CHAPTER XXIX

AN EVENING WITH DR. JULIUS VON KARSTEG

In my perplexity, I thought of the Professor's saying: 'A most fortunate
or a most unfortunate young man.' These words began to strike me as
having a prophetic depth that I had not fathomed. I felt myself fast
becoming bound in every limb, every branch of my soul. Ottilia met me
smiling. She moved free as air. She could pursue her studies, and argue
and discuss and quote, keep unclouded eyes, and laugh and play, and be
her whole living self, unfettered, as if the pressure of my hand implied
nothing. Perhaps for that reason I had her pardon. 'My friend, not
that!' Her imperishably delicious English rang me awake, and lulled me
asleep. Was it not too securely friendly? Or was it not her natural
voice to the best beloved, bidding him respect her, that we might meet
with the sanction of her trained discretion? The Professor would invite
me to his room after the 'sleep well' of the ladies, and I sat with him
much like his pipe-bowl, which burned bright a moment at one sturdy puff,
but generally gave out smoke in fantastical wreaths. He told me frankly
he had a poor idea of my erudition. My fancifulness he commended as
something to be turned to use in writing stories. 'Give me time, and
I'll do better things,' I groaned. He rarely spoke of the princess; with
grave affection always when he did. He was evidently observing me
comprehensively. The result was beyond my guessing.

One night he asked me what my scheme of life was.

On the point of improvizing one of an impressive character, I stopped and