Miss Runeck, I am not conceited.  I do not rate my abilities very high, and, as far as I know myself, there is no ambitious impulse lurking at the bottom of my heart.  Possibly, as you do now, so a later age will set a low estimate on our political wrangling, our party aims, and all that that includes.  Possibly all our labor will be without result; possibly much of the good we hope to do will, when achieved, turn out to be the opposite—­yes, it is highly probable that my own share in the struggle will often be painful, unedifying, and not at all what you would call a grateful task; but all that must not keep me from devoting my life to the strife and struggle of the age to which I belong.  That struggle, after all, is the best and noblest that the present has to offer.  Not every age permits its sons to achieve results which remain great for all time; and, I repeat, not every age can make those who live in it distinguished and happy.

ADELAIDE.

I think every age can accomplish that if the individuals will only understand how to be great and happy. [Rising.] You, Professor, will do nothing for your own little home-happiness.  You force your friends to act for you.

[Illustration:  Permission F. Bruckmann, A.-G.  Munich IN THE BEERGARDEN Adolph von Menzel]

OLDENDORF.

At all events cherish as little anger against me as possible, and speak a good word for me to Ida.

ADELAIDE.

I shall set my woman’s wits to aiding you, Mr. Statesman.

[Exit OLDENDORF.]

ADELAIDE (alone).

So this is one of the noble, scholarly, free spirits of the German nation!  And he climbs into the fire from a sheer sense of duty!  But to conquer anything—­the world, happiness, or even a wife—­for that he never was made!

Enter CARL.

CARL (announcing).

Dr. Bolz!

ADELAIDE.

Ah!  He at least will be no such paragon of virtue!—­Where is the
Colonel?

CARL.

In Miss Ida’s room.

ADELAIDE.

Show the gentleman in here.

[Exit CARL.]

I feel somewhat embarrassed at seeing you again, Mr. Bolz; I shall take pains to conceal it.

Enter BOLZ.

BOLZ.

A poor soul has just left you, vainly seeking consolation in your philosophy.  I too come as an unfortunate, for yesterday I incurred your displeasure; and but for your presence, which cut short a vexatious scene, Mr. von Senden, in the interests of social propriety, would doubtless have pitched into me still harder.  I thank you for the reminder you gave me; I take it as a sign that you will not withdraw your friendly interest in me.

ADELAIDE (aside).

Very pretty, very diplomatic!—­It is kind of you to put so good a construction on my astonishing behavior.  But pardon me if I presume to interfere again; that scene with Mr. von Senden will not, I trust, give provocation for a second one?