published?"

"No, and never will be. It shall never know less kindly criticism than
it received then."

"And are you really in earnest? Was this indeed the happiest triumph
your talents have ever earned?"

"It was," said Friedrich. "The first blast on the trumpet of Fame is
the sweetest. Afterwards, we find it out of tune."

"Your parents are dead, I think?"

"They are, and so is my youngest sister."

"And what of Marie?"

"She married--a man who, I think, is in no way worthy of her. Not a
bad, but a stupid man, with strong Bible convictions on the subject of
marital authority. She is such an angel in his house as he can never
understand in this world."

"Do you ever see her?"

"Sometimes, when I want a rest. I went to see her not long ago, and
found her just the same as ever. I sat at her feet, and laid my head
in her lap, and tried to be a child again. I bade her tell me the
history of Bluebeard, and strove to forget that I had ever lost the
childish simplicity which she has kept so well;--and I almost
succeeded. I had forgotten that the great poet was jealous of my