“These sides of the question have not hitherto interested me.  I ask of physics the unlocking of the nature of things.  It has not yet given me the key, but it is something to know on what insecure, weak, and limited experiments our vaunted knowledge of the existence of the world of energy, of matter and their properties, depend.”

Frau Ellrich looked at him approvingly.

“You speak beautifully, Herr Eynhardt, and it must be a great enjoyment to hear you lecture.”

“You will soon have a professorship, I suppose?” remarked Herr Ellrich, turning around to the blushing Wilhelm.

“Oh, no!” said he quickly, “I do not aspire to that; I believe in Faust’s verse:  ’Ich ziehe... meine Schuler an der Nase herum—­Und sehe dass wir nichts wissen konnen;’ and I also bilde mir nicht ein, Ich konnte was lehren.’  I wonder at and envy the men who teach such things with so much influence and conviction, and I am very grateful to them for initiating me into their methods and power of working properly.  But there has never been a likelihood of my venturing to approach young men and saying to them, ’You must work with me for three years earnestly and diligently, and I will lead you to knowledge, so that at last, through the contents of a book, you may get a flying glimpse of the phantom which has so often eluded you.’”

“Your opinions are very interesting,” said Herr Ellrich; “but a professorship is still the one practical goal for a man who studies physics.  Forgive me if I express my meaning bluntly; there is money to be made in physics through a professorship.”

“Happily I am in a position which makes it unnecessary for me to work for my bread.”

“That is quite another thing,” said the councilor in a friendly way, while his wife cast a quick glance over Wilhelm’s clothes, unfashionable and rather worn, but scrupulously clean.

“One can see that this idealist neglects his outward appearance,” her good-natured glance, half-apologetic, half-compassionate, seemed to say.

Herr Ellrich changed the conversation to the management of the hotel; discussing for a time the Margrave’s wines, the south German cookery, the Black Forest tourists, and a variety of other minor topics.  He then asked his daughter: 

“Now, Loulou, have you made a programme for tomorrow yet?  She is our maitre de plaisir,” he explained to Wilhelm.

“A frightfully difficult post,” exclaimed Loulou.  “Papa and mamma love quiet; I like moving about, and I endeavor to harmonize the two.”

Wilhelm thought that the opposing tasks would very soon be harmonized if Loulou subordinated her inclinations to her parents’ comfort; but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“I vote that to-morrow morning we go for a little drive.  As to the afternoon, we can arrange that later.  Perhaps Dr.—–­” She stopped short, and her mother came to her help and completed the invitation.