before been without one.  Since the death of his father he had first had Paul, and then Dr. Schrotter, whom he had seen daily, and thus had always had some one to share his mental life.  Now he was separated from Schrotter by distance, and from Paul by the great change in their views, and found no sufficient support when left to himself.  If at times the sight of Paul’s perfect self-content and happiness roused in him the wish to follow his example, it was quickly overruled by the conviction that neither Paul’s commonplace, practical occupations, nor his worldly success, would afford him, Wilhelm, the smallest satisfaction.

He passed his days and weeks in self-communings and spiritual loneliness, in spite of Paul’s and Malvine’s endeavors to interest him in men and things.  He allowed himself to be drawn into Malvine’s afternoon receptions, and the two or three parties they gave during the winter; but refused to accompany them to other people’s balls and dinners.  He was happiest of all with Willy, who was very fond of Uncle Eynhardt.  He took him for walks, told him stories, was never tired of answering his endless questions, amused him with little chemical experiments, and in default of the riding lessons let him ride upon his knee.  And as he passed his fingers through the child’s long curls, he often thought, in spite of all his philosophic doubts, how wonderfully pleasant it must be after all, to bring forth some such sweet golden-haired mystery that would cling to its parent and break away from him—­a continuation and yet a wholly new departure that had its roots in the past, and yet struck out boldly into the future, and whose bright gaze would be trying to penetrate the riddle of the universe when he himself had long since sunk into oblivion.  Had Malvine been something more than good-natured and commonplace, had she possessed a little more tact and insight into the human heart, she would have seen that in Wilhelm were now combined all the conditions necessary for predisposing him for marriage—­the sense of a spiritual void, the longing for love and companionship, a consciousness of being alone in the midst of a cheerful, peaceful family circle, and the desire to see his own life renewed in that of a child.  What he needed was that some one should frankly make the first advances, and overcome his natural shyness and diffidence by a bold and saucy attack.  With a little tact and diplomacy, a clever woman would have had no difficulty in putting up a bright girl to attempt so easy a fight and victory.  But Malvine never thought of such a thing.  Social etiquette withheld the various young ladies on whom the Habers’ quiet guest had made no small impression from taking those first steps, which are considered unwomanly and humiliating, although in most cases they invariably bring about the desired results, and so Wilhelm continued to sit in his corner, and the group of pretty heiresses in theirs; the winter passed, and Malvine’s darling wish was still unfulfilled.