V.

"I have no spur

To prick the sides of my intent, but only

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,

And falls on the other."--SHAKESPEARE.

When Wulf was a little child he had once seen, on an arch, a

representation of the king's entry into Berlin. There stood the

throngs of people--a multitude crowded together. At that time this

thought had entered the sprightly boy's mind: How many things one

might find among so many people, and that if he were only at Berlin

there would be no end of pocket-knives, lead-pencils, and other

desirable objects lying in the streets. To his youthful imagination

that great city was always crowded full of people, just as it

appeared in the picture. Naturally this idea had become somewhat

changed with the passing years; but to-day, when he entered the

metropolis, there was still a certain irrepressible feeling that he

should find a great deal in it.

He was standing by a window of the room which Arnold had secured for

him, looking down upon a beautiful, wide thoroughfare. Many people

passed to and fro--not quite so many, however, as the arch had

represented. The room was high, so different from the one at home,

and even very different from the one he had recently occupied at the

gymnasium. Wulf carried his head aloft, for now he was a medical

student. A goal had been reached. He stood at the gate of his city

of happiness.

There is surely something wrong with a youth who does not struggle

after high aims, which he believes will eventually lead to great

results. Wulf did not desire to become an ordinary physician. He

wished to study in order that he might fathom the depths of every

disease. He was possessed with the thought which presents itself to

every strong, healthy nature; namely, that disease was an unnatural

foreign element. He would therefore give it neither place nor

authority, and when the intruder, with its distorted visage, invaded

his neighborhood, he would bravely wage war against it for life or

death. In imagination he saw himself a conqueror of death, to whose

grim influence only the aged and life-weary should be a prey. He saw

happy faces everywhere, which he had been the first to create; and

with such visions before him his heart beat higher.

But one can not fly to the top of a mountain. No; step after step

must be taken; and O, how long and tiresome often is the way! Yet at

present he sat at the feet of the professors, and among the students

there was none more diligent than he. During the past years the

world, with its temptations, had stepped into the background, and his

naturally youthful, buoyant character was again in the ascendency.

With eager, inquiring mind, and burning, zealous soul, he listened

now to all suggestions from within. There had been periods when

ideas did not harmonize consistently; but now much that had been

obscure presented itself perfectly clearly. Added to this was the

new academic life. Although Wulf was acquainted with none of the

students, and formed no intimacies, the multitude of impressions with

which the gay, bustling city abounded overwhelmed him at every step.

All this occupied his mind so intently during the first days and

weeks, that he went around like one in a dream, out of which he only

awakened in the evenings, when the heart asserted its claims, and

sang to him a song without words, of friends and home.

Three weeks were thus passed, and Wulf had not yet visited the

Kahrings.

Why?

He did not know why himself. There was a knock at his door, and

Arnold entered.

Wulf was very glad to see a familiar face. He had hoped to find

Arnold at the railroad station, with directions for the stranger; but

no one was there, and he was obliged to give a cab-man the number of

the house where his friend had rented a room for him. Surely there

he should find the young ensign, but neither on the street nor in his

apartment had a friendly face been glimpsed; a fact which conflicted

with his ideas of true hospitality.

And now Arnold entered, as pleasant and unconcerned as possible. No

apology, not the slightest intimation of any discourtesy on his part.

This chafed Wulf, and he was somewhat reserved.

"Well, how are you?" exclaimed Arnold, immediately stepping to the

window, and, without waiting for a reply, adding: "Wonderful view

here; day and night always something going on! This is one of the

streets where a person can thoroughly exist. Now, how are you?"

"Thank you, very well," replied Wulf, rather frigidly. "At first so

many strange sights and scenes made me a trifle homesick. I have not

made a single acquaintance, and the thought has occurred to me that

if I were to plunge into the water over there and be seen no more

forever, not a single human being would miss me or trouble himself

about it."

"Well, you paid your rent in advance, and I guess your landlord would

enter an energetic protest against such a violent disappearance; but

the fact of no one troubling himself about his neighbor is city-like,

and may be said, by the way, of the best people here."

After a pause Arnold continued: "But you have seen something

meanwhile the--Kroll, museum, Lachse's saloon, the recent parade.

Isn't it all superb, magnificent?"

Wulf replied that thus far he had been wholly occupied in his class

preparations, buying textbooks, etc.

"But, man, how can you vegetate like that in Berlin?" pursued Arnold;

and chatting glibly about things in general, he concluded by inviting

the stranger to visit him at home. When he took leave, there was in

his hand-shaking such a cold, heartless participation, that Wulf felt

it keenly, and went to his studies somewhat wounded and dejected.

And yet a few days later we find him at the door of the Kahrings'

elegant mansion. His breath is short, his heart beats loudly over

the excitement and dread of the first call; but a certain pleasure

thrills him as he is conducted through splendid apartments, and

presented to the gracious lady of the house. The spacious, beautiful

rooms, the elegant appointments, the stately servants, who,

apparently, know far better than he how to deport themselves--and now

Lady Von Kahring enters in silk and satin, looking more majestic amid

these surroundings than even she did in the cottage by the sea, but

just as kindly, just as friendly and affable as she had been there.

She referred to her pleasure at learning of Wulf's studies, and

expressed the hope of seeing him very often during the Winter. These

were the only personal allusions she made; after which the

conversation drifted along to various commonplace remarks, among them

a polite inquiry for Herr Ericksen, his uncle--and she withdrew

without presenting her husband or children to the bewildered young

student.

Unsophisticated one! how can you expect in a formal call to get a

glimpse of the home-circle, or even to see all the members of the

family?

And yet this was really what Wulf had desired. He longed for some

place where he might feel at home.

He was not lonely during the busy hours of the day; but when evening

came, there were moments when he yearned even for the simple whirr of

his mother's spinning-wheel. He had experienced no such feelings at

the gymnasium. There his surroundings had been so home-like at his

instructor's house as to produce a deep impression upon his

character. And now he had flattered himself that he should be

privileged to seek Lady Von Kahring's counsel in the arrangement of

all his affairs; but he was annoyed to find himself perfectly at a

loss for words in her presence. This exceedingly polite and benign

lady had not evinced the slightest interest in his private matters,

appearing to be occupied in a sphere too lofty for such trifles.

But her son was often to be found with Wulf, and seemed to enjoy his

society, although he regarded his opinions and observations as

childish, and laughed at them. He had been so much in the world that

he was satiated with all it offered, and while he greedily coveted

and was always ready to share its so called pleasures, he heartlessly

ridiculed and sneered at them an hour afterward. He had many

acquaintances, but no real friends, nor aspirations; but the

_naïveté_ of this ingenu was a certain, fresh excitement. Hence the

association.

"Why can't you come to see us this evening?" he asked. "Mamma begs

the honor; or are you engaged?"

Wulf laughed.

"No; if you wish it, I will come."