“No, no,” he said, after a long pause, “I will not go.  I will not be overcome by my heart, after the fierce struggle of these two long, fearful months.  I will not, I dare not see Eckhof again; I should be lost—­undone.  Am I not lost even now?  Do I not see ever before me those great, burning eyes; do I ever cease to hear his soft, melodious voice, which seems to sing a requiem over my dead happiness?  I have striven uselessly against my fate—­my life is blighted.  I will strive no longer, but I will die honorably, as I have lived.  I only pray to God that in my last hour I may not curse my father with my dying lips.  He has sinned heavily against me; he has sacrificed my life to his will.  May God forgive him!  Now,” continued Lupinus, “enough of complaints.  My resolution is taken; I will not go to the theatre, for I dare not see Eckhof again.”

He suddenly seized the playbill, and pressed the spot where Eckhof’s name stood again and again to his lips, then tore the paper into many pieces, and threw them behind him.

“So long as I live, I must struggle—­I will battle bravely.  My heart shall die, my soul awake and comfort me.”

Again he bent his head over the great tome, but this time a light knock at his door interrupted him, and the immediate entrance of Professor Franke filled him with amazement.

“My visit seems to astonish you,” said the professor, in the most friendly tone.  “You think it singular that the president of the university should seek out one of the students.  Perhaps it would be so in an ordinary case; but for you, Lupinus, who are the most learned and honorable young man in our midst, we cannot do too much to show our respect and esteem.”

“This is an honor which almost shames me,” said Lupinus, blushing; “an honor of which, I fear, I am unworthy.”

“I desire to give you a still greater proof of my esteem,” continued the professor.  “I wish to make you my confidant, and inform you of an intrigue which, insignificant as it appears, will be followed by important results.”

With ready words, Franke proceeded to explain to Lupinus his own views with regard to the actors; what he considered their wretched influence over the students, and also the ill-advised decision of the General Directory.  He then informed Lupinus of his plan for creating a disturbance in the theatre, and requested his assistance in carrying it out.

Lupinus listened with horror to this explanation and request, but he controlled himself, and quietly received the ticket which the president handed him.  He listened silently to the further details, and Franke understood his silence as a respectful assent.

When the president had at length taken leave, and Lupinus was again alone, he seized the ticket, threw it on the ground, and trampled it under foot, thus visiting upon the inoffensive ticket the scorn he had not dared exhibit to the president.