face was so clearly and distinctly written that she alone was worthy
of love--of infinite, pure, and devoted love? Max knew that there
never were, and that there never would be such women. In this
respect, he had no special peculiarities, just as Adam did not have
them, just as you, my reader, do not have them. Beginning with
Grandmother Eve and ending with the woman upon whom your eyes were
directed--before you read these lines--the same inscription is to be
clearly and distinctly read on the face of every woman at a certain
time. The difference is only in the quality of the ink.

A very nasty day set in--it was Monday or Tuesday--when Max noticed
with a feeling of great terror that the inscription upon the dear
face was fading. Max rubbed his eyes, looked first from a distance,
then from all sides; but the fact was undeniable--the inscription was
fading. Soon the last letter also disappeared--the face was white
like the recently whitewashed wall of a new house. But he was
convinced that the inscription had disappeared not of itself, but
that some one had wiped it off. Who?

Max went to his friend, John N. He knew and he felt sure that such
a true, disinterested, and honest friend there never was and never
would be. And in this respect, too, as you see, Max had no special
peculiarities. He went to his friend for the purpose of taking his
advice concerning the mysterious disappearance of the inscription,
and found John N. exactly at the moment when he was wiping away that
inscription by his kisses. It was then that the records of the local
occurrences were enriched by another unfortunate incident, entitled
"An Attempt at Suicide."

. . . . . . . .