"Reward?" asked the other, a subtle smile hovering around his lips.
"I expect none, neither from you nor fate. I belong to a poor sect,
that does not consider whether its deeds will be repaid or not. We love
goodness, set a high value on it, and practise it, so far as our power
extends, because it is so beautiful. What have men called good? Only
that which keeps the soul calm. And what is evil? That which fills it
with disquiet. I tell you, that the hearts of those who pursue virtue,
though they are driven from their homes, hunted and tortured like noxious
beasts, are more tranquil than those of their powerful persecutors, who
practise evil. He who seeks any other reward for virtue, than virtue
itself, will not lack disappointment. It is neither you nor Ulrich, who
drives me hence, but the mysterious ancient curse, that pursues my people
when they seek to rest; it is, it is.... Another time, to-morrow. This
is enough for to-day."

When the doctor was alone, he pressed his hand to his brow and groaned
aloud. His whole life passed before his mind, and he found in it,
besides terrible suffering, great and noble joys, and not an hour in
which his desire for virtue was weakened. He had spent happy years here
in the peace of his simple home, and now must again set forth and wander
on and on, with nothing before his eyes save an uncertain goal, at the
end of a long, toilsome road. What had hitherto been his happiness,
increased his misery in this hour. It was hard, unspeakably hard, to
drag his wife and child through want and sorrow, and could Elizabeth,
his wife, bear it again?

He found her in the tiny garden behind the horse, kneeling before a
flower-bed to weed it. As he greeted her pleasantly, she rose and
beckoned to him.