to an examination more poignantly affecting to him under such circumstances than a public trial would have been under others; and moved partly by the sense that Lieschen’s love had practically drawn Kerkel within the family—­for her choice of him as a husband had made him morally, if not legally, a son-in-law; and moved partly by the sense of loneliness which had now settled on their childless home,—­Lehfeldt had in the most pathetic and considerate terms begged Kerkel to take the place of his adopted son, and become joint partner with him in the business.  This, however, Kerkel had gently yet firmly declined.  He averred that he felt no injury, though great pain had been inflicted on him by the examination.  He himself in such a case would not have shrunk from demanding that his own brother should be tried, under suspicions of similar urgency.  It was simple justice that all who were suspected should be examined; justice also to them that they might for ever clear themselves of doubtful appearances.  But for the rest, while he felt his old affectionate respect for his master, he could recognize no claim to be removed from his present position.  Had she lived, said the heartbroken youth, he would gladly have consented to accept any fortune which her love might bestow, because he felt that his own love and the devotion of a life might repay it.  But there was nothing now that he could give in exchange.  For his services he was amply paid; his feelings towards Lieschen’s parents must continue what they had ever been.  In vain Lehfeldt pleaded, in vain many friends argued.  Franz remained respectfully firm in his refusal.

This, as I said, interested Bourgonef immensely.  He seemed to enter completely into the minds of the sorrowing, pleading parents, and the sorrowing, denying lover.  He appreciated and expounded their motives with a subtlety and delicacy of perception which surprised and delighted me.  It showed the refinement of his moral nature.  But, at the same time, it rendered his minor degree of interest in the other episodes of the story, those which had a more direct and overpowering appeal to the heart, a greater paradox.

Human nature is troubled in the presence of all mystery which has not by long familiarity lost its power of soliciting attention; and for my own part, I have always been uneasy in the presence of moral problems.  Puzzled by the contradictions which I noticed in Bourgonef, I tried to discover whether he had any general repugnance to stories of crimes, or any special repugnance to murders, or, finally, any strange repugnance to this particular case now everywhere discussed.  And it is not a little remarkable that during three separate interviews, in the course of which I severally, and as I thought artfully, introduced these topics, making them seem to arise naturally out of the suggestion of our talk, I totally failed to arrive at any distinct conclusion.  I was afraid to put the direct question:  Do you not share the common feeling of interest in criminal stories?  This question would doubtless have elicited a categorical reply; but somehow, the consciousness of an arriere-pensee made me shrink from putting such a question.