ah, my dear,--kiss your hand,--love me? Yes? Not seen you since morning. Walter with you? No? Was he good?"

"Yes, indeed," said Angelika, who stood beside her boisterous husband like a rose upon a thorny stem; "but he fell off his rocking-horse and has got a great bruise."

"Good, good,--harden him," he replied smiling. He looked for an instant into Angelika's blue eyes, and the fire of his glance must have penetrated her heart, for her fair brow flushed and her eyelids drooped like those of a girl upon the day of her betrothal.

"Come, Moritz, you can make love to your wife another time," cried Johannes; "it is late,--we must come to business. What detained you?"

"My dear friend, I couldn't help it. I had a girl at the clinic that gave me no end of trouble. Old trouble with the heart,--acute inflammation,--stoppage in the arteries of the left foot,--mortification,--the leg must come off to-day."

"A splendid case!" said Helm approvingly.

"Heavens! what savages you are, to call that a splendid case!" said Angelika horrified.

"My angel, if you choose to assist at a council of rude men, you must not start at such innocent technical terminology," said her husband, enjoying Angelika's pretty dismay.

"Yes, I too have been scolding her for sympathizing with the victims of my experiments," said Moellner.

"You were wrong to blame her. I like to have her compassionate. Continue to weep for the poor dogs, my child, and the yet more unfortunate frogs. What have you to do with the reasons for torturing them? I do not want you to imbibe any flavour of science from your husband or brother. I like you just as you are; you suit me precisely. I will not have you otherwise."

"For heaven's sake, mamma, carry Angelika away!" cried Johannes laughing. "As long as this fellow has his wife by his side, there is nothing to be done with him!"

"She shall stay!" said Moritz decidedly. "There is nothing of importance to be done. The Hartwich woman asks to attend our lectures; why waste any thought upon such a fool? Don't answer her request at all, and be done with it!"

"Softly, softly, my young friend," cried old Heim very gravely, while Moritz, with Angelika's hand in his, swallowed a glass of wine. "First read this paper, which the girl sent to me, and which so enchained Moellner's attention when I gave it to him to-day after lecture that--I must betray him--it was the cause of his tardiness. The experiments were over long before he made his appearance!"

A slight flush overspread Johannes' face as he handed Moritz the paper. The latter read the title aloud--"_Reflex Motion in its Relation to Free Agency_."

"By Jove! a good idea, if it is her own!"

"It is her own--that I'll vouch for!" cried Heim with warmth.

"That must be both philosophically and physiologically interesting," said the philosopher Taun to Herbert, who coldly shrugged his shoulders.

"Let us see whether the article corresponds to the title," muttered Moritz, turning over the leaves.

"Read us some of it aloud," said Heim; and Moritz selected, at random, and read: "According to my opinion, the want of external self-control proceeds from sluggishness of the inhibitory nerves in comparison with the activity of the motor nerves, for the effort to control one's self is certainly, in a degree, neither more nor less than a struggle for mastery between these two sets of nerves. If the irritation acting upon the one is stronger than the force of will which should excite the other to activity, the reflex motion will take place in spite of what is called 'best intentions,' whether the occasion be a start of alarm, a desire to yawn, laugh, or weep at unfitting times, a scream, an angry gesture, or even a blow bestowed upon the object whence proceeds the incitement to wrath."

Moritz paused, and said smiling, "She has forgotten a kiss, which is only a reflex motion under certain circumstances,--that is, when one does not wish to kiss, ought not to kiss, and yet cannot help it." And he drew his wife towards him, and kissed her. Angelika blushed deeply, and, rising, greatly embarrassed, joined her mother, who sat quietly at work by the window. The gentlemen laughed, and Moritz looked after her with eyes full of tenderness.

"It certainly is strange that while the Hartwich has made due mention of the reflex motion of terror--a start; of pain--tears; of fatigue--a yawn; of anger--a blow, it does not seem to have occurred to her that there are reflex motions of tenderness, also," remarked young Hilsborn.

"Probably," said Moritz laughing, "she has had no opportunity for observing any such. I suppose that, like all blue-stockings, she is so ugly that no one has ever bestowed any tenderness upon her."

"She is certainly not ugly," said Johannes with warmth. "She might have admirers enough if she chose."

Moritz turned hastily round to Johannes, who sat almost behind him, and stared as if a new idea had suddenly occurred to him. "What the deuce, Johannes! do you know her? Oho! indeed! now I understand the interest that you take in her. Well, you can teach her to make good her omissions."

"I should really like to be present at such an interesting lesson!" said Herbert.

"Laugh away," said Johannes calmly. "You may laugh at me as much as you please, but have the goodness, Moritz, to spare your jests as far as Fraeulein Hartwich is concerned; and you too, friend Herbert. Pray heed what I say. We have nothing to do here with the personality of this girl; it is nothing to us. All we have to do is to pass judgment upon her intellectual capacity, and to accede or not to her request. Go on, Moritz!"

And Moritz read further: "Even the law, without knowing it, recognizes this physiological fact, for it punishes less severely a murder committed in the heat of passion than one that is premeditated. And what is a murder committed in the heat of passion, in reality, but a reflex motion in a broader sense? If this theory be correct, many a poor criminal may escape not only a violent death at the hangman's hands, but also the flames of the material hell to which bigoted moralists have consigned him. Let us endeavour, therefore, to discover what relation these facts sustain to Free Agency. All that we can do to attain the self-control which is the germ of all the virtues is, from earliest childhood, to exercise the inhibitory nerves in the discharge of their functions. It is an undoubted fact that, from the beginning of life, the mind must learn to use as its tools the various organs of the body. We cannot understand the use of a tool to which we are unaccustomed as we can one that we have frequently handled. Thus it is with the mind and the nerves. Every nerve that is often called into activity by the mind is strengthened by exercise. For example: the sense of touch grows remarkably keen with blind people, who depend upon it as a substitute for eyesight. By continual exercise of the nerves of sensation in his finger-tips, the blind man achieves the greatest perfection in his sense of touch. 'Practice makes perfect,' we often hear said with regard to arts and occupations difficult of mastery. And what is this practice but the custom of the mind to exercise this or that nerve, bringing into play the required muscular activity,--the exercise of certain nerve-fibres? Are the inhibitory nerves alone not to be thus controlled? Certainly not! The mind can make them also implicitly obedient to its will, if it neglects no opportunity for exercising them,--and why should it not apply itself to this task with the same zeal that is expended upon the attainment of an art or handicraft? I, for example, was in the habit of screaming at the unexpected discharge of a pistol. I had a pistol discharged daily in my hearing, without warning, and in a short time I was able to suppress the scream. It may be urged that I had gradually become accustomed to the noise, and was no longer startled. But this was not the case. I was as much startled as ever, but I had taught the appropriate inhibitory nerve to cut off the reflex motion upon the larynx. I know that a subjective experience of this kind proves nothing objectively; but such a simple inference, I think, needs no proof. Here we come again to the boundary-line separating the physiological from the psychological, where free agency results from a material law, just as fragrance comes from the chalice of a flower. Only let us be sure that our nerves are but a key-board upon which, if we strike the right keys correctly, we shall produce the harmonious accord of our whole being, and, if we do not learn to do so, we are to be pitied or despised, according to the school in which the lesson is needed."

"And so on," said Moritz, turning over the leaves. "The rest can be easily imagined. Here is a special treatise upon the motor nerves,--it seems pretty fair,--and rather a long essay upon nervous excitement, but I think we have done our duty and read enough of the testimony. How shall we decide? Shall we carry out the joke, and admit a student in petticoats to the lectures and the dissecting-room?"

"Why not?" said Professor Taun with some humour. "We admit so many stupid lads, why not one woman?"

"My dear friend," old Heim began, "I do not think we have ever had many pupils more gifted than Fraeulein Hartwich. And is not a talented woman better than a stupid man?"

"That is a question," remarked Herbert, riveting his sharp eyes upon Heim's honest face. "I do not believe that the most talented woman can accomplish what is possible, with diligence and perseverance, for a man of common ability. What aid can a woman lend to us, or to science? The aid of her labour only, for no woman possesses creative force. And the feminine capacity for labour is so weak, that it is hardly worth while to commit an absurdity for the sake of making it ours."

"An absurdity?" asked Heim.

"Yes, I should call it absurd to admit a woman among our students, to degrade science to a mere doll to amuse silly girls withal, until, finally, there would be an Areopagus erected, before which we should be expected to make our most profound bow, in every feminine tea-party. There is competition enough already, without increasing it by the admission among us of the other sex."

"That sounds strange," said old Heim; "it looks almost as if you were afraid of the competition which you so thoroughly despise. Why speak of competition in science? Leave that narrow-minded word to trade, which is really confined within certain limits. In such a boundless and abstract domain as science, there is no place for personal envy and arrogance. Can there be any question of competition when we are labouring for a cause which is to benefit the world? Whoever asks for other rewards than are contained in knowledge itself, is no priest of science. The true student exists for science, not science for him,--he rejoices in every fresh advance, no matter by whom it is made, for the honour of the cause that he serves is his own, and we can say truthfully, Each for all, and all for each. If, therefore, we are offered the labour of a pair of hands willing to share our pains, let us not reject them because they are the delicate hands of a woman, but accept them, and offer them a modest place, where they can achieve all that lies in their power."

"But," cried Moritz, "let such hands do for us what we cannot do for ourselves,--knit stockings, for instance,--instead of trying to assist in what we can easily accomplish without them."

"My dear young friend," said Heim smiling, "the temple of science is large, very large. I think neither we nor our posterity, however numerous they may be, will be able to complete it."

"I think, gentlemen," said the philosopher Taun, in his gentle, refined way, "that there are only two points of view from which the matter is to be considered. Either we must base our decision upon the intellectual capacity of the lady, and, if so, subject the paper before us to conscientious criticism; or we must determine, once for all, that no woman is to be admitted to our University,--in which case there will be no question whatever of capacity or incapacity. Let us, then, come to an agreement upon these points."

"That is true,--Taun is right," cried Heim. "I vote for the admission of women of genius, like this one."

"And I against it," rejoined Herbert; "for I contend that there are no women of genius!"

"For my part," said Taun, "I am not decidedly opposed to the admission of a woman among our hearers, and, if I were, the originality of Fraeulein Hartwich's paper would have shaken my decision. I cannot judge of the value of the physiological part of it,--I must leave that to our friend Moellner; but the philosophical idea that is its basis I think extremely suggestive, and that is more than can be expected from one of the laity."

"I oppose the emancipation of women," cried Moritz, "principally because I find the existing order of society quite rational, and will do nothing to disturb it."

"I vote for Fraeulein Hartwich," said young Hilsborn. "It will not interfere with our social order to grant her request. She will not be followed by crowds of imitators, for the simple reason that her talent is extraordinary. I maintain that we have no right to deny any opportunity for development to such a talent because it is accidentally hidden in a woman's brain. A great mind requires strong nourishment, and it is cruel to withhold such from it out of mere envy, and condemn it to extinction among the commonplace occupations of women."

"Hilsborn is far from wrong," said Meibert; "but can such a mind quench its thirst for knowledge nowhere but in a University? The lady has certainly proved in the treatise before us that she has learned something outside of the walls of the lecture-room. What does she want of a degree? It must be vanity that suggests the want, and we are to blame if we lend ourselves to the gratification of such a folly."

"That is my opinion also," added Beck.

But Hilsborn was not silenced. "It seems very natural to me that a woman who feels herself possessed of the mental power of a man should aspire to manly dignities, and her desire to espouse science, not as an amusement, but as the occupation and end of her existence, is a proof of her deep conviction of its grave importance. There is certainly nothing here of the female vanity which resorts to bodily and mental adornment merely for the sake of pleasing."

"You are a brave champion, Hilsborn," said Moellner, holding out his hand to the young man.

"Then we are only three against four," said old Heim. "Moellner's vote alone is wanting,--and if he gives it in favour of the Hartwich, there will be a tie; so I propose that we give him the casting vote, especially as he, as a physiologist, is best capable of judging of the value of the essay before us."

"I should have thought," cried Moritz, "that any one of us could have passed judgment upon such a piece of dilettanteism; it is only the modern nonsense about the fibres. There is not much in it!"

All present looked eagerly towards Johannes, who was calmly leaning back in his arm-chair. "It is no piece of dilettanteism. I grant that it is hasty and one-sided to attempt to ascribe all self-control to the impediments of reflex motion; nevertheless, Fraeulein Hartwich's essay evinces a comprehension of the physiology of the nervous system far beyond what is usual, and I cannot deny that such a self-dependent realization of scholarship is a proof of the most decided creative faculty." Here he looked at Herbert.

"Indeed?" said the latter pointedly.

"Yes!" said Moellner with warmth; "but, nevertheless, I give my vote against her admission; and of course that decides the matter,--we are now five to three!" The gentlemen looked at one another, some with surprise, some with annoyance.

"What do you mean?" cried Heim. "You were thoroughly delighted to-day with the girl's talent."

"We relied upon you," said Hilsborn reproachfully.

"This is the first injustice of which I have ever convicted my friend Moellner," said Taun, shaking his head.

Johannes looked at his dismayed associates with quiet amusement, and did not observe that Herbert extended his hand to him to thank him for his assistance.

"God be thanked," he muttered, "that you have given the fool her discharge!" And he swallowed the contents of his glass with evident satisfaction.

"Johannes! Johannes!" Hilsborn began again, "why have you treated the girl and ourselves in this manner?"

"Why?" asked Johannes,--and there was a glow in his face that quite transfigured it,--"because she is far more to me than to any of you."

"You have chosen a very odd method to show that it is so," Hilsborn remonstrated.

"Do you think so, short-sighted man?" asked Moellner gravely.

"What harm can it do you to make the Hartwich happy?" grumbled Hilsborn.

Moellner looked at him with a smile.--"When we take away from a child a knife with which it is playing, we do so, not because we are afraid it will harm us, but itself. True, the child will regard us as an enemy, but we act for its own sake."

"Well, is the Hartwich the child that you feel so bound to protect?"

"Yes, Hilsborn! Woman, of whatever age, is intrusted to the guardianship of man. It is ours to decide her future, to protect her; and we are responsible for her development. Which of you, my dear friends Heim, Taun, and Hilsborn, when I put it to your consciences, can deny that the Hartwich is treading a mistaken path,--that she is trespassing beyond the bounds that form the natural division-line between the sexes? I have nothing to urge in opposition to the mental activity of woman, provided it be exercised within the limits of her proper sphere; and these limits I set far beyond the place assigned her by our friend Herbert and my brother-in-law Moritz. But I have such a reverence for true womanhood that I will lend my aid to no project which can be carried out only at its expense."

"I think," said Moritz, "that the Hartwich must have already entirely renounced the womanhood of which you speak, or she never would have entertained such projects. There can't be much there to spoil."

"You judge hastily, Moritz, as you always do," said Johannes. "If you knew under what influences this girl has grown up, you would understand that it is not a want of delicacy, but lofty courage,--a passionate, sacred enthusiasm,--that prevents her from shuddering at the horrors of the study of physiology and enables her to look beyond the individual to the universe. A dazzling light, flaming before our eyes, blinds us to what lies nearest us. Thus was it with this gifted girl when the light of science arose for her, enveloping with its glory the world of reality around her."

Moritz's face, usually so gay in expression, suddenly grew grave: he looked at Moellner with manifest anxiety.--"Johannes, you talk as if you had a personal interest in this preposterous creature!"

"Why should I deny it?--Yes, I have!"

"Good heavens!" cried Moritz, "you are not going to stand in friend Hilsborn's way? He seems to have serious intentions with regard to her."

"Oh, you are wrong there, Moritz," said Hilsborn. "Her perilous struggle for emancipation inspires me with sympathy, it is true, but with no desire for a closer knowledge of her. I may surely like to have her for a pupil without wanting to marry her."

"And there, Hilsborn," said Johannes gaily, "lies the difference between us; for I should wish to have her not for a pupil, but for a wife!"

An exclamation of dismay burst from the lips of all present. "How did you come to know her?" "Where did he know her?" the gentlemen, with the exception of Heim and Hilsborn, inquired.

"How the idea of my danger seems to startle you!" said Johannes good-humouredly. "Is the girl an evil spirit,--a witch? No, she is only a woman. How can you be afraid of a woman? What makes her terrible to you makes her interesting to me; and where is the danger for me, even if I should try to lead her out of her crooked path? Yes, even if she should become my wife----"

"Heaven save you from such a wife!" the Staatsraethin interposed.

"Matters have not yet gone quite so far, mother; there is nothing in the affair yet but pure human sympathy. But suppose it were to go further,--what then? The husband who is made unhappy by his wife has only himself to blame; for woman is just what we make her."

"Oh, presumptuous man!" exclaimed the Staatsraethin, "there are women who would prove your error to you after a terrible fashion! This Hartwich girl was to me a most disagreeable child,--what must she be now?"

"A woman who seems strayed from another world,--an apparition once seen never forgotten!"

"Heavens!" said the Staatsraethin, really alarmed, "where and when have you met her? She vanished almost ten years ago; and if her rationalistic books had not appeared last winter, every one would have forgotten her."

"Did you know her before, then?" several gentlemen asked curiously.

"We were playmates for some time," said Angelika, "but in the end I could not endure her, she was so old-fashioned and despised my dolls."

The gentlemen laughed.

"She was the most strangely interesting child I ever saw in my life!" said old Heim.

"Indeed she was," said Moellner; "but there was something repellant about her, for she had been embittered by cruel treatment, which had developed her mind precociously, while it had stunted her body. Such incongruity is always disagreeable, and therefore every one shunned her, as she shunned every one. We soon forgot her, for she left our part of the country when she was twelve years old, and we heard nothing more either of her or of her guardian, who accompanied her. A year or more ago, however, a couple of brochures from her pen appeared, that excited a tempest of criticism, at least among women, on account of their rationalistic tendency. I did not think it worth while to read them, as the pale little Hartwich girl had almost faded from my memory. No one knew anything about her, and we took no pains to know, for my mother and sister had been deeply shocked by the child's atheism, and had given her up. A short time since I went to see my friend Hilsborn, and met him just as he was getting into his carriage to drive to the village of Hochstetten, two miles off. He had been sent for to see the village schoolmaster. Hilsborn asked me to go with him, and, as the day was fine, I consented. When we arrived at the small castle that lies in the outskirts of the village, we alighted. Hilsborn went to find the schoolmaster,--I remained behind, to await his return, and walked slowly past the large, neglected garden, that surrounds the castle. A fresh breeze stirred the waving wheat-fields, and the setting sun shone through the quivering air upon the distant landscape. Suddenly, painted upon the flaming horizon, like the picture of a saint of the Middle Ages upon a golden background, appeared the figure of a woman dressed in black,--a woman so beautiful and sad that she might have been Night's messenger commanding the sun to set. She stood with folded arms, motionless, upon a little eminence in the garden, looking full at the descending orb of light, while the breeze stirred the heavy folds of her dress. The evening-red cast a glow upon her grave face, white as marble, and the light in her large eyes seemed not to proceed from the sun which they mirrored, but from within. I stared like a boy at the beautiful, silent apparition, and forgot that my gaze might annoy her should she become aware of it. And so it proved. As she took up some coloured glasses lying beside her, I saw with surprise that she was trying some optical experiment, and just then her glance fell upon me. A shade of vexation passed over her face, now turned from the light, and lent it a cold, stern expression. Without honouring me with a second glance, she gathered together her optical instruments and walked quietly down the little hill. Just then the sun disappeared below the horizon, as if at her command, and gloomy twilight gathered above the silent garden, in whose paths she disappeared. I could not picture to myself a happy face among those rank, thick bushes behind that high wall. I could not imagine a happy heart in the breast of that lonely, gloomy figure. Night fell while I was still vainly looking after her. I hurried on to the schoolmaster's, upon the pretence of finding Hilsborn, and learned from him that my unknown was Ernestine Hartwich. She had, a short time before, rented the Haunted Castle, as it was called, and, as they were not very enlightened in the village, the beautiful girl was regarded with a sort of supernatural terror,--for certainly something must be wrong with one who lived so entirely cut off from intercourse with human beings, and who, worse than all, never went to church. There was some excuse to be found for her, to be sure, in the evil influence of a step-uncle and guardian, who had had charge of her since the early death of her parents, and who possessed entire authority over her. He is that famous, or rather infamous, Doctor Gleissert, of whom you have all heard."

"Oho! he!" murmured the gentlemen in a contemptuous tone, and old Heim bestowed upon him a hearty "Scoundrel!"

"Well," Johannes continued, "I am sure you will not imagine me such a fool as to have fallen in love at the first sight of a beautiful face, but the apparition that I have just described presented a combination of what is most attractive to a man,--'beauty, intellect, and virtue.'"

"Virtue!" Herbert repeated; "are you so sure of that?"

"Yes. If Fraeulein Hartwich were not virtuous, she would not live in such strict retirement. Those who have tasted the cup of self-indulgence are too apt to return to it; the truly pure alone can find contentment in seclusion and loneliness, inspired only by a grand idea! I go still further, and, as a physiologist, upon the ground of the preservation of force, maintain that a woman engaged in such unusual and profound studies needs all her vital energy for her work, and is dead to all the pleasures of sense. Hence we so often find entire lack of sensibility in women accustomed to great mental activity,--because their supply of vital force is not sufficient for the double occupation of thinking and feeling. And therefore my only fear is that there is no warm heart throbbing within that exquisite form."

The professors looked significantly at one another, and the Staatsraethin exchanged anxious whispers with Angelika.

"Well," said Herbert, as he arose from his chair, "I propose that we leave our respected associate to his dreams, and wish for his sake that his pupil may not be as accomplished upon the subject of the nerves of sensation as upon the inhibitory nerves."

The gentlemen all arose.

Johannes looked fixedly at Herbert and said, "I am no dreamer, Doctor Herbert, although I believe in the virtue that requires no certificate of character. And, I repeat, I believe so firmly in this virtue, that I denounce as a slanderer the man who dares to assail it by a single word!"

"Sir!" cried Herbert with irritation, "your remark is insulting!"

"Only to him to whom it may apply!" said Johannes calmly.

Angelika ran to her brother and threw her arms around him. "Johannes! Johannes! consider who it is that you are defending. You do not even know her."

"Yes, yes, she is right!" added several of the gentlemen.

Johannes held up Ernestine's paper, and said with earnest gravity, "I do know her."

Herbert took his hat, and, with a silent bow, was about to leave the room, when the beadle of the University rushed in and handed Johannes a letter. "Herr Professor! Herr Professor! this comes in haste from his Honor, and concerns all the gentlemen."

Johannes opened the letter, and Herbert stood listening upon the threshold. After reading it, Johannes looked around the circle with a smile. "Gentlemen, we have been most strangely mystified. The prize essay upon the '_Capacity of the Eye for Stereoscopic Vision_,' which we all attributed to Hilsborn, is by--Fraeulein Hartwich!"

An exclamation of surprise greeted this announcement. All present crowded around Johannes to read the letter; even Herbert entered the room again, to make sure that what he had heard was true. There was no doubt of it,--the fact was indisputable that these gentlemen had accorded the prize offered for the best essay upon the '_Capacity of the Eye for Stereoscopic Vision_' to Ernestine, to whom they had just denied admission to the University because she was a woman. It was a fact not exactly pleasant to contemplate, and the professors exchanged glances of chagrin.

"What is to be done?" asked some.

"This alters the case entirely," said Beck.

"Moellner," cried Meibert, "this is embarrassing enough. I think we shall have to reconsider our decision."

"We can scarcely withhold a diploma from a woman to whom we have awarded this prize," said Taun.

Heim nodded in high good humour, and growled, "Ah, yes, you sing a different tune now!"

"Gentlemen," said Johannes with emphasis, "I pray you do not mistake the point at issue. If the question had been of the capacity of the applicant, the essay that we have already read would have influenced our decision; but there is a social principle concerned, which we must not violate for the sake of an individual. Must I remind you of what you know so well?"

"Our colleague is still victorious," said Taun, offering his hand with kindly dignity to Johannes. "We cannot think you in the wrong."

"The prize awarded to a woman!" muttered Herbert, as he left the room. "It is enough to kill one with vexation!"

"It is a pity," said the others, when he had departed, "that our pleasant morning should have been so spoiled by Herbert."

"Do not be disturbed by it, dear friends," laughed Johannes; "it did me good to tell him the truth for once. He is one of those who sustain their mental existence by continual conflict. 'Destroy, that you may exist,' is their motto,--and of course they are the sworn enemies of all rising talent. They must be so, because they are not conscious of any power in themselves to soar above it; they need all the strength of their nature to enable them to avoid being extinguished by the wealth of vital force that is expended all around them. Those whose lot is cast beyond the sphere of such individuals can afford to pity them, but those who are within reach of their poisonous fangs must fear them as the arch-enemies of all creation and growth. Although I could not accede to Fraeulein Hartwich's request, the envious malice with which he criticised her pained me excessively."

"That is very true," said the philosopher Taun. "It is sad enough when such embodied negations interfere with the free, joyous activity of art,--doubly so when they meddle with science!"

"Who would have thought it," cried Angelika, "of the gallant Professor Herbert, who is sure to propose 'the ladies' at every supper-party! I am amazed!"

"One who pays court to 'the ladies,' my fair colleague, may very possibly be no advocate for woman, since, according to my brother Schopenhauer, what constitutes the modern lady is not the strength, but the weakness, of her sex," replied Taun.

"True enough," said Johannes. "Such a man might show consideration for weakness,--he can only contend with strength."

"Only wait awhile, Herr Professor Herbert!" cried Angelika, shaking her plump little forefinger towards the door of the room. "I shall not forget you,--only wait--I will strip the sheep's clothing from the wolf's back, in full conclave of his lady friends! And you too, Moritz,--I have a word to say to you, but not until we are alone."

The gentlemen laughed, and took their hats.

"Come, we must not deprive our friend Kern for one moment longer of such a charming curtain-lecture," said Taun.

All took their leave, except Heim, Hilsborn, and Moritz.

"And so," began Angelika with a pout, "you miserable, detestable man, we are to do nothing but knit stockings?"

"One thing beside," said Moritz, seizing both her hands,--"you may kiss--that is a charming vocation."

"Nonsense! any stupid fool can do that,--the clever ones must do something better."

"No woman with so pretty a mouth can do anything better! Only those who are ugly or old shall knit stockings."

"There is no getting a serious word from you, Moritz, but I am sorry for poor Ernestine, and it grieves me that you were so hard upon her."

One single stern glance from Moritz's black eyes encountered his wife's; it was enough--it silenced her instantly.

"You know," he said kindly, but gravely, as if to a child, "that I do not like to have you undertake to decide upon matters of which you understand nothing."

Angelika looked down, and a tear trembled upon her long eyelashes.

"What is it?" asked Moritz soothingly, and drew her towards him,--"tears? And why not? Nothing more than a dewdrop in the bosom of a rose,--nothing more." He brushed away her tears, and she smiled at him again.

"It is well for you, my son," said the Staatsraethin gently, but gravely, "that your wife's heart is so warm that the frost made in it by unkind words melts to tears and does no further injury."

Moritz looked at his mother-in-law, and then at his wife.--"Angelika, was I unkind?"

Angelika shook her fair curls and said, in a tone which told all the sweetness of her childlike disposition, "No, Moritz, you were right."

"There, mamma, that is a true woman as she comes from the hand of her Creator to be a blessing to the man to whom she belongs," cried Moritz, with a fond look at his wife.

The Staatsraethin stood beside them, her eyes resting with unspeakable affection upon her child, but there was a strange mixture of delight and anxiety in her heart.

"This youthful devotion is very beautiful, but, when its first fervour has passed, nothing remains of the bridegroom but the lord and master of the wife, who is oftentimes as unhappy a slave as she is now a happy one." Such thoughts passed through the mother's mind, and she sighed.

Meanwhile, Johannes had been talking in a low voice with Heim and Hilsborn about the contents of a letter which Heim had handed him to read. "Then, Father Heim, that is settled," he said.

The Staatsraethin turned to them, and asked, "What have you there?"

"A letter from Fraeulein Hartwich to Uncle Heim, mother."

Johannes handed her the letter, and the Staatsraethin read:

"Herr Geheimrath:

"I do not know whether you remember a little girl called Ernestine Hartwich, whose life you once saved, but I do know that, even if you do not remember her, you will not refuse aid to any one who appeals to you. I have sent an application to the University here to be allowed to attend the lectures. I did this without my guardian's knowledge, for he disapproved of the plan. I therefore wish to keep the matter a secret from him until results shall reconcile him to my mode of proceeding."

"Very considerate," interposed the Staatsraethin ironically; "but let us proceed."

"My request to you is, my dear sir, that you will arrange matters so that the reply of the faculty to my application shall reach me without my uncle's knowledge, and, indeed, that you will convey it to me yourself. I also need your medical advice, for I am far from well, and my uncle has never permitted me to see a physician. I obeyed his wishes until I learnt that you reside in my neighbourhood. Now I turn to you with all my old confidence. If any one can help me, you can. I must entreat you, if you would spare me a painful scene, to come to me on a day when Doctor Gleissert is not at home. He goes to town on business every Wednesday and Saturday. I pray you to come to me on one of these days.

"With great respect,

"Ernestine Hartwich."

"Well, that is certainly more brief and to the point than might be expected from a blue-stocking," said Moritz.

The Staatsraethin looked troubled. "It is dry and cold,--scarcely courteous,--certainly not cordial, as she might have been to her former benefactor."

"Remember, my dear friend, that nearly ten years have passed since that time,--a very long period for so young a girl," said Heim.

"Ah, Uncle Heim," cried Angelika, "you dandle my boy on your knee now, just as you did my doll then. These years have passed like a dream for me."

"Your nature is very different from Ernestine's, my child," replied Heim.

"Yes, thank God!" ejaculated Moritz.

The Staatsraethin folded up the letter. "I cannot help pronouncing this letter heartless,--there is no other word for it. And mingled cowardice and defiance in regard to her uncle breathe from every line of it."

"Proving how her strong nature has been cowed by that scoundrel," cried Johannes with warmth.

His mother looked at him anxiously. "How could she, if she is such a strong, noble woman, submit to be cowed by such a man?"

"Why not, dearest mother?" replied Johannes. "However noble and strong she may be, she is only a woman, after all."

At this moment a carriage thundered past the house. They all looked out of the windows.

"The Worronska!"

"The fast countess!" cried Moritz. "What a model of an Amazon! How beautiful she is, managing those four horses and looking up here! That look is for you, Johannes. See! she is smiling at you."

"I shall not interfere with Herbert," laughed Johannes. "I hear he is devoted to her."

"What! Herbert!--to the Worronska?" cried Moritz. "How did that happen?"

"Why, he was tutor for some years to a friend of the count's in St. Petersburg. He knew her there," replied Johannes.

"Now, that would be a charming daughter-in-law for you, my dear Staatsraethin," said Helm. "Why, she would be even worse than the Hartwich."

"Bah!" said Johannes. "She too is only a woman. If she fell, she owed her ruin to a man,--and a man might have been her saviour."