remind us of his imperfections of form, but Goethe is right after all,
for not since Shakespeare have we had any one der ihm zu vergleichen
ware.



A SACRIFICE



A fatal plague devastated the city. The god had said that it would
continue to rage until atonement for a crime had been offered by the
sacrifice of a man. He was to be perfect in body; he must not desire to
die because he no longer loved life, or because he wished for fame. A
statue must not be erected to his memory; no poem must be composed for
him; his name must not appear in the city's records.

A few volunteers presented themselves, but none of them satisfied all
the conditions. At last a young man came who had served as the model
for the image of the god in his temple. There was no question,
therefore, of soundness of limb, and when he underwent the form of
examination no spot nor blemish was found on him. The priest asked him
whether he was in trouble, and especially whether he was disappointed in
love. He said he was in no trouble; that he was betrothed to a girl to
whom he was devoted, and that they had intended to be married that
month. "I am," he declared, "the happiest man in the city." The priest
doubted and watched him that evening, but he saw him walking side by
side with this girl, and the two were joyous as a youth and a maiden
ought to be in the height of their passion. She sat down and sang to
him he played to her, and they embraced one another tenderly at parting.