“Don’t you think, Elise,” said the Lagman to his wife when they were alone, “that our little Petrea begins to be disagreeable with her continual questioning and disputing?  She leaves no one in peace, and is stirred up herself the whole time.  She will make herself ridiculous if she keeps on in this way.”

“Yes, if she does keep on so.  But I have a feeling that she will change.  I have observed her very particularly for some time, and do you know, I think there is really something very uncommon in that girl.”

“Yes, yes, there is certainly something uncommon in her.  Her liveliness and the many games and schemes which she invents—­”

“Yes, don’t you think they indicate a decided talent for the fine arts?  And then her extraordinary thirst for learning:  every morning, between three and four o’clock, she gets up in order to read or write, or to work at her compositions.  That is not at all a common thing.  And may not her uneasiness, her eagerness to question and dispute, arise from a sort of intellectual hunger?  Ah, from such hunger, which many women must suffer throughout their lives, from want of literary food,—­from such an emptiness of the soul arise disquiet, discontent, nay, innumerable faults.”

“I believe you are right, Elise,” said the Lagman, “and no condition in life is sadder, particularly in more advanced years.  But this shall not be the lot of our Petrea—­that I will promise.  What do you think now would benefit her most?”

“My opinion is that a serious and continued plan of study would assist in regulating her mind.  She is too much left to herself with her confused tendencies, with her zeal and her inquiry.  I am too ignorant myself to lead and instruct her, you have too little time, and she has no one here who can properly direct her young and unregulated mind.  Sometimes I almost pity her, for her sisters don’t understand at all what is going on within her, and I confess it is often painful to myself; I wish I were more able to assist her.  Petrea needs some ground on which to take her stand.  Her thoughts require more firmness; from the want of this comes her uneasiness.  She is like a flower without roots, which is moved about by wind and waves.”

“She shall take root, she shall find ground as sure as it is to be found in the world,” said the Lagman, with a serious and beaming eye, at the same time striking his hand on the book containing the law of West Gotha, so that it fell to the ground.  “We will consider more of this, Elise,” continued he:  “Petrea is still too young for us to judge with certainty of her talents and tendencies.  But if they turn out to be what they appear, then she shall never feel any hunger as long as I live and can procure bread for my family.  You know my friend, the excellent Bishop B——­:  perhaps we can at first confide our Petrea to his guidance.  After a few years we shall see; she is still only a child.  Don’t you think that we ought to speak to Jacobi, in order to get him to read and converse with her?  Apropos, how is it with Jacobi?  I imagine that he begins to be too attentive to Louise.”