When thoughts will soar; a romance of the immediate future

//*

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

UNIV. OF CALTF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGKLKS

WHEN THOUGHTS
WILL SOAR

A Romance of the Immediate Future

BY

BARONESS BERTHA VON SUTTNER

Author of " Lay down your Arms "

TRANSLATED BY
NATHAN HASKELL DOLE

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

«?"$ Cambribge
1914

COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published June IQI+

CONTENTS

PRELUDE 3

I. FRANKA GARLETT 6

II. CHLODWIG HELMER . .31

III. FRANKA'S NEW HOME . . . . . . .39

IV. LIFE IN SlELENBURG CASTLE 46

INTERMEZZO 63

V. COUNT SIELEN'S WILL 68

VI. A SECOND ANONYMOUS MESSAGE . . .' . 82

VII. FRANKA'S SALON 98

VIII. THE OUTLINES OF A GREAT PLAN . . . .112

IX. FRANKA'S DEBUT AND CAREER 122

X. AT LUCERNE 139

XI. AN EVENING IN THE ROSE-PALACE . . . .152
XII. MR. TOKER'S ILLUSTRIOUS GUESTS . . . 165

XIII. A LUNCHEON PARTY 177

XIV. DREAMS OF LOVE 187

XV. RINOTTI AND PRINCE VICTOR ADOLPH . . .198

XVI. THE SIELENBURG PARTY 209

XVII. THE OPENING NIGHT 218

XVIII. FRANKA'S LECTURE 233

XIX. YE YOUNG MAIDENS, LISTEN TO ME ... 243

XX. ANOTHER LETTER FROM CHLODWIG HELMER . 257

XXI. NEW WONDERS 271

2133329

CONTENTS

XXII. CHLODWIG HELMER'S LECTURE: THE CONQUEST

OF THE AIR 288

XXIII. A COZY SUPPER 311

XXIV. SUNDRY CONVERSATIONS 323

XXV. SCENES OF BEAUTY AND OF LOVE .... 352

XXVI. CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON 365

XXVII. SPEECHES AND LETTERS 378

XXVIII. A CORNUCOPIA FULL OF GIFTS .... 399

XXIX. FRANKA DECIDES HER FATE . • . . .415

FINALE 435

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

WHEN THOUGHTS
WILL SOAR

PRELUDE

MR. JOHN A. TOKER, the American multimillionaire,
flung down his newspaper in some excitement and
became lost in thought.

The paragraph that had so agitated him read : —

"The sovereign expressed to Count Zeppelin his
regret at being unable on this occasion to see the air
ship which, he was convinced, was destined to fur
nish the weapon of the heights in future wars."

For more than an hour the little old gentleman
remained absorbed in his reflections; then he seized
pen and paper and made various notes. He was evi
dently drafting a rather complicated plan. He now
and again ran his pen through what he had written
and substituted other words. One sheet was filled
with a list of names — the names of distinguished
contemporaries; another with figures, apparently a
schedule of estimated expenses, in which the individ
ual items for the most part had five or six numerals.

Even after an hour the plan was not as yet near
completion, but Mr. Toker was compelled to inter
rupt his labors in order to take up with other de
mands of the day. One of his secretaries, who had
made a careful preliminary sifting of the letters and

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dispatches brought by the morning's mail, came
with such as he had found important enough to be
called to his master's attention.

Mr. Toker dictated various answers. When this
correspondence was cleared away, a host of other
affairs required his consideration : — business con
nected with the management of his property ; reports
from the many concerns in which he was interested ;
audiences with the foremen of his enormous landed
estate, his farmers and agents. Moreover, the guests
at the castle and the members of his family could not
be neglected, and sport and exercise were necessary
to maintain his physical elasticity, while for the sat
isfaction of his intellectual cravings reading in many
fields had to be provided for — indeed, the multimil
lionaire frequently found it exasperating to realize
that one man might be richer than others in money,
but not in time; one may have thousands of dollars
to spend every hour, but not more than sixteen wak
ing hours to spend in a day.

"Money is a great help in accomplishing big
things," Mr. Toker used to say with a sigh, "but
mostly those things require much time, and in this
respect I feel that I am a very poor fellow."

Several weeks passed without the American
Croesus being able to proceed with the elaboration
of his project. But he carried round with him the
idea that lay at the foundation of it. In his mind one
thought gave birth to another; visions arose without
any definite outlines ; suggestions flashed through his
brain, but served only as reminders of things that
might later become clear.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

When he again took up the notes that he had
made, he canceled several names from the list and
added new ones. It was a varied assortment of from
thirty to forty of his contemporaries: Bjornson,
Maurice Maeterlinck, Eleanora Duse, Elihu Root,
the American statesman; Madame Curie, the dis
coverer of radium; Nansen, the Arctic explorer;
Prince Albert of Monaco, the oceanographic scien
tist; Tolstoi, Marconi, and many great men from the
scientific world, who had won distinction as path
finders in the domain of philosophy, sociology, his
tory, and natural science.

He also went over the sheet with the numbers, and
added a cipher in many cases. Thus, for example,
the item of " Roses," which had been set down at ten
thousand francs, he increased to a hundred thou
sand. Moreover, the word " roses" frequently ap
peared in his notes, and the thought of those queenly
flowers seemed especially to impress itself on his
mind, for the pencilings which he made on the edge
of the paper, as he strove to catch an idea, portrayed
very clearly, even if inartistically, the forms of roses
and rosebuds.

One sheet was filled with catchwords the meaning
of which to one uninitiated would have been scarcely
comprehensible: as, for instance, "Concentration
and accumulation of forces. Motion through explo
sions. Agglomeration of scattered atoms. Energy
radiating in all directions. Roses, roses . . . the
Power of Beauty. Subjugation of the forces of Na
ture. High flying. Revelations. New lights, new
tones, new thoughts, moss roses ..."

CHAPTER I

FRANKA GARLETT

A YOUNG girl stepped out of the gate of the Central
Cemetery of Vienna. For almost eight weeks she had
been going there to lay a few flowers on her father's
grave. That dearly beloved parent had been her only
stay in this world, and he had been so unexpectedly
and prematurely snatched away from her! Frank
Garlett had reached only the age of forty-five. His
sudden death had resulted from an accident: he
had fallen from the running-board of a tram-car, had
rolled under the wheels, and, severely injured, had
been brought to his dwelling by the Rescue Society,
and there a few hours later he had breathed his last
in the arms of his daughter, who was half-crazed with
terror and grief.

Franka walked slowly and wearily home from the
cemetery. Her lodgings, her empty, orphaned lodg
ings, were not far distant. Behind her, with steps
equally slow, strode a man who had caught sight of
her at the cemetery gate, and, dazzled by her bril
liant youthful beauty, which betrayed itself in spite
of her paleness and the traces of tears, was now fol
lowing her for the purpose of discovering who she
was. He was an elderly man of distinguished ap
pearance.

As Franka entered the front door, he also paused
there, but did not venture to address her. He

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merely went to the porter's door and rang the bell.
A buxom woman came out and greeted him : —

"What is it you wish?"

"I should like to make an inquiry; please allow
me to come in."

The woman moved aside and allowed the stranger
to pass in. He sat down in an armchair, took out of
his pocket his portemonnaie, and handed the woman
a ten-crown note.

"Tell me, who the young lady is who just entered
this house, dressed in deep mourning. And give me
all the information you can about her."

"Oh, she? . . . She's a Miss Garlett — yes, a
pretty lass, but a poor little body! Her father died
not long ago, and now she's all alone. . . . She was
almost beside herself with grief when they took him
away. Now she 's a bit calmer. Every day she goes
out and visits him in the graveyard, but otherwise
she never goes out and no one comes to see her. And
no one came to see them when the old gentleman —
in fact, he was not old — was alive. You see he met
with an accident — fell off the electric. When they
brought him in . . ."

"Who and what was Mr. Garlett?" asked the
other, interrupting her.

"A professor, or a philosopher, or something like
that. He gave lessons. That was how he earned
their living, I reckon. I'd like to know what the
poor little lass will have to live on now. The rent is
soon due, and it was always a hard pull to pay the
rent. . . . The two had to be mighty thrifty. They
had only one old woman who used to come in every

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day to help, and they only nibbled — like sparrows.
But books! their rooms were just piled up with
'em! He must have been a real bookworm, the poor
gentleman! and the little one used to be reading
all the time, too. . . . The only luxury they ever
allowed themselves was to go three or four times a
month to the fourth gallery of the opera house or to
the Burg Theater. But they were n't never down in
the mouth, neither of 'em, in spite of all the worry
and their little money; on the contrary, they were
as gay as larks — especially the lassie. We always
heard her laughing and singing in her room, though
outside, to be sure, she was always serious and, so to
say, a bit haughty; perhaps she inherited a bit of
haughtiness from her departed mamma."

"Was Mr. Garlett a widower, and how long had
he been?"

"Oh, for fifteen years or so. That was quite a
romance. His wife was a count's daughter, it seems.
He had been private tutor to her brother at a cas
tle : the young lady fell in love with him — he was
a handsome fellow — indeed, he was. They eloped
and were married. The parents — mighty stuck-up
folks they was — was furious and put a curse on
their daughter."

"Ah, my dear lady, that only happens in old-
fashioned novels: parents cursing their children."

"I don't know nothing about these things, but
this much I know, they would n't have anything
more to do with her; never gave her no money,
sent back all her letters, and the dainty young lady,
who all her life had ridden in kerridges and had her

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

pony and ate nothin' but cakes and ice cream, and
al'ays had noblemen dancing attendance on her,
— for she was heiress to a great estate and was
as pretty as a picture, — just like her daughter, so
folks says, — well, she could n't stand poverty and
living among common people, and so she just up
and died when her little girl was only five years
old."

The stranger arose. "I thank you; I have all the
information I wish."

Franka climbed the stairs up to her rooms, which
were situated on the fourth story. Painfully, cling
ing to the banister, often pausing to get her breath,
which always seemed to die away in a trembling
sigh, she made her way up. The deepest sigh she
drew as she opened the door and entered the ante
room. The anteroom? Really the kitchen; but the
kitchen hearth was hidden by a screen. The place
was rather dark and chilly. It was April, and the
weather was still pretty cold.

Franka passed through this place and pushed
open the door of a front room : her bedroom. Here it
was brighter and more comfortable. The furnish
ings were to the last degree simple, not to say
shabby, and yet a certain something in the arrange
ment of the furniture, in the articles and trinkets
disposed on the tables and the walls, betrayed a
taste for elegance.

She laid aside her hat and cloak and opened the
door into the adjacent room, which had served her
and her departed father as sitting-room and dining-

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room, as study- and music-room. The door leading
into still another contiguous chamber was closed.
That was the room where Garlett had slept and
dressed, and where he had died. Franka glanced into
it — as she always did when she returned, as if to
give a mute greeting to the place where she had last
seen the beloved form of the departed, cold in death;
then she softly closed the door again with a reverent
gesture, crossed the sitting-room, and stretched her
self out on the sofa with a long-drawn sigh — half
lamentation, half ease.

She was so weary, so weary in body and soul at
this moment, that the goad of her grief began to
vanish from her consciousness, and she experienced
only a kind of over-saturation of pain and a keen
sense of yearning for rest. She drew over her chilly
limbs the skin rug that lay on the sofa and banished
all thought and feeling; she wished only to breathe
and rest.

She was not sleepy; her eyes remained wide open,
and she saw the rows of books which on the opposite
wall reached from the floor to the ceiling. She saw
her piano which had been silent and neglected for
weeks. She saw her writing-desk which stood by the
window, and the great center-table heaped with
many folios. Gradually it began to grow darker, and
through the window panes fell the glare from a row
of brightly lighted windows of the house opposite.
Up there was a printing establishment. The muffled
rumble of the rotary presses also came to her ears.
From the apartment on the floor below penetrated
the staccato strumming of a too familiar opera-

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waltz — repeated with obstinate pertinacity — de
testable sounds! Oh, if one could but hear the musi
cal tinkle of a brook or the call of the cuckoo!

An overmastering love for nature, for its perfumes
and voices, for its green vistas and golden gleams,
had ever been one of Franka's strongest passions —
an unfortunate passion, for the crushing struggle for
existence had enchained father and daughter almost
exclusively to the narrow streets of the suburbs, and
very rarely had opportunities been given for them to
get glimpses of the splendors of free nature.

Nevertheless, this young girl's mental life had not
been narrow. She had ventured to gaze off over
wide horizons, up to sublime heights, into mysteri
ous depths, in a manner seldom afforded to young
persons of her age and sex. Her father had been an
investigator, a scientist, a thinker, and a poet, and
he had made the child his comrade. She was no
bluestocking, thank Heaven — from that she was
safeguarded by her temperament, by her inborn
charm ; besides, he had spared her all the dry details
of science, all the rubbishy accumulations of accu
racy, endeavoring rather to disclose to her only the
blossoms of the wonders of science, of the intellect
and of arts. But of life itself she had enjoyed ex
traordinarily little : no travel, no experiences, no love-
affairs (she had been far too rigorously and jealously
guarded against anything of that sort), no passions:
— none of these things had penetrated into the
monotony and loneliness of her existence. All the
more, therefore, in place of these came visions,
hopes, air-castles, confident expectations that the

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future concealed in its folds some great good fortune
in store for her, a good fortune in which above all
others her beloved father would share. And instead
of this, a great, an absolutely incomprehensible piece
of evil fortune had come upon her: the sudden de
parture of her dearest and only friend, teacher, play
mate, protector, her all-in-all.

In her present desolation the only persons who had
interested themselves in her were an elderly couple
who had rooms on the same floor -7- a retired major
and his wife. When Mr. Garlett died, the major
had taken upon himself to make all the arrange
ments for the funeral, and the major's wife had done
her best to comfort and console the despairing girl.

The major had investigated the drawers in the
writing-table to see if a will or anything else were to
be found. There was no will, only a savings-bank
book calling for several hundred gulden, and of
course the only daughter inherited this: it was
enough to cover the funeral expenses and to leave a
small sum over. In a portfolio was a sealed letter
with the direction, "In case of my death to be
mailed." The address on it ran: —

To His Excellency

Count Eduard von Sielen,
Geheimer Rat, etc.,
Schloss Sielenburg,
Moravia.

This letter the major registered and mailed with
out letting Franka know anything about it, because
in these first days she was so dazed that she really
did not hear what was said to her.

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It so happened that the major and his wife moved
from Vienna to Graz, and Franka was now really
alone. She realized that she was obliged to devise
some means of earning her livelihood, and yet she
had been putting off from day to day the effort of
taking the first steps in this direction. The money
in the bank was sufficient to allow her for a short
time to lead her own life. But this respite was, in
deed, brief, especially as the rent would be shortly
due.

Franka was not thinking of this at all as she lay
there in the twilight and gave herself up to the sense
of restfulness that was coming over her. Gradually
this absence of thought, between sleeping and wak
ing, transformed itself into a pleasant half-dream.
The waltz-rhythms from the neighbor's piano grew
into a murmurous combination of organ tones and
the distant roaring of the sea ; the gleam of light from
the printing-house opposite took on the prismatic
colors of an electric fountain ; and through her mind
— or was it through her blood? — vividly flashed the
consciousness, not expressed and not even formu
lated in thought: — "I am young, I am beautiful, I
am alive . . ."

The next day Franka set out to look for a posi
tion. She thought she might become a companion or
a reader or something of that sort. She applied at
several employment bureaus. Her name was regis
tered, the booking- fee was put into the cash-drawer,
and then she was asked for references. She had
none. The woman who had charge of one bureau

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remarked: "You have one great fault: you are too
young and too pretty."

The remark was to the point. Although she was
more than twenty, Franka seemed scarcely eighteen.
She was very tall and supple in figure ; her big black
eyes — though much weeping had temporarily robbed
them of their usual fire — were shaded by beauti
ful thick lashes ; her mouth had a fairly fascinating
loveliness; in her carriage and in every movement
there was something both charming and aristocratic.

"Do you know, miss," said the manageress, "you
would do better to go on the stage rather than try to
find a position."

Franka shook her head: "For that one needs
talent as well as special training."

"You might attend a theatrical training-school."

" I have not the means. Besides, I should not find
it congenial."

"You will find it very hard to get a place in a
home . . . without references and so dangerously
pretty. ... I should hesitate to recommend you.
There is nothing that I know of now to suit you.
However, perhaps something may turn up; if there
should, I will communicate with you."

When Franka got home after this unsuccessful
circuit, the maid met her with the information that a
gentleman had been there inquiring after her. He
said he had been acquainted with her late father and
that he would return in an hour.

Shortly after this the doorbell rang and the maid
brought her a visiting-card on which Franka read: —
Freiherr Ludwig Malhof, k.k. Kammerer.
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She admitted the visitor. At the first glance she
recognized in the person entering the elderly gentle
man who had recently followed her from the ceme
tery to the house. She had only once, when she
reached the door, turned around to glance at him,
but his appearance was too striking not to make an
immediate impression: a figure of more than ordi
nary height with broad shoulders and long, sweeping
gray side-whiskers.

" Pardon me, Fraulein, for introducing myself, yet
I might . . ."

"You knew my father?" said Franka, interrupt
ing his apology; "will you not sit down, Baron, and
tell me. . . ?"

She herself took a seat and indicated a chair for
her visitor. He sat down and placed his silk hat on
the floor. His eyes rested inquisitively on the lovely
maiden's face.

"In fact," said he, somewhat hesitatingly, "I am
... I met Mr. Garlett at a friend's house where he
was giving lessons." His glance wandered to the
opposite wall on which hung a portrait.

"Is that your picture? — A wonderful likeness."

"That is my mother's portrait."

"Ah! such a resemblance! . . . And have you lost
your mother also? So you are absolutely an orphan,
quite alone?"

"Quite alone."

"But you have some relatives?"

Franka shook her head.

"Then you have some protector? Perhaps a
sweetheart?"

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"No, no one."

"It does not seem possible that when one is so
beautiful, there has not been some love-affair ..."

A shade of annoyance flew over Franka's face:
"Sir, you desired to speak to me of my father ..."

"Exactly so, your father . . . but, my dear child,
let us rather speak of yourself." In the man's eyes
flashed a look of lustful eagerness. He quickly
dropped them, but Franka had seen it. "Yes, of
you," he continued; "your fate is worthy of all
sympathy. Mr. Garlett cannot have left much
property. . . . Your future is so uncertain. . . . You
are exposed to all sorts of dangers. . . . You need a
friend" — he stretched out his hand — "you need
a fatherly friend — let me take your little white
hand." ... At the same time his voice began to
tremble with ill-restrained tenderness.

Franka stood up, and withdrew her hand which
the other had seized. She surveyed him with
haughty eyes. "Among the dangers of which you
speak certainly belongs that of an absolutely strange
man penetrating to my lodgings and offering me his
friendship."

The amorous cavalier realized that he had gone
too far. "This energetic sally on your part shows
me, my dear Miss Gartlett, that you know how to
protect yourself from certain dangers. You are a
very sensible young woman." He also had stood up,
and had taken possession of his hat. "I shall turn
this reasonableness to account. You will hear from
me again. ... I will leave you now; yet I beg of you
to be convinced that I wish you everything good."

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A stiff bow and he went out without Franka's
making any attempt to retain him.

When she was left alone, she breathed a sigh of
relief. Still a shadow of doubt came over her,
whether she had done wrong in offending a possibly
harmless man who wanted to befriend her, whether
he had really known her father, and for that reason
had followed her from the cemetery. . . . Yet, no,
her feminine instinct had detected the lustful look
which had betrayed its forked flame in the eyes
and the honeyed smiles of the elegant old gentle
man.

Alas, to be alone and without means in this world,
and obliged to defend herself against such attacks!

— Nowhere an arm to protect her, nowhere a heart
to which she might fly for refuge. . . . And now,
what? Supposing she should find no situation? And
even if she did, would she not be still just as lonely,
just as deserted among strangers?

"Oh, father, father," she cried aloud; "my noble,
my youthful-hearted father, why did you have to
die? — Die without accomplishing the high tasks
which lay before you! ..."

Whether Garlett would have ever accomplished
the tasks to which his daughter made reference is
very doubtful. There had been literary plans which
he had long had in mind, but he had never brought
any of them to fulfillment. Was it from lack of time

— for when one must give private instructions to
earn one's bread and butter, there is little leisure for
writing books — or was it from lack of energy? He
had never got beyond projects, sketches, introduc-

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tions. But in Franka's eyes he always was to be the
greatest author of his age. His masterpiece was
there — it lay complete in his brain and required
only to be written out.

In their readings and their studies together, it had
often happened that he would pause and develop
some idea associated with what they had been pe
rusing, or would utter some deep remark, and add :
" I will write a book about that." Themes for essays
were on hand in abundance, and Franka had made a
collection of such utterances which she had jotted
down in a book. She had turned over these pages
every day since her father's death — to her this
seemed like a continued spiritual communication
with him. Now, after her unexpected caller had
taken his departure, and feeling doubly unhappy
under the bitter impression that he had made upon
her, she went once more to the cupboard where those
papers were kept, in order to obtain from them
diversion and edification.

She would soon be obliged to part with the books
and all her household goods, for if she were burdened
with a library and furniture she could not enter the
house of strangers, but this beloved volume she
would keep forever and in all situations of life. From
it the very voice of the beloved father would speak ;
from it would flash up in her mind those momentary
pictures, which often a sentence or a word — just
as a stereopticon throws them on a screen — can
waken out of the depths of memory.

The leaf which she first took up contained only
brief notes in Garlett's handwriting. Were they

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thoughts of his own, were they citations? Probably
both mingled together. Franka read : —

The aim of men's active organization

Is the getting out of the World all the good it will yield,
Whether it be the domain of the Mind's creation,

Whether it be the crop of the well-eared field.

None of the fixed stars is nearer to us than four millions of
millions of miles. . . . And we call that speck Austria — a great
country !

Moral progress finally consists in the increase of the horror felt
against the infliction of pain.

Over abysses of night the eye of the Spirit can wander,
There to behold the gleaming of yet uncreated light.

Nothing great can ever be accomplished without inspiration.

Where to-day the vanguard camps, there to-morrow the rear
most rests.

"Of all good works, the long list through,
Which is the best for us to do?"
When his disciples of the Prophet
Asked this, what think you he made of it?
No good work with another can interfere :
Do each in its right time: that is clear."

O Napoleon, standing on the Vendome column, if the blood
that thou hast caused to be shed, were collected here on this
place, easily mightest thou drink of it, not stooping.

A few days later a packet was left at Franka's
door; she herself took it in. When she saw the post
man, she hoped that he was bringing her a notifica
tion from the employment bureau that a place had
been found for her. What would she do if her small
store of money should come to an end before she had

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found any situation? There were still left the fur
niture and the books, but what they would bring
would be small and soon exhausted. She had already
made inquiries of second-hand dealers and anti
quaries: these had come and looked at her posses
sions and offered for the "whole business" a ridicu
lously small price. . . .

She opened the package: a jewel-case and a letter
were inclosed in it. The case contained a pair of
diamond studs. The letter read as follows: —

DEAR FRAULEIN, —

I promised that I would appeal to your reason. This is
what I am doing, and I picture to myself a sensible, a very
sensible young lady as reading these lines. I shall talk
very frankly with you. You must also be perfectly frank,
not only with me, but also with yourself, putting on no
mask, affecting no pose — least of all those of virtue, such
as belong only to the heroines of Gartenlaube novels.
Real life must be taken and lived in another way, if one
is reasonable, and that you are, my lovely Franka!

Now, listen: I have fallen violently in love with you. I
saw you in the street and followed you. I made inquiries
about you and your circumstances. I know the whole
story ; you are without family and without means, and are
on the very threshold of bitter poverty. I also know that
you are endeavoring to find a paying situation, for I fol
lowed you when you went to the employment office.

Tell me, really, would you, with your striking beauty,
take up with a wage employment, be a dependent? Now
there is one thing that I might have done: I might have
tried little by little to sneak into your good graces and
then . . . but it goes against my grain to play the elderly
Don Juan. I am aware that I no longer have the appear
ance to warrant my attempting to win young maidens'
hearts ; but I can make a reasonable maiden happy : that

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is, I can offer her a care-free life, a life full of enjoyments.
Only, there is to be no misunderstanding: this is not an
offer of marriage. I am a confirmed old bachelor and I
propose to remain one. What I offer you is better than the
fortune of being the wife of an unloved and jealous old
husband, for if you wished to deceive him it would entail
great worry in hiding it and it might cause a damaged
reputation besides.

I offer you freedom, — perfect liberty, — the unobtru
sive society of a lively man, not without wit, who will, as
they say, "look after you " as long as you will permit him
to do so. First and foremost he offers you luxury. Listen:
luxury. That means the essential element of beauty, the
only atmosphere for a creature like you. A splendid villa
in the cottage-quarter, servants, a carriage of your own,
gowns, jewelry: everything of this sort I lay at your feet.
This does not imply a retired and restricted life — not at
all: in your salon we shall receive my friends and their
lady friends, — artists and writers and interesting for
eigners : it shall be a real salon where everything sparkles
with intellect, music, and gayety; also theaters and con
certs to your heart's desire. And in summer: journeys,
trips to the seashore, the mountains . . .

As you see, Franka, child, a horn of plenty filled with
delights is going to be poured out for you. Only do not
be a narrow-minded Philistine; only no "principles" and
moral commandments after the type of ancient almanac
stories or complimentary gift literature for girls of riper
age. Life, my dear young lady, is entirely different from
the stale moralities that find their expression in the sam
plers of old maids and that are honored in the tea-table
chatter of suburban aunties, as they turn up their eyes
in holy horror! — Life wants to be boldly grasped, to be
conquered with joyous pride; above all, to be enjoyed.

Such an opportunity is not offered to many of ycur sex;
how many, in spite of youth and beauty, must, if they are
poor, waste their lives in degrading, wearisome, laborious
occupations, struggling with all sorts of privations, only at

21

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

last to take up with some rough husband who will make
her wretched — unless, indeed, the terrible, abominable
fate overtakes her, of which possibly you know nothing,
of becoming a victim of the international white-slave
traffic which not infrequently makes use of intelligence
offices. . . .

Was it not your good genius, your guardian angel, that
has so disposed matters that an elderly man, heart-free
and wise in experience, has crossed your path, has fallen
in love first with your pretty face, then with your whole
admirable personality, that this man has no other obliga
tion than the disposition of a very large estate, and that
he in fond expectation of your summons signs himself
Your humble Slave?

MALHOF.

After Franka had finished reading this letter, she
tore it into tiny bits, and, laying them on the pale-
yellow velvet of the jewel-case next the glittering
stones, made the whole into a package, which she
carefully tied up and sealed; and, after addressing
it to Baron Ludwig Malhof, hastened to mail it at
the nearest post-office station without taking a mo
ment's time for consideration. She felt a keen satis
faction in flinging the gift and the letter down at the
feet of her insulter. On receiving them back, he
would redden with shame as if he had been struck
by the rid ing- whip of an angry queen.

Or would he not rather laugh at her for her "vir
tuous pose," for her "moral Philistinism"? Franka
was conscious that it was not a conventional "vir
tue" which had stimulated her impulsive action,
but a mixture of one tenth sense of honor and nine
tenths aversion. . . . She was not quite ignorant as
regards the mysteries of love, although she had so

22

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

far had no love-affairs. Her father had delicately
initiated her, through studies of plants and animals,
into the secrets of the transmission of life, and her
comprehensive reading, begun when she was a little
child, — the poets, somewhat later the German,
French, and English novelists, — had given her an
insight into the whole world of passion, — into the
tragedies and joys, the sorrows and dreams, of love;
also into the crimes and baseness, the ardent happi
ness and the depths of despair, which are found in
the domain of sex, and, on the whole, she had a
boundlessly high ideal of love. Perhaps for the very
reason that hitherto she had found no one to inspire
this feeling in her soul, because no little adventures
and gleams of romance had disillusioned her, her
ideas and presentiments, if by chance they swept
into this domain, were so highstrung.

A love union and paradise were to her two similar
conceptions. A pure fountain of devoted tenderness
and a glowing hearth of passionate yearnings were
concealed in her inmost being, still panoplied round
with virgin austerity, with a delicate, flower-like ter
ror of any impure touch. If ever she bestowed the
treasure of her love, it would be for the recipient and
for herself a sacred moment of the loftiest bliss.

And the idea of her throwing herself away for
money, for clothes, for precious stones, — and in
stead of highest rapture to feel only deepest repul
sion, — to endure the embraces of that old satyr,
the kisses of a shriveled, detestable mouth. . . . No!
Sooner die ! And should Fate never offer her the pos
sibility of giving that treasure to one truly beloved,

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

then were it better sunk in the depths of the sea !
That hateful creature had written something about
a horn of plenty filled with joys — yes, she pos
sessed such a one to pour out upon the dear life that
would be united with hers. . . . No ; that should not
be wasted and shattered!

The next day, as Baron Malhof was preparing to
go and get his answer from the young girl, an answer
which he did not doubt would be favorable, though
perhaps awkwardly expressed, he was interrupted in
the midst of his fastidious toilet by the arrival of the
package. After he had opened it, he hissed out two
words which expressed his whole sense of disgust : —
"Stupid goose!"

Several weeks elapsed, and still no situation
offered. Now Franka was constrained to sell her
books in order to exist for a time — and what an
existence! She was standing in front of the book
case, selecting the volumes which for the time being
she still felt unable to part with ; she intended to lay
these aside so that the second-hand dealer whom she
had summoned might not see them.

Tears stood in her eyes, for to her it was a great
and painful sacrifice. She would have preferred to
keep them all, for almost every one of those vol
umes was associated in her memory with joyous,
soul-stimulating hours — all of Goethe, all of Shake
speare, Byron, Victor Hugo, and other classics of
universal literature. They must all go — these good
spirits which had with their magical pictures glori
fied so many winter evenings for the two solitaries !

24

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Also, away with the thick-bodied works of the phi
losophers, from Aristotle to Schopenhauer; away
with the works of history and the encyclopaedias;
away with the whole rows of modern fiction.

Only a shelf-full of scientific books by contempo
raneous authors, — scientists, thinkers, and stylists
at the same time, — Bolsche, Bruno Wille, Herbert
Spencer, Emerson, Anatole France, Haeckel, Ernst
Mach, Friedrich Jodl, and a few others, — these she
would keep and take with her and plunge into again
in order to get edification from the remembrance
of the unforgettable words which her father had
spoken to her when they were reading them together.

"Child, these are revelations! What the human
mind — which is certainly a part of God — has
gradually glimpsed at and recognized — is the dis
closure of the Highest, and therefore is what men
call Revelation. In astonishment and awe we are
learning things of which our fathers and the major
ity of our contemporaries had no suspicion. We are
penetrating into mysteries which bring before our
eyes the grandeur of the universe and its infinities
and which still remain mysteries — for our con
sciousness only perceives but does not comprehend
them. We are standing on the threshold of per
fectly new apperceptions, and so at the threshold of
a wholly new epoch : fortunate are we who are to live
in this twentieth century. It is the cradle of some
newborn thing destined to the most glorious devel
opment. What will it be called? No one as yet
knows ; only posterity will find a name for it.

"Child, approach these revelations with a relig-

25

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ious mind. You know what I call 'religious': to
have the sense of reverence, to know that there
are sublime things as yet unknown; to wish to be
worthy of the greatness and the goodness that every
where prevails and therefore to be good one's self.
Now, perhaps you may ask what I mean by ' good ' ?
There is no end in the chain of definitions ; — do not
always try to explain, but rather to feel, and then
you have the right thing. ..."

In many of the books which Franka was now
glancing over were places marked by her father's
marginal notes; some of them, made with pencil,
were so pale that they were scarcely legible. Franka
got a pen and ink and retraced the lines. While she
was engaged in this work, she was interrupted by the
entrance of the maid : —

"Excuse me, miss, there is a gentleman outside as
wishes to speak to you."

"Oh, yes, I was expecting him; please show him
in."

A comfortable-looking, well-dressed man of mid
dle age entered. He bowed politely.

"Miss Garlett? I take the liberty ..."

"You have come to see about the books?"

"What books?"

"Were you not sent by the dealer?"

"No, miss. I take the liberty of introducing my
self: Attorney Dr. Fixstern. It concerns a matter
which is of the highest importance for you."

"Oh, in regard to a situation — ?"

A suspicion crossed her mind. She remembered
what Baron Malhof had written her regarding the

26

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

traps that sometimes are laid in the offers of em
ployment bureaus. She would be on her guard.

"No, not at all; something quite different. Will
you permit me to sit down — as the interview may
be somewhat protracted?" And he drew a chair up
to the table.

"Please, I am listening; but I have not very much
time ..." And she herself sat down at some little
distance.

" Oh, you will give me all the time I want! What I
have to say to you is too agreeable for you to wish
to break off my communication, my dear very much
honored Miss Franka Garlett. That is your name, is
knot?"

"Yes, that is my name," she answered coldly.

" Daughter of the late Professor Garlett, and like
wise of his late lawful wife, Ida Garlett, born Count
ess Sielen of Sielenburg?"

"My father and I were not accustomed ever to
mention that title."

"Your father was very democratic in his notions,
was he not? But to the business in hand: I am the
attorney of His Excellency the old Count Sielen, and
I have come here at his request."

Franka listened in the greatest agitation ; this did
not sound like an offer of a situation and was, indeed,
surprising.

Dr. Fixstern took out of his breast-pocket an en
velope and laid it down before him on the table.
Then he went on to say: —

"Your grandfather, miss, a short time after his
return from Egypt, where he had been sojourning on

27

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

account of his health, found waiting for him a letter
from Mr. Garlett. I have it here. Perhaps you are
familiar with its contents? . . . No? . . . Then, will
you please read it?"

With a throbbing heart Franka took the letter and
unfolded it. The beloved handwriting ! It was like a
greeting from beyond the grave. She read : —

To THE COUNT OF SIELEN: —

For almost a generation I have been to you like one
vanished. Never have I attempted to approach you. As
it were, an abyss lay between us — we had both inflicted
the utmost pain on the other : you, by your harsh repudia
tion of my beloved wife, who died in consequence of it — I
to you, by robbing you of your daughter. As long as we
lived we could not pardon each other.

But in the presence of death, all resentment, pride, and
everything of the sort which are the bitter prerogatives of
the living, disappear.

This letter comes into your hands only in case death has
stricken me before my Franka is provided for ; such is the
name of my daughter, your grandchild. Orphaned, left
without a farthing, she might be exposed to the deepest
poverty and the greatest dangers. This thought is my
sorrow and my torment. The maiden is sweet and good
and highly educated, and — as you cannot read coldly —
she has grown up to be the image of her mother — feature
for feature. Graf Sielen, I beg of you : look after the young
girl. Do not let her suffer want or ruin.

The signature, with date and address, followed.
Having read it through, Franka gazed at the sheet
for a long time.

Dr. Fixstern awakened her out of her thoughts : —
"Would you like to know, miss, how His Excel
lency responds to this letter of your father — a letter

28

which, it must be said, is very effective by reason of
its brevity?"

A warm stream of joy expanded Franka's heart.
The lawyer had already informed her that he had
pleasant news for her: so it was clear that her grand
father was going to look after her: there would be
some one to love her again. . . .

"Well, Doctor," she asked, with eagerness, "what
message do you bring me?"

"A pleasant one, my dear miss. The count has
instituted inquiries about you, has had you care
fully watched of late, and has now decided to invite
you to come to Sielenburg. He will provide for your
future. He himself would have come to Vienna to
fetch you, but illness confines him to his room — the
old gentleman is now more than seventy — Egypt
seems not to have done him any good. Now I am
commissioned, in the first place, to make this dis
closure to you, and, in the second place, to hand you
these lines."

He took a second sheet out of the envelope and
handed it to Franka, who read as follows : —

SIELENBURG, May 20, 1909.
DEAR GRANDDAUGHTER: —

I invite you to make your home with me. The bearer,
my attorney, will provide whatever is necessary and will
accompany you hither. God bless you.

COUNT EDUARD SIELEN.

"In the third place," proceeded Dr. Fixstern, "I
am to hand you a small sum of money," and suiting
the action to the word he laid on the table a bundle

29

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

of bank-notes — there were ten one-hundred-kronen
bills, — "and, in the fourth place, to consult with
you regarding the prospective journey to Moravia.
You probably require some little preparation and in
this my wife may be able to help you. . . . Now, my
dear miss, have you a little more time to spare for
me?"

Franka offered him her hand. She could not im
mediately find words — it was like a dream, like a
fairy-tale. A home ! So suddenly to be rescued from
all her tribulation and all her desolation — a home !

CHAPTER II

CHLODWIG HELMER

AT THE SlELENBURG, 1 909.

DEAR COUSIN AND BELOVED FRIEND!

It was a pleasant surprise when your letter, after long
wanderings, reached me here. I was convinced that you
had entirely forgotten me, — ten long years we had lost
sight of each other, — and now suddenly down upon me
rains this letter in which you relate to me the experiences
which you have been having in all this time and you want
to have the like from me.

Oh, how gladly do I fulfill your wish ! I am simply hun
gry for a regular outpouring of my mind. Your twenty
pages would make the basis of a fascinating novel : inter
esting events described in a fluent style. Now, my answer
ought not to prove much shorter : I shall devote to it a few
hours of leisure, but I shall not take much trouble about
polishing my style. "Unconstrained" — do you remem
ber? That was the catchword that we selected at the time
when we became intimate friends as students in the same
class in the Theresianum. "Unconstrained" — ah! in
this word lie whole revolutions, and you know well that I
have always been a revolutionist.

Now for my story. I will begin at the very end, that
is — this very day. Before I confide to you what I have
been doing during these last years, you must know where
and what I am at the present moment. My residence is
called Schloss Sielenburg. It is surrounded by a great
park of twenty acres, and from the window is visible a
forest which is my delight. Many trees a hundred years
old, and one oak a thousand years old, stand in it, and
there are moss and shrubbery and the twitter of birds.

31

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

That there are still such forests on the earth can console
one for the existence of cities and suburbs.

From my window I can see the roof of the stables
where there are six pairs of carriage-horses and six saddle-
horses. A garage for the automobiles is just building.
Among the saddle-horses is a gray with a silken mane,
with some Arab in his build and behavior, with such
thoughtful and reproachful, and at the same time affec
tionate, eyes — ah ! I tell you there are animals also here
below, the existence of which can console us for many
of the councilors and aldermen that are their contem
poraries ! So you may easily imagine how reconciled with
the world I feel as I ride on that gray through yonder
forest !

I am not master of all this accumulated wealth : castle,
grounds, forests, stables, and garages are the property of
the Right Honorable Count Eduard Sielen — a sick old
man. He exercises his dominion also over a secretary,
and that secretary am I.

Now you know — I, the cabinet minister's son, over
whose future career we could not make plans sufficiently
ambitious, — to be an ambassador was one of the lowest
of my expectations, — am now in a subservient, humble
position, am obliged to be forever ready, at my gracious
master's beck and call, to write at his dictation or read
to him the newspapers, or anything else. And yet I feel
much more free than when I was in the government serv
ice, for I can throw up my place at any moment, and
the work which I am performing is independent of what
I think; it leaves my private character, my personal
actions, untouched, whereas in the service of the State
the master cannot be changed and one must subordinate
his whole " I " to his standards, and only act and work as
an unelastic system demands.

No, I could not have endured that yoke. I did not
endure it. After completing my volunteer year, I began
my regular service under a district chief ; once I ventured
to contradict my superior, and as a punishment was trans-

32

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ferred to a smaller district at soul-killing labor and no
living wage ; one must practice for some years before one
gets a decent salary — I left the service.

In the mean time my parents had died — so I had no
need of asking any one's advice. I was free. I had inher
ited a small property profitably invested in industrials;
this made me independent. I traveled about the world
and I have seen a tremendous lot and learned a tremen
dous lot from my experiences.

Then suddenly the value of my industrials fell so far
below par that one fine day the bonds were so much waste
paper. That meant: "Go to work again." For a time I
was a journalist, but that also was an unendurable yoke.
I was obliged to bend my judgment to suit the opinions
of the paper on which I was engaged as an editorial
writer, and these opinions were, to tell the truth, no
opinions at all, but consisted in following the instructions
given out by the ministry. Here again was a form of
slavery, of gagging, which I could not put up with, and I
left the editorial sanctum just as I had left the govern
ment office. Then I was happy when I was offered a posi
tion as secretary to the old Count Sielen which I have
been filling for two years now. .Here I can at least poetize
and think as I please.

Yes, poetize. Perhaps you did not know that I have
discovered in myself the impulse to write verses, and a
collection of my poems has already appeared in print and
has been enthusiastically received by the critics. I will
not name the title and publisher, lest you may think that
I am hinting to you to buy it — moreover, I have issued
it under a pseudonym which I will not divulge until my
reputation is established. At the present time I am put
ting the last touches to a four-act drama. You have no
notion what a delight, what an exalting consciousness of
accomplishment, lies in writing out from one's very soul
what moves it. And to create ! To enrich the world with
something new! The joy of creation is the highest of all
joys. If I were not a poet I would crave to be an in-

33

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ventor. ... I do not know, for example, whether the name
"Edison" should not be spoken with as much respect as
the name "Shakespeare." I am now following enviously
the work of the aviators — I look up to the Zeppelins
and the Wrights as to heroes and especially as to heralds.
They are sounding the call to a new era. They are sum
moning their fellow-men to vanquish an unheard-of
future — perhaps without knowing it, for their minds are
fixed on the mechanical part of their work. The aerial
age ! Do you surmise what that signifies? Certainly, those
have no notion of it who would accomplish nothing else
with their sky-commanding apparatus than to elevate
into the air the ancient scourges of the depths.

In your story of the last ten years which you have so
kindly made me acquainted with, you write a vast amount
about your experiences in life and love.

Pardon me, if I do not tell you anything about my ex
periences in love. I do not want to profane, in dry epis
tolary prose, whatever has sanctified my life with tender
charm, and I would not soil my pen with vulgar adven
tures. Every man has in this domain a bit of magic
dreamland and a — register of his peccadilloes. The one I
leave undisclosed, the other unconfessed.

On the Sielenburg at the present time — not taking
into account the kitchen department — there is no one
of the gentle sex dangerous to any man's heart or peace
of mind. The housekeeping is under the charge of the
count's widowed sister, the Countess Schollendorf , who is
at least sixty-two years old. She exercises control over
the household and the servants and she invites guests
according to her own idiosyncrasies — for the most part
ancient female cousins. There are three of that sort here
now, accompanied by their maids and their lapdogs. One
of these females — her name is Albertine — has two ter
rible peculiarities : the first is sincerity, and the second is
that she is deeply concerned with the well-being of all her
fellow-men. It results from the first that she is always
telling people to their faces the most disagreeable truths,

34

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

and from the second that she expects of them every sort
of sacrifice and renunciation and other torments — of
course, "only for their own good."

There are still other habitu6s of the establishment: the
castle chaplain and an aged ruined cousin four times re
moved, to whom Count Sielen furnishes bread and but
ter. As you see, it is not a very gay society, nor is the
conversation at table very enlivening. Yet, just now, the
count, because of his miserable health, is accustomed to
take his meals in his own room, and I keep him company,
which is preferable to sitting at the lower end of the table
in the big dining-room and listening to uninteresting
small-talk, mostly confined to the idle gossip of court and
society, unless, by chance, thanks to the old cousin, who
is an archreactionary, it skirts the domain of politics —
which makes it particularly distasteful to me. This gen
tleman would especially like to see restored the conditions
that prevailed before the year 1848, and from this stand
point he illuminates the present-day events and questions
of which his newspaper — the "Reichspost" — brings
him an echo.

That his opposite neighbor at table has Jewish blood
in his veins — you know my mother's grandfather was a
Jew — does not prevent him from letting his opinion con
cerning regrettable disturbances culminate in the sen
tence: "The Jews are responsible for that": — for exam
ple, the Russian revolution and the horrors connected
with it, all initiated by the Jews : the decay of morals, the
increase of poverty, the downfall of the old aristocratic
families, earthquakes and floods (these latter as God's
punishments) — all these things are attributable to the
Jews. He does not say in so many words that the destruc
tion of this pernicious race would be a praiseworthy
remedy, but he leaves it to be plainly understood.

The chaplain — I must give him due credit for this —
does not agree with such truculences: he is a good man, a
gentle Christian, and as such avoids everything coarse
and spiteful. During these discussions I remain obsti-

35

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

nately dumb, for I cannot contend with Cousin Coriolan.
The eyes of his yearning are turned back to the past,
while mine look to the future, and it is impossible, while
standing back-to-back, to fence with him.

And do I hear you ask: "Your count, your employer,
what is he like?" He? — A dear old fellow: I cannot say
anything else. Genial, jovial, simple, friendly, gay. He
must have been a man of captivating personality. Now,
indeed, he is old and ill, and yet his sense of humor has
not deserted him.

The count is a widower and childless. He had two chil
dren, but lost them both under tragic circumstances. The
daughter — a marvelously beautiful girl — ran off with
her brother's tutor. At that time the countess was still
living — a terribly haughty and hard-hearted woman,
and nothing would induce her to pardon her daughter for
this step. The count would have gladly given in, but the
inexorable woman would not relent.

In a few years the daughter died, and shortly afterwards
the son met with a fatal accident in a boating-party. It
was whispered about that he was of very light weight, and
that he had showed great lack of love and respect for his
parents: consequently, his loss was not such a severe
blow to the count, although it deprived him of his only
son and heir. He was much more deeply affected by the
loss of his daughter ; in the first place, her elopement with a
man who was regarded as unworthy of her, and then her
death. But time has healed all those wounds. The cheer
ful, light-hearted temperament of my dear count (for I
really love the man) won the day. He had the reputation
of being the gayest and wittiest cavalier in his time, and
even only two years ago, when I first entered his house, he
was in the happiest state of mind and of a geniality which
simply captivated my heart.

Just now, indeed, he is a great sufferer, and old age,
which he has so long victoriously resisted, is at last get
ting in its detestable work. He is not and has never been
what is called a high intelligence. He is clever with a

36

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

somewhat superficial cleverness, without great depth —
without complications, without subtlety, but abounding
in straightforward, honest, human understanding. His wit
never stings and never bites ; it merely smiles and winks ;
in short, my poor count is, as I rather disrespectfully
remarked above, a dear old fellow.

I have never made a confidant of him about my anony
mous poetizing: he has no inclination for poetry. His
reading — that is, what I read to him — consists exclu
sively of selections from the daily newspapers, the weekly
comic papers, French novels, — but they must be
piquant; and for serious pabulum: memoirs of princes,
generals, and statesmen. Military and diplomatic his
tory, especially relating to the time in which he took an
active part, interests him. But all this has inspired me
with a great disgust at the kettle of chatter and intrigue
in which the soup of the unsuspecting people's destiny is
cooked. Aye! the nations have no suspicion what con
temptible means the great men who make universal his
tory use, what petty aims they pursue: personal jeal
ousies and ambitions, entanglements of lies and errors
and accidents, whereof are born the mighty events which
are explained as the expression of Divine Will, or of a
scheme of creation conditioned by natural laws. And,
vice versa, the great men high up know nothing of the
people: they fail to comprehend their sufferings and
hopes. Their awakening and stretching of limbs they
have no suspicion of ...

Two days later.

Since I wrote the above, something has happened. For
some time it has seemed to me that the count was con
cealing something from me. If his attorney, Dr. Fixstern,
came, I was dismissed from the room, and letters ad
dressed to him were not as usual dictated to me, but were
written by the count himself. And now I know what the
secret was ; early this morning the count confided in me :
The child left by the daughter who eloped with the tutor

37

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

has turned up, and the grandfather has invited the young
girl to make her home at the Sielenburg. She will be
coming now in a few days. The old gentleman is de
lighted.

I am full of curiosity. The young thing will scarcely
feel very comfortable at the Round Table which I de
scribed to you. Well, later in the summer there are vari
ous visitors from the neighboring castles, among them
young people, and in the autumn there are many brilliant
hunting-parties. Of course, owing to my position, I hold
aloof from all these things. My world is not this world of
aristocratic society — my kingdom is that of the imagina
tion. There I sometimes indulge in revels and there I
hope to attain some rank — not mediocre ; there ceases
my modesty. Artists must not be — inwardly — modest,
else they are not artists. Just as an athlete feels his mus
cles, so must the artist feel his power of creation. A host
of thoughts press forward to be formulated, and these
thoughts are elastic and swelling like an athlete's muscles!
A domain which no Pegasus' hoof has as yet ever touched
invites me. First I am going to finish my drama, which
treats of a social problem, and then I shall fly away to
that virgin land where horizons flooded with light open
out before me. I am going to compose the epic of the con
quest of the air. ... I shall fly up to the flaming corona
of the Sun, and from that I will pluck down forked flames
to annihilate all that is low and common. I am called
away, so I will mail this and will write again.
Yours ever,

CHLODWIG HELMER.

CHAPTER III
FRANKA'S NEW HOME

FRANKA GARLETT leaned back with closed eyes in
one corner of the compartment. In another corner
sat Dr. Fixstern, in whose company the young girl
was making the trip to her new home. The railway
journey had already lasted four hours and they were
not far from their destination.

For some time Franka had been sitting there mo
tionless, as if she were asleep. But she was not sleep
ing ; she wanted undisturbed to give herself up to her
thoughts. Very mixed feelings stirred in her heart.
When she called up the idea of "home," which
had come to her mind at the first revelation of the
change impending in her destiny, she felt excite
ment and a sense of joy; but, immediately, this was
succeeded by a certain timidity. "Home!" — that
is the cherished spot where all one's loves, all one's
accustomed habits, all one's recollections cluster;
but she was coming to an unknown place, among
absolutely strange people! Even though Count
Sielen was her grandfather, she had never seen him,
never even thought of him; between him and her
there was no common remembrance, except the fact
that he had been cruel to her parents. In Count
Sielen's eyes, Frank Garlett had been only the
shameless brigand who had robbed him of his daugh
ter: Count Sielen had never known what a splendid

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

man this unwelcome son-in-law had been. She would
tell her grandfather that, but would he believe it?
And would she be able to love the old man? And
would the great-aunt accept her? After the descrip
tion which Dr. Fixstern gave of her, — a rather
proud, rather bigoted, rather narrow-minded old
lady, — she had little hope that she would find a
mutually sympathetic relationship in that quarter.
Ah, she was so alone, so alone in the world, after
being accustomed to confidential comradeship with
her beloved father! . . . Two tears trickled down her
cheeks.

"Oh, Miss Garlett," cried the doctor, "I thought
you were asleep, and there you are crying!"

Franka straightened herself up: "Oh, I was think
ing of my poor dead father."

"Think rather of your grandfather, and instead
of tormenting yourself, rejoice ! Just think what an
unexpected piece of good fortune has come to you."

"You are right: it is ungrateful of me."

"Your grandfather will assuredly see to it that
you are suitably married."

"I don't intend to be married."

"You don't want to marry?"

"Oh, well, perhaps; why not? But to be married
off . . ."

"Oh, yes, I understand the distinction. But now
it is time for you to put on your hat and I will get the
traveling-bag down; the next station is ours."

Franka pinned on her hat; it was black, for she
still wore mourning, but it was pretty and very be
coming. Under the direction of Dr. Fixstern's wife,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

she had provided herself with new and elegant
clothing, and she was not insensible to the comfort
able feeling of being neatly and correctly dressed,
although nothing was farther from her nature than
vanity and a love of finery.

The train came to a stop, and Franka's heart
began to beat: so now, now was the beginning of a
new life. . . . Would there be any one from the castle
to meet her and greet her? . . . The platform was
full of people, but merely passengers of the third
class, waiting for the next train — peasants, market-
women with baskets or bundles. There was also a
servant in livery. He approached the coach from
which Franka and her escort were dismounting. On
the street in front of the station an automobile was
waiting — a great open limousine, the white lacquer
of which glittered in the sun. The chauffeur was
standing beside it and helped Franka to enter. It
was the first time in her life that she had ever been
in such a vehicle. Indeed, a new life in every respect !

Along a road between red-blooming clover-fields,
through a fir forest, the branches of which were
loaded with bright green cones, and then up a long
avenue of ancient chestnut trees, the chauffeur took
them toward the castle with its towers and pin
nacles, its bow-windows and verandas, which now
began to be visible against the horizon in the dis
tance. The weather was warm, but the air, fragrant
with spring, fanned Franka's face with refreshing
coolness as the machine swiftly sped along. Franka
took deep breaths ; her cheeks were aglow with color
and a smile of joy played around her young mouth.

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

She had only just been shedding tears, and now a
keen feeling of delight swept through her whole
being. The future must bring her something beau
tiful . . . she would not have to be always so
alone . . . ! The wide world is, indeed, a savings
bank in which rich funds of love are deposited, and
youth, in itself, is a kind of checkbook.

Along park drives bordered with shrubbery, past
flower-beds and pools, from which rose glittering
fountains, flew the machine, and came to a stop
under the porte-cochere of the castle. Several serv
ants stood waiting and took her hand-luggage. On
the steps above, Franka was received by the count's
sister.

"Welcome, dear child. . . . How are you, Dr.
Fixstern ... so you have brought the child with you
safely, have you? Come, Franka, we will go directly
to my brother — he is waiting for you in great an
ticipation."

The lady spoke in a friendly tone, and her face
wore a friendly expression ; but the doctor, who knew
her well, could not help perceiving that both in her
voice and in the expression of her face there was a
tone and a look of insincerity.

Through a long corridor adorned with potted
plants and hung with paintings, Franka was con
ducted into another wing and ushered into the
count's apartment. It was a room paneled with
dark leather and filled with ancient furniture. In a
tall armchair near the window sat the count, a pil
low behind his head and a covering over his knees.
Pale and ill as he looked, he was a handsome old man.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Noble, regular features, his white beard trimmed
close and to a point, large blue eyes beaming with
friendliness, his hair silver-white, but still brushed
up in a thick mass above his forehead.

"Here, Eduard, I bring you your granddaughter.
. . . Come, Dr. Fixstern, let us go into the adjoining
room; we will leave the two alone for a little."

A young man, who was sitting in one corner of the
room at a table covered with writings, stood up and
was about to leave the room.

" Remain, if you please, Mr. Helmer, and continue
your writing; you will not disturb me. And you, my
girl, come nearer, quite close, so that I may look at
you. . . . My eyes are growing dim ..." He held
out to her a slim white hand.

Franka went to him with quick steps, knelt on the
footstool that was placed near his chair, and kissed
the hand he offered her: "Grandfather! How kind
of you!"

He laid his hand on her head, and bent her face
back.

"So it is! you are the living picture of your poor
mother. Remarkable! I hope, however, you will
not resemble her in all respects ... at least, that you
will not also run away out of this with some young
rascal ..."

Franka sprang up.

"Count . . . this can be no home for me, where
my father is to be insulted."

"There, there! not so fast! I like it in you, that
you spring to the defense of your beloved father. I
beg your pardon. Besides, I did not mean anything

43

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

so very bad. The word 'rascal ' in my mouth carries
no insult — I myself was one when I was young, and
I should be very glad if any one would call me an old
rascal now — but here I must sit, tied down to this
chair . . . ' Count ! ' I will not let you scold me that
way; just say, as you did so prettily a moment ago,
— 'Grandfather.' . . . And I have still another thing
to ask your forgiveness for: that it was so long before
I took any notice of you. . . . That was cruel to you
and cruel to the memory of my daughter. . . . She
made a mistake . . . but of all mistakes is not im
placability one of the worst and stupidest? — So,
little girl, be forgiving . . . call me 'Grandfather'
. . . that is right; a great French poet has written
a book entitled 'L'Art d'etre Grandpere."'

"Yes, Victor Hugo," assented Franka, nodding.

"You seem to be well read. . . . Now, you see, I
am beginning rather late to learn that art, but I
shall be an industrious scholar. — And now, will you
be conducted to your room? I feel ill again ... a
real cross sickness is ... go, dear child."

Franka was about to bend over the old gentle
man's hand to kiss it again, but he lifted her head up
and imprinted a kiss on her brow.

An hour later Franka had already finished the
unpacking of her possessions; she had disposed her
books and photographs, and this communicated a
somewhat cozy appearance to the long unoccupied
chamber, with its stiff, old-fashioned furniture. It
was an enormous room with four windows looking
down into the park. Gay-flowered chintz covered
the chairs and sofas and the same material served as

44

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

hangings for the windows and the curtains of the
bed. Adjoining was a little toilet-room and bath
room. Next to this was the chamber of a maid
whose services were at the disposal of the "gnadiges
Fraulein."

So new, so unwonted was all this magnificence!
Ought not all these unexpected, these truly brilliant
surroundings to have awakened a measureless joy in
Franka, who had spent her young days in the midst
of such privations? But why was she so sad?

Ah, yes, if her father had only lived and she might
have shared these delights with him, or at least have
told him about them. . . .

Joys are like tones — in order to sound, they must
have resonance.

CHAPTER IV

LIFE IN SIELENBURG CASTLE

FIVE months had passed and a cold gray autumn had
set in with pallid suns, soggy mists, wailing tempests.
As melancholy as the weather was Franka's mood.
Sielenburg had not proved a home for her: she felt
that she was a stranger, that she was in exile. Her
grandfather, who showed her friendly affection and
to whom her heart went out in sympathy, grew con
stantly worse, so that more and more rarely he sum
moned her to his side, and when she came, he had
but little to say ; he merely would ask her to tell him
about her past, to describe her early life, and to talk
about her parents.

He asked her very little about her present exist
ence, and even if he had done so she assuredly
would not have told him that she was wretchedly
unhappy; that the great-aunt always treated her
with the utmost coldness and reserve; that the
insipid conversation of the two other old ladies "got
on her nerves"; that the cousin, with his views ex
pressed so arrogantly and dogmatically, — views so
diametrically opposed to all that she had learned
from her father, — still more affected her, indeed,
caused her real agony — all this and much more she
could not confide to her grandfather without trou
bling him, without making him think her ungrate
ful. Of all the inhabitants of the castle, Mr. Helmer,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

the young secretary, would have been the most sym
pathetic, perhaps for the very reason that he was
young, and youth feels drawn by irresistible power
to youth; but she came scarcely at all into contact
with him, because he was rarely present at meals, and
when he was, he took no part in the conversation.

Only once had he made an exception to this re
serve. At table Cousin Coriolan had spoken about
the dirigible balloon: he said: "So then, the thing
seems to be feasible."

"And you remember, Baron," remarked the
priest, "that you have always expressed the opinion
that all these aeronautical and aviationary projects
were 'the utmost nonsense,' 'crack-brained balder
dash,' 'lunatic absurdity,' 'the summit of imbecil
ity ' — I noticed your words particularly — I like
your strong expressions ..."

"Well, well, Chaplain, to err is human . . . but I
venture even now to predict that nothing practical
or useful will ever come out of them . . . only catas
trophes. . . . What would happen if such a monster
should fall on the Emperor's roof at Schonbrunn?
. . . For reconnoitering in war, it would be extremely
dangerous, for naturally the enemy would shoot up
at them. The only good that they would accomplish
would be the scattering down of explosives — but
they would never be able to take any great amount
up with them and the mark from such a height would
be very difficult to hit — it would be like spitting
from the balcony on a nickel lying on the sidewalk,
the much-vaunted airship business will in the long
run—"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Make of man another man," interrupted Chlod-
wig Helmer, raising his voice. Franka pricked up
her ears. "Behind the azure door which has been
flung open streams a light, destined to breathe
new souls — aerial souls — into new generations of
men."

The rest of the company exchanged glances as
much as to say: "What is the matter with the man?
What has got into him?"

Franka would gladly have heard him continue.

"Please, Mr. Helmer, explain what you mean . . ."

But he shook his head and said no more.

She occasionally met him in her grandfather's
room; but there also he generally remained silent.
If he spoke, as he did only to answer some direct
question, she found something particularly attrac
tive both in the sound of his voice and in the choice
of his words.

He was not handsome — far from it ; he would be
rather more likely to be called ugly ; but it was not
a common ugliness, and whatever else he was, Mr.
Helmer was certainly a gentleman.

Franka had not failed to notice that she inspired
the young man with admiration: it betrayed itself
in his eyes, in his attitude, in the intonations of his
voice. It was a thoroughly respectful admiration
which strove to hide and not to betray itself, and
consequently Franka responded to it with many a
gracious word and friendly smile.

But an end soon came to this harmless little flirta
tion, if it could be called such. Six weeks after
Franka's arrival, Helmer was obliged to take his

48

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

departure from Sielenburg. Cousin Albertine had
indulged in some idle gossip concerning the two.
"Evidently," she said, "that crazy secretary is fall
ing in love with Franka." Something peculiar also
was noticed in Franka's behavior, and after her
mother's escapade — the apple does not fall far from
the tree — and it was to be feared that some similar
fatality might ensue. . . . These and other insinua
tions made to the count's sister, and by her com
municated to the count himself, resulted in the
young man's being dismissed. After his departure
Franka felt still more isolated.

In the course of the summer several times, but not
frequently, for an hour or two during the afternoon,
callers from the neighborhood came to the castle,
and were served with a cup of tea in the garden.
The conversation always revolved around the same
topics: society and family news, the prospects of
the harvest, hunting experiences, chronicles of sick
nesses, and the results of "cures" at the sea-baths,
gossip of the court mixed in with a dash of politics
(from the agrarian point of view), and with lamenta
tions over the degeneracy of the times (from the
clerical point of view).

It devolved on Franka, as the daughter of the
house, to pour the tea, yet the others treated her
with a shade of condescension, as if she were only
a kind of companion. She could never even try
to insinuate herself into the good graces of these
strangers; she remained taciturn and reserved. The
topics of conversation and the questions that occu
pied the lives of this little circle scarcely appealed to

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

her; perhaps, if she had grown up and been edu
cated among them, she might have found edification
in it, but it was all strange to her — on the other
hand, the others had no comprehension of her aspira
tions, her ambitions, her realm of thought.

One day she had a surprising encounter. As she
entered the salon her eyes fell on a stranger who was
sitting in the midst of the usual circle. His back was
turned to the door, so she could not see his face, but
there was something strikingly familiar in his figure
and attitude. And with good reason — for as she
came nearer, Countess Adele introduced him to her
as Baron Malhof. He manifested no surprise; he
evidently knew of the altered circumstances of
Franka's life. He made a low bow.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you again, Miss
Garlett."

"What, do you know my niece?"

"Yes, I made Miss Garlett's acquaintance a short
time ago and learned to have a high regard for her."

Malhof sat next to Franka at the tea-table. Unob
served by the others, he said to her in an under
tone : —

" You seem to be still incensed with me — but you
ought to know what I have done for you. I have
just been in to see your grandfather. I was well
aware that you were making your home here, for I
had learned the whole story from your landlady of
whom I have frequently inquired about what you
are doing. And to-day I told your grandfather the
whole story of the little comedy in which you and I
were the actors ..."

50

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"You did... ?"

"Yes, although the part I played was rather de
plorable ; for that very reason yours was all the more
brilliant, and I felt that I owed it to you to make this
reparation. Count Sielen had a right to know what
a brave, high-minded maiden his new-found grand
daughter is."

"Was that your opinion of my behavior, Baron
Malhof?"

"Not at the first moment — to tell the honest
truth; at that time I was quite vexed and thought
your behavior simply — pardon me the expression !
— simply stupid, terribly vieuxjeu; — but here is a
somewhat old-fashioned milieu where all such heroic
actions of virtue awake a response and I said to
myself: 'If I tell the whole story to the old gentle
man, it may prove useful to the young lady who
so abused me . . . that letter you tore into bits ! — it
will put her into a beautiful light and make her still
dearer to the old man's heart,' — as you see, I am
capable also of noble impulses. There is one thing I
should like to ask you: Are you happy?"

"How could I fail to regard myself as happy? It
would be sheer ingratitude toward fate!"

"Well, yes, 'to regard yourself as happy,' but 'to
feel happy'? Life cannot be very gay among all
these wigs. ... I do not often come here — only
when I am visiting their neighbors at the castle of
Dornhof, where I generally spend a week almost
every year. Then I make my respects here and I
have always found the house tedious to the last de
gree, except when the old count used to enliven it

51

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

with his presence ; but for the most part during the
last few years he has been away traveling. Of course,
I had heard about the family romance, — the daugh
ter who ran off with the tutor, — but that you were
the result of that elopement, I never suspected until
I made a fool of myself about you. . . . Do not look
so angry; that folly is past and gone. ... I have
taken my place toward you — especially since I
have confessed to your grandfather — as a kind of
honorary uncle."

On this episode Franka looked back with satis
faction.

On the other hand, she remembered something
very unpleasant that had happened to her during
the early days of her new life. She had been sum
moned at a quite unusual hour to her great-aunt's
chamber. She had scarcely crossed the threshold
when she realized that she had been invited to ap
pear as a defendant before a criminal court. Behind
the table sat the old Countess Schollendorf in her
sternest aspect, with her headdress askew, betoken
ing inward excitement; next her, in the capacity of
an assistant, Aunt Albertine, and on the table as
corpus delicti two books which Franka instantly
recognized as her property.

"Come in; sit down and explain yourself: How
came you by these books?" This was spoken in a
harsh, inquisitorial tone.

The books were Prince Kropotkin's "Memoirs of
a Revolutionist" and Bolsche's "Liebesleben in der
Natur."

Franka had calmly taken a seat.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"I might rather ask," she replied, "how come
these books here, when they were locked up in my
bookcase?"

Miss Albertine, with a honeyed expression, put in
her word : —

"My dear girl, this matter concerns your own
good : I myself brought the books down. The book
case was not locked; the key was in the door; I did
not break it open. It is perfectly natural that we
should be interested in what is read by a young per
son over whose well-being we have to watch. The
other books there I do not know. ... I should have
to read them first ; but the titles of these two are suf
ficient to condemn them. So I brought them down
to Aunt Adele. We have glanced through them
and . . ."

"And," said the superior judge, taking the words
out of the other's mouth, "I had you summoned to
tell you that you are to hand over to us your whole
library — it was evidently your inheritance from
Professor Garlett, who seems to have been a Free
mason. . . . And I will speak to you with the utmost
frankness: you must know that a young girl of our
circles does not make the acquaintance of revolu
tionists and their works. . . . These are very, very
pernicious theories — the worst possible. And then
Socialism and Feminism and Pacifism, and all these
new ' isms ' such as are coming into existence in our
day. . . . And now that ' Liebesleben ' ! I trust you
have not read it!"

"Oh, yes, I have — I read it with my father."

"And are you not ashamed of yourself? This is

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

certainly the most extraordinary thing I ever heard
of! Why, one learns there how herrings break the
sixth commandment — it is positively disgusting!
Do you not know that there are things which a sen
sible young maiden — I will not say of our circles,
but any sensible maiden — ought to have no sus
picion of? What have you to say in your defense?"

"Nothing."

Franka felt as if she would choke and she uttered
the word with a deep breath.

"What does this all mean? Do you wish to rouse
my anger?"

"Do not get excited, Adele," interrupted Miss
Albertine appeasingly; "just think — the poor child
has not enjoyed the right sort of education ; she in
herited her mother's frivolous nature and on her
father's side she is of no family at all — therefore, she
lacks the instinct of what becomes our world. . . .
Yes, you are lacking in many respects, Franka, and
if I speak in all sincerity, — it is impossible for me
to be anything else than sincere, — it is only with
the intention of being useful to you. You are still
young enough to learn a good deal, to change and to
become worthy of the great advantage that you are
enjoying here."

Franka's throat felt as if a tight band was fas
tened around it. It occurred to her to run away ; she
was almost tempted to kill herself • — to jump out of
the window. . . . But after a while, as Miss Albert-
ine's discourse kept on its even flow, she recovered
her self-control.

"I ask only one thing," she said — "that this

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

whole charge be brought before my grandfather. I
will abide by his decision."

" Do you really wish this? I had intended tc spare
you this disgrace, and was going to say nothing to
my brother; but if you yourself desire it ... very
well, I will send and find out if we can see him."

When an affirmative answer was brought, the
three ladies betook themselves to the count's apart
ment. Miss Albertine held the corpus delicti under
her arm. The count was alone. He was sitting in his
accustomed place in the reclining-chair, and looked
exceptionally lively and well.

"What! Three man strong you march along!" he
exclaimed, greeting them.

" Yes, grandfather, you see here a judge, a witness,
and a defendant — and I am the defendant ; now you
are to be the supreme judicial court."

"Oho! and is there no advocate for the defense?"

"I shall be my own advocate."

"Very good: now what is the complaint?"

" It is no joking matter," said the Countess Adele.

"Indeed, it is not," said Miss Albertine with em
phasis. "It concerns Franka's own good; else we
should not have bothered you with it. Your condi
tion demands perfect quiet — you look very miser
able. . . . Forgive me, but I must tell you the truth
only for love of you so that you may take care of
yourself."

"Yes, yes, your frankness is touching. But to the
business. ..."

The two old ladies, using almost the identical
words as before, formulated their complaint and at

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

the same time handed him the books that were
under suspicion.

When they had had their say, Franka cried : " May
I now offer my defense? "

The count raised his hand. " No, what is the use?
I see clearly how the whole matter stands and can
render my judgment. A crime, at least a very de
testable misdemeanor, has been committed — or,
rather, a whole series of misdemeanors: — looting of
others' property; inquisitiveness and espionage; tale
bearing and making charges; injury and insult;
attempted moral constraint and tyranny!"

"But, Eduard," exclaimed the old countess re
proachfully, "do you blame us instead of th's erring
child?"

"Most certainly, I blame you. Franka is neither
in the path of error, nor is she a child. She has not
been brought up as you would have brought up your
daughters, and she has different ideas. Has she at
tempted to force these ideas on you? Has she ever
tactlessly and offensively expressed her ideas in
order to bring yours into unfavorable contrast?"

"No, she has done nothing of that kind. On the
contrary, she has hypocritically kept her terrible
ideas, imbibed from these terrible books, quite to
herself."

"Why do you say 'hypocritically'? I call it tact
ful. If one lives with people who belong to another
world of ideas, it is right to avoid bringing up
the discussion of questions whereon they would
differ; and so people, even though they think so
differently, can get along together very congenially.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Moreover, there is nothing so very terrible about the
two books — I happen to know them. Bolsche is a
scientist; Kropotkin an idealist. I do not exactly
share their point of view; I am an old country squire,
and have taken little interest in the natural sciences
and social problems; but I know that we live at a
time when much that is new is crowding out the old.
We can't make all shoes on one last, and we cannot
expect our grandchildren to be educated exactly as
our fathers were educated. And as far as education
goes, certainly nothing more needs be said about
Franka's. She will be of age in a few months: I had
her come here to a home, not to a young ladies'
boarding-school. I will not put up with her life being
spoiled by the others in this house."

"Oh! how good and kind you are!" stammered
Franka, who had once more knelt down on the foot
stool near Sielen's reclining-chair.

' ' Never mind , my girl ; don' t bother your head about

it. The aunts meant well But now I will ask you

to leave me for a while. The affair has agitated me."

That ended the incident. To be sure, a little bit
terness remained, but the two old ladies from that
time forth avoided any nursery-governess tone
toward the young girl. The sick master's will was
law on the Sielenburg.

Still another incident, somewhat later, produced
a still deeper impression. It was a letter. Almost
never did the postman bring Franka any mail. In
all the more excitement she tore open the envelope
which she found one fine morning lying on her
breakfast-tray. It was in an unknown hand and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

unsigned. After she read it, she easily guessed who
its writer was.

VIENNA, August 2, 1909.

My greetings to you, Franka! As an actual man I am
not justified in addressing you thus familiarly, but this is
only a kind of wave-motion from soul to soul. The reason
for this letter is, that you appeared to me last night in
a dream. You looked sad and troubled. Something of
questioning and yearning was expressed in your face and
was evident in your outstretched arms. In what direc
tion would your desires, your longings, your questionings
wing their flight? Your surroundings will give no fulfill
ment of them, no answer to them. Perhaps I may be able
to serve as a guide — perhaps I may be able to solve some
of the riddles for you. And since you have appeared to me
in a dream — and because I am fond of you — I venture
to approach you as a bodyless teacher, a formless brother,
a lover who hopes for nothing. Or rather — do not call
it presumptuous! — I come to you as a priest. I have
religious consolation in readiness for you and I will lay
down religious commandments for you.

Yet, let this be for the last. We will first speak of
worldly things. The question which a pretty girl of
twenty asks of fate — even though she does not acknowl
edge it to herself — is, "Shall I be happily married?"
She might just as well ask, "Shall I find a needle in a
haystack?" For it is just as difficult, out of the hundred
thousand chances of an unhappy marriage, to secure the
one slender chance of a happy one, although every young
woman believes that for her particularly there are several
ready for choice. And the claims are not modest. Dozens
of conditions cluster around the idea of "happiness" —
above all, love. And in it are united all the attributes
and aspects of this manifold phenomenon : — the platonic
and erotic; passion, sentimentality, devotion, sweet tor
ment and tearful ecstasy, hot desire and the full and
peaceful possession — and this whole medley, presumably

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

to last as long as life, based on eternal faithfulness . . . (il
faut en rabattre 1}

But love alone is not sufficient. To happiness, as
dreamed by the young maiden, some other things are
needed: if not wealth, at least perfect pecuniary inde
pendence, a comfortable and fairly elegant household,
continued good health, social recognition, pleasant occu
pation, pretty toilettes — perhaps also handsome chil
dren. I am speaking of the average girl, not of the ultra
modern type before whom a quite special expression of
personality is held up, or from whom the well-known
"call of motherhood" is extorted.

To that class you do not belong ; you are not eccentric,
you are calm and reflective, but assuredly you are also
hungry for happiness.

Now the question for you is: "Will Destiny pay the
note which Youth and Beauty have drawn on her?"
Who can tell? It is a matter of accident. Accident is only
another name for Fate, and cannot give you any remedy
against her tricks. Consequently we must possess some
thing to raise us above all perils, above poverty and lone
liness, above illness and sorrow, yes, verily, above the
terrors of death !

If you had been educated in a convent, such a talisman
would have been put into your possession : the knowledge
that you were a child of God, the belief in happiness
beyond the grave, the union with all that is sacred in
the eternal and in the infinite. But this golden talisman
would have been handed to you in a tin capsule of dog
mas, and you, like so many others to whose riper taste
and judgment the capsule no longer appealed, would have
flung the whole thing away, contents and cover ; or, like so
many others, you would have only clung to the outward
wrapping as a kind of symbol, as a ceremonial necessity.

At the present time, in this country, it is a part of good
form to be pious. By assiduous church attendance, by
friendly intercourse with the clergy, by scorn and con
tempt for all free thinking, one tickets one's self as belong-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ing to fine society. They are mere forms, to be sure, but
how can the man and the woman of society differentiate
themselves from the ordinary mass of humanity if not by
the observance of forms? Signing the cross, as one sits at
table, — the way it is done of late in aristocratic houses,
— is not a mark of reverence, but a "correct" gesture —
equal to the conventional court curtsy.

I would not wish to imply that there are not actually
honest believers who in spite of the tin capsule penetrate
to the golden center of the talisman and are thereby ele
vated and strengthened. " Be good ! " is certainly the pro-
foundest meaning of every religious imperative — honor
to the man who with voluntary obedience listens to this
commandment by reason of his faith.

You were not educated in a nunnery — as I happen to
know. Do you possess that fervent Something, by means
of which a person is raised above all the eventualities of
life and above one's self? That I do not know. Let me
explain to you what I understand by this "Something":
let me be for half an hour your catechist !

This is the mystery : — Recognize as your home, that
is to say as the place to which you belong, a domain larger
than your house, than your family, than your parish, than
your earth — the universe. You belong to it : it belongs to
you. Religionists have an inkling of this truth and they
call it "the fatherhood of God." Science has investigated
it and here it is called "indestructibility" and "homo
geneity of matter" and "eternal conservation of all
energy." This guarantees you immortality. The part
that you play in the great world-drama is important, just
as every one else's is, and it is never played to the end.

Do not shrug your shoulders and say: "What is the use
of a continued existence if, in another life, I do not remem
ber the former; if my ego has disappeared?" Certainly
"your1' ego, in its present form, is lost, but in the new
form you will feel an ego in similar degree. Is your con
sciousness, your inner sense of life, lessened by the fact
that you do not remember the existences through which

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

you have passed in the infinity behind you? The past ego
was not "another one," nor will the ones that follow be,

— they all are a part of the same ego of the universe,
divided billions and trillions of tinies. If one has learned
to feel one's self as a constituent of the eternal circle of
life, if one knows that one is akin to the plants and the
stars, if one feels in one's inmost soul the sparks flashing
from the flame of the Universal Spirit, then one is pene
trated by the sense of being a child of God just as much
as a nun kneeling in prayer on the stone flags.

Yet these are only impulses for especial exalted hours

— not at all times can one feel consecrated to the All.
But there are also narrower circles into which one can
enter and escape one's own egotistical loneliness — any
kind of a great community. For some, it is found in art ;
for some in the various so-called "Movements," or politi
cal campaigns, or even revolutions ; either in active co
operation or mainly in intense sympathy: in either case
one will be elevated above the everyday pettinesses and
ennuis of one's own existence, if it be petty and tiresome,
aye, if it be full of sadness! Listen, Franka, to the roaring
of the stream of Time ; see how human society is striving
to attain new goals, how it is engaged in the battle with
the powers of the traditional — to acquire more light,
more freedom, more righteousness; in a word, more
happiness.

A mighty aid to this uplift of souls is found in the tech
nical marvels with which human invention is every day
transforming this world. We live in a great, great age!
Especially great, not so much in what is as in what is to
be ! To think of sharing in it all ! Do not miss the noble
enjoyment which every bold ascent is preparing! And
even if you yourself cannot attain a height, then rejoice in
the lofty flights of humanity. "Soaring " — the word was
formerly applied to us men only figuratively, but now —
you know what happened only a few days ago — for the
first time a man flew over the Channel . . . and these
surprises, these triumphs will be enlarged. . . . Look and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

listen ! Show yourself — let us all show ourselves —
worthy of having been born under the glory of the
twentieth century. . . .

Here the letter abruptly ended. It was not diffi
cult to guess from whom it came: only Mr. Helmer
could have been its author. Had any definite
address been attached to it or an answer been de
manded, perhaps Franka would have sent a letter
in return. She had hardly given a thought to the
young secretary since she no longer had occasion to
meet him. After the receipt of this letter, however,
which she read from beginning to end several times,
it was natural that her thoughts should turn fre
quently to Chlodwig Helmer. What especially
moved her was that something of the spirit of her
father seemed to breathe through this letter —
there was the same trend of thought and at the same
time almost the same use of words and phrases.
This was not strange, for where ideas coincide, there
must be a similarity in expression of them; every
philosophy of life has its own terminology. Above
and beside all the abstract ideas contained in the
letter there was also the striking of a note which
awakened a melodious echo: — the five words, "I
am fond of you"! — Then it happened, apparently
in consequence of his statement that she had ap
peared to him in a dream, that she also two or three
times dreamed of him, and wonderful ! — in the
dream his face was not homely — not at all, but
rather fascinating. No second letter followed, the
dreams were not continued, and the whole incident
gradually grew faint and indefinite.

INTERMEZZO

DURING all this time Mr. John A. Toker had been
elaborating his plan. In his brain, that which he
proposed to do was already formulated. Certainly
he knew that everything destined to come into exist
ence will, as soon as it has sufficient vitality, begin
to live, develop itself, branch out, and be changed in
a hundred different ways which its creator is unable
to foresee; yet the initial stage was clearly outlined
before Mr. Toker's inner eye. The motives and
ends, which at first had risen before him mistily and
indefinitely, he had long since supplanted with clear
and precise formulas. The whole was drafted into
two pieces of manuscript: one of them a letter, the
other a circular. A copy of each was now to be sent
to the addresses of those famous contemporaries
whose names he had inscribed on the day when the
project was conceived. Now a few names had dis
appeared from the list and a few others were added
to it.

THE LETTER

DEAR SIR (or MADAM):

I am doing myself the honor of inviting you most cor
dially to spend the first half of next June as my guest : not
in my American home, but in the center of Europe, at
Lucerne, where I am making suitable preparations for
entertaining you and my other guests. You will find the
names of other persons invited indicated in the inclosed
list. Any one in your family or your household whom you

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

would like to have as a companion will be most welcome.
The traveling expenses and, if agreeable, a considerable
honorarium will be supplied by me. The inclosed circular
will sufficiently show that this invitation is not for a mere
summer visit for personal ends, but includes cooperation
in a civilizing work of the greatest moment.
Counting upon your favorable answer, I am,
Yours respectfully,

JOHN A. TOKER.

THE PROSPECTUS

We are on the threshold of the aeronautic age. What
mankind, up to the present time, and especially in the
last two or three decades, has accomplished in the realm
of technic is simply fabulous — is the triumphant anni
hilation of the antiquated concept "Impossible."

And this is to go on in constantly accelerating progress.
How feeble in their first beginnings, how widely separated
from one another in time and space have been the great
inventions and discoveries. And now! Scarcely a day
passes without some technical improvement being simul
taneously achieved in different places. The rapidity of
progress results in one marvel making another possible.
Thus, to take only one example, the dirigibility of the
air-balloon was attained only because automobilism had
created the light motor.

The intellectual and moral uplift of humanity has not
kept up with the technical. This is plainly seen in a single
paragraph the reading of which gave me the impulse to
make the proposed experiment. The paragraph read:
"The dirigible balloon is destined to become the chief
weapon in wars to come."

This is equivalent to saying: "We will use the latest
triumph of victorious civilization for the confirmation of
the most antiquated barbarism." — This must not be!

What the physicists, the chemists, the engineers have
given us, one depending on another, each building a little

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

higher on the discoveries of his predecessors, what they
have done through comprehending and controlling the
forces of nature and making them our servants, is on the
point of changing one half — the material half — of our
world into a realm of magic.

But how does it stand with the spiritual half, the imma
terial half? The unhappiness of men, the wickedness of
men, the mutual hatreds of men, — these ghastly things
give the answer to the above question : the spiritual half
is still far, far behind. The everlasting forces which rule
in this other half, and which, when they come to be
known, controlled, and made useful, would be able to
change this half also into a realm of magic : at the present
time they are as yet concealed and inactive.

The engineers, mechanicians, and technicians of the
moral forces are the poets and prophets, the philosophers
and artists ; they are the dynamic agents of thought, the
leaders of intellect, the pathfinders in the jungles of social
institutions, the aviators in the eternal sphere of ideas!
Yet they are scattered through the centuries, scattered in
space. One lives in New York ; another in Paris ; the third
at Yasnaya Polyana; their names go from the elite in one
land to the 61ite in other lands, but do not reach the
masses. How much more powerful their work would be if
it were coordinated, if the knowledge of their doctrines,
the glory of their names, the magic of their art, proceeding
from one central point, should radiate in all directions.
Motors and propellers have taught us that power must be
concentrated and compressed, in order — by explosions — to
drive the vehicle.

THE ROSE-WEEK IN LUCERNE

This festival-time, which in my opinion will surpass in
outward glory all the previous "aviation meets," all the
Wagner festivals in Bayreuth, all the carnivals in Rome
or Cologne, all the regattas at Kiel or at Cowes, all the
races at Baden-Baden, will last with its public functions

65

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

from the eighth until the fifteenth of June. The period
from the first till the eighth belongs to my guests for unin
terrupted social intercourse. I believe that my great con
temporaries will thus find unique opportunity for high
social enjoyment, for the most fruitful1 inspiration. How
rarely is it vouchsafed for those who stand on the emi
nences of Humanity to consort with their fellows !

The second week will belong to the public, which will
have the unique enjoyment of seeing and hearing the
laurel-crowned of all countries assembled in the same
place and of absorbing the lofty thoughts which will flow
from their words.

The attendance at the lectures and art performances
will in all probability be immense.

But what my guests will have to say is not to be
limited to those present. The echo of it will ring through
the whole world. The great journals will certainly send
their representatives who will telegraph long extracts
from the various addresses. And involuntarily the Press
will in this way fulfill what ought to be its most important
function : to further the great universal interests of man
kind instead of stirring up international strife and culti
vating local gossip. But we will not depend on them:
we ourselves will institute a large and complete staff of
secretaries and translators; we will employ a printing-
office and have the principal addresses set forth in
extenso, and send them out as pamphlets to all parts of the
world. And still more: gramophones will catch the very
intonations of the speakers, kinematographs will repro
duce the gestures of the orators, and the records and films
will be sent out to thousands of schools and settlements
all over the world. In all regions and in all classes shall be
scattered the messages of the Rose-Week!

What the men and women whom I have in mind will
say, is not for any particular race or class : its sole aim and
object will be, "to elevate all humanity."

And why roses?

That I have chosen out of the twelve months of the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

year the month of roses, that I am going to conduct the
whole arrangement under the emblem of roses — all the
programmes, all the invitations, and so forth, will be
adorned with these flowers; on the buildings and festal
arches roses will be garlanded as escutcheons — a sar-
danapalian abundance of living, blooming roses will be
entwined around all the pillars, will adorn the tables and
walls; bushes blooming with roses and rose-beds will be
planted in the grounds — intoxicating perfume of roses
will fill all the air — a rose-bacchanal : all this is not, per
haps, a whimsical fancy, an ostentatious piece of extrava
gance such as the multimillionaires of Fifth Avenue are
accustomed to vulgarize their festivities with ; — a deeper
symbolism is involved in it: the whole undertaking is to
stand under the protection and the shelter of Beauty!

CHAPTER V
COUNT SIELEN'S WILL

THE gloomy autumnal sense of depression, which
had settled down on Franka's mind and the whole of
Sielenburg, grew ever deeper. Death was making
his entrance into the castle. For more than a week
the sick count's passing away had been expected
from hour to hour. The physicians had expressed
their opinion that it was inevitable and immediately
at hand. At Countess Adele's suggestion the priest
had already been summoned in order to administer
extreme unction to the man who lay unconscious in
his bed; the warder of the tower was ready at a
moment's notice to raise the black standard, and the
sexton of the adjacent church was only waiting for
the signal to ring the passing-bell.

Franka ventured several times to enter the sick
room which was now a death-chamber, and the
moans which came from the bed, and mingled with
the storm howling without in an unspeakably melan
choly dirge, rang incessantly in her ears, even after
she had left the room and repaired to her own, which
was situated in the other wing of the castle, where
the wind could not be heard.

Here she was now sitting in the dark, — it was
about seven o'clock in the evening, — and was
thinking of her own father's death, which so short
a time before had left her an orphan. Now, by the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

loss of her grandfather, she would be once more quite
friendless in that house. Her tears flowed for the
poor departed father, for the poor departing count,
and likewise for the poor deserted maiden — for
herself.

Suddenly she pricked up her ears. In the prevail
ing silence she heard a distant commotion : the open
ing and shutting of doors, hurrying footsteps, voices.
. . . With a throbbing heart she sprang up and
turned on the light. At the same instant her maid
came hurrying into the room.

"What has happened? . . . My grandfather? . . ."
"Yes, Miss Franka; the count has passed away!"

On the morning after the funeral, which was con
ducted with imposing state, the Countess Adele sent
for Franka.

" I have summoned you, my dear child, to have a
few serious words with you. Sit down."

"What can this mean?" queried Franka in some
perturbation.

"You have shown deep and, as it seems to me,
genuine sorrow at the death of my poor brother."

"Oh, yes, I loved him so!"

"And you were right, for he was very kind — per
haps a little too kind to you. He has not left you
unprovided for. His will has not been opened as yet,
but I know about it, for he told me before you came
that he intended to leave you a legacy of forty or
fifty thousand crowns. That is a very neat little
fortune. It is enough to cover the bond and you
can marry an officer. Besides, that is your natural

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

vocation — to marry. You could not be a canoness
because you have bourgeois blood; and since you
have bourgeois blood, you can have no claim to mar
riage in our class. Of course, you will not think of
remaining at the Sielenburg. Here you would have
no opportunity . . . and you do not get along very
well with us. I have never referred again to that
fatal matter of the books, but the sting remains. . . .
At all events, I would not think of casting you off.
After all, you are my beloved brother's granddaugh
ter — he recognized you as such ... so you are not
to sink back into the sphere in which you were
brought up. Therefore, Cousin Albertine and I have
decided that she — Cousin Albertine — should take
charge of you. She lives in Teschen — a little city in
Silesia. A very large garrison is quartered there, and
no doubt, as soon as it is known that you possess the
necessary amount, you will have suitors among the
officers, for you are a pretty girl. One should not
depend too much on mere physical beauty; still it
is a recommendation — especially in matrimonial
affairs. . . . Albertine remained unmarried simply
because she was excessively homely . . . that is still
very evident. You will be very comfortable at her
house — she keeps up a very nice establishment —
all the officers' wives attend her 'At Homes,' and
young men will not stay away as soon as it is known
that the pretty niece is not quite without means.
But you must take great care not to give utterance
to such anti-military views as are preached in an
other terrible book which we found in your room —
' Das Rote Lachen ' — what a title ! However, Aunt

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Albertine will instruct you in the proper rules of
behavior. As you know, she is very plain-spoken, for
she is extraordinarily frank — but that should never
offend you! She means it for your best good."

Franka let the old lady talk on, and did not make
a sign. Formerly she would have rebelled against
much that her aunt said, especially against the ex
pressions, "sink back into the sphere in which she
had been brought up " ; but now, on the day after the
count's burial she would have no quarrel with his sis
ter. She keenly felt that she could not exist in the
"sphere" to which they were trying to elevate her;
she had decided to depart from the Sielenburg and to
refuse Aunt Albertine's offer. If it was true that her
good grandfather had so generously remembered her,
— the amount mentioned seemed to her a very con
siderable sum, — she was protected against poverty,
and was her own mistress. And even if there was
no legacy for her, she would prefer to go out into
the world and obtain some situation. Anything but
this state of dependence! Anything but this moral
dungeon !

"Well, what do you say to this?" said the aunt in
conclusion, after she had gone on in the same tone
for some time.

"Excuse 'me, at present I have nothing to say. I
am so affected by the sad occurrences of the last
few days — I really cannot answer."

"Very good; go back to your room again. I cer
tainly appreciate that you are quite unstrung, first
from grief at your grandfather's death and also by
joy at the brilliant prospects which I have disclosed

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

to you. . . . So, then, we will take up the subject
another time. There is no hurry — Aunt Albertine
will not return to Teschen for six weeks ; till then you
can remain here."

Franka stood up. "May I go?"

"Yes, but at three o'clock this afternoon come to
the green salon. At that time we are to meet there
and Dr. Fixstern, who has Eduard's will, is to read
it. As you are probably mentioned in it, you should
attend the meeting."

At the specified hour all the members of the family
present at the castle assembled in the "green salon."
Besides the Countess Adele, Miss Albertine, and
Cousin Coriolan, there were a few distant relatives
who had come to the Sielenburg for the funeral.
Franka entered last and took her place in a chair by
the wall near the doorway. The others sat in a semi
circle in front of the table where Dr. Fixstern was
engaged in taking documents out of a portfolio.

"Are all the persons concerned present? " he asked
after he had taken his seat in the armchair.

"Yes, all are here," answered the Countess Adele.
"You may proceed, Doctor."

Great excitement was visible in the features of
those in the semicircle. They were all more or less
pale and breathless. The doctor straightened his
spectacles and began : —

" Ladies and gentlemen, I have here the testament
of my honored patron and client, Count Eduard von
Sielen, and I will now read it before the assembled
family. For more than twenty years, I have had the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

honor of serving as the attorney and agent of the
late count. It is, therefore, only natural that he
should have put into my hands the will which I and
my solicitor have signed as witnesses, and that he
should have designated me as his executor. I am
fully acquainted with the condition of his affairs and
I have an inventory of all the real estate and per
sonal property which he has left. Here it is: if you
will grant me permission, I will first put this fully
before you.

"The count's property was larger than might have
been supposed from his comparatively modest scale
of living. It consists: (i) Of the domain of Sielen-
burg in Moravia, of Grossmarkendorf in Lower
Austria, and of Hochberg in Carinthia. These pos
sessions amount altogether to 8700 acres of land and
are unencumbered; (2) the Sielen palace on the
Wieden in Vienna; (3) bank-deposits in English and
national banks amounting nominally to two mil
lion five hundred thousand crowns. I have also a
complete list of the jewels, silver plate, paintings,
and furniture to be found in the various castles, in
the Vienna palace, and also in storage. And now I
will proceed to the reading of the will."

The excitement in the semicircle had grown still
more intense, and while the lawyer was breaking the
seal of the envelope and unfolding a large sheet
of parchment, one might have heard the beating
hearts of those in the assembly.

Dr. Fixstern cleared his throat a second time and
read in a loud voice : —

"This is my last will.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

" I commend my soul to God.

"Since my property is not entailed, I am free to
dispose of it in accordance with my best judgment.

"I make my disposition as follows: I nominate
as my universal legatee my granddaughter, Franka
Garlett."

At this all uttered an " Ah! " which was more like a
shriek than an exclamation. Cries of astonishment,
of disillusionment, of indignation, of dismay. Only
the cry of joy was lacking, for Franka had sprung to
her feet, mute with terror, and then instantly sank
back again. She would have preferred to run away
— to her father, that she might bring to him this
astounding piece of news ! — to her grandfather that
she might thank him. . . . But they were both dead.
Here among the living there was no one who would
look on her with anything but envy. Then before
her mind arose the thought of her anonymous corre
spondent whose tender word had flown to her: "I
am fond of you "... If only he were by her side . . . !

A moment passed before the general stupefaction
had subsided, and Dr. Fixstern could proceed. Now
followed various bequests. All the relatives, even
the most distant, were remembered with larger or
smaller legacies; for the functionaries and servants
were bequests either in money or in pensions; vari
ous charitable institutions were also remembered.
Mr. Chlodwig Helmer, "whose character I have
learned to value very highly," received a valuable
ring; Dr. Fixstern as the executor received a hand
some legacy. After the bequests were paid, the
property descending to the residuary legatee would

74

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

be diminished by not far from a million crowns.
After he had finished reading the document, Dr.
Fixstern arose and went to Franka, who was still
sitting near the entrance to the salon, and made a
low bow: —

"Miss Garlett, receive my congratulations: you
are the mistress of Sielenburg."

The others came also and congratulated her with
bitter-sweet looks. Franka was still, as it were,
stunned.

"It seems to me," she said, "as if I ought to ask
the forgiveness of you all"; and the tension of her
nerves gave way in a spasmodic fit of weeping.

Aunt Albertine began to busy herself tenderly
with her: —

" Come, come ; I will conduct you to your room . . .
you must recover from the shock ..."

The way from the green salon to Franka's cham
ber was through a suite of salons down the long
corridors, up the monumental staircase; and this
way, which she had so often taken, now seemed to
her wholly new — it was all her own property, her
realm. . . . Under Miss Albertine's affectionate guid
ance she reached her room, but there she asked to be
left alone for a while — she desired to rest, she felt so
unstrung. . . .

" Yes, my darling, now get a good rest. I will go."
Franka locked the door as soon as Miss Albertine
had left the room. No one must disturb her — she
wanted to be alone with her great destiny. She drew
deep audible sighs just as one does after climbing a
mountain-peak. Indeed, it was a peak to which she

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

had been elevated — a dizzy peak. What possibili
ties lay open before her — what duties must she ful
fill! Like a flash of lightning the thought went
through her mind: " I must accomplish something!"

What?

That she knew not. This thought was only a
germ: but she felt that something would come to
fruition. A voice seemed to say to her: "Franka,
something great, something marvelous has happened
to you"; and in the depths of her soul came her
answer: " I will be worthy of this marvelous thing."

"Be worthy?" Where had she seen or heard that
word lately? Oh, yes, now she remembered : she took
from her writing-table Helmer's letter — there it
was. "Show yourself — let us all show ourselves —
worthy of having been born under the glory of the
twentieth century. . . ."

Some one knocked at the door. Franka put the
letter back into the drawer and went to open the
door.

The Countess Adele entered. "So you wanted to
rest after your being so startled? Yes, it is startling,
to be sure. . . . Who could ever have imagined ! — I
must have a little talk with you about it .... We
must have a clear understanding as to what is to be
done now."

She sat down, and Franka, resigning herself, took
a seat. What would Aunt Adele have to say now?
Probably a whole series of suggestions and coun
sels. . . . But in her heart the purpose stirred: "I
will do what I please."

"Well, aunt," she said aloud, "let us talk. It is

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

truly an unexpected, overpowering stroke of Fate.
I am still perfectly dazed by it."

"I can believe you. Now everything is changed.
Nothing more needs to be said about the plan of
your going to Teschen which we discussed this morn
ing. Albertine, of course, would be only too glad to
have you come to her — she told us so before — but
there would be no sense in it ; — you will remain with
me at the Sielenburg — until you are married."

"And whom am I going to marry?"

"That will take care of itself. You will not lack
suitors, now that you are a brilliant match. You
would bring your husband several landed estates,
a palace, and a considerable sum of money. Your
choice must fall on a solid, sensible man who under
stands the careful management of property. I could
suggest one to you, but it is premature to talk about
it as yet. But in the mean time we shall keep up the
establishment, have some great hunting-parties, and
the right person will come at the right moment. Of
course, for the present we shall live secluded — you
see we shall be in mourning for a year, and it would
not do at all to go into society during these twelve
months. But you can utilize the time by trying to
cultivate good manners. You are so lacking in what
is required for the rank which you will take in our
circle ... I will invite two young nieces to come
here as companions for you, and you can improve
your ways by observing how they behave, and then
you can obtain from them good sound ideas — the
dear girls have been educated in the Sacr£ Cceur
Convent and are very religious and ' comme il faut '

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

in their opinions. Yet at the same time they are
merry as becomes their age and yours. . . . And if
you wish to keep these rooms as yours, it will be all
right. Or, if you like, I can have prepared for you
the apartments that belonged to your mother and
which have been unoccupied since her flight. You
need have no care concerning the housekeeping — in
the first place, you do not understand anything about
it, and, besides, I have been in charge of it for years.
And naturally you know nothing about managing
the estate. . . . But we have an excellent intendant
and Cousin Coriolan will gladly have an eye to the
direction of affairs and take charge of the accounts.
I will talk with Dr. Fixstern about the management
of your property — of course, you know nothing
about that either, and so you need not have any
bother about all that. For your own little expendi
tures — toilet, charities, and so forth — I will allow
you suitable pocket-money. Are you listening to
me? You look so distraite.11

"I? Oh, yes, I have heard you."

"Well, and what have you to say?"

" I have nothing at all to say to-day. As you just
remarked, it is too soon. I must first collect my
thoughts."

"Well, you need not think and worry. Experi
enced people are here to relieve you. So we will talk
no more about these things now — ' To-morrow is
another day.' Adieu for now, and do not be too late
in coming down to dinner."

"I should like to be excused for to-night, aunt. I
am going to bed very shortly."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"That is a good idea; then I will have your dinner
sent up to you. Have a good night's sleep and wake
up to-morrow fresh and rested. You look so scared
— not at all like the lucky creature that you are ; and
do not forget to fall on your knees and thank the
good God for pouring out such a blessing on you."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Franka aloud, as soon as
she was alone. And then she began to laugh. The
humor of the thing had not escaped her. That very
morning the countess had said to her that, of course,
her further stay at the Sielenburg was not to be
thought of, and now the old lady was willing to let
her stay "with her," and would undertake the man
agement of her whole future — a future which lay
before her so great, so enigmatical, so full of power
and magnificence — a future opening out before
such duties and possibilities. Again her mind turned
to the as yet unformulated germ of plans half-con
ceived — such as Aunt Adele, in her narrow horizon,
had never even dreamed. No, no, this proposed
tyranny must be shaken off as speedily and as de
cisively as possible. Franka felt that she had the
courage and the power to do so, although she was
alone.

Alone in this milieu, yes; but she felt as if she had
comradeship and support in the world outside, in the
hovering spirit of her father, in the souls of those
new men who were striving for lofty aims, in — how
had Chlodwig Helmer expressed it? — in community
with all that is holy in the eternal and the infinite. . . .
All she needed was freedom, and this was now
brought to her by her wealth; also by the fact that

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

no sort of tradition or duty bound her to the environ
ment in which it was planned to asphyxiate and
strangle her, if she could not tear herself away from
it. But she could and she would. . . . She was mis
tress of the Sielenburg, and what was most precious
to her — she was mistress of herself.

The following morning she sent for Dr. Fixstern to
come to her. She asked him to explain to her once
more her rights and her title in the property. Then
she told him of the Countess Schollendorf's pro
posals and of her own firm resolve not to accept
them. She was greatly relieved to find that Dr.
Fixstern was not at all on the side of the countess, as
she had feared, but wholly on hers. He was right
eously indignant at the old lady's presumption ; and
when Franka told him of her proposal to dole out to
the unrestricted possessor of millions a limited sum
of pocket-money he laughed heartily.

The conference lasted some time. Franka had
many questions to ask and Dr. Fixstern had also
many things to tell her, many explanations, much
good advice to give her. Only after the estate had
been fully settled would the exact amount of her for
tune be known, but in the mean time she would be
able to get some idea of what she would have by
glancing over the inventory that he had with him ;
and he read to her the figures representing the income
and the payments which would have to be deducted
from it. Franka listened with increasing delight as
she began to comprehend what enormous wealth had
fallen into her lap. The joyous sensation of the dis
coverer of a treasure filled her heart. For the very

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

reason that she had gone through the school of
poverty and deprivation, she was now able to appre
ciate the value of riches, and she had already got
an inkling of the independence, the esteem, and the
enjoyment which her property was to vouchsafe her.

At the same time, as a sort of absolution from
the sin of pride in possession, she cherished the con
sciousness that she should make use of the power
that had come to her for something noble and grand
and daring.

Franka expressed her desire to go that very win
ter to Vienna and take up her residence in her palace.
Dr. Fixstern entirely acquiesced, and declared that
he and his wife would do everything to aid her; he
assured her that she might depend upon him in
every way ; the long devotion which he had showed
to the late count he was ready now to show the
granddaughter.

CHAPTER VI

A SECOND ANONYMOUS MESSAGE

CHLODWIG HELMER was writing the last act of his
drama. He was well satisfied with his work. But he
knew how wide and perhaps impossible was the gulf
between the finishing of a theatrical piece and its
production. Yet even as it was, he felt his heart
swell with that comfortable sensation which every
creative artist experiences when he succeeds in
clothing in definite form that which has hovered in
his mind.

Ever since Helmer had left the Sielenburg, he had
occupied himself exclusively with literary work. His
dismissal had come to him very unexpectedly. One
morning Count Sielen had received him with these
words: —

"My dear Helmer, I have something to say to
you. . . . During the two years since you have been
with me, I have become very fond of you. You are a
fine, sensible fellow, you have irreproachable man
ners — I have no fault, absolutely no fault to find
with you and yet — do not be surprised — I am
giving you your cong6. . . . Do not ask my reasons,
but I give you my word of honor that you are not to
blame for my taking this step. As a proof that I feel
for you something more than good will, I am going
to give you recommendations as hearty as you could
desire. You will secure a place ten times better than

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

this ; and in order that you may have opportunity to
look about and to choose I am handing you a check
for a sum sufficient for you to live two years free
from anxiety. . . . No, no ! do not protest : you must
accept it out of love for me ... in order to console
me. It is painful enough for me to lose you. ... In
fact, I need the services of a physician rather than of
a secretary . . . but I shall miss you keenly, and I do
not want to have the additional sorrow of knowing
that you are worried ; it is not always easy to find a
place and you must not take the first that offers —
in short, you dare not refuse to do this favor for your
old sick friend."

Helmer also had not found it easy to leave the
count. A few days after this peculiar notice and after
a very affectionate leave-taking from the old man, he
departed from the castle of Sielenburg. He had no
opportunity to say good-bye to Franka: on the day
of his departure she had gone for a visit in the neigh
borhood with the Countess Adele. Better so — the
farewell would have been hard for him. And perhaps
it was better, on the whole, that he was going away,
for he would otherwise have been certain to fall
desperately in love with the beautiful girl. Already
he felt that he had partly lost his heart to her — so
it was best as it was. He settled down in one of the
suburbs of Vienna where he proposed to devote him
self to literary work for a time. Perhaps, if he should
succeed, he might exclusively follow this career.

He took up his abode in a villa situated amid green
vegetation. He had easy access to his beloved for
est ; if he desired to go to the city it was a short and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

speedy trip by the cars. There he frequently visited
his boyhood friend, Baron Franz Bruning — the one
to whom he wrote the long letter from the Sielenburg
and who now had a Government position. Not that
Helmer found any especial enjoyment in this inter
course. The character and nature of his early play
mate had developed in a direction which was simply
uncongenial to him. But old associations always
form a bond not easily broken. He also associated
with a few young people in literary and artistic
circles. Nevertheless, he rarely, at most only twice a
week, went to town; for his work kept him fast in his
voluntary isolation.

"Curtain!" Now the last scene of the drama was
completed and he wrote the word "Curtain" with a
joyful sigh of relief. He was startled from the agree
able relaxation of the moment by a knock at the
door. He shouted, "Come in!" and there entered a
very elegantly dressed man of medium stature with
a highly colored, full-moon face adorned with a tiny
black mustache.

"Ah, is it you, Franz?"

"Yes, I had to hunt you down in your den — if
for nothing else, to talk with you about the astonish
ing news."

"What news?"

" Give me a cigar first. Thanks! I mean the news
from Sielenburg."

"I know nothing about it."

"Do not you read your paper, man alive?"

" I confess I have been so busy the last few days

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WHEN .THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

with my work that I have scarcely glanced at the
papers."

"And you did not know that the old count is
dead?"

" Dead ! " exclaimed Chlodwig, in a tone of genuine
concern. "How? When?"

"A few days ago — and his granddaughter, Miss
Franka, whom you admired so much, is left uni
versal legatee. . . . She seems to have succeeded in
making good. . . . Have not you a chance there?
She would be a match!"

Chlodwig was dumb with astonishment. He was,
indeed, glad that such a piece of extraordinary good
fortune had befallen the charming young lady ; but
one thing he contemplated with horror — the crowd
of fortune-hunters that would surround her.

"If you had been a foxy fellow," pursued the
other, "you would have turned the girl's head —
but, of course, you could not have foreseen what was
to happen to her."

Without paying any attention to these observa
tions, which seemed to him forced in their humor,
Chlodwig said : —

"This news moves me deeply . . . the poor count
. . . and the granddaughter ... a remarkable ro
mance! . . . Where did you read all this?"

" In the ' Presse' ; three days ago the report of the
count's death, and this morning, the will."

Chlodwig glanced through the papers lying on his
table and found the paragraphs.

"Are you not going to condole with the orphan so
cruelly robbed of her grandpapa?"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Chlodwig shrugged his shoulders. Bruning's tone
was particularly disagreeable to him to-day.

Franz stood up. "But I must look around a little
. . . you are charmingly situated. . . . What a view
out over the open ..."

From the window he went to the bookcases.

"Look! look! — what a swarm of poets: Stefan
George, Hofmannsthal, Dehmel, Liliencron, Swin
burne, Rostand. . . . Verses, verses, verses. . . . Well,
as you yourself are a poet, of course you must
wade through them all. ... I cannot read more than
two lines of rhyme at one fell swoop . . . everything
exaggerated goes against my very soul ... a hun
dred, or say fifty, years ago, in the romantic epoch,
such things were at least permissible ; in these days
all this seems false to our prosaic world, which is avid
of money and power, and it finds no echo. To win
the battle, one must force one's way through with
one's elbows. As far as I am concerned, one may
indulge in a little wooing and cooing, but no ro
mances. . . . And what have you there! Technical
journals about airships and the technic of aviation?
Does that interest you? I can understand that. The
thing can be taken in earnest: a new sport, a new
weapon, a new industry . . ."

"Nothing else?"

"Well, yes; also new regulations for insurance
against aviation accidents."

He continued to rummage through the book
shelves — "Oh, yes, you have the novels of aerial
warfare: Sand, Martin, Wells . . . those are mere
phantasmagorias. One must stick to the truth. One

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

must learn to know and to despise men and things
as they are — then can one best conquer them and
make them useful. . . . But I see that you are not in
the mood to discuss to-day : you are generally ready
to go off half-cocked when I let some of my knowl
edge of the world shine upon you."

"Shine? — Your pessimism has about as much
shine in it as a pair of snuffers . . . and snuffers, you
know, are things not used in our day : they were good
enough for tallow candles, but not for electric lamps
and search-lights."

"Now I recognize you again, you incorrigible
poet — truly I can find no harsher expression. You
will be breaking your dainty wings bravely in our
rough reality, you — there now, I have invented still
another insult — you cloud-dweller! But I will no
longer beard you in your own den . . . besides, I have
no time — you live horribly far away from the bound
aries of civilization. Let us see you before long. ..."

When he was left alone, Chlodwig sat down again
at his writing-table and attempted to read over the
last act of his just-completed drama, in order to put
in some last touches. But he could not fix his mind
on it. His thoughts kept flying to the old count's
deathbed and to the remarkable vicissitude in
Franka's fate. He felt impelled to speak to her, and
so he took a sheet of paper and began to write with
out being certain whether he should send the letter
or not.

Mistress of the Sielenburg, I salute you!
This time you have not appeared to me in a dream, but
you are vividly visible before my inward eye. For I have

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

just heard what has happened to you, and I see you sur
rounded by a thousand perils and by as many — what is
the opposite of perils? — I cannot find the right expression.
. . . Well, as perils signify threatening misfortune, so here
I mean "beckoning felicity."

In my previous letter I mentioned things which in
gloomy days and ways might offer shelter and refuge in
sorrow and poverty — things whereby one may win the
power to rise above one's self. Now you are rich — super
latively rich. You can command everything that belongs
among the so-called "amenities" of life: you are protected
against cares and privations and humiliations. With your
wealth you can escape innumerable forms of suffering;
whether you can purchase the highest forms of enjoyment
and pride in life — depends on the strength of your spirit.

Against the peril of wealth I suggest the same talisman
as was contained in my former letter — to elevate your
self above yourself — to take hold on the life of the uni
verse, on the efforts of humanity. The peril for the rich is
in being drawn down into the abyss of the — ordinary.
The banal duties of luxury waste time and stupefy the
intellect. The attempt will be made by pleasure-seekers
and pride-cankered people to whirl you away into social
dissipations ; smart hussars and dragoons will besiege you
in order, by securing your hand, to get possession of
estates where they can enjoy hunting and horse-racing,
tennis and automobiling, bridge and flirting, and, if they
chance to be aristocrats, will make you feel it bitterly that
you are not presentable at court.

Yet I know well that life is so full of the unexpected,
the uncalculated, and the marvelous, that such general
warnings, such sermonizing, sounding as they do rather
perfunctory, perhaps will find no application to what is
before you. But I could not endure that you should be
shunted over on that track where the society that sur
rounds you runs along empty of all lofty aims and deaf
and blind to the mighty changes that are in prepara
tion. . . .

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

I do not believe that the generation of our day has the
time to run the cars of tradition over the rails of conven
tion to the very end. There are ominous signs flashing
along the horizon. New and unheard-of events are coming
to pass — and soon ! And they do not need come by a
revolution. That also is an ancient and probably anti
quated form of transformation. Quite new forms may
make their appearance. It may be that the flashing yon
der does not portend a tempest; perhaps it is only the
twilight of a rising sun — a sun which none of us has seen
as yet, for we are still only children of Barbarism's polar
night which has lasted hundreds, — nay, not merely hun
dreds but thousands of years. I want to see you, Franka,
among the heralds of the coming light, among those who
are storming the cloudy walls behind which it is still con
cealed.

Do not believe that, because you are a woman and
young and beautiful, such a part is not cast for you. The
new day offers women also the right of fighting in the
ranks, — or rather they are winning it for themselves, —
and assuredly the old sagas gave them spears and shields
— the Valkyrie also are young and beautiful — Hojo-to-
ho! Heia-ha! Franka, become great, or at least will
something great!

Mankind to-day — but so few realize it — stands at a
turning-point more decisive than any in its previous his
tory. This has often been said before — all the instigators
of any political or scientific revolution have been accus
tomed to close their manifestoes with the ringing words :
"A new era is beginning"; and yet things remained ex
actly as they were before. But now : — the mystery of
the air — the uplift to the heights — that is going to
change everything, everything that now goes under the
name of civilization. This will make the distinction be
tween the coming epoch and the present, one sharper
than between any of the so-called epochs of history.
Aye, everything, everything is to be changed, and in a
tempo which will be related to the changes of earlier times

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

somewhat as an electric locomotive compares with a
pedestrian's gait, or as a hurricane whirling up water
spouts compares with a summer breeze crinkling the sur
face of a pond. We shall not be able to stand against such
a tempest. We shall be either borne upon its wings, or
swept away by it.

A friend has just been scolding me as a "Poet," because
I have the fault of using figures of speech and have the —
to him — much worse fault of being an optimist. Do not
be deceived by this, Franka. I am not unreasonable. It
requires a far keener sense to perceive the aroma of
beauty and goodness which penetrates the atmosphere of
our lives than it does to behold only the harsh and hate
ful, or else to see it, even where it is not present. . . .

I cannot bring this letter to a close, so I will simply
stop. . . .

That morning Franka received a very abundant
mail, consisting of congratulations and letters of
fealty from the various persons employed on the
other estates that had become hers, begging letters
of the most extraordinary pretensions from unknown
persons, offers of commodities from all kinds of busi
ness houses; and among all the weeds one fresh
bouquet — Chlodwig Helmer's second message to
her.

She read the letter and read it again, and it gave
her pleasure. What had hovered dimly before her
inward vision — to dedicate her wealth to some
great and noble purpose — was now put before her
as a command: "Be, or at least will, something
great." So then, there was one person who felt that
she was capable of forming such a purpose and of
carrying it out; and it was the same person whose
ideas so completely coincided with her dear father's.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

She determined to take the advice of Chlodwig
Helmer, — for she had no doubt that he was the
writer of the unsigned letter, — and to ask him what
he considered the great work which she should go
forth, armed with spear and shield, to accomplish.
. . . Aye, it was true, he was rather inclined to speak
metaphorically, but behind his metaphors there
must be something actual and comprehensible: — he
must tell her and answer her questions.

In the mean time, the letter served to confirm her
in her as yet unformulated aspirations. First of all,
she must escape from the nets and bonds which her
great-aunt was anxious to throw around her. Up to
the present time she had postponed making any
explanation; now Chlodwig's letter gave her the
impulse to declare her independence that very day.
She was certain of Dr. Fixstern's practical coopera
tion.

When at luncheon-time she entered the small
dining-room where the household were all assem
bled, she asked her aunt to grant her an interview as
soon as they had finished the meal.

"That will be perfectly convenient," replied
Aunt Adele. " I also have a number of things that I
want to say to you, and we must have a perfectly
clear understanding regarding those things which we
recently talked about."

They took their places at table. It was only a
small company. The relatives that had come from
a distance had taken their departure. Dr. Fixstern
also had gone to Vienna, and only Miss Albertine,
Cousin Coriolan, and the domestic chaplain were

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

present besides Franka and the countess. So far, the
affairs of the household had gone on without altera
tion — Countess Adele held the reins, and no in
structions were asked from Franka.

Winter had set in. The trees were leafless and
the first fires were lighted.

"We shall soon have snow," remarked Coriolan.
"Oh, how gay it used to be here in years gone by
at this time of the year. . . . We always had great
hunting-parties ... a thousand hares on one day
and often twenty or thirty guests at the hunting-
dinner — and then a famous jeu till late at night.
Listen, Franka, next year you must certainly give
a hunting-party ..."

"I will look out for that," remarked Countess
Adele; "we shall keep up to the traditions of the
Sielenburg. The Sielenburg Hunts were famous all
over the country. So they were at our other estates."

" Yes, the late count — blessed be his memory —
was very fond of hunting on his estate in Carinthia,"
said the reverend father; "there's a splendid run for
stags."

"We let it this year," said the countess.

"Not to any manufacturer or Budapest Jew, I
hope?" exclaimed Cousin Coriolan. "I'd rather
have the game run wild all over the forest than per
mit unsuitable persons to hunt on a preserve, — and
big game, too, — so that brokers might put up a
sixteen-horned stag in their offices where they specu
late over futures in the grain-market."

"Since you are talking about grain, Herr Baron,"
said the reverend father, " the price of flour has gone

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

up again and so have meat and milk. The poor
people, especially in the cities, will soon be unable to
exist. You will have an opportunity, Miss Franka,
to practice charity. Truly, there is much poverty
and the rising cost of provisions ..."

"Who is at fault?" interrupted Coriolan. "The
low classes no longer know what they ought to want.
They want to have theaters and concerts, and there
are always agitators who stir them up to discontent
— unscrupulous people — the so-called leaders, al
ways from the circle of the intellectuals, as the Free
masons and Jews like to call themselves. If some
radical way is not adopted to put an end to this
mob, I am in favor of driving them out, since it is
against the law to shoot them down. ..."

"But, Baron," said the reverend father sooth
ingly, "that would be rather too drastic. The
working-people are quite right in their desire to
better their condition!"

"What is that? — 'better their condition' — be
lieve me, your reverence, in the old days they were
all far more content, the artisans as well as the
peasants. My father and my grandfather always
used to tell how much better things were before
1848 than they are now. The common people were
under the protection of the nobles . . . they were
happy and satisfied and industrious, and they had
no thought of the foolish nonsense which is now
preached to them — equal rights and the like. They
were far happier, indeed, they were. Moreover,
times are growing worse and worse. A firm govern
ment must take a hand and lock up these pestilen-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tial babblers on the Franzensring — the Minister-
President ought ..."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Coriolan, don't begin to
talk politics again," exclaimed Miss Albertine. "It
is almost rude to do so in the presence of ladies. You
know we are not interested in such things, because
we don't understand them at all, and we don't want
to understand them."

"I am talking with the chaplain . . . you are at
liberty to talk about your own feminine trash ..."

' ' Feminine trash, indeed ! How coarse you are ! I
must tell you frankly that your manners often are
very objectionable! Do not be offended with me, but
I make the observation for your own best good."

After luncheon Countess Schollendorf invited
Franka to accompany her to her room.

"Here we shall be quite undisturbed. . . . There
. . . now tell me what you have to say."

She had sunk down on her little sofa, near which
stood a small work-table. She took up her knitting,
for she was assiduous in her endeavors to provide the
village children with knitted or crocheted caps and
underwear. Franka took her seat in an armchair at
the other side of the table. She was visibly agitated.
Her mourning-gown accentuated the pallor of her
face, and her mouth trembled slightly. It was not so
easy for her to speak what was on her mind. To be
sure, she had for several days gone over what she
intended to say, and her intention was unshaken,
but now, when the moment had come, she felt a
certain awkwardness.

" Now let us have it. What is the matter with you ?

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You look quite disturbed, and at table you did not
speak a word . . . are you not quite well? You look
very pale. The way you dress your hair is not becom
ing to you . . . you must have it done in some other
way. When one has such a head of hair one should
wear it in braids, otherwise it looks disheveled."

"What I want to say to you, dear aunt, is this: I
am going to Vienna to-morrow and I intend to take
up my residence in my house on the Wieden and
manage my own housekeeping. I shall take of the
servants here only my maid; the rest may stay on
with you, as I am going to leave you in charge of the
Sielenburg so that you may manage it as long as you
wish, just as you have done."

Countess Schollendorf dropped the red woolen
jacket with its one completed sleeve into her lap.
She was speechless.

Franka, whose courage was gradually coming
back, continued : —

"The administration of my property I am put
ting into the hands of Dr. Fixstern, who has always
enjoyed my grandfather's perfect confidence, and
who made only one condition, that I should select a
second assistant to share with him the labor and
responsibility of this function."

"What does all this mean? Have you lost your
wits? I do not understand you . . . you propose to
go to Vienna . . . well, as far as I am concerned, I
can go there perfectly well. The winter here is very
gloomy. But, of course, this year I cannot take you
out into society, for we are both in mourning. We
should naturally take the servants with us — the

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cook and the coachman ; then only the castellan and
a couple of housemaids would stay here . . . but
leave all that to me."

" Excuse me, aunt. You did not understand me. I
have invited you to consider the Sielenburg as your
home."

"You — ... me? . . . invited?"

"Yes, for I intend to keep house in Vienna myself
and be my own mistress."

"You are going to live alone . . . you? A young
thing like you ... it is scandalous!"

"I am of age and perfectly independent, and I
know how to manage my own life in such a way that
no one will ever dare to apply the word ' scandalous '
to me."

"What audacious language!"

"I will speak with perfect frankness. I propose
to take charge of my own destiny. You lately ex
plained to me that I was to accept from your hands
a husband, a couple of lady friends, and also a little
pocket-money . . . but I intend to choose my own
husband or not marry at all ; and as to my friends I
shall be able to find them among those who have
been brought up as I was and who think as I think.
If we two should remain together, dear aunt, there
would be an endless unprofitable battle. You would
always be striving to remodel me, to educate me, to
lay down all kinds of restrictions, and to enforce all
sorts of commands; and I, on my side, should try to
resist this whole guardianship, to escape from it, —
and you would be vexed with me all the time, — in
short, it would be for both of us a life of bitterness.

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The separation cannot be painful to either of us, for I
was not brought up here — I belong to another world
of ideas, I have quite another view of life. We have
lived together for only six months, and in that time
neither of us has taken to the other; very often you
have been annoyed with me, and likewise my whole
nature has revolted against the attempted domineer
ing. In spite of our relationship, we are still stran
gers. As for the respect due to the sister of my
generous beloved grandfather, I shall certainly never
fail in that ..."

"You call this respect? I call it unheard-of
impudence."

"You see how little we understand each other."

" I shall certainly not remain in Sielenburg if you
arrogate to yourself the claim of being the mistress
and allow me to stay here as a favor."

"I am not arrogating ..." She stopped.

"You mean, you are the mistress, and I am your
guest? Thank you most humbly."

" No, aunt. I certainly said the Sielenburg should
be your home with all that it contains and all that
appertains to it, and I am ready to grant you the use
of it as long as you live — I mean for unrestricted
use, that is to say, with all the revenues that belong
to it ... by legal contract."

The old lady hesitated. That was an attractive
offer. For Franka herself she cared very little. Only
a short time before she had, so to speak, proposed
to expel her from the Sielenburg. She took up her
knitting again and mechanically took a few stitches.

"We will think it over," she said after a while.

CHAPTER VII
FRANKA'S SALON

WITH the aid of Dr. Fixstern and his wife, Franka
had established herself in the Vienna palace, hav
ing made first in the company of the doctor a trip
to Lower Austria and Carinthia for the purpose of
acquainting herself with her two other estates. The
castles there were fully as sumptuous and seigneurial
as Castle Sielenburg, even if not so comfortable and
homelike, and the reason for this was that its own
ers had always preferred Schloss Sielenburg, while
Grossmarkendorf and Hochberg generally stood
empty. The lands and industries belonging to them
were profitably rented, so that their administration
would not occasion any care to the possessor. The
fixed revenues were to be collected by the agent and
by him turned over to her. When Dr. Fixstern in
formed her of the amount of the income, she had to
suppress a cry of astonishment: so rich, so unbound
edly rich she was now!

"I must deserve it — I must be worthy of this
unheard-of good fortune — if I only knew how!"

She did not say that aloud. It was like a secret
burden of indebtedness which she had to carry
around with her. It would have to be paid — that
was absolutely certain. Meantime, during this jour
ney through her domains, she gave herself up to the

98

irresistibly joyful pride which the thought, "mine,
mine," is wont to arouse in any heart.

She found the Vienna palace in perfect order;
only a few slight alterations and refurnishings were
necessary to render comfortable and tasteful her
own suite of rooms. The domestics comprised the
major-domo, who had been connected with the
establishment for ten years, and his wife, who was
installed as housekeeper. Franka had brought her
own maid from the Sielenburg. The other servants
were new people. Franka had also engaged a com
panion. Her name was Eleonore von Rockhaus, the
daughter of a naval officer and the widow of a consul.
She had seen much of the world, and was a perfect
lady. Her age was about forty-five. Her hair was
just beginning to turn gray, but she had a youthfully
elastic figure, and delicate, friendly features ; she was
well read, almost an artist on the piano, an abso
lute mistress of French and English ; — in short, she
was a jewel of a companion and chaperon. Perhaps
also she would prove to be a genuine friend, but as
to that the future would tell. Provisionally, the two
ladies were somewhat reserved in their intercourse
. . . first of all, they had to learn to know each other.

Franka did not open her heart to Eleonore von
Rockhaus. What was beginning to become a fixed
idea — that the wealth lavished upon her as by a
gift of good fairies must be spent for some great pur
pose, that she herself must labor with her whole soul,
with all her energies, with all her gifts of body and
mind, so as to confer upon the world some advan
tage, some great blessing — this dream, as yet vague

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and unformulated, she did not confide to her com
panion. First she herself must go through a noviti
ate ; in other words, test herself, acquire more knowl
edge, look about her, clarify her thoughts. She
intended to question Helmer as to what reality
there was behind the visions which he outlined in
his letters. Yet even this she postponed. First she
desired to gain some experience from intercourse
with prominent men and women. To this end Dr.
Fixstern might be useful to her. As a highly re
spected lawyer, he had a wide circle of acquaint
ances, among them scientists, artists, statesmen, and
could bring the most interesting of them into the
Garlett palace. As for "Society," Franka had no
ambition at all. During the first year of mourning,
following her grandfather's death, that, as well as
attendance at concerts and theaters, would naturally
be out of question ; but besides, she felt no desire for
it: she knew that it might divert her from the serious
sacred duties to which she had consecrated herself,
although without having as yet settled in her own
mind what they should be.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon. The two
ladies had come in from their daily walk in the Pra
ter and were sitting in the little salon. A cheering
warmth and a rosy glow radiated from the gas-log;
the electric lights had not been turned on. It was
pleasanter to rest and chat in the twilight.

"It is delicious here," said Frau von Rockhaus,
leaning back in the comfortable armchair. "I look
forward with dismay to the time, probably not very

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distant, when you will be getting married and will no
longer need me."

"I am not contemplating being married — at
least, not for some time yet. ... I like my freedom.
Were you happy in your marriage, Frau Eleonore?"

" Not so very. My husband played me false with
the most exotic women. Besides, he was quarrel
some and very arbitrary. And yet, I liked him well
enough. That was unfortunate, because for that
very reason I was tormented with jealousy and suf
fered from his stern and cold behavior."

"That seems to me the most terrible thing: an
unloving or an unloved husband. I would only
marry when I was certain that I loved the man with
my whole heart, only when I knew that he was not
after my money — but how can one know that?
And then, besides, I cannot possibly marry yet
awhile : I must remain my own mistress in order to
accomplish a certain task."

"A task? What?"

"Oh, no matter — I am not talking about it as
yet."

"The first and most important duty which a per
son, especially a young and pretty girl, has to ful
fill is to be happy. Besides, what can a woman un
dertake and accomplish by herself? Of course, if we
lived in England, you might become a Suffragette or
join the Salvation Army, but here in Vienna? There
would be a chance for you to join one of the la
dies' committees in some charity organization, or to
meander down into the slums and distribute harm
less gifts, or catechise the children of the suburbs;

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

our circle of activities is so narrow ! Only indirectly
can we acquire any influence in public affairs, or even
help direct the course of history — I mean when we
exert power over some powerful man!"

"And what profitable work can this influential
individual do, according to your idea?"

"Heavens! that I can't tell. Commonly she will
have to secure high positions for her friends or ..."

" Certainly," interrupted Franka ; " commonly one
does the common thing. But I am thinking of some
thing different. . . . Play to me, Frau Eleonore ; it is
so lovely to hear music in the twilight."

Frau von Rockhaus went to the grand piano.
"What shall it be? Also something out of the
ordinary?"

"Yes, 'Isoldens Liebestod,' please."

A moment later the sweet, passion-swept chords
were floating through the room. Franka closed her
eyes. She breathed deeply. What she felt was a sort
of anguish, for it was a longing, and, to tell the truth,
a longing not for something out of the ordinary, but
for the simplest and most commonplace thing which
even the simplest and most commonplace maiden
heart desires — Love ! Yet what kind of a person
must he be, should she ever meet him — the man
who should be her Tristan?

She roused herself from her dreaming. "No, no,"
she said to herself as she had just said aloud : " I must
remain my own mistress."

Indeed, there was not a single young man in her
whole circle of acquaintance to whom she felt drawn,
and, besides, she had no business to be wishing and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

seeking for such a one ... all her thoughts and feel
ings must be concentrated on the task that hovered
before her.

The servant announced a caller. Frau Eleonore
left the piano and turned on the electric lights. A
second visitor followed the first, and then a third,
and, before long, a little circle was gathered around
Franka. Dr. Fixstern had brought to her a number
of distinguished personages, just as she had wished
— people who either had written successful books,
or had played leading parts in parliament, or had
delivered popular courses of lectures at the univer
sity, or who were famous as artists. There were also
a few ministers of state and foreign diplomats. In
short, Franka had good reason to expect that the
conversation in her drawing-room would be most
lively and interesting: discussions of learned topics,
alternating with witty anecdotes and edifying ob
servations. Yet she was gradually led to discover
that the conversational capacity of society does not
reach such a high level. Occasionally, indeed, stir
ring talk may occur in a salon, but only about as
frequently as oases in a desert; the average conver
sation consists of sand and simooms, for even choice
spirits sink down to the banal ground of ordinary
topics, especially when in a larger circle of merely
casual acquaintances: the weather, the latest the
atrical gossip, the sensational news sprung in the
morning papers, mingled with still tamer questions
and comments on health, projects of travel, and the
like. And then it is impossible to form a circle of
nothing but prominent people. There will always

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

be an intermixture of cordially futile Nobodies. One
cannot post on the front door the notice: "Admit
tance only for Somebodies!"

Now this afternoon the talk began to take a very
interesting direction.

A distinguished dramatic author was telling about
certain foreign colleagues whom he had met during a
summer journey, and he was relating in his cleverest
way characteristic anecdotes about their peculiari
ties. But first he was to describe the individuality
of the most original of the present day — Bernard
Shaw. He was interrupted by the arrival of new
callers: Miss Albertine von Beck and the Baroness
Rinski.

Not very agreeably surprised, Franka went to
meet the new guests.

"You, dear Aunt Albertine?"

" I came to Vienna for a few days, and so of course
I came to see you, and I am bringing with me a
friend who is very desirous of making your acquaint
ance."

The Baroness Rinski was a little elderly lady of
unprepossessing appearance. Her name was not
unknown to Franka; she had frequently seen it in
the social columns of the papers among the person
ages who stand at the head of various charitable
organizations.

" I begged my friend to bring me to you, my dear
Miss Garlett, as I place great hopes on your aid."

"If I had known that you were entertaining so
many this afternoon," said Albertine, "we should
have come at another hour. I also have a message

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

from Aunt Adele. But you do not look particularly
well," she added in her most benevolent tone of
voice.

"Please, come with me, aunt, and you also,
Baroness, — here we can talk undisturbed"; and
she led the two ladies to the remotest end of the
salon. This seemed preferable to introducing the
two ladies into the circle of the others; they could
continue listening to the revelations concerning
Bernard Shaw while she sacrificed herself to her new
visitors. She certainly felt that she was a martyr as
she sat down with the two and tried to be gracious.

"Well, what word did my great-aunt send to me? "

"She sends you her greeting. I think she is a very
good woman — she no longer seems to be offended
with you."

"But why should she be offended with me?"

"Well, if you will permit me to say so — for the
way you got rid of us all. . . . But we will not talk
about that now. Adele wanted me to tell you that
you must come and visit her at Sielenburg — it
would please her."

"Thank you. Perhaps I will, next spring." And,
turning to the baroness, she said: "What do you
wish I should help you about, Baroness?"

You must not disappoint her, Franka," suggested
Albertine. "If you do what the Baroness Rinski is
going to ask you, it will be for your own great ad
vantage. You need something to occupy you and
give you some object in life, something that will
turn your great property to a good purpose."

Franka concealed her vexation. She had thought
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

that she was going to rid herself entirely of the
Sielenburg protectorate, and now it was cropping up
again. She could easily imagine what secret design
the Baroness Rinski cherished. She had no objection
to devoting large sums to charitable ends and she
had already done much in that direction ; yet on this
score she preferred to act in accordance with her own
judgment and her own impulse, and not after the
prescription of others, and she certainly did not wish
to be drawn into the game of charity as she hap
pened to know it was played by the baroness. As a
student of social economic literature under the wise
direction of her father, she had won too deep an
insight into the causes and the ramifications of hu
man misery, not to know that if she spent her whole
property in alms, it would be only a drop on a hot
stone. The lever must be applied in a very different
place, in order to eradicate the evil.

The little baroness took a few printed documents
out of her hand-bag. "See, my dear young lady, here
are the yearly reports of various societies on whose
boards I serve." And she began with great volubility
to describe the blessings afforded by these associa
tions for the rescue of babies, the protection of the
young, the guardianship of maidservants, and the
care of elderly persons; and she wanted Franka to
enroll herself as a patroness and undertake the office
of president of a new society for providing food for
needy school-children.

"There is nothing," she said in conclusion, "noth
ing which can better build a golden stair up to
heaven than beneficence. And even here below one

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

gains recognition by it; and even if one does not
belong to high society, it affords an opportunity to
meet with ladies of high standing, and one may even
expect to obtain the ' Elizabeth Order ' of the third
class."

Franka laughed and shook her head. " I am afraid
that there is danger of slipping off the heavenly
stairs if one has at the same time an eye for such
earthly things. However, Baroness, send me the
subscription-list of your associations — I will gladly
put my name down according to my ability, but I will
not accept any offices."

"Oh, I hope that I shall be able to change your
mind."

Visitors taking their leave and the arrival of
others, whose names were announced, rescued
Franka. She was obliged to get up and abandon her
place between the two ladies in order to devote her
self to the departing and to the new-coming guests.
The Baroness Rinski put her documents back into
the bag: "Come, Albertine, we will call on your
niece at another time, when she is alone. Let us say
good-bye now."

Franka made no effort to detain them and accom
panied them to the door. "Well, I shall look for the
lists."

In the mean time the dramatic author had con
cluded his interesting anecdotes about the brilliant
British author, and the conversation had become
general, and was turning on the most unfortunate of
all subjects: Austrian politics; the German-Bohe
mian linguistic disputes, Hungarian confusions and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

disorders, trade compacts and frontier obstructions,
new tariffs and increased prices, and all in a tone of
complaint and lamentation, such as is generally used
when great calamities or great crimes are discussed,
as if the whole activity of the municipality, of the
Parliament, and of the State consisted in accom
plishing as much harm and causing as much discon
tent as possible. Franka said to herself: " If Cousin
Coriolan were present, he would know of two sim
ple means of relief: to expel the Jews and establish
absolutism."

"Yes, you see, gentlemen and ladies," said a little
stout man with shining eyeglasses and equally shin
ing forehead which extended over to the back of his
neck, "this is the way things stand ..."

The others listened excitedly, for the speaker was
a highly respected publicist, who, as was well known,
enjoyed the confidence of influential political cir
cles — in other words, of the ministers of internal
and external affairs.

"We have reached a great crisis in the history
of our country. Everything which you have been
lamenting and criticizing is in reality in a very
wretched condition. The dissensions among the
nationalities, the passion for independence on the
part of the Transleithan population, the dangers
from the Irredentists, the activities of the Socialists,
the quarrel over confession, and God knows what
else — are things which make it seem as if we were a
thoroughly disunited and crumbling state; and so
many elements unfavorable to us or watching for
our inheritance may be supposed to be all ready to

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

do us harm ; and yet it has been already proved by
the crisis in the Balkans that we are nevertheless a
proud, brave, first-class power ; proud of our strength
and brave to the last degree; and that all petty in
ternal quarrels will disappear when necessity arises
to affirm ourselves against outside encroachments.
Thus we have compelled respect . . . with our con
stituted power we have proved that we can act, that
we can take hold together, that we will not allow
ourselves to be moved by international tribunals and
conferences, because we are ready to defend our
rights, — or, if you please, our ' bon plaisir ' — with
guns and ships. In presence of this resolute atti
tude, all the intrigues weaving against us went to
smash. It came near war, I know that; the men on
the General Staff were at fever heat to strike . . . the
population was enthusiastic, ready for every sacri
fice . . . and because our ally showed himself re
solved to stand by us to the ultimate consequences,
but especially because we were so firm and ener
getic, we won — and that, too, without drawing the
sword. Now it is our duty to solidify this position
which we have acquired as a first-class power, if pos
sible to make it still stronger, still more unassail
able — we must build dreadnoughts. Perhaps this
sounds harsh at a time when all sorts of peace fads
are taking possession of people, but of course only
among those who understand nothing of politics and
its modernest phases, among those who do not know
that this phase is imperialism. Unscrupulousness is
the key to a strong policy. Self-consciousness and
the development of force — that is necessary if one

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is not to be crushed, if one is to have a voice in the
council of the nations. ... But I beg the pardon of
the ladies, and particularly of our gracious hostess,
for having touched on a theme in which fortunately
ladies are not interested. There is scarcely any
thing more repulsive than women who meddle with
politics."

Franka felt a sense of suffocation in her throat and
a bitter taste in her mouth. The tone and the spirit
of the political speech to which she had just listened
were, indeed, detestable to her. She might have con
tradicted what he said ; for her father had been living
at the time of that crisis to which the imperialistic
publicist referred, and he had closely followed the
course of events and talked with her about them.
She knew that the populace, during the hasty and
secret mobilization, was the opposite of enthusiastic;
she knew that the war so eagerly desired in high
military circles was not allowed to break out for the
reason that the Emperor Franz Josef opposed it,
that peace was maintained — not from fear of the
united bayonets of the central states, but because
the other powers desired to avoid a European war
and by continual yielding removed all the difficul
ties that pointed to an ultimatum. Franka might
have said all this, but she controlled herself and
replied : —

"You need not ask pardon, Doctor; perfect free
dom of thought and of expression reigns here."

At this point some of those present took their
departure, and after a short time the rest followed,
and Franka was left alone with her companion. She

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

felt depressed — a sense of loneliness and isolation
and unprotectedness overtook her, which is espe
cially sad when it comes over one not in actual
solitude, but as the aftermath of social inter
course.

CHAPTER VIII

THE OUTLINES OF A GREAT PLAN

THE next day Franka asked Dr. Fixstern what had
become of the ring that her grandfather had left to
Herr Helmer . . . whether it had been as yet de
livered. Dr. Fixstern replied that the jewel was still
in his possession.

"Then please give it to me and write Mr. Helmer
to come here; I should like to hand him his legacy
myself."

A few days later, Franka chanced to be alone,
Frau Eleonore having gone out to make some pur
chases, and was again engaged in turning over the
leaves of her father's notebooks, when Chlodwig
Helmer was announced.

"Miss Garlett, you sent for me?"

"Yes, Mr. Helmer. I wanted to see you. . . . Will
you not come nearer? ... I have something to put
into your hands."

She went to her writing-table where the box with
the ring was lying. "You see, my grandfather in
tended this for you as a remembrance, and I felt it
important to deliver it to you myself."

Franka spoke with a rather unsteady voice, for
she was conscious that she was not speaking the
absolute truth. She did not regard the personal
transfer of the ring as so important, and what had
been the motive of her summoning the young man

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had been the wish — it was almost a longing — for
his presence, as if she might find in him a refuge, a
support, a defense! He who cherished ideas very
similar to those that were expressed in those note
books — he who had, so to speak, uttered his com
mand to do the "something great" for which her
inmost being yearned — he might be able to show
her the way. . . .

Helmer took the ring and put it on his finger.
"This will always be a doubly cherished remem
brance — I had a very high regard for Count Sielen.
He was a dear man, a noble mind . . . and that you,
yourself, Fraulein Franka . . ." he hesitated.

" Come, let us sit down and talk about my grand
father. You knew him much longer than I did."

The conversation stretched out for half an hour
without Franka's being able to muster courage to
direct it to the subject which was uppermost in her
mind. They talked about the late count, about the
life at the Sielenburg, about what had happened
since that time, but not a word was said about what
both were thinking. Each was regarding and study
ing the other as they talked, and each might have
observed that their thoughts were not on what they
were saying.

Franka's eyes rested inquisitively on Chlodwig —
had he written the letters or not? His exterior ap
pearance seemed changed; was he unprepossessing?
Had she ever really thought him so? And yet cer
tainly no one could call him handsome; his clean
shaven face was too lean, his chin too long, his lips
too thin ; but if he was decidedly not handsome, his

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

features were certainly interesting. Franka also no
ticed something which she had not observed at
Sielenburg: Chlodwig had particularly expressive
hands — narrow, white, well cared for, not at all
effeminately soft — on the contrary, quite power
ful; and everything which their possessor said was
emphasized by these hands with quick and pecu
liarly vivacious gestures; these were aristocratic
hands, full of character.

Chlodwig also contemplated his companion.
Franka seemed to him slightly altered. The some
what childlike expression which had formerly char
acterized her features, and which even now came
evanescently into them when she smiled, had given
way to a more serious and energetic expression —
she seemed to him more womanly, more mature.
• After half an hour Chlodwig got up: "I fear
that I have stayed too long. Accept my thanks
again, Fraulein Franka, and permit me to say good
bye."

"No, no, sit down again; I have something else
that I want to talk with you about."

Helmer obeyed. A short pause ensued.

Franka was trying to find the right words to begin
with. Then with sudden resolution: "Did you write
me two letters?"

Chlodwig's cheeks grew red as fire. "Yes," he
answered.

"I knew it."

"Forgive the form which ..."

"Never mind the form; the substance is im
portant to me. You gave me some advice — you

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

almost laid down the law, and I should like to do
what you demand of me ; only you must say what . . .
how! I must become great, at least, attempt to do
something great. What do you consider me capable
of doing? What do you consider great? Instead of
vague words, I desire to hear from you some definite,
tangible, feasible scheme."

Chlodwig's eyes beamed with delight. "Really,
you will ..."

"Yes. An enormous property has fallen into my
possession . . . that pledges me . . . what ought I to
do, what can I do, apart from so-called charity?"

"What can you do? In order to answer that, I
must know you better, Miss Franka; I must measure
the flying capacity of your soul. The young girl to
whom I wrote was more a vision of my fancy than of
my experience. What do I know of your real nature,
of your views, of your ideals, your powers?"

"I believe I have the same ideals as you have,
Mr. Helmer; otherwise your letters would not have
awakened an echo in my soul — and as to my
views?" She took up from the table the notebooks
in which she had just been reading and handed them
to Helmer. "Glance over these notes . . . they are
extracts from the thoughts of my father and in
structor, who tried to form me after his own model.
You will find ideas and expressions like those in your
own letters. And, look, these are my favorite books."
She directed his attention to a book-rack which hung
on the wall behind her writing-table. "They came
from my father's library, and they are the fountains
from which he nourished my mind. My father's

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ideas and yours are in accordance — so, Chlodwig
Helmer, in spirit we are brother and sister ..."

At this moment Frau Eleonore entered the room
without knocking. She had several packages in her
hands: "Here I am, dear Franka. Forgive me if I
was gone too long ..."

The two others both thought simultaneously,
"Not long enough!"

Franka introduced her caller. Frau Eleonore
shook hands with him and then began to undo her
packages. "Please look, dear Franka, and see if
these are the right kind."

Helmer in the mean time was doing as he had
been bidden: he glanced through the notebooks
and examined the volumes. Then he came back to
Franka and said : —

"May I go now? As soon as you send me word, I
will be at your service again."

"And will you give me the answer which I desired
just now? I mean that concrete plan ..."

"Will you permit me, in the mean time to lay
before you in writing, not the whole plan, but only
the sketch of it, in broad lines?"

"As you please . . . that will make the third letter
in my collection. Very good, then, I will expect the
broad lines. The details afterwards, by word of
mouth. Auf wiedersehen, Herr Helmer!"

"Who is that young man?" asked Frau Eleonore,
after the door had closed behind Chlodwig.

"A signpost at the crossing of the ways."

"What? I did not understand you."

"It is not necessary."

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"Not a suitor — I hope?"
''No, Godforfend!"

Franka was not kept waiting long for Chlodwig's
letter. She opened it with eagerness and read : —

The third letter in the collection. So, then, it must be
written in the same tone as the first and the second —
from soul to soul. I will not begin with the formal
"Gnadiges Fraulein" . . . that expression we will leave
for verbal intercourse, but with "Franka" again, and the
confidential "Du." We are brother and sister in spirit —
you said so, yourself.

Now, then, — the plan in broad outline: you ought to
be the proclaimer of a women's gospel — the field-
marshal of a feminine crusade of conquest. Mankind
from now on is facing mighty tasks which it can accom
plish only when its two halves grasp and fulfill these tasks.
"All hands on deck" is the cry at sea at critical moments,
and when the ship "Mankind" is staggering on moun
tainous billows, then all hands must be at their posts.
My conviction that we are now, at this very moment, at
the beginning of a fateful revolution is founded on the
unheard-of marvel: a man can fly! His artificial wings
have conquered the tempest! His war-cry must hence
forth be "Up and away!" in all fields of activity. Active
service in the heights devolves upon him, and woman is
not exempted from this duty of service. The awakening
call must rouse her also, and I look upon you as the one
to give the alarm.

Perhaps you imagine that I am asking you to become a
militant feminist, to form a new Women's Union and join
your forces with the already widespread, and to a certain
extent successful, endeavors to gain for women the right
to play the same part in the academic and political arena
as men do. As a goal the doctor's cap, public offices,
"Votes for Women." This movement may go its own

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way. I have no notion of putting any limit to it. But
what I have in mind is something quite different — the
new woman is not to strive for the masculine positions
and functions in the State which we men have created
for ourselves; not the appropriation of those masculine
qualities which are required for the political game as we
men play it; least of all, the attainment of the privilege of
libertinism, in accordance with which we men live; but
she is to help in the construction of a State, of a political
machine, of a manner of life, worthy of noble women
sharing in it.

To this end, in the first place, it behooves women not to
stand aloof; not to remain in ignorance of the machinery
of the State, of the complicated intrigues and hidden wires
of politics, of the laws which rule economic and social
life. Secondly, they must cultivate to their richest flower
ing the virtues that are regarded as specifically feminine,
— kindness, purity, tenderness, — so that when they
enter public life, this also may be permeated with those
qualities. They will serve an ethical State — they will
practice ethical politics. They will then be the most de
voted colleagues to those men who even now are setting
up an ethical ideal for State and politics, and who are
attacking the firmly intrenched error, that State and poli
tics stand on the other side of morals, — a fatal error — for
it is responsible for the condition of ignorance, of enmity,
and of barbarism from which poor humanity has up to the
present been suffering. To be sure, it has already made con
siderable progress — though slowly — from that aboriginal
barbarism ; the domain of security and solidarity has grad
ually been enlarged. But this " gradually " can no longer
satisfy us to-day, when the electric spark can be flashed
from the Eiffel Tower to the Statue of Liberty. To crawl
forward, to climb up — that no longer belongs to our age,
now that we have learned to mount on wings. Up yonder
we need no winged devils to scatter melinite on our habi
tations ; our greatest haste is to become human : — there
fore, "All hands on deck!" Therefore, whoever feels him-

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self under a pledge to accomplish something great must
trumpet forth the alarm to awaken all the powers of rea
son and good will that are still slumbering.

And in what way, Franka, do I feel sure you are bound
to summon your sisters? By taking part in the Woman
Movement? That I have already answered in the nega
tive. By means of a book? Alas! how few read books!
No, through the living word, through the magic, the mag
netism, of personality, the might of individual enthusi
asm. I see you standing on the platform, your "Wal-
kiiren" fire under control of maidenly dignity, worshipful
as a priestess, glorified like a seeress . . .

Let me tell you : I .was still a very young boy when I
received a deep and overpowering impression from such
a priestly speaker, but who was not a priest, — he was a
soldier, — Moritz von Egidy, a Prussian colonel of hus
sars. He had begun by writing a book, called "Earnest
Thoughts," and at the same time they were free thoughts.
That was not regarded as compatible with discipline and
he was obliged to resign from the army. His leading mo
tive was: "Religion not as a part of our life, but our life as
religion." What he meant by religion was nothing dog
matic, only ethical. He had attained that idea by earnest
thoughts, and he proposed to bring his contemporaries to
a similar view by earnest willing! In almost all the Ger
man cities he gave public addresses with unexampled suc
cess. The largest halls in which he spoke were packed to
suffocation and thundered with sympathetic applause.

The effect was tremendous. Soon Egidy congregations
began to be formed. But all too quickly he was struck
down by death. What he thought, what he preached, —
never in an unctuous, clerical tone, but with the military
voice of command, — I need not tell you here. I only
wished to bring him up as an example — for such is the
kind of work which it seems to me you ought to under
take: teacher, leader, prophetess, you must be! Unend
ingly rich can be the blessing flowing from your activity.

I imagine this influence as simply overpowering. You
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would be the first and only person who ever came forward
in such a way. Never before was there a young maiden
who attempted such a thing, and the magic of youth and
beauty will magnify tenfold the might of personal magnet
ism. Your great property and your position in the world
will give you the opportunity of carrying out your scheme
without any material difficulty — you can engage the
largest hall in every city — entrance free to every one . . .
off the stage you will appear the great lady that you are.

Independent, beyond criticism, famous (you would be
famous in the very shortest time), — admired and hon
ored, you would be able everywhere to gather around
you the heads of society and there use your influence.
You yourself would grow by your own work — the higher
you try to fly, the greater will be your ability to use your
wings, and the traces of your spirit will be visible in the
moral progress of this generation and of those to come.
I do not say this to stimulate your ambition, but to
strengthen your spirit of sacrifice, for I know already that
your desire is to accomplish something noble, and to do
that, you must be prepared for many troubles and must
renounce much. Like the Maid of Orleans, you must
crush your own impulses and desires under your coat of
mail. For if you should give your heart and hand to any
man, it would be all up with your independence. And,
moreover, even if your chosen one should admit of your
independence, it would be all up with the magic influence.
For at least a decade you ought to devote yourself
entirely to your task.

You cannot begin immediately, not to-morrow. You
must have some time for preparation, for growth, for
study. A quiet novitiate before the dedication; and
because your position conditions your prestige, you must
first make your position solid. You must win the respect
of high society; you must win general admiration and
consideration. At your very first appearance on the plat
form, it must be known, to all the city and to the world,
that the person who is going to deliver the lecture is the

1 20

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

celebrated and beautiful young heiress of the Count
Sielen's estates, honored because of her generous expen
ditures and reputed to have refused many advantageous
offers ; — then the hall for the very first time will be taken
by storm. And in order that the technical side be not
neglected, you must have taken instruction in the art of
elocution, in the modulating of your voice.

I have finished. I have really done more than lay down
the outlines of the plan — I have also indicated some of
the details.

Now you can test yourself; you can demand of your
desires, of your conscience, whether a way has been indi
cated and whether you will follow it.

CHAPTER IX
FRANKA'S DEBUT AND CAREER

FRANKA read the letter over a second and a third
time — then she let it sink into her lap and fell into
deep thoughts. She was sitting alone in her sleeping-
room; on the table before her stood the breakfast-
tray, and beside it her mail, as yet untouched. In
the stove a cheerful fire was burning: the windows,
through which could be seen the trees of the garden
behind the palace, were open and warm sunbeams
came laughing in, for it was already springtime.
There was occasionally a cool breath of air, full of
that spring fragrance which does not come from
violets, but suggests violets. Such a breath fans in
young hearts the fire of longing — longing for the
joys of life.

Franka stood up, still holding the letter in her
hand, and went to the window. She looked down
into the garden ; it was not large, and behind the still
leafless trees could be seen the walls and roofs of the
houses beyond . . .

"How lovely it must be now in my parks and
forests," thought Franka. Nothing would prevent
her from journeying to them. A sense of pride in
possession and of joyous freedom swelled her heart.
The world lay open before her . . . how easily, how
freely might she not pluck all the blossoms of enjoy
ment. But she flung these thoughts away from her.

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"To accomplish something great" — that was her
task, that was the aim, held up as a command be
fore her conscience, and now she had in her hands
what she wanted — a concrete programme, a defi
nite way.

There were men in the world — there was one
man — who regarded her with confidence and
esteem, who had such a high idea of her that he
believed she might be an apostle, a leader . . . oh, if
that only might be, if only she had the strength, the
courage, and the fire to carry others along with her,
to lift them up! And like an electric shock there
flashed through her that lightning of the will which
bears the name of resolve: "Yes, I will do it!"

She stepped from the window and stood in front of
her great pier-glass as if to strengthen her resolution
by means of a vow spoken in presence of herself.
The mirror reflected a lovely picture. The tall,
graceful, maidenly figure, clasped in the folds of
a soft, white cashmere morning-gown, the head
crowned by a heavy diadem of braids and proudly
thrown back, the cheeks brilliantly colored, the
dark-red lips slightly parted and showing the
gleaming white teeth: so she stood for a little while,
and then she repeated the sentence aloud again:
"Yes, I will do it!"

Franka went to her desk and wrote a line or two,
then she rang for her maid: "Send this dispatch
immediately." The telegram was addressed to
Chlodwig Helmer and ran: " I expect you to-day for
a further talk."

Frau Eleonore entered the room: "Not yet
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

dressed, dear Franka? And we have such a busy
day before us ! Look — I have jotted everything
down: at eleven o'clock the betrothal-service of the
Archduchess — we have cards admitting us to the
Augustiner Church ; then Drecoll expects you to try
on three dresses — that will take at least two hours.
There is the reception of the eight lady artists at
Pisco's — you promised to go, and we must be sure
to see the exhibition of flowers at the Botanical
Society — to-day is the last day. It is also Baroness
Rinski's jour; then . . ."

"Shut up your notebook — I am not going out
at all. I am expecting a caller. All that you have
told me seems to me so trivial, so trivial . . . Frau
Eleonore, I am at the turning-point of my life ..."

"You are to be married! ... I ought to have
been prepared for it, but it is a hard blow for
me."

"No. I am not to be married. Yet, would that
affect you so?"

"Of course, because you would not need my serv
ices any longer."

" I shall need you more than ever. ... I want you
to accompany me on my journeys."

"What journeys?"

"I will explain it all to you later. Meanwhile I
will ask you to give orders that I am at home to no
one, absolutely no one, with the exception of Mr.
Helmer."

"That is an extraordinary order — what will your
servants think. Especially this Mr. Helmer. ... I
wanted to tell you, the other day, when I found you

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

t£te-a-tete with him, that it is not at least very good
form for you to . . ."

"Frau Eleonore," interrupted Franka, "I look on
you as my companion — a very pleasant companion

— who may very possibly become my friend — but
not a governess, please!"

Frau Eleonore bit her lips. "Pardon me! Older
people always believe themselves justified in giving
younger ones advice on the ground of their experi
ence — it is a bad habit."

It was late in the afternoon when Helmer was an
nounced. He had been away, and consequently had
not received the telegram in time. Franka was
beginning to grow impatient. She sat in her little
salon; Frau Eleonore was reading to her from the
evening paper, but Franka did not listen. If only
Chlodwig would come soon.

When the footman announced her caller, her heart
fluttered as if she were expecting a lover. But she
was not in love. Helmer seemed to her only as the
director of her future career ; he was not only going
to point out the way, but also to make it smooth for
her, support her first steps. And then that kinship in
ideas! Among all the strangers, among these indif
ferent people in whose midst she had lived since her
father's death, this was one person allied to her, a
fellow-countryman from the home region of her soul

— actually a brother; and therefore her heart was
drawn toward him.

"Ask him to come in," said she to the footman;
and then, turning to her companion, she said:
"Remain here, but please do not interrupt with a

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

word or a question while we are talking; later you
will know all about it."

Chlodwig entered. He also was inwardly much
agitated. He had not expected that Franka would
so speedily accept his proposition. He was, there
fore, filled with pride and delight at the thought of
it ; and beneath it all there was also a vague sense of
being in love, yet without passion and without ex
pectation. When he first saw her, his imagination had
been somewhat kindled by her beauty, but never had
he gone to the extent of thinking that it was within
the bounds of possibility for him to win her ; still less
since she had become a millionairess. And now that
she desired to devote herself to the vestal consecra
tion of a great service, she seemed to him absolutely
removed from the domain of love and marriage.

He drew nearer: "You sent for me, gnadiges
Fraulein."

The presence of the stranger disturbed him.
Franka noticed it. She asked him to sit down.

" We can talk without constraint. My friend must
be initiated into all my plans — she will accompany
me on my tournees. And now, how am I to begin?"

Helmer paused to consider. "The first step," he
said after a little while, "is the engagement of
an elocution teacher. The technical side must be
conquered. After that one may get the mastery of
the ideal side. Frau von Rockhaus will get the
notion," said he, in a different tone of voice, "that
you are intending to go on the stage if she hears us
talking of tournees and elocution masters. And yet
how far, how high above that, stands our plan!

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

What you propose to accomplish is related to the art
of acting — however noble that may be — as the
Zeppelin stands above a wheelbarrow."

"Your thoughts move much in the upper regions
of the air, Mr. Helmer."

"Yes, Miss Franka, the conquest of this element
gave me the impulse to my poetry and my aspira
tions, and this thought must also serve as the
foundation of your work."

"What is your poetry? What are your aspira
tions?"

Helmer explained. His poetry was not to be
understood merely in a figurative sense; he was
actually writing poetry ! He told of the books which
he had already written and those which he had in
mind to write. Above all, the great epic " Pinions."
And as he in eloquent, fiery words explained the
meaning and purpose of this poem, and recited some
of the lines, out of these words a light fell on Franka
as to the meaning of the work which lay before her.
The conversation lasted nearly two hours. The
plan was discussed alternately in its details and then
in its great outlines — lines lost in sublime dis
tances, where to-day Franka's spiritual eyes for the
first time penetrated.

It had struck eight o'clock. Helmer was on the
point of taking his departure.

"No, no," cried Franka, "now you must have
supper with us — informally — just we three alone.
Please, Frau Eleonore, you are sitting near the bell,
ring for supper to be served. You poor creature
must be all used up by silently listening to all these

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

wonderful things. You need something to strengthen
you, and so do we two."

"Uff!" exclaimed Frau von Rockhaus as she
touched the bell, and after she had given the order
to the servant, "Supper for three," she again uttered
her "Uff!" adding, it was high time and ten minutes
more had turned her crazy.

Franka laughed: "Did you understand what we
were talking about?"

"Well, yes, fairly well. Mr. Helmer wants to
build a new flying-machine. You are going to fly up
into the air, and from up there deliver addresses —
and so you need to have lessons in declamation. You
will not touch upon the right of 'Women to vote,'
but you will make the whole sex mobile so that they
can carry on their activities somewhere in the upper
regions. Then, there is to be a circuit through the
German cities — or is it through an epic in ten
books? — tending to introduce a new civilization;
and the requisites for this simple scheme are as far
as I could make out — air-propellers, moral search
lights and a Valkyrie's horse."

Chlodwig laughed heartily, so heartily that
Franka listened in surprise; she had never heard him
laugh so before. It sounded so merry, so boyish, so
entirely different from what might have been ex
pected from that serious man who had just been
talking with her on the gravest of world-problems —
a man whom she had judged, particularly from his
behavior on the Sielenburg and from the tone of his
letters, and also from the thoughtful expression of
his face, to be rather inclined to melancholy.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Now all three were in the most cheerful mood, and
during the little supper not a word further was said
about the serious plans for the future; the jesting
tone that had been hit upon was preserved through
out; several times again, though more quietly, rang
out Helmer's characteristic laugh with its golden
ring of genuine merriment, and Franka was filled
with a sense of perfect ease and enjoyment, which
was doubly agreeable after the preceding strain of
intellectual excitement ; at the same time she realized
that her confidence in her brotherly young friend was
growing stronger — only a good, pure-minded man
laughs like that.

After ten months of industrious study, Franka
felt prepared to begin her career. She had also ac
cepted Chlodwig's advice to go through all the books
of which he had furnished a list; these brought her
into touch with the history and present condition of
all the great questions stirring the world, and she
made him explain to her his standpoint in these
matters.

The result of this period of study was not merely
that she proved to be a good pupil who had passed
through her course creditably and was capable of
understanding and correctly rendering the ideas of
other people ; but during this period of preparation a
thousand original thoughts had arisen in her mind
and the material she had stored up put out further
blossoms ; views, convictions, aspirations were gath
ered, which grew so imperious that she felt inspired,
nay, compelled, to share them with others, to com-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

pel others to adopt them. What lay before her — at
least, so it seemed to her proud consciousness — was
more than a great duty — it was a mission.

"A Word to Young Girls" was the title of her
first lecture, and this title was to be seen in gigantic
letters on placards posted in every nook and corner
of Vienna. Above it was printed: "Great Music-
Union Hall, Sunday, January 15. Seven o'clock
in the evening. Admission free." And below it:
"Speaker: Franka Garlett."

The sensation in Vienna society was immense. . . .
What! that pretty Fraulein Garlett, Vienna's richest
heiress, she who had refused so many offers of mar
riage, who had been so generous in her charities, who
had gathered about her so many of the distinguished
men of the city, who had won universal admiration
for her charm of manner, her simplicity and her
loveliness — was she coming out as a public speaker?
On what subject? Why? People cudgeled their
brains, and were somewhat scandalized at such a
thing! The idea was certainly quixotic! Was there
no one in the noble family of Sielen to put a stop to
such an absurdity? And what was she going to say
to the young girls? Possibly preach emancipation?
Advocate a doctor's career? Equal suffrage? — or
perhaps — free love ! Certainly these things did not
agree at all with her whole personality. But one
must be ready to expect anything from a person who
suddenly comes out on the platform — no one would
ever have thought her capable of that!

The public came in crowds. Helmer had seen to it
that the lecture was well advertised in the newspa-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

pers, and the fact that it came on a Sunday, and was
free, assured a large audience. The first two rows
and a few boxes were reserved for invited guests.

Long before the stated hour, the hall was packed
to overflowing and the entrances had to be closed.
Franka was waiting in the artists' room for the signal
to begin. Frau Eleonore, Dr. Fixstern, and Helmer
were in attendance on her. Her cheeks were pale,
for the terrible phantom which so delights in haunt
ing artists' rooms and the scenes of theaters, — a
cousin of it is often found in the waiting-room of
dentists, — stage-fright, le trac, "footlight-fever," or
whatever the thing is called, had seized her throat.
The others tried to encourage her — a perfectly use
less attempt, which brings forth a still broader grin
on the face of the phantom. Now, really, it was no
little thing to step out for the first time in one's
life and deliver a lecture before so many thousand
people !

"O my dear friends, I am frightened at the mere
idea of standing on the platform so alone with the
abyss before me!"

"Think of 'soaring,'" said Chlodwig; "think of
Bldriot, who also was alone — high up between
heaven and the sea, apparently motionless, lost in
the universe."

"And do you believe that I should not be panic-
stricken up there? Oh, if I could only be in my room
— if I were not obliged to go out before all those
strangers, perhaps hostile to me . . ."

"But, Franka, I don't know you," said Frau
Eleonore reproachfully. "I thought you were a

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

heroine. It was certainly not necessary for you to do
all this . . ."

Some one came in and announced: "It is time,
Fraulein. . . . The house is full. . . . The audience is
growing impatient."

A murmur of admiration went through the hall as
Franka went forward and took her place at the front
of the stage. They were not prepared to see such a
maidenly poetic apparition. She wore a very simple
white frock with long, open sleeves. Her arms and
hands were bare, without gloves, without bracelets,
without rings ; they were white and perfectly sculp
turesque in form. Her luxuriant hair was artlessly
arranged around the small head. A bouquet of
violets adorned her bodice. She had no manuscript
in her hand; nothing but a small ivory fan. Thus
she stood there for a moment. Her friends had
applauded as she entered, and now the others were
clapping their hands so as to inspire the pale girl with
confidence. She extended her arms toward the hall
as if commanding silence and advanced one more
step. The tumult ceased. Then she began in a clear,
firm, distinct voice: —

"Dear sisters . . . for, although I see many men
in the hall, my message is to women only, particu
larly to young girls ..."

The sound of her own voice reassured her. Under
the tuition of an eminent professor her melodious
alto, capable of rich modulations, had been happily
trained and strengthened so that her clearly articu
lated words were borne to the farthest corners of the
hall.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

She spoke for nearly two hours ; at first very slowly
and calmly, but gradually, as she grew more ani
mated, her pale cheeks took on color, her eyes
shone, and her voice intensified to a passionate
power. It was soon evident that she was in touch
with her audience, and repeatedly there was a mur
mur of approbation; occasionally, outbursts of ap
plause showed the effect of her words. This made her
feel as if she were borne aloft, and it happened that
many times, as if under inspiration, she used sen
tences and turns of speech which she had not thought
of during the preparation of her lecture, and these
very improvisations still further strengthened the
magnetic relationship between speaker and audi
ence.

The gist of her address had been expressed in her
introduction: "You all know the beautiful expres
sion of Goethe's Antigone : ' Not here for mutual hate,
but mutual love are we.' But, my sisters, the mod
ern time enforces upon us a second commandment:
'For mutual thinking are we here."

And then she went on to show what are the duties
of this latest age, — the age of flying, — and she
further showed how in the accomplishment of these
duties both halves of the human race must cooper
ate; how it behooved a woman not only to win for
herself the mastery of various professions, of various
offices which have hitherto been exclusively pre
empted by men, but also to realize that she must
no longer remain voluntarily aloof whenever the
highest interests of the community are in question.
Place and voice in the direction of public affairs?

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

That certainly is already on the programme of the
Woman Movement, but the most important thing is
a knowledge and understanding of the universal laws
that govern nature and the world ; then only can she
judge and cooperate where social arrangements are
to be decided. To take a hand in the transformation
of these arrangements, to become themselves law
givers: that is a goal the attainment of which may
stand for the future ; but even before having attained
this positive power, women, and maidens too, may
work through their influence. But how shall they
bring their views and their feelings to effectiveness if
they stay in voluntary ignorance of all those things
that regulate the conduct of social, political, and
economic life? If in the most important questions on
which depend welfare or misery, war or peace, they
are to have no voice because they always allow them
selves to be told: "You don't understand anything
about that!" They must acquire for themselves a
conception of the universe. First, they must under
stand; then they must share in councils; then at
last they can cooperate. . . . Indeed, they must un
derstand as well as the men ; then they will perhaps
do better work than men, because they will not
forget that they are there to share in love, that it is
their task to make goodness — this highest of femi
nine virtues — prevail in all situations and all actions.
"There is no reason why the flame on the home
altar should die down because we succeed in casting
its reflection on political life. Are really mildness and
gentleness, capacity for sympathy in sorrow and joy
purely feminine characteristics? No, they belong to

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men as well. Are power and tenacity of purpose and
resoluteness and courage purely masculine virtues?
No; they belong to women as well. And the perfect
human race of both sexes, when once they are to
direct social life side by side, must apply thereto the
collective treasure of all their qualities."

Franka did not confine herself to such abstract
discussions throughout her lecture. She elucidated
in clear, simple words the conditions actually pre
vailing; she described the promising as well as the
threatening prospects of the future as conditioned
by the new discoveries, and she pointed out the
practical ways which young women of the present
day had to enter upon if they were to share in the
humanization — nay, rather, the deification of the
humanity of the morrow.

The most concrete and practical announcement
which she made was that she had established out of
her own means a private free course of instruction
for mature young women. The lectures were not to
be given by her, but by university professors, — and
she named certain distinguished persons, — who
twice a week during the next four months would
give lectures in a large hall engaged by her for this
purpose. The following subjects were on the pro
gramme: Social science, philosophy, the doctrine of
evolution, the history and prospects of contempo
raneous movements, and, finally, ethics and aes
thetics. These two last were included, because the
realm of "scientific truth should always be pene
trated by the light of morality and beauty. All these
courses of study would be given without pedantic

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insistence upon details, but would be presented in
synthetic method ; and all of them, if they were ab
sorbed into the mind of the students, would further
more produce that broader synthesis which deserves
the name of "world.-conception," that is, the vision
of the world, according to what we actually know it
is at present and as it presumably will be in the
future, in the line of ceaseless evolution. When she
had spoken the peroration in a tone of ardent enthu
siasm and with an expression of prophetic inspira
tion on her youthful features, there was at first a
moment of breathless silence and then a burst of
thunderous applause. She bowed modestly and left
the stage.

In the artists' room she sank exhausted on a sofa.
Her three friends surrounded her: — "It was mar-
velously beautiful!" — "Bravo, Franka !" — Hel-
mer kissed her hand: "Heroine," he said in a
whisper.

In the hall the applause would not cease.

"They are calling for you," said Dr. Fixstern.
"The audience wants to see you again."

Franka shook her head. "No, I will not go out
again — I am not a prima donna! "

"But just hear, how they are clapping, how they
are calling for you."

"I beg of you, dear Doctor, go out and tell them
that I have already left the hall."

Dr. Fixstern did as she ordered.

"Are you very tired, Franka?" asked Frau Eleo-
nore. ' ' How do you feel ? ' '

"How do I feel? Happy!"
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

This was the beginning of Franka's career, and
now followed a series of triumphs. The newspapers
published long extracts from her addresses and en
thusiastic criticisms of her skill in the art of elocu
tion. A few days after her d6but she gave her second
lecture, which again packed the great Music Hall to
the last seat; then she spoke in the Workingmen's
Home, and here she kindled even more enthusiasm
than before. Among the young women of Vienna
there sprang up a regular Franka cult, her adherents
called themselves " Frankistinnen " ; as their badge
they wore a violet pin. There was in all the book
shops a special display of her portraits. In the toy
shops Franka dolls were put on sale and were eagerly
bought. The comic papers published caricatures of
her. Karl Kraus made a feature of her in a Garlett
number of "Die Fackel." Herds of autograph
hyenas came down upon her. An impresario offered
her an engagement for America. The gramophone
companies made her an offer to have her represented
on a record. A fashionable tailor introduced the
long, open Garlett sleeves. The pupils who at
tended the courses of instruction which Franka had
established were designated by the nickname of the
"Garlett girls." And, worse than all, vaudeville
theaters enriched their repertoires of topical songs
with a Garlett stanza.

Franka shuddered under this tidal wave of popu
larity ; it was almost mortifying to her. She had un
dertaken her work as a kind of vestal mission, and
now it was accompanied by such noisy publicity.
But like all sudden and exaggerated excitement, this

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also gradually subsided; yet the quiet and earnest
effect continued and increased. She soon recovered,
in the estimation of all, her standing as a powerful
advocate and woman of irreproachable character.
The Sielen relatives, to be sure, turned their backs
on her. Adele and Albertine and their whole set
completely vanished. It was not a severe blow to
her.

After a few weeks she went on a lecture tournee to
all the principal cities of Germany. She was accom
panied only by Frau von Rockhaus and a maid. A
business manager preceded her, whose duty it was
to engage for her lecture-halls and suitable quarters
in the hotels. Everywhere she went, she was re
ceived not only in her public capacity as a speaker,
but also with special honors by society as a lady. In
the course of time her journeys extended beyond
Germany, first to the Scandinavian countries, then
to London and Paris. And after a few years her
fame was world-wide.

CHAPTER X

AT LUCERNE

THE clock of Eternity has moved forward a few
seconds ; we are writing 191-. The twentieth century
is still "in its teens," but 1920 is not far away. The
impatient, the impetuous, those who a few years ago
were shouting, full of anxiety or full of hope, " Now,
now, everything is going to change — a new era has
dawned — mighty revolutions are before us," — all
these have to confess that the face of the world, on
the whole, has not been very much altered, and that
the actual transformations, by reason of their grad
ual development, have been almost unnoticeable.
Terrible catastrophes like the sudden destruction
of cities by earthquakes, thrones overturned by
revolutions, rulers assassinated by the throwing of
bombs, colonial and other wars — such things may
have devastated for a brief period the little strips
of land affected and aroused a general sensation, but
soon everything became calm again. This applies
not only to the great disasters, but also to great and
unexpected good fortune such as the announcement
of marvelous discoveries or world-redeeming ideas:
— such things startle men for a moment out of their
apathy, and awaken the wildest hopes; but then they
quickly flatten out and become commonplace, dis
appear from the surface, and must pass through the
stages of gradual development, until they succeed in

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changing the face of the world. So many a fountain
springs foaming'from the rocks, but only when it has,
after a long course, united with a thousand other
trickling rivulets, does it become a river.

The hotels at Lucerne were filled to overflowing.
It was once more time for the "Toker Rose- Week"
to begin. From year to year the " Rose Pilgrims," as
they called themselves, had been streaming thither
in greater and greater numbers. It had become the
fashion to spend seven days in Lucerne. Many came
not for the purpose of absorbing the lofty intellectual
enjoyments there offered, but in order to be seen. As
the hotels and private boarding-houses of the city
were no longer sufficient to harbor all the stran
gers, some automobile-owners had conceived the
idea of spending the nights in their machines, —
for very abundant were the cars that were provided
with conveniences for sleeping and toilet, — and a
vast automobile-park covered the fields around the
city.

During the first years Mr. Toker had been satis
fied to lodge his guests in a hotel engaged for the pur
pose, and all the exercises took place in its public
rooms. But now, the edifices and gardens which
he had planned were ready, and in their fairyland
beauty they had won the reputation of being one of
the sights of Europe. The list of invitations which
Mr. Toker sent out in 191- was very differently con
stituted from that which he had written down in his
first prospectus. For many of those who then bore
brilliant names in the firmament of fame had been

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

extinguished, and new stars had flamed into sight.
The aged die — room for the young !

It was the first day of the first week. Mr. Toker
was as yet alone, and was awaiting the arrival of his
illustrious guests. His friendly old face was radiant.
He was satisfied with his work. Success had at
tended it. The way the concentrated forces had
acted was astonishing and their effect was con
stantly increasing. As if unified in a central sun, the
flames of genius scattered over the earth were now
blazing in his Rose-Temple, and spread from there,
as by a mighty reflector, all over the earth, pene
trating all corners where their light had never before
shone.

From many indications, Toker was aware that the
level of Public Spirit had been elevated by the influ
ence that emanated from the Rose-Temple. Watch-
/vvords, winged phrases which had flown forth from
there, were circulated in newspapers and were quoted
in parliaments; the year-books, containing extracts
from the discourses delivered, were to be found in
the libraries of universities, and were widely used as
manuals for the instruction of the young ; the wide
international public listened to the addresses of these
great ones of the earth and accepted many of their
lofty thoughts and involuntarily introduced them
into social conversations; so that when Mr. Toker
jestingly said , ' ' This is my world-ennobling factory, ' '
he did not claim too much.

Certainly, not all the dreams that John A. Toker
had conceived when he made his plan had been ful
filled. What had given him the impulse to take up

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the work had been his indignation that the splendid
invention of a dirigible airship had been greeted as
a useful weapon for future wars. No ! against such a
notion, against such possibilities, — a rain of anni
hilation from the sky, — must a mighty storm of
protest be raised; he had called these great minds
together for this purpose.

On the very first week of the Rose-Festival, this
theme was printed on the programmes and flaming
anathemas against the barbarization of the air went
forth into the world, combined with the demand
to put an end to war itself. But no palpable result
followed — the war ministries continued to install
their fleets of airships, and the construction of
fortifications and dreadnoughts went on without
interruption, in spite of the fact that these instru
ments of war would be superfluous and useless if once
they were exposed to the rain of explosives.

But John A. Toker had faith. Not in one year,
and not in two or three, could such a mighty work
be accomplished — certainly, dirigible flights to
spiritual and moral altitudes were not easier of
attainment than those in the physical atmosphere.

"Well, papa, has not a single specimen of your
great menagerie arrived yet?" Toker's only daugh
ter, Gwendoline, a girl of eighteen, overflowing with
life, came and laid her hand on her father's shoulder
and laughingly put this question. And when she
laughed a whole scherzo of dazzling teeth, sparkling
eyes, and mischievous dimples was playing over her
piquant little face. "Are you expecting wholly
exotic birds this year?" she added.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Oh, Gwen, how can you be so lacking in rever
ence?"

Her features suddenly assumed the expression
which she herself called her "Sunday singing-book
face."

"Oh, papa, I am penetrated with awesome rev
erence! Only to think of all these laurel-crowned
moonshine occiputs, trumpeted together from every
corner of the globe, makes me shiver with respect!
And is it not true that this year a 'Jap' is coming?"

•"A Japanese, yes, daughter. You know I do not
permit abbreviations for whole nations. Or do
you like it when your father is spoken of as the
'Yankee'?"

" Dear me, and what do you say when your daugh
ter is called a 'Gibson Girl,' or the 'Dollar Prin
cess'? . . . Oh, look! there is one flying now and
there is another. And there, away down on the
horizon, — is not that an airship?"

The balcony on which father and daughter were
standing commanded a wide outlook over land and
lake. The edifices which Mr. Toker had caused to be
erected were situated only a short distance from the
shore. The narrow strip of land between the water
and the buildings seemed to be covered with a pale-
red giant carpet — the whole piece was one single
bed of roses. The lake glittered in the sunshine and
innumerable sailboats and other craft were moving
on its surface. On the distant horizon snow-crowned
mountain peaks, and above all a cloudless sky,
against the brilliant blue of which were hovering
several dark dragon-flies — the air-motors now no

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

longer objects of wonder: no longer objects of
wonder, but nevertheless overpoweringly wonder
ful. Always, when at a greater or less distance such
an equipage was seen, men exclaimed just as Gwen
doline did: "See, an aeroplane, and there's another,
and yonder is an airship!"

Mr. Toker raised his head and shaded his eyes: —
"Yes, my daughter, I see and rejoice! How high
they fly! Oh, but man will no longer soar to the
heights with impunity ..."

"'With impunity'? ... I don't understand . . ."

"No, you do not understand. You do not know,
as yet, why we are here. I have not informed you
what the object is which I am aiming at in my Rose-
Week. Perhaps I will tell you some other time —
you have seemed to me still too young, too childish.
You are such a child still, Gwen, — lucky girl!"

"When may I learn to fly, papa? When may I
have my little airship?"

"Do you see — even that you would regard as a
toy!"

Three days later Toker's guests were all assem
bled in the Rose-Palace at Lucerne. Not quite all,
indeed, whom he had invited had responded to his
invitation; still, only a few stars from the firma
ment of living celebrities had failed him. If it was a
great privilege for the public to see gathered together
in one spot such a multitude of famous men and
women, and to hear them, it was for these guests
themselves a still greater pleasure to meet their
brethren and sisters of genius under one roof.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Especially did the week that preceded the formal
exercises offer the most delightful opportunity for
quiet, intimate intercourse among those who had
been in the habit of coming for several years. Many
close friendships had already been formed. No one
who had once been a guest at the Rose- Palace, how
ever abounding in thoughts and experiences in his
own right, departed from the place without having
been enriched in many respects, without having
gained a general deepening of knowledge and a
broadening of the mental horizon. All kept through
out the year a delightful memory of the Rose-Days;
an invitation to be present was a lofty object of am
bition to those who had not as yet been guests there.
John A. Toker felt his heart swell with the most
joyful pride as he joined the circle of his guests. Was
it not the most noble assembly of kingly personages
that the world possessed? At brilliant court festivi
ties there might, indeed, be as many Excellencies,
Highnesses, and Majesties gathered together, but
the majority of these title-bearers would have sunk
into oblivion in the next generation, while the names
and works of the majority of Toker's Rose-Court
would be handed down to coming centuries.

In the hall of one of the first-class hotels at
Lucerne at tea-time, chattering groups are scattered
about in various corners and window-embrasures,
separated from one another by potted plants and by
pillars and screens which divide the immense room
with its niches and bay-windows into practically
small private parlors. The sofas and wide armchairs

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

of light-green straw are decked with cushions covered
with pale flowered silk and stuffed with eiderdown.

The larger and smaller groups and the solitary
persons sitting here and there, drinking tea, had
evidently come from all parts of the world. Al
though a certain international uniformity causes
people to be differentiated rather by the classes to
which they belong than by their nationalities, still
there are certain indications by which one can tell
with some certainty by the external appearance
whether the persons met with are English or French,
Germans or Americans, Slavs or Italians. In this
great hall you could also see some specimens of
quite exotic nationalities, for several Japanese and
an East Indian Rajah were present.

Two men, sitting at a small table on which the
waiter had just set a service of various liqueurs,
were amusing themselves in guessing what coun
try this or that person, seated near them or passing
by, came from.

"See, that family with the three tall daughters,
the haughty mother, and the papa reading the news
paper, is certainly English."

"That was not difficult to detect since that gigan
tic newspaper is the 'Times."

"That pretty little lady there, decked with tassels
and ribbons, and at the same time flirting with the
three men talking with her so vivaciously, must be
a Parisian."

"And that rather stout beauty over there, with
the suspicion of a mustache and a superfluity of
jewels, is probably from some Balkan State."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"And that comfortable-looking, honest couple, so
old-fashioned in their dress, with their silver wed
ding celebrated long ago, and who make it very evi
dent that they are unhappy because they do not
have two jugs of beer in front of them, instead of that
insipid tea, evidently come from some little German
city."

"And that group by the window, — very elegant,
but nothing conspicuous about them, — it would
be rather difficult to tell what country they come
from. National characteristics betray themselves
generally by something like caricatures — normal
men of the cultivated classes, with their air of assur
ance, with their correct dress, might come from
anywhere; you can tell what society they belong
to, — that is, good society, — but not from what
country."

A young man dressed entirely in white, remark
ably slender and tall, was just crossing the room on
his way to the street door. Half a step behind him
marched respectfully an elderly gentleman of mili
tary bearing, but in dark civilian dress.

"Who can that young man be? Nice-looking fel
low! I should take him for an American."

"That would be a mistake. It happens that I can
tell you about him. That is Prince Victor Adolph,
the fourth son of a German monarch. I also know
that he is not the ordinary kind; he is democratic,
not to say socialistic, in his tendencies; an enemy
to court etiquette and against everything military.
For that reason, apparently, he is compelled to have
the old general with him as a traveling companion.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

That he is American in his appearance is perhaps
due to the fact that he spent a term studying at
Harvard University."

The two gentlemen engaged in this conversation
were from Vienna. They had become acquaintances
in the railway coup6 while coming to Lucerne. This
method of travel was still in use, although an or
ganized passenger service by airship had already
been established; just as at the end of the thirties
in the nineteenth century, after the opening of the
first railway the post-stage still ran merrily for a
time. And just as at that time many people vowed
that they would never, as long as they lived, enter
a railway train, so now the majority of people swore
that no money in the world would tempt them to
trust their precious lives to the mysterious ocean of
air. Besides, a new, safety-assuring power had come
into railway service, since everywhere was installed
the rapid and inexpensive and comfortable one-rail
system.

One of the two Viennese was Baron Franz B run-
ing, Chlodwig Helmer's boyhood friend. He had not
greatly changed; his full, round face had possibly
grown a trifle rounder, his black mustache a little
bushier. In his civil career he had been fortunate
enough to have risen to the rank of Hofrat.

The other, a personality pretty widely known
throughout the city, was named Oscar Regenburg.
When his name appeared in the papers, "Among
those present was noticed," it read: "Herr Oscar
Regenburg, the well-known sportsman." If any man
who has money and goes a good deal into society,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

yet has no rank among the nobility, exercises no
calling, is not active in any business, is not honored
with any public appointment, but as a compensation
possesses several saddle-horses and an automobile,
then — since every man must have some kind of
title — he is called a "sportsman."

Sport, however, was not the goal of Oscar Regen-
burg's ambition. He would have much preferred to
bear the title of "art connoisseur"; for he was an
assiduous collector of paintings, old armor, and rare
china. His spare time he spent in visiting art col
lections, picture auctions and galleries. He also
evinced great interest in music and the theater —
although he cultivated the stage not so much from
before the curtain as behind the scenes, especially
in the form of pretty operetta singers. Furthermore,
he was an amateur traveler, — certainly not for the
purpose of enjoying beautiful scenery, but so as
to be present wherever expositions or horse-races
or aviation meetings or festivals of any kind were
taking place. Therefore, he could not fail to be, for
once at least, a visitor at the Lucerne Rose-Week.

Genuine deep passions were not at the bottom of
all these occupations ; Regenburg was a thoroughly
apathetic man, mediocre in every direction; his
whole object in life was to fill up his superfluous time
and spend his superfluous money. He was a man of
thirty-five, of insignificant external appearance, but
he always took pains to look elegant and chic by
following the latest fashion in dress, in behavior, and
in the use of slang. As, for example, the fashion had
obtained among men, to sit as negligently as possible

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

with the right foot on the left knee, moving the
point of the shoe up and down and at the same time
caressing the bright-colored silk stocking visible
almost to the top; there was no one who let his toes
play with more vivacity or expression, or who clasped
his own thin ankles more tenderly than he did.

The two men continued their conversation.

" I have no faith in these democratic poses among
the sons of rulers," said Bruning, as he poured him
self out a tiny glass of benedictine.

"As far as I have observed, you take the attitude
of 'I have no faith in it' toward most things."

"As a matter of fact, I regard it as a reasonable
and useful quality to be a skeptic. When a man has
collected some little experiences in life, and possesses
some little knowledge of men, and has attained
some insight behind the scenes of the various social,
political, and . . . other comedies which are being
played on the world's stage, one gets along best by
putting on the armor of doubt. Can it be that you
are an idealist nourished on illusions?"

"I? ... Oh, I am just nothing at all — I live and
let live."

"That 's also a reasonable point of view. Well, but
I am curious to know what is to be offered in the
Rose- Booth yonder. It is interesting to see all the
living celebrities trotted out by the great dollar-ring
master; — the play will certainly remind me of Ha-
genbeck, who makes long-maned lions and spitting
tiger-cats go through their paces in unnatural atti
tudes. What is still more comic in the whole show
is that there seems to be a civilizing and world-
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

improving aim bound up with it — as if this world
could be improved! Man remains man, and when
I say that, I do not say anything very flattering.
And, above all, how can the world be made better
by a few self-conceited people making speeches be
fore a few other frivolous people? The only effect
that addresses have on me is to make me sleepy. I
never attend them on principle."

"What did you come here for, then?"

" Because an old friend of mine — the poet Chlod-
wig Helmer — belongs to the lion-tamer Toker's
gang of boarders. I get from this friend what the
whole object and aim of the circus of fame-crowned
animals amounts to . . ."

"Well, what is it?"

" Men are to learn to fly morally. Do you under
stand that?"

"Not altogether."

CHAPTER XI

AN EVENING IN THE ROSE-PALACE

CHLODWIG HELMER had attained high literary rank
during these years. His drama, produced in the
Volkstheater at Vienna, won great applause, and
was soon added to the repertory of every playhouse
in the country. A second drama — in verse — was
granted the Schiller Prize. But his epic poem
"Schwingen" — " Pinions" — obtained the most
signal success. The whole campaign of the conquest
of the regions of the air, from Icarus to Zeppelin and
Bleriot, was celebrated. But, further, in prophetic
tone, dipping into the future, — and this part of
the poem was by far the greatest, — the changes were
described which would in all probability take place
in consequence of that mightiest among the achieve
ments of human genius. Particularly did the poet
sing those flights which, like a corollary to physical
soaring, should bear aloft into more luminous regions
the human intellect and the ethical aspiration of
man.

The epic aroused immense enthusiasm. Transla
tions into French and English were made and the
name of Helmer became famous throughout the
world, and of course reached the attention of John A.
Toker, who forwarded his invitation to the young
poet. He did it with all the more enthusiasm, be
cause he had discovered in "Schwingen" the very

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

same ideas as had given him the impulse to the
inauguration of the Rose- Week. It was a noteworthy
coincidence of thought. And yet, when you came to
think of it, not so remarkable after all. . . . Thoughts
which were afloat in an age are produced by the phe
nomena of that age, and they are precipitated simul
taneously in different places into different minds, so
that it frequently happens that great discoveries
and inventions are made at the same time by several
discoverers and inventors, quite independently of
one another.

Still another young celebrity was invited by Toker
for this year's Rose-Week at Lucerne: this was
Franka Garlett.

On the evening before the public exercises were
to take place, the guests of the Toker Rose- Palace
were gathered around the great table. When the
dessert was served, the master of the house tapped
on his glass. All became silent and listened : —

"My dear and illustrious guests! The beneficent
custom here prevails that no formal toasts are ever
presented. All the eloquence that we are capable of
expending must be reserved for the public campaign
which begins to-morrow. But for the very reason
that this is the last evening which we are to have to
ourselves, I will take advantage of it, in order to tell
you something which I have on my mind."

He paused for a moment. All eyes were fixed upon
him with eager anticipation. His external appear
ance made a sympathetic and confidence-inspiring
picture: absolutely correct in his evening-dress, but
at the same time quite informal, almost negligent in

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his attitude. His short-cropped hair was already
perfectly white, but his cheeks were of a bright rosy
color, and a joyous expression of the greatest good
nature showed itself in his face. In a somewhat al
tered voice he went on : —

"When a few years ago I saw assembled here for
the first time this wreath of chosen men and women,
— alas ! some of the blossoms have been blighted by
the frost of death, but others have come to take
their places, for such is the way of the world, —
when for the first time I had conjured before me so
many spirits of light, I believed that from their col
lected brilliancy a sudden enlightenment might gush
out over the whole earth. That was an illusion ! The
thick darkness of ignorance, misery, stupidity, and
wickedness, in which our world is still densely en
veloped, is not to be so rapid dispelled. It will
take much further endeavor to drive it away. But
that the efforts which have gone forth from this
place have not been wholly vain, I, and assuredly
you, have the fullest conviction. What especially
pleases me, as the result of this fortnight in the
month of roses, is the advancement, the enjoyment,
the edification which you yourselves have all found
here by being able to hold familiar intercourse with
people of your own stamp from the domain of genius,
by mutually giving intellectual stimulus and enrich
ment to one another, by the consciousness that you,
all of you, whether you be masters in this art or that,
whether you be discoverers in this science or that,
whether you be prophets in this sphere of thought
or that — that all of you, I say, still form only one

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communion: — that of the elevators of human life.
And a loftier life is to stream forth from here and
hasten that development through which all man
kind is to be brought up to a higher level. Oh, I
know right well what the doubters will reply : ' What
is carried away from your Rose-Parliament, in the
columns of innumerable newspapers, pamphlets,
and gramophone records, is merely words, words
. . . ideas . . . and what moves society are deeds and
needs. Not by reason, but by the passions, that is to
say, by violent feelings, are the masses moved; all
your beautiful speeches glitter arid burst like soap-
bubbles.' Of course, ideas are not the only impelling
forces ; more powerful are the instincts. It is always
a mistake to explain the complicated movements
of the world and of society by the working of one
element, of one force; for numberless elements,
numberless forces, are always in activity. And to
deny the force of thought is equivalent to ignoring
the half of the universe, which consists of matter
and of spirit."

"Is not papa a dear little old philosopher?"
whispered Gwendoline, who sat at the other end
of the table, to her neighbor, a famous English
novelist.

" Feelings regulate actions," continued Mr. Toker ;
— "granted; but frequently feelings are ruled by
thoughts. Ideas, among them illusory ideas, are
what kindle the enthusiasm of the masses, and are
fought for. Forth from ideas proceeds that sublime
endeavor which is called the ideal. What was striven
for yesterday is the attained to-day, and gives way

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to new endeavor, to new-born ideas, and that is
equivalent to saying to new ideals."

"Now he has said enough, don't you think so?"
murmured Gwendoline again. "One should not bore
one's guests."

The novelist glanced at her reprovingly: " It does
not bore me."

"Thoughts are the begetters of sensations; above
all, they are the foundations of knowledge. There
fore, whoever scatters thoughts into the world, scat
ters seed from which grow all those fruits that we
enjoy under the name of culture. There is much
bitter fruit in with it, because still many unworthy
thoughts are floating about. Progressive humanity
requires high thinking! Soaring thoughts. . . .

"This year, just as every year, a volume is to be
published which will contain your addresses: I pro
pose to entitle this volume, ' Menschliche Hochge-
danken' — 'Thoughts that soar.' The beginning of
our Rose-Weeks coincided with the conquest of the
air. You know that the impulse of your joint ac
tion was given to me by the flights which were ac
complished by the first 'dirigible' through the sea
of ether. Now it is for us to bring about some vic
torious records by our flights into the azure realm
of the ideal. Thoughts are the vehicle for this —
thoughts which soar above the clouds — that is to
say, high above the vapors of petty private interests,
above the flats of national contentions — in a word,
thoughts that soar! And so I close with one word,
the war-cry which must be the war-cry of the new,
height-conquering age: the cry, 'Upward!"

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"Upward!" responded the whole Table Round.

Thereupon all adjourned into the adjoining hall.

An illustrious company, indeed. There were few
young people among them, and not many women.
The wreaths of unquestioned glory are usually
twined around masculine heads, and there mostly
when they are bare.

The youngest of the thirty Rose-Knights was
Chlodwig Helmer; the youngest among the six
ladies of the Roses — all of them wearing an enam
eled rose on the left breast — was Franka Garlett.

As they sat or stood, they divided naturally into
various groups. Some passed through the open doors
to the terraces, and among these was Franka on
Helmer's arm.

It was a bright moonlit night in June; the air was
full of intoxicating fragrance rising from the dense
parterres of roses. On the neighboring lake glided
illuminated boats, and even up in the air could
occasionally be seen a light moving swiftly by —
probably some sentimental aeronaut on an evening
flight. Quite unobtrusively yet distinctly was heard
the music of an orchestra playing in a neighboring
concert-hall.

Franka sat down in a rocking-chair at the end of
the terrace and Helmer stood by her side leaning
against the balustrade. They gazed and listened
for some little time without speaking. Franka
wrapped a trifle closer around her the white silken
scarf which she had thrown over her shoulders.

"A cool breeze blows from the lake," she re
marked.

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"Shall we go back to the hall?"

"Oh, no, it is fine here. Everything is so beautiful,
so dreamy, so magical. ... Is it not remarkable
that we two should meet here as colleagues in the
Knighthood of the Roses? How many years is it
since we first met in grandfather's chamber at the
Sielenburg? You a poor secretary, I a poor orphan
girl! — You are now a great and celebrated poet!"

"And you — the Garlett! The name has such a
distinction that nothing more needs to be added
to it."

"What I have come to be, Brother Chlodwig, I
owe to you. Had it not been for those letters ..."

"Well, yes; perhaps everything would have been
different — perhaps more happily for you. ... I
find in your face a trace of seriousness, sometimes
of sadness, which was not there when I saw you
last."

It had been two years since that last time. Cir
cumstances had frequently separated these two
friends. Helmer had settled in Berlin, where, after
the successful performances of his drama, he had ac
cepted a position as a subdirector of the Royal Thea
ter. Franka had frequently been absent on her jour
neys, had spent one whole winter in southern Italy
for a complete rest; — in short, there had always
been intervals of several months, and finally now
two years had elapsed without Franka and Helmer's
having met.

But their correspondence had gone on without
any cessation. They had remained constantly in
communication by letter. They exchanged full con-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

fidences in regard to all their labors and plans ; they
shared their views over all external happenings ; but
they never actually wrote any personal confidences.
His poems and her lectures formed the chief topics
of their correspondence; as colleagues they had be
come strongly bound together; as man and woman
they had remained rather like strangers, although
their letters had always preserved that soul-relation
ship of brother and sister with which their corre
spondence had begun. It was for both a great and
genuine pleasure to be invited together as Mr. John A.
Toker's guests; it gave to the festivities of this week
a flavor of intimacy. During these days they had seen
a good deal of each other, — every time he had been
her seat-mate at table, — and they had told each
other all that was worth telling of their lives during
the past two years.

"So I look sad, do I?" replied Franka to Helmer's
observation. "And yet I have no sorrow; I am not
unhappy."

"That is only a negative assurance — you do not
say that you feel happy. But I can imagine what
you lack ..."

"And I can guess what you imagine. . . . Well, it
is true that in the life that I am leading there is
more or less renunciation ; but is n't that necessary
whenever one dedicates one's self to any impersonal
service? How is it when a maiden devoted to piety
takes the veil?"

" Fortunately you have registered no vow, Franka.
You can always ..."

"Marry, do you mean? Let us talk of something
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

else. You are the last person to say such things to
me."

"It is true, I myself directed you to the path of
renunciation. As long as your task completely occu
pied you — but does it still?"

" Do not ask me such confessional questions. The
task is great enough to fill any life; but I often feel
myself too small for the task. Are you quite satis
fied, are you quite happy, Helmer?"

"No; but that is not at all necessary. I believe
that no man has any rightful claim to be. Least of
all, we fighters. We need bitterness, hindrances —
our goal must forever seem farther away from us."

At this instant the daughter of their host joined
them : —

" I hope that I am not disturbing a flirtation. . . .
Do let me sit down with you, Miss Garlett. Oh, and
please, Mr. Helmer, do not go away . . . you are
among my favorites, because you are young still —
comparatively speaking. The famous specimens of
wisdom which papa collects around him are all too
venerable for me; it is a genuine enjoyment to see
two such fresh geniuses as you are. . . . You ought
to marry — pardon me, I am chattering absurdi
ties. Certainly, papa understands everything imag
inable: making money in heaps, carrying out gigan
tic undertakings, universal politics, and dozens of
other things — but not the education of daughters.
Oh, look," she cried, interrupting herself, "isn't
that lovely?"

She pointed to the dark horizon, where at that
moment not merely one but four airships, each pro-

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vided with dazzling lights, were maneuvering. They
darted up and swooped down, made "figure eights"
and loops, passed and repassed one another in pre
meditated regularity — a regular air-quadrille.

"Is n't that still lovelier?" said Helmer, pointing
to a shady clump of bushes where irregular points of
light were flickering. "There, do you see? — fire
flies ! Nature is everywhere more beautiful than any
of the works of men. And do you know also why
these little creatures, otherwise so invisible, have
put on such glittering coat-tails? They are in love
and they are out a-wooing. . . . Nature always
makes use of beauty when she is serving love."

" I cannot answer for that, Mr. Helmer. It is my
principle — for I am a reservoir filled to the brim
with the strictest principles — to turn the conver
sation as soon as a man speaks the word love."

"Yes, Miss Toker, you really give that impres
sion," laughed Franka.

Again a fascinating spectacle was presented to
them — a great white quadrilateral sheet, such as
are seen on the stage of a moving-picture theater,
appeared on the horizon stretching up high into the
sky and on it were projected magnificently colored
living pictures. Immense pictures, for the force of the
imagination multiplied their dimensions in propor
tion to the distance apparently equal to that of the
stars ; and yet it was only the trickery of diminutive
films. It was a wholly new invention, based on the
laws of the Fata Morgana. Many of the people pres
ent saw this spectacle for the first time and it filled
them with wonder and awe.

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"What shall we not discover before we get through,
we worms of the earth!" cried Franka; "and how
deep into the heavens even now all our mechanical
apparatus penetrate!"

"Apparatus, yes," murmured Chlodwig; "but
not our minds!"

"Don't be ungrateful, Helmer," said Franka,
reproachfully. " Does not the great success of your
1 Schwingen ' prove sufficiently that a wide circle of
minds already feel a yearning for the heights? If it
were not so, would you be so understood, so cele
brated? Is n't it true, Miss Toker, that the English
translation of Helmer's poem has aroused the great
est admiration in England and America?"

"Yes, I believe so; at least, papa says so. He is
quite crazy over your 'Schwingen.' However, I
have n't read it. Papa thinks that you meant to
express in poetry exactly the same as he tries to
express with his Rose- Week . . . but what that
really means is a mystery to me. ... I believe he
would like just such a man for his son-in-law . . .
but you must not regard this as an offer of mar
riage, Mr. Helmer. ... I shall accept only an Amer
ican . . . and if it should chance to be a European,
then it must be at least a duke in the superlative
degree — a grandduke or an archduke. . . . Those
titles please me, and especially the way those
grandees are addressed in German which, trans
lated into English, would mean 'Your Transpar
ency, Your Serene Transparency' . . . would not a
man appear like a bunch of Roentgen rays? . . . But
now I must trot back to the salon. Good-bye!"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Franka, smiling, looked at her as she went, and
exclaimed: "What a dear little goosie!"

In the white frame against the evening sky now
appeared a magnificent picture : — the Gods of
Olympus. It looked as if the heaven had opened and
allowed mortals down below to see how the Immor
tals exist. To be sure, they were only the immemori-
ally known forms of human fancy, such as had been
seen to satiety in paintings and on the stage; but the
vast space and the gigantic size of the apparition,
passing beyond all power of comprehension, evoked
admiration mingled with awe. Now, the Olympian
ones began to move: Hebe poured nectar into a cup
which she presented to Jupiter; Cupid shot an arrow
which fell out of the frame — it might have pierced
one of the spectators down below; Venus, clothed in
glittering silvery veils, laid her arm around the War-
God's shoulder, and Juno caressed her peacock as it
stood with circling tail widespread. In a half-minute
all had disappeared. Then followed a picture from
the Catholic Heaven — the Sistine Madonna, lovely
and motionless. Fantastic landscapes followed, the
like of which do not exist on earth, inhabited by
creatures such as have never been seen. It was as
if the impenetrable curtain, which is hung at a bil
lion-mile distance over the secret activities of the
world of stars, had been suddenly withdrawn, giving
men a glimpse into the regions of Mars or of Saturn.
To be sure, they were only pictures due to the power
of human imagination, which can never attain the
unknown realities, yet, appearing in the firmament,
they were like revelations from other worlds.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Franka put her hand on Helmer's arm: "Ah,
Brother Chlodwig!" she sighed, shuddering.

He bent down to her: "What is it, Franka?" He
asked this as gently as one might inquire what
troubled a trembling child, and with his expressive
hand he made a motion as if he were going to caress
her forehead — but he refrained.

"I know that it is only illusion — but these
glances into unearthly, infinite distances fill me with
a weird, painful sense of loneliness, of nothing
ness . . ."

"I know that. . .?"

"You do, Chlodwig? I thought, the higher your
soul soars, the more at home you felt."

"The more reverent, perhaps, — but 'at home'?
Infinite space is so cold we cannot build huts on the
Milky Way" — he laid his hand on Franka's which
still rested on his arm. " Do you know the Schubert
song in which a will-o'-the-wisp holds up before
the lonely wanderer the realization of his deepest
yearning : — a warm house and in it a well-beloved
heart? . . ."

"A well-beloved heart," repeated Franka dreamily.

They remained for a while silent, looking into
each other's eyes. Then Franka withdrew her hand
and stood up: "We will return to the salon."

CHAPTER XII

MR. TOKER'S ILLUSTRIOUS GUESTS

BY this time there had assembled a still larger crowd
than before, visitors having come to join the house-
party. Whoever had letters of introduction to
either Mr. Toker or to one of his guests, was invited
once and for all to spend the evening in the Rose-
Palace.

When Franka entered the room, Mr. Toker came
toward her: "Ah, here you are. ... I was just look
ing for you. A gentleman is here who is eager to
be introduced to you. I will bring him immedi
ately."

He went away, and after a few moments came
back with a strikingly distinguished-looking young
man: —

"Miss Garlett, here is Prince Victor Adolph, of

, who tells me that he has heard you speak in his

father's city and now is highly pleased to be able to
bring his homage to you."

After saying this, Mr. Toker withdrew and joined
his other guests.

Franka greeted her new acquaintance with a bow.
"I am very glad to meet you. . . . Your Highness
was at my lecture?"

"Yes, gnadiges Fraulein, and I am very much
pleased to be able to hear you again. The problem
that you are treating interests me deeply."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

He spoke very deliberately in a low tone, almost
timidly.

"Is that so, Prince? Are you really interested in
the tasks that confront young women? For that is
the theme which I took for my lecture in your home
city."

"Heavens, I am interested in everything that is in
any degree revolutionary."
,"A remarkable taste for an heir to a throne."
"I shall never mount the throne — thank God!"
"That is a pity, for revolutionary monarchs are
exactly what our epoch might make use of."
"Do you think our epoch needs monarchs?"
This tone surprised Franka and appealed to her.
In order to be able to continue the conversation, she
sat down on a sofa which was just behind her. At
her invitation Victor Adolph took his place on the
sofa at a respectful distance from her. She let her
eyes rest with pleasure on his figure. He was slender,
sinewy, and very tall ; his head with its blond curly
hair was held high, as if he were a very haughty man ;
but this impression was contradicted by an exceed
ingly gentle expression about the mouth; the red
lips were not concealed by his slight mustache; his
eyes were intensely blue and full of vivacity; his eye
brows rather delicate and straight, also thick and
almost black. His age was about twenty-six. Taken
all in all, he was a fine specimen of the genus " Man."
With no less pleasure Victor Adolph 's eyes rested
on the womanly form next him, Indeed, Franka
now looked womanly and not girlish as at her first
arrival at the Sielenburg. Both the years and her

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

work had matured her. The earnest and passionate
mental work which she had to accomplish in her
chosen mission had imprinted on her face an expres
sion of almost gloomy resolution, but this wholly
disappeared when she opened her mouth to speak, or
still more when she smiled ; then dimples showed in
her cheeks and made her look much younger than she
was. Her figure also, though still slim and supple,
had lost its former ethereal delicacy. It was the figure
of a majestic Diana, not of an emaciated nymph,
such as " the new art" liked to paint. For the mat
ter of that, at this time the fashion had changed;
the angular, the osseous, thin-as-a-rail style was no
longer held up as the ideal of feminine beauty. Arms
like sticks, making a triangle at the elbow and ter
minating in huge hands; rectangular shoulders, from
between which rises conically a neck displaying all
the tendons; hips so narrow that the whole figure
has the shape of a perpendicular worm, writhing
even when it is not stepped on — all this, according
to general taste, had given place again to the round,
soft, and wavy line which has always prevailed as the
line of beauty in the creations of Nature.

Franka practiced the greatest simplicity in her
dress; she wore only smooth materials of one color,
without any adornment of puffs, furbelows, or the
like. Even though her toilette followed the fashion
there was a stamp of originality and a personal
touch in it. Her sleeves had invariably the well-
known open Garlett shape. She always wore a bou
quet of fresh violets at her belt. Her hair also was
constantly dressed in the same way, the heavy black

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

braids coiled on top of her head and worn like a dia
dem. As adornment she wore only pearls, although
the Sielen family jewels consisted of diamonds and
all kinds of precious stones.

Victor Adolph's eyes studied her from head to foot
— he was a great connoisseur and appraiser of the
art of feminine dress : art in the true sense of the word ;
for only an artistic sense can succeed in so conform
ing the style, the color, and the character of a gown
to the peculiarities of its wearer, so that the two
make a harmonious picture. That evening, Franka
wore a gown of light pale lilac ; her silken shoes and
stockings were also of lavender; a long string of
pearls hung around her neck, and she had the bunch
of violets at her breast, her white arms as usual were
without gloves, her hands innocent of rings.

" You asked if our epoch needs monarchs? Prince,
that is a strange question in your mouth."

" I have more than once noticed that if I say any
thing reasonable it arouses astonishment, because
I happen to be a prince. Does n't that in itself imply
that princes are superfluous? Indeed, is not the whole
history of social progress marked by the gradual dis
appearance of once acknowledged necessities?"

Thus they talked for a while about generalities,
but their interest and their thoughts were not so
much directed to the subject of their conversation
as to the mutual observation of their personalities;
what they each felt was that they were satisfied with
each other and that they were sympathetic. But
others soon joined them and Prince Victor Adolph
took his leave.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

In another corner of the salon stood John A. Toker
surrounded by a dozen of his most distinguished
guests.

"I have just learned, my good friends," said Mr.
Toker, "that in the course of the next few days the
heads of two European countries are coming here
in order to be present at some of our public functions
— the King of Italy and the President of the French
Republic. We must manage it so that the address
' The War in the Air ' which is put down on our pro
gramme will be heard by these exalted personages.
In the first place, there is nothing more interesting
to the leaders of the nations than the subject, War.
There is no surer guarantee of their fame: — if they
carry it on, they are glorious War- Lords; if they
manage to avoid it, then they are sublime Princes
of Peace. In the second place, the way in which the
war-problem is treated among us can only prove
useful when it reaches the rulers of human society."

"Or the wide masses," remarked one of the by
standers.

"Well, yes," assented Toker; "the masses also
constitute a ruling order. Whoever wishes the wel
fare of human society will not care whether it is at
tained from above or from below. Best of all, when
both meet and complement each other."

The same bystander again remarked: "Opposites
do not complement, but mutually destroy each
other."

"Ah, my worthy friend," retorted Toker, "we
must not be checked in our endeavors by such gener
alities. If phrases like that do contain a truth, still

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

we must find out whether they can be applied to
the special case that lies before us. A thing must
be seized from all sides. That offers the best chance
of finally hitting upon the right side or several right
sides. Not merely one road leads to Rome. All of
you, my dear Knights of the Rose, are a living proof
to me how varied are the ways that lead to the
heights of Humanity — every one of you has struck
out in a different path, and yet they all meet in — "

"Lucerne!" interpolated some one.

Toker nodded. "Quite right! In Lucerne: that
means, since our 'Rose- Week,' something else than
the mere name of a city."

With joyous pride he glanced around and summed
up in his mind the valuation of the intellects there
assembled. In fact, he had good reason to be proud,
for among the great men who had come to Lucerne
at his invitation were . . . Yet, the form in which
this story is told, allowing events to be projected
into the future, precludes calling the Knights of the
Rose Order by name ... So, then, no names — only
a few incomplete data: —

A French author, regarded by his countrymen as
the greatest of the living authors. No longer young,
he has an enormous list of books to his credit; all
brilliantly worked out with historical, prehistoric,
and imaginary background, full of irony and full of
wrath against social follies and absurdities, upright,
bold, a warm worshiper before the altar of beauty.

A young Russian poet. The events of the Manchu-
rian War, the horrors of the succeeding revolution,
and of the still-more horrible counter-revolution

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

still played on his soul, just as the tempest plays on
the strings of an aeolian harp, enticing forth the most
magical tones. He is waging a fierce, relentless war
against society's most arrant enemy : against stupid
ity in all its forms ; especially in the form of supersti
tion and in that of the criminal folly which impels men
to enthrall, to persecute, and to tear one another to
pieces. His eyes are unspeakably sad, but resolution
speaks from his features. He wields his lash savagely
and pitilessly, not because he hates or despises man
kind — on the contrary, he sees in it a temple from
which he will drive the profaners in holy wrath.

A great tragedienne of the Latin stock. When she
plays, she appears to express the lament of her own
sorrow. Seeing her you involuntarily think of what
some artless Madonna paintings show; a bleeding
heart surrounded with a wreath of thorns. All the
majesty that halos misfortune is expressed in her
carriage, in the accent of her voice. She is beautiful,
but her beauty is as it were veiled behind a dark
crape. Truly her art is many-sided and she plays
even gay parts; but what especially characterizes
her is the reflection of human suffering which seems
rather the exposure of her own. You cannot be a
spectator of her acting and fail to be deeply moved,
and a soul subjected to such emotion is a soul en
nobled at least during the time while the emotion
lasts.

A German writer ; a deep student of natural sci
ences. A prophet of an infinitely poetic natural phi
losophy, thereby exposed to the scornful and super
cilious arrogance of technical and special scientists.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Not for him, to pigeonhole, to ticket, and to num
ber; his outlook embraces the wide, all-circling hori
zon; his spirit penetrates into the All-Spirit; his
knowledge and love of Nature soar up into worship ;
his books are literary masterpieces. And for this
reason pedants are quivering with scorn, so that
their very souls, being so dry, crack if his name is
mentioned.

A French statesman and politician, a senator, and
experienced diplomat: a man of the world to his
finger-tips; full of witty turns and repartees in con
versation; full of clear, conclusive logic in public
speech; one of the most consistent and fearless
speakers in the Senate. Fearlessness characterizes his
eloquence, for he speaks against the tendencies of
the day, against the chauvinistic-patriotic majority,
against the proposals of his personal friend, the Min
ister of the Navy. In matters of international arbi
tration he is not only quick to support and suggest,
but moreover to accomplish. To him are due agree
ments, compromises, treaties; many a web of an
cient misunderstandings and jealousies has been
obliterated from the world through his agency, and
on this account the fanatical supporters of nation
alism have even threatened his life.

An American inventor — one might rather say
a wholesale inventor. People call him the wizard".
He conducts his experiments en gros, by the bushel !
The number of marvelous works for which his con
temporaries and those to come have to thank him,
the things which lift men up to higher levels of life,
are, beyond reckoning; and what is finest about them

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

is that not one of his instruments and pieces of
apparatus is designed or fitted to serve purposes of
destruction. The Mecca of all those who register
patents — the ministries of war — is closed to his in
ventions. What he has elaborated and accomplished
serves not for making human bodies into pulp; it
has the modest aim of making life easier, more beau
tiful, and more enjoyable, and of enriching human
society. One of his latest "trouvailles" — that of
casting houses out of cement — had, at the time
of the last Rose- Week at Lucerne, already found
so much popular acceptance that quite commonly
these cheap, quickly erected, and at the same time
aesthetic and hygienic domiciles were being built, —
that is to say, cast, — and simultaneously an end was
put to one of the greatest of evils — the wretched
housing of the poor, from which a third of the prev
alent vice and illness springs.

A dramatic author from England ; sparkling with
wit and intellect, who writes the bitterest satires,
but with a background of tenderness ; also an ameli
orator of the world and mankind, not, indeed, by
saying to men, "Become better," but by endeavoring,
by his ridicule, to exterminate whatever makes them
bad. He tears off hypocritical masks and shows the
ugly grimaces behind them; on the other hand, he
has the knack of entwining a gentle halo around poor
and humble forms, around the oppressed, the mis
understood, the mistaken. Humor has been defined
as a smile and a tear; in his humor the contrast
is much stronger: it is the sobbing laughter of
scorn.

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;WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

A Scandinavian woman devoted to philosophy,
full of the profound gentle wisdom of experience:
an aged woman, who had never married or borne
children, but who speaks with the tongue of angels
about the sacredness of marriage and the rights of
His Majesty the Child: a champion of free, proud
individuality — that is to say, pretty much the same
thing as Goethe called personality and designated
as the loftiest happiness.

An American statesman: the man whose motto
runs: " The same moral law that holds among indi
viduals must also prevail among nations " ; a motto
which is diametrically opposed to the principles on
which hitherto the " classical polities " of the most
celebrated European statesmen have been founded.
Our American looks back on a long, beneficent ca
reer. Peaceful victories, positive, not negative, peace
ful victories, have been won by him. His great work
has been the successful bringing together of the two
halves of America into one great Union. Moreover,
during his administration he has concluded a large
number of permanent arbitration treaties with the
States of Europe. Practically unknown to the gen
eral European public, he has cultivated a large part
of that soil which modern culture has won away
from the ancient dominion of War. Toker had a
high regard for this man, who of all his guests stood
nearest to him.

Another poet. The son of a small European coun
try. To belong to a first-class Power is certainly not
a condition, not even necessarily a help, to individual
greatness. Dreamy, mysterious almost unreal are

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this poet's stage productions. His prose works, on
the contrary, are those of a clear, perspicuous thinker.

A German historian: one who has triumphantly
introduced a new method into his range of studies —
that of a philosophical synthesis. In his view, his
tory is not the arraying of events in sequence, not
the biographies of single personages who chance to
stand in the foreground, but a process of social de
velopment which conditions the events and the per
sonages — not the reverse. And he sees and proves
that the way of this development leads always to
higher organization; and, because he knows that
and because he makes it known, he aids in hastening
hurfianity's course along this way.

Still another inventor. This one had not as yet
won world-repute, for his invention was of too re
cent occurrence. But Toker knew him and his work,
and knew that he merited a Grand Cross in the Order
of the Rose-Knights, not only for the greatness of his
invention, but also for the greatness of the object
which would be attained by it. Its first introduction
to the public, its first demonstration, was to surprise
the world during this very week.

A young composer from Russian Poland: a man
whose works had come to the notice of the world
during the last two years, but had taken the world
by storm. His operas and symphonies had the most
up-to-date richness of orchestration, the greatest
originality of harmony, but were permeated by a
heavenly sweetness of melody, such as had not in
long years, perhaps never before, been heard. For
this Rose- Week he had brought his latest creation,

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never as yet publicly performed, — a quartette for
violin, harmonium, harp, and baritone voice, en
titled "Le Chant des Roses." It was perfectly ap
propriate that music and song should also have their
part in this festal week which stood under the sym
bol of Height Achievement.

CHAPTER XIII

A LUNCHEON PARTY

A SMALL company of hotel guests who had been
lunching together were sitting at their black coffee
in a large special salon. It was the first day of the
second Rose- Week, and the opening festival was to
take place that evening. The conversation of the gay
little party, which consisted of two ladies and four
gentlemen, turned on the programme of the exer
cises.

One of the ladies was a Russian countess, a woman
no longer young, — she must have been more than
forty, — but still handsome and very elegant; she
was the hostess at the luncheon. The other lady was
a young widow, Annette Felsen, the cousin and
companion of the countess; very lively, gay, and
coquettish. The gentlemen were an elderly French
man, easily recognized as a former officer; a tall
dark-eyed Italian, also past his first youth, for his
wavy black hair was shot through with many silver
threads. His name was Marchese Romeo Rinotti —
a name which had a good repute in the political world
and played a prominent part in the ministerial coun
cil of the kingdom. The two other gentlemen were
Bruning and Regenburg.

The conversation ran now in French, now in Ger
man. Bruning had just been reading from the paper
the names of Toker's guests, and then remarked that

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Chlodwig Helmer, who on the following day was to
read from his poem " Schwingen," was a friend of his.

"Ah," cried the Countess Vera, "that is interest
ing — you must introduce him to us — I dote on
poets . . . not so much as on musicians, though. I
confess frankly that what attracts me most in the
whole programme is 'Le Chant des Roses.' This
young Pole is simply divine . . . though I don't like
the Poles, because they hate us. But what kind of
a man is your friend?"

"Oh, a fine fellow, only somewhat high-strung. I
also know Fraulein Garlett. She, too, comes from my
country. I should like to see these two make a match ;
they are admirably suited to each other: neither is
quite normal and she is extremely rich. I should like
to see my friend marry her."

" But is n't this girl an agitator for the emancipa
tion of women?" asked the old Frenchman, Baron
Gaston de la Rochere? " One does not marry such
a person."

Madame Annette Felsen laughed: "Why, but
you are quite vieuxjeu, my dear Baron, quite ancien
regime ..."

The baron straightened himself up. "Yes, I flat
ter myself. ... In this degenerating world there
certainly ought to be a few people who stand by the
old principles, the old true ideals. I am very anxious
to know what doctrines the ladies and gentlemen of
the Rose Order are going to preach. They will
scarcely develop in a fitting way the highest concept
there is : that of patriotism — since they belong to
the most diversified countries, often opposed and

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

unfriendly to one another ; and then tact will forbid
their expressing openly their patriotic wishes. By
the whole make-up of the programme and by many
suspicious names among the participants — for
example, I would never have sent here as a repre
sentative of France the Frenchman who is going to
speak — by the various names, I believe there is
danger that revolutionary ideas will be put forward
more than is desirable. Indeed, the old order and
the sacred traditions are so shaken that only a good
war could possibly set things straight again. Then
we should have the chance to restore to the throne
of France a monarch appointed by God, one who
would once for all drive out the radical and free-
masonic rabble which at the present time puts our
country to shame. And even if there were no one
of royal blood, still if there were a victorious soldier
— a war-hero ..."

Countess Vera uttered a little shriek. "Do not
speak of war, mon colonel ... it is now many years
ago . . . but the Manchurian campaign with all its
consequences still trembles in all my nerves. . . .
Did n't the peasants burn my castle? The war itself
would not have been anything . . . that is as God
wills; but the terrible revolution afterwards . . . and
that would break out again after another war . . .
there are so many nihilists among us. It was, indeed,
a piece of good luck that they could choke off the
revolution — the saints helped once more, and gen
uine Russians remained faithful to the Tsar, who
ought never to have granted a constitution ..."

"Vera, Vera," interrupted Madame Annette,
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"do not talk about politics. There, please light a
cigarette. ... I will take one, too, and if politics is
to be talked about, then will you do the talking,
Marchese! you certainly ought to understand the
subject, you who are the diplomat, the prominent
statesman, the Italian Bismarck!"

The marchese offered the ladies a light. "A dip
lomat," said he, "should rather be silent than speak,
but I can comfort the colonel by saying that the
prospects for a war in Europe are growing brighter
and brighter. Perhaps he will see the beautiful times
of the ancien regime return. As far as I am concerned,
my yearning to bring back the past goes still farther
back. The only true, beautiful, fiery, proud life was at
the time of the Renaissance. Life was not regarded,
men took no care of it, but they lived intensely. . . .
Those adventures, those riotous magnificences of
living and of art, that wild existence, that lordly
power of unscrupulousness ! ..."

He had worked himself into a passion of eloquence,
and at his final words an almost Satanic smile, which
showed his white teeth, flickered around his mouth.
Annette looked at him in amazement : —

"You would have made a splendid condottiere,
signor. What do you say, Herr Regenburg?"

The famous sportsman had scarcely understood;
he was not very fluent in French, but now that he
was called upon to give his opinion, he had to say
something, whether well or ill. He tittered rather
idiotically.

"Why, yes, my dear lady, it is fine to have a bit
of a row; we must have some slashing about. . . .

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

But you are quite right, Marchese, and so are you,
Colonel — the old days ought to come back again."

He waved his liqueur-glass and emptied it at one
gulp. . . .

"Old times do not return," said Bruning; "neither
the times of Napoleon, nor those of the Sun-King,
nor those of the Medici. But whoever delights in
unscrupulousness and lack of consideration has no
need to mourn over the present: attacking and op
pressing, in order to attain power or to preserve it,
is still in sway, even though in a different manner,
and will probably always continue, for the emblems
of worldly success remain claws and teeth — or at
least elbows."

A hotel valet came in and handed Bruning a
card.

"Ah, my friend Helmer," said he, rising. "Allow
me, ladies and gentlemen, to leave you ; I must re
ceive him."

"Is that the poet — the author of 'Schwingen'?"
asked Countess Vera. " Please ask him to come here ;
we should all be so pleased to meet him."

"If you permit it"; and, turning to the servant:
"Show the gentleman in."

Bruning went to meet Helmer at the door:
" 'T was good of you to look me up. You find me in
a little company who are eager to make your ac
quaintance. Allow me to present you: my fellow-
countryman and schoolmate, the boldest aviator of
the present ..."

Helmer shook his head: " I have never been in an
airship in my life."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

" But you fly up into the bluest heights on the wings
of your verse."

"Indeed; I had always heard only of verse-
feet."

Bruning continued his introductions: "The Count
ess Vera Petrovna Solnikova, of Petersburg, who
has had the kindness to invite us to a feast of Lucul-
lus; Madame Felsen, from Reval; Baron Gaston de
la Rochere, from Bretagne; His Excellency, Mar-
chese Rinotti, from Rome, the coming director of
the destinies of Italy; and this is Herr Regenburg,
the well-known Viennese sportsman. And now, tell
us — does the Rose-Spectacle start off to-day?"

The Countess Vera motioned Helmer to sit down
and offered him a cup of coffee, which he ac
cepted.

"Yes," said she; "tell us how it is all planned —
the programme is so indefinite. Shall we hear you
to-day?"

"No, not to-day. To-day a great man is going to
speak," — and he mentioned the name of the French
author, — "and there are to be others. Yet I must
not tell you. It is characteristic of Mr. Toker's pro
gramme, that no programme is announced. If the
public should know in advance on which day this or
that person was to speak and know what would be the
subject, then they would be able to pick and choose,
and Mr. Toker wants all to be heard by all. It is like
a salon, where the guests do not know what sort of
artistic offerings are to be presented. It is all a sur
prise."

"If I can only succeed in hearing one of that
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR7

divine Polish master's compositions, than I shall be
rewarded for having made the journey to Lucerne,"
said the countess, with a sentimental upward glance
of her eyes. "And you, Annette, you are especially
crazy over Mile. Garlett, the famous feminist,
are n't you?"

"Yes, that I am, although I do not care about
women's rights, but I have heard so much about
that lady ..."

"Fraulein Garlett is no 'Feminist,'" interrupted
Helmer eagerly, "and she does not preach emancipa
tion. She is not so desirous of winning rights for
women as of doing away with ancient prerogatives,
which they possess to the injury of all."

"How so? what prerogatives?" asked the others.

"Of being idle; of having an empty brain; of dis
claiming all care for the common weal; of think
ing themselves absolved from the bother of logical
thought . . . and so of robbing humanity of half its
intellectual working power."

"I don't understand you," said Annette.

"Oh, I understand!" exclaimed M. de la Rochere.
"Women are to mix in politics. How advantageous
that is has been shown by the tricoteuses around the
guillotine and the petroleuses during the Commune.
. . . Woman is a creature d? amour. . . . Wife, mistress,
odalisque . . . that is our French ideal!"

" In Germany, also, a feminine ideal has been es
tablished," remarked Bruning; "that of three capital
K's: — Kirche, Kinder, Kuche — church, children,
kitchen."

The Italian Minister turned the conversation:
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Do you know, Herr Helmer, two years ago, when

I was passing through Berlin, I attended the pre
miere of your last drama and was delighted at its
great success. I hope the piece is to be given soon
on the Italian stage."

" Indeed, Your Excellency, that has actually been
arranged for — it is to be presented next winter at
Milan."

1 ' Unless in the mean time, ' ' said Bruning, laughing,

II the great European war should break out which
the signer marchese predicts."

Helmer shrugged his shoulders. " Oh, yes, that
famous unavoidable European war of the future,
which has been announced for many long years,
but which nevertheless, so far, has been warded
off."

"So you still think it avoidable, do you?" asked
the Countess Vera.

"I consider it impossible. Unless Europe takes
up with a suicidal policy."

Bruning tapped Helmer on the shoulder: "This
shows what an incorrigible idealist you are — deaf
and blind to the coarse realities of life. You look on
men as angels, while in reality they are beasts."

Helmer impatiently shook Bruning's hand from
his shoulder: "Present company excepted, it is to
be hoped," said he. "But you know that I will not
have a controversy with you."

The sportsman wanted to smooth things over. " It
is to be hoped that Herr Helmer is right — for if a
war were to break out, all securities would go down
seriously. But still, if it should happen, it would be

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

a wholesome letting of blood. And who can prevent
the decrees of history?"

"Oh, history, history," exclaimed Helmer, in a
tone of vexation. "Does history make us or do we
make history? If you put yourself before the mirror
and make up faces, can one say, when there is an
ugly reflection, ' who can prevent the grimaces of the
mirror'?"

"There is no use discussing," said the marchese.
"On general grounds it seems to me, my dear poet,
that you do not have a very sound comprehension
of affairs here below. You soar up into a world of
thought and do not see what positive facts bring.
You do not know what seething and fermentation
are going on in the lower regions of political and so
cial life ; how friction and tension are increasing, and
how ultimately — and very soon, too, — there must
be an explosion."

"In other words, you consider me blind, Your
Excellency? Of course, I know right well that there
is seething and fermentation. It certainly cannot
continue as it is now ; a mighty change — what you
call an explosion — is before us, — I agree to that.
We have entered upon the age of the air, the age of
the heights. The depths are to be left behind. All
that is low is to be conquered. Not by forcible de
struction — but it will disappear, will sink away.
. . . Have you ever made a voyage in an airship and
gone up high, Your Excellency? If you have, you
found that it was not so much a mounting into the
upper regions as it was a sinking away of what was
below. I know of things which are in preparation,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

which are unknown to you and which are to be
revealed during our Rose- Week. In our midst so
journs an inventor, a conqueror . . . yet I must not
betray secrets." He stood up. "I must be going.
I hope I shall see you all this evening at our opening
session."

CHAPTER XIV

DREAMS OF LOVE

" Ninon, Ninon, que fais-tu de la vie, toi qui vis sans amour ? "

THE text of this song haunted Franka's memory.
She was reclining on the couch in her little salon,
her arms crossed behind her head, her eyes closed.

The red silk shades at the windows were drawn
and a ruddy twilight permeated the room. All the
salons in the suites put at the disposal of Mr. Toker's
guests had red hangings and white walls. The chairs
and sofas were rose-colored. The carpets showed red
roses on a white ground. The sleeping-rooms were
also upholstered in these two colors, and the bath
rooms attached to each apartment were fitted with
rose-marble. Toker did not want his guests to be for
a single minute free from the spell of roses. Even the
water, as it flowed through the faucets at the wash-
stands, was perfumed with roses, and rose-scented
soap was provided. The chandeliers were of pale-
rose glass and a rose-colored shade protected every
electric lamp.

Frau Eleonore was sitting at the writing-table of
the little salon and was writing picture-postcards for
the whole circle of her acquaintance. Now and then
she interrupted this occupation and glanced over at
Franka.

"There, you have been lying for almost an hour
perfectly motionless, my dear; were you asleep?"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"No, only thinking."

"Were you meditating on your coming address? "

" No, I am thinking — for a wonder — of myself.
I am putting Franka Garlett timid questions and she
is answering them hesitatingly."

"Might one know what the subject of this inter
esting inquisition is?"

" It is too vague to be expressed in words."

"Yet I think I can imagine: the first question put
by the inquisitor to the victim runs: 'Confess! how
did yesterday's prince please you?"

"You think so, do you?" She shook her head,
laughing; "you are on the wrong track."

"Indeed! Then, perhaps . . ."

"Please do not you take upon yourself the office
of investigator. . . . Instead, please go on writing
your 'cordial greetings from Lucerne' and let me
think for a while longer."

"Very well; I must post a dozen or more cards
before the mail is collected."

Franka again took up the thread of her thoughts
as before ..." Toi qui vis sans amour.1' . . . Now for
the first time, called up by Frau Eleonore's jesting
words, arose Victor Adolph's picture before her. She
had certainly not been thinking of him before. Only
of love in general : not even of that — rather of the
sense of troublous unsatisfying yearning which occa
sionally took possession of her and caused her pain
— a feeling of emptiness, of melancholy . . . and as
if to give some explanation for it, she had been re
peating to herself the words of that French song.

Was it possible that her life's failure consisted in the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

fact that it was without love? She had given herself
with zeal and enthusiasm to a great idea, to a great
object, and had relentlessly waved aside everything
else. She had accomplished her lofty task and her
success had brought her great satisfaction. She had
made known perfectly new theories regarding the
rights and duties of women and had been able to
impose them on others. So successful had her work
been that she had won a reputation confirmed by
her enrollment in the Order of the Knights of the
Roses, and yet . . . and yet . . . there was this yearn
ing. . . . What for? If it were for love, how came it
that no one of those who had come into her vicinity
had awakened that passion in her heart? Not one
had attracted her, or even for a moment put her
senses into a tumult. Though often, whether in a
dream or in a book she was reading, the glamour
of artistic impressions or of mild spring nights, a sud
den glow swept through her veins, oppressing her,
it was never associated with the image of any special
man. And if an impulse swelled her heart toward
tenderness, — not toward passionate bliss, but to
ward a sincere, gentle tenderness, — then she had
no idea whom she should bless with it.

No, she had not been thinking of the prince; she
was trying to formulate another recollection of the
evening before : that moment, when in her terror at
a vision in the firmament, she had rested her hand
on Helmer's arm . . . and the feeling of calmness,
of refuge, of sweet security, which had come over
her. Once again, now that the interruption caused
by Frau Eleonore was past, she closed her eyes and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tried to recall her former sensation: she succeeded
in doing so: the sense of refuge and security was
there once more, and sweetly rang the words: "A
warm house and a loving heart in it" . . .

"Dear heart," she murmured.

Frau Eleonore stood up: "What did you say? Do
you wish anything?"

At the same instant a groom entered and brought
a great gilded basket filled with Parma violets. A
visiting-card lay in it: Prince Victor Adolph von
X .

When Helmer took his departure, Bruning also
bade good-bye to the little luncheon coterie with the
intention of accompanying his friend.

"You still owe me a call," said he; "won't you
come up to my room for a little while? No? Then let
me go a part of the way with you. How did you like
the two ladies? Shall I tell you something about
them?"

"I 'd rather hear about the Italian Minister —
the man interests me."

"I can believe it. There is no one in all Europe
more interesting at the present time. He is of
the clay from which the Cavours, the Talleyrands,
the Bismarcks, and the Chamberlains are made.
One who can talk fluently of future events, of fer
mentations and collisions, because he himself is one
who causes events to come, who ferments and col
lides."

"Oh, is that so?"

" You swear by that school which does not believe
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

in the power of individuals to influence the history
of nations? It is your idea, that the nameless masses,
that all-powerful Necessity, and the like, condition
the course of history ..."

"There you are again with your 'history.' If you
mean by it the changes that result from universal
conditions, then, certainly, the laws of nature and
the nameless masses, unconsciously obeying them,
form the motive power ; but if it concerns the events
that are brought about by the intrigues of diplo
mats and despots and the newspapers that are sub
servient to them, then I grant that this kind of
history is made by ambitious and unscrupulous indi
viduals."

"Well, then, if that is undersood, my Romeo
Rinotti is just a history-maker. 'Unscrupulousness'
is his fetish ... in fact, it is the reasonable basis of
all real politics. Rinotti is not as yet at the helm,
else a portentious chapter in the history of our cen
tury would have been written long ago ; but he will
yet come to the helm, and then . . . well, he makes no
secret of the lofty aims which he has conceived for the
grandeur and glory of his country. Whether he will
attain them is, indeed, another question; I have my
doubts ; for fortunately we in Austria, we also have
resolute men in leading positions ... a fine, proud
imperialism has flowered since Aehrenthal's great
stroke of genius; and our military strength, as well
as that of our allies, is to be reckoned with. . . . Our
fleet of airships also makes a good showing. So Ri-
notti's bold plans will scarcely be fulfilled, in spite
of all Slavic assistance . . . but whatever the con-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

sequences may be, the impulse will suffice, as I said,
to produce a mighty chapter in history. I must say,
although the man is really our enemy, he inspires
me with respect, because of his powerful will : univer
sal history needs such chaps. At the same time, he
is a fascinating man. . . . The women are all crazy
over him . . . that Baltic woman, for example. . . .
Did you notice how her eyes were riveted on him?
If the Countess Solnikova has not fallen under his
spell, it is only thanks to her fancy for your com
poser. . . . But here I am chattering away and you
do not say a word . . . apparently you are up in
the clouds again, your favorite habitation, and prob
ably have not been listening to what I said."

"On the contrary, I have been listening with all
attention. What you tell me of Rinotti interests me
immensely. It proves clearly, once more, how our
official world is still entangled in the ancient con
cepts and methods, how men cannot see what the
needs of the age are. They do not suspect that the
epoch of cabinet intrigues is just as obsolete, though
not so far removed from us, as the Tertiary or the
Miocene period. Or are we really still in the very
midst of it? Am I the one who does not see the actu
ality, because my eyes are fixed too eagerly on the
future, just as the eyes of the Rinottis and their ad
mirers are directed toward the past? However, I
am very grateful to you, for what you have told me
shows how imperative the work is which must be the
outcome of the Rose- Week."

"You incorrigible visionary ! Do you really im
agine that Toker, Helmer, and Company are going to

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

lift the world out of its hinges? I have permitted my
self to compare the undertaking of this worthy firm
to Hagenbeck; I might have said that it is a great
cosmopolitan variety-show . . . well, I am curious;
especially for your number on the programme: —
' Mr. Chlodwig Helmer, prestidigitator on the poets'
ladder.' But here we are at your lodgings — I will
leave you. No offense, I hope ..."

Helmer shrugged his shoulders: "I know you of
old, and if I am inwardly annoyed at your cynicism,
I don't lay it up against you."

"And I likewise pardon you for calling my modi
cum of common sense and mother wit cynicism.
Such a long-established comradeship is n't going to
be broken up by such quizzing. The earth would be
boresome if it contained nothing but mere practical
people — a few dreamers must be allowed to prac
tice their somnambulism. Servus, old fellow."

Bruning said good-bye at the entrance door of the
Rose- Palace; Helmer, however, did not go in, but
walked off in another direction. The conversation
with his boyhood friend had given a serious trend
to his thoughts, and he was not inclined at the mo
ment to meet any of Mr. Toker's guests and converse
with them. He preferred a solitary walk.

He knew a path which led from the shore of the
lake to a distant grove where it was very silent and
pleasant: thither he directed his steps. He had often
in his life found that when he was vexed with men —
either with individual men or with human society at
large — he was immediately pacified by taking ref
uge with Nature. To him Nature, the mother of all

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

creatures — Nature, the generous, the life-abounding,
the sublime, the unfathomable, the inexorable keeper
of her own mysteries, the never disobedient servant
of her own laws, the spendthrift and miser of her own
treasures — to him Nature was not some thing, but
some one. A some one whom he loved with awe
and whose magical gifts he accepted as the token of
some measure of reciprocal love.

He strolled for some distance along the shore of the
lake; boats large and small were darting across its
mirror-like surface. Snow-capped mountains arose in
the background. Helmer appreciated the imposing
beauty of the whole landscape; but what he wanted
to find was a retired, circumscribed spot without a
broad outlook, without the effect of theatrical deco
rations or panoramic views, a little place, where he
might be alone with a few trees and a few wild flow
ers. So he turned aside into a narrow path between
two wooded hills, and after a short walk entered the
dark, cool corner which he was looking for. There
nothing was to be seen worthy of being called "a
splendid region" or of being remarked as bearing
a characteristic Swiss flavor; the little assemblage
of firs and birches, of oaks and beeches, of stunted
bushes, of mossy stones, and tall grasses might have
been duplicated in any other place in Europe. The
sunlight danced in the lightly waving foliage and a
delicious perfume of gum and strawberries filled the
air. Blue and yellow and rose-colored flowers were
blooming all about, wooed by fluttering white butter
flies. Then there was a dreamily monotonous music
of humming bees, chirping crickets, and murmuring

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brooks, now and then interrupted by the clear call
of the blackbird.

Helmer flung himself down in the grass at the foot
of a leafy beech tree and — breathed. Really he
did nothing else — without thoughts, without recol
lections, he lay there awhile and merely breathed.
Long, joyous inhalations, just like all the plant
brethren around him, the life of which is scornfully
called "vegetating," although it is perhaps the pur
est form of the joy of existence. He contemplated
a tiny beetle which was climbing laboriously up a
swaying blade of grass, and in doing so lost its bal
ance. A pair of very industrious ants, laden with
building-materials, hastened by. A little green worm
wriggled circumspectly, and as it drew its tail up to
its head it made an arch, then stretched itself out
again in order to make another — a complicated
method of locomotion.

Helmer followed with friendly eyes all these move
ments which seem so important to those who make
them. Also a beautiful gift of Nature, he said to him
self, this consciousness of importance which is com
mon to the most insignificant little creature, and
which confers upon it a sort of dignity. And thus he
began once more to take up the thread of thought.
And the things also which he wanted to escape from
began once more to recur in his mind : all the scorn
ful, stupid, harmful conversation of all those people
whose judgments and behavior lay so far removed
from the realm toward which his poetic activities
and yearning ran. In the circle of the Knighthood
of the Rose, to be sure, he had found kindred spirits,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

all working like himself to prepare the coming king
dom ; but there were only two or three dozen of them,
and the others were millions, and among them the
very ones that had the most power and influence,
rank and station . . . they form the great public and
we ... we are a number or two in a variety -show.

He shook his head. No, that is not true. We also
have millions behind us — dumb, yearning millions,
who are only waiting for the liberating act. The liber
ating act, however, must be forestalled by the liber
ating word ... so let us first say just what we have
to say.

He passed in review the scheme of his poem. Did
it express everything that in hours of inspiration
swept before his mind? Alas, no! Far, far from it —
there still remained much work for him to do. The
problems, the subjects crowded in upon him —
every day with its new experiences brought new
ideas. Especially this last week, by contact with the
great artists and thinkers, who surpassed him in so
many ways, so many new horizons had opened be
fore him. It was, indeed, a marvelous company.
Franka must assuredly be grateful to him that she
had been invited to be present, for he had suggested
to her the career which she had so brilliantly fol
lowed. Franka . . . his thoughts dwelt longer at this
name, at the picture which it called up. How con
fidingly, how beseechingly, as if asking his aid, she had
clung to him. ... It made his heart glow. He was
not thinking now of her genius, of her beauty, but
rather of that helplessness ... oh, if he could only
hold her in his arms to protect her and to comfort

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her. . . . Pshaw, what nonsense ! she needed no pro
tection; she was a wealthy, influential lady, with
everything at her command. Yesterday, after that
brief minute on the terrace, she went into the salon
and was instantly surrounded ; that prince had paid
her his homage most openly. And such a handsome,
seductive man that Victor Adolph ... If she, the
proud beauty, wanted to have a love-affair, what
more did she need to do than make a sign in order
to have her pick among the highest, the most dis
tinguished? . . . "Can it be that I am jealous? . . .
No, thank God, I am not in love with her; one does
not covet the stars. I will even advise her now to
think of her own happiness. It was my fault to a
certain degree that she, so Joan-of- Arc-like, shut her
heart up in an iron breastplate. I gave her that
counsel, that terrible counsel . . ."

CHAPTER XV

RINOTTI AND PRINCE VICTOR ADOLPH

THE MARCHESE RINOTTI, after having taken his
leave of the Countess Vera and her cousin, went to
his room to see whether during his absence any
thing had come to him by mail requiring his atten
tion. He was expecting important advices. Although
he was traveling for pleasure and recreation, still he
kept in constant touch with all the activities of his
post, and even here was working in the business
which he was secretly trying to further.

He was in a highly excited state of mind. The news
that he had read in the morning's papers indicated
a crisis in various controversies, the obscuration of
certain points on the political horizon ; and this fur
nished a favorable field for his plans. What espe
cially intensified his excitement was the retrospect of
the last two hours, during which it had become clear
to him that the pretty Baltic widow was passionately
in love with him. She had sat next him at table.
Those side glances, that coquettish smile, aye, even
that far from abrupt drawing back of her little foot
when he had accidentally touched it with his. . . .
Rinotti was accustomed to this kind of triumph,
but it always delighted him to see the evident signs
of his mastery of the female heart — a double tri
umph, because he no longer possessed the attractive
power of youth; — therefore it must be really some-

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thing magnetic, something hypnotic and peculiar
in him ... or was it merely the force of his will, of
his violent desires? There is nothing like violence;
one may condemn it as brutal as much as one will
— therein lies strength in war and in love. With
such "Renaissance" thoughts he took up his bundle
of letters, documents, and dispatches which were
waiting for him on his writing-table and now set to
work merrily.

He had an hour and a half free: at four o'clock he
was to call on Prince Victor Adolph, to whom, since
he was a royal highness, he wanted to show his pro
found respect. That the prince belonged to a country
with which, according to Rinotti's calculations, a con
flict was imminent, was no obstacle. The letters in
terested him intensely. The correspondents whom he
had delegated in England and France, in Germany
and Austria, in Russia and the Balkans, communi
cated to him details of all kinds of transparent in
trigues even when there was nothing to see through,
for they knew his predilections for diplomatic subter
fuges and underground paths, and realized that their
reports would be regarded as all the more sapient,
the more they discovered evil motives concealed be
hind all political transactions and demonstrations.

Rinotti jotted down on a sheet of paper notes
wherein swarmed a profusion of references to move
ments of troops, blockades of boundaries, commu
niques, airship works, and the like. In the same
breath he scribbled on another sheet of paper de
tached words and sentences like " Splendid creature,"
"lovely one," "You must be mine," "devouring

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fire," and other ingredients of a glowing billet doux
which that very evening he proposed to slip into
Annette's hands at the Rose-Festival.

In the mean time Victor Adolph was expecting
the promised visit. He was sitting on his balcony
and lying back comfortably in a rocking-chair, with
a book in his hand and a cigarette between his lips.
He was not alone. His constant attendant, General
von Orell, adjutant, tutor, compagnon de plaisir, pa
ternal friend, and master of ceremonies, all in one
person, was resting in a second rocking-chair, also
engaged in smoking and reading. Only he was puffing
a strong imported cigar and was reading a military
aeronautical journal.

Victor Adolph glanced up from his reading : "Why,
he is a real poet, this Helmer. . . . You ought to read
'Schwingen,' Orell, since you are so much interested
in aviation, as I see from the title-picture of your
journal."

The general politely laid his journal aside, as his
prince was pleased to address him.

"Never read poems, Your Royal Highness."

"I know that, you are too 'matter-of-fact' for
such things."

"Too what?" The general did not understand the
English expression used by the prince.

"Too sober, too cold-hearted, too skeptical,
too . . ."

"Too prosaic. Granted. Dry common sense.
Practical mind. I flatter myself."

"What news in your journal? Any great advance
in the art of flying?"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Yes, great supplies of explosives can be carried
by airships."

"Really? What a blessing. . . . Will not Signor
Rinotti be here shortly?"

Orell glanced at his watch : —

"Quarter of an hour."

The general preferred not to say more words
than were necessary.

" Have the violets been sent to the Rose-Palace? "

"Yes, Your Royal Highness. Pretty girl. But a
bluestocking. . . . Shame!"

" Fraulein Garlett does not give the impression of
being a bluestocking, but she is very clever."

"Women should not be clever."

The prince laughed. " You are fearfully vieuxjeu,
my dear Orell."

"Fearfully what?"

"Old-fashioned."

"I natter myself; hate all modern follies. Mod
ern technique, especially the technique of arms, also
the modern mode of warfare interests me. Your
Royal Highness is far too little interested in such
things. Here are the experiences of the Russo-
Japanese campaign. . . ."

"I know them. There is some of that in Vere-
sayef's 'Recollections of a Physician,' and in Leonid
Andreyef's 'Red Laughter.'"

"Your Royal Highness reads bad books with the
rest."

"A piece of genuine good fortune that my royal
father has not commissioned you to censor my read-
ing."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"But his Majesty recommended me to procure
useful books for Your Royal Highness."

"Yes, yes; those dealing with military science and
Byzantine history. But I throw aside all such rub
bish."

"And read socialistic pamphlets."

"What if I do? The social question interests me."

"Me, too. Must be settled. I know how to."

"Truly, do you know that? Here behold me all
eagerness! Tell me how."

"Annihilate the whole crowd."

A cloud of dissatisfaction darkened Victor Adolph ' s
face, but he made no reply. He had no desire to be
drawn into a dispute. Orell's views were well known
to him and he avoided as far as possible affording
him any opportunity of expressing them. He took
up his book again and lighted a fresh cigarette. Yet
he did not read; he only let his mind dwell on the
theme that had been broached. The social question
really interested him intensely, and not superficially
either ; he had studied the thing itself. He had long
been secretly a subscriber to " Vorwarts," and many
times he had succeeded in smuggling himself into the
assemblies of the local labor union, and once he
had been present, unrecognized, at an international
congress of Socialists. Not everything was clear to
him in the doctrinaire aspects of the question, but
deep in his heart he was on the side of those who are
trying to obtain for the masses of the nations the
joys and dignities of life. In order to get a clear no
tion of the battle against poverty, he would have had
to make a study of poverty and see for himself ; and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

then horrible abysses of woe would have opened be
fore him; abysses of which people of his class and
in general of all classes, that do not belong to the
proletariat, have for the most part no conception.

And one thing particularly embittered him: the
fearful lack of comprehension which he met with
when he merely mentioned the subject in his own
circles. No one seemed to have an idea of what was
at issue. Poverty? Yes, that was found everywhere,
but it always had existed and always would exist:
there is no remedy, except to distribute alms, to
establish free soup-kitchens, and so on, and that sort
of thing is provided generously. To practice charity
is certainly one of the cardinal virtues, and a host of
people, notably the women of princely families, are
in the front ranks, setting a good example! . . .

Naturally, there are also discontented people — the
lazy who do not want to work or the rascally fellows
who are always after higher wages in order to have
more gin to drink. But especially guilty of the dis
content are the agitators, the so-called leaders, the
mischief-making demagogues. Opposition parties,
revolutionary parties, — such have always been, —
and the only remedy against them is iron firmness.
As a last resort one always has the military to pre
serve the established order. Force is the best, indeed,
the only security : the threat of armed force restrains
the rabble. Without this wholesome fear the Reds
would soon be on hand to plunder property-owners
or to vote that all property should be shared equally
— such nonsense ! As if after such a division the
industrious and the clever would not shortly possess

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

more than the lazy and the rascally, and then there
would be an end of all the famous equality . . . no,
no, those are idle dreams. . . . Inequality is founded
on Nature.

These and similar phrases Victor Adolph had al
ways been obliged to hear when Socialism was men
tioned in his environment. With especial violence
the opponents of a cause always succeed in demolish
ing the postulates that are never put forward by its
advocates. "Equal division of property" — what
Socialist would have ever demanded such a thing?
Public possession, State possession is not equally
divided possession — it is common possession, like
the air we breathe.

The prevalent misconception which aroused Vic
tor Adolph's wrath extended not only to the nature
of the social movement, but also to its progress.
What it has already accomplished in organization,
in clearing the way, what it is on the point of doing,
those who stand aloof do not know. They frequently
talk about the laws of nature, but only to draw from
them the conclusion that all things will and must
remain as they are. And they are ready to assist
this well-beloved vis inertia with laws and clubs
and cannon, but what the existing circumstances,
what the events will bring forth in natural conse
quences; — they have no notion about that. With
irresponsible frivolity they let come what may. They
see nothing of the approaching flood; should there
really be a shower or two, they have their umbrellas
ready.

Victor Adolph had not himself penetrated far
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

enough into the domain of social and economic af
fairs to predict how the movement would develop,
but he followed it with deep sympathy, and was im
pelled to do so by two honorable motives, — desire
for knowledge and love for his fellow-men.

The prince was aroused from his thoughts by the
announcement — "His Excellency, Marchese Ri-
notti." The general went to meet the visitor and
brought him to the prince. After the first ceremoni
ous greetings had been exchanged, obsequiously on
the part of the diplomat, with friendly dignity on the
part of the prince, the prince invited the marchese
to sit down, and began the conversation with the
question: " Is it decided that your king is coming here
this week?"

"Yes, Your Royal Highness, in three days His
Majesty will arrive."

"And will he attend the exercises in the Rose-
Palace?"

"That is his intention."

"A great honor for the American," remarked the
general.

The prince shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I doubt
if Mr. Toker has so much awe before crowned heads
as your loyal mind ascribes to him, my dear Orell."

"I have my doubts as to that point, also," said
Rinotti . "Mr. Toker belongs to that caste of moneyed
potentates who regard themselves as kings. And in
a certain sense they are, indeed, for they wield a
dominion over a monstrous, a sinister power. Old
Europe must take precious good care of her prestige,
must stick closer than ever to her traditions, if she

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

would hold her own against the spirit of Ameri
canism."

"That is a vague term," said the prince. "What
do you mean by 'Americanism'?"

Rinotti's keen-cut face took on a contemptuous
expression. "I mean by it stock-jobbery and wild
quest for money ; lack of ideality, of anything roman
tic, of heroism ; their poverty in historical recollec
tions and national art amply accounts for this. They
have nothing of all that which constitutes our pride,
which enriches and ennobles us: ancient monuments,
cathedrals, old paintings, famous field-marshals, il
lustrious families, glorious dynasties of rulers — all
that is missing to the New World ; and what can it
offer in their place? — sky-scrapers, gigantic steel,
meat, and oil trusts, California gold-mines, and pos
sibly Niagara Falls! That I will grant as the one
thing poetic — but in everything else it is a land of
mediocrity, of aridity, of the barrenest prose."

The general nodded his assent: "Quite right."

Victor Adolph angrily crushed his cigarette into
theash-tray. "You say, 'Quite right.' I say,' Quite
false,' essentially false. I know America. You do not
know it. I spent a year at Harvard University. You
have no conception of the warmth of enthusiasm,
of the generosity, of the wide outlook, of the world-
embracing ideas — in a word, of the lofty ideals which
animate that free, youthful-hearted people ..."

"What fire, Your Royal Highness!" exclaimed
the marchese. "Your own youthful enthusiasm is
speaking. I love it and I admire it, especially in a
Northerner."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

The prince made an impatient deprecatory gesture
with his hand. "Do you know," said he, "that the
International Agricultural Institute in Rome, the
foundation of which was a great glory for King
Victor Emanuel III, because it is intended for the
service and advantage of all men, owes its origin to
an American? The man's name was Lubin. He
made a trip to Europe on purpose to bring this idea
of his to the sovereigns; with your king, whose mind
is open to grand new ideas, he found appreciation
and support."

"I am glad Your Royal Highness has so good an
opinion of my sovereign. I hope also that Italy
under his scepter will continue to accumulate stores
of glory. My country faces great tasks ..."

"Undoubtedly," interrupted Victor Adolph; " for
example, the amelioration of poverty in Sicily,
the drainage of all malaria-producing swamps, the
diminution of the illiterate . . .oh, great tasks are
to be performed everywhere, not in Italy alone ..."

"In America as well?" asked Rinotti ironically.

"Certainly, in America as well; and possibly the
example will be given us from there."

The prince stood up. Rinotti understood this to
be a hint that the interview was at an end : he also
arose and took a ceremonious farewell. The general
accompanied him to the door and then returned to
the prince.

"Desires to thank you again for your gracious
reception."

"The man is antipathetic to me," replied the
prince.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"He is false. Intriguer. Mind full of mischief.
That is evident. Intends to play our ally nasty
tricks; only waiting till he becomes Prime Minister.
Then things will explode! Boundless ambition. Be
lieves that with the Italian airships — and it is true
they are swift — they can annihilate Austria's fleet.
But we are all ready for him."

"You are always imagining wars and rumors of
wars, my dear Orell, like the Old Men's chorus in
' Faust.' But if that worthy statesman should really
have such notions up his sleeve, he would run counter
to his king's desire for peace. And, moreover, the
Italian people have some sense."

"What is that — the people?"

CHAPTER XVI

THE SIELENBURG PARTY

ELDERLY ladies of the Austrian aristocracy have
no great inclination for traveling. While for a hun
dred years it has been the fashion in England to
make a tour on the Continent, and while in the days
of mail-coaches, noblewomen, young and old, were
accustomed to accompany their spouses to Switzer
land and to Italy, to Paris and to the German baths,
the ladies of the Austrian nobility have only reluc
tantly quitted their castles in order to journey to
other countries. Since traveling has been made so
easy and expeditious, especially since automobiles
came into fashion, the younger feminine element of
the higher Austrian circles have ventured to make
trips into distant lands. But even at the time of the
Rose- Week, there were among the elder aristocratic
women some who had never before set foot outside
the boundaries of the Empire. Among these was
the Countess Adele Schollendorf . But, nevertheless,
one fine June morning the old lady, accompanied by
her cousin Albertine, started for Lucerne. Two cava
liers also made up the party: Cousin Coriolan and
Baron Ludwig Malhof.

The motive of the expedition was curiosity. Count
Sielen's sister had become quite estranged from her
grand-niece since the latter had begun to appear on
the public platform. The affair was too distasteful

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

to her — it cut entirely across all her prejudices.
Franka had, indeed, lost nothing in reputation and
respect by her action — on the contrary ; but the
old countess could not be reconciled to it. She did
not go so far as to indulge in open reproach and
rupture, being restrained by the fact that she was
indebted to Franka's generosity for her home at the
Sielenburg and the considerable revenues accruing
from this property; but she had renounced all per
sonal intercourse, which was the easier, because
Franka, on her part, took no pains to maintain it.
For no money in the world would the Countess
Adele have consented to attend the young girl's
lecture in Vienna. A connection — a person with
the Sielen blood in her veins — on the platform,
speaking in favor of the emancipation of women!
Horrible! But when one day Baron Malhof brought
the news that Franka Garlett had been invited to
take her place with the greatest celebrities of the day
at the Rose- Week celebration, — and he described
the Toker Rose- Week with enthusiasm, having him
self been present at one, — the old countess's curi
osity was awakened: "I should like to see it," she
exclaimed.

"Then let us go there," proposed Malhof. And he
argued so eloquently that the countess decided to
take the journey — the first she had ever made out
of her own country. There, so far away, she might,
indeed, endure to see Franka on the platform; only
at home, among all her relatives and acquaintances,
it would have been too painful. But there — "there "
being somewhat confused in her mind with the an-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tipodes — one was, so to speak, incognito. Albertine
consented to accompany her cousin, although the
expedition seemed to her very portentous and ad
venturous; but, possibly, she might have the oppor
tunity of telling this Franka, who had so uncere
moniously slipped out from under her influence, a
few verities which would redound to her advan
tage.

Cousin Coriolan joined the party from the purpose
of studying into the ''humbug." . . . Toker was a
fool, and the whole affair was a piece of modern
sham. Baron Malhof, widely experienced, offered
his services as marshal for the journey: to engage
lodgings, to see to the luggage, to act as cicerone,
and in general to superintend all the details of the
trip. But when he suggested making the journey
to Lucerne in an airship, Countess Adele protested
with horror.

They arrived the evening before the exercises
were to begin ; they had enjoyed a good night's sleep,
and were now sitting at their breakfast-coffee in the
dining-room. They were glancing through the news
paper, to find what announcements were made
about the coming performances: but all they found
were the list of Toker's guests, and the statement
that the same motto should serve for all the ad
dresses: "When thoughts will soar ..."

"I am curious to know what that means," mut
tered Coriolan ; "probably a kind of preaching about
all sorts of high-flying, so called Ideals. It may be
very edifying, but not very exciting."

"As far as I can judge of you, my dear Coriolan,"
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

said Malhof, "you would be neither excited nor
edified by the things which are to be heard here.
Just as the American and the operatic host which
he has invited are the representatives of the latest
and boldest ideas, so you . . ."

Countess Adele interrupted: "Well, if Franka's
emancipation absurdities are to be called soaring.
. . . This honey is famous — taste it, Baron Malhof;
and this crisp-toasted bread ... it seems to me the
Swiss are used to an abundant breakfast."

"Kipfel are best with coffee," remarked Albertine
ecstatically.

Coriolan nodded assent. " But Gugelhupf has some
claim upon us," he added.

"We have wandered far from high-soaring
thoughts again," remarked Baron Malhof.

Countess Adele spread some more honey on her
toast. "I 'm curious to see how Franka looks ..."

" Probably prettier than ever — she is a ravishing
creature ..."

"What fire, Baron Malhof!"

"Yes, I confess, Fraulein Garlett was my last
flame. . . . Oh, not a very creditable story, as far
as I was concerned. I tried to — well, never mind
what I tried — but she gave me a pretty rebuff. As
to emancipation, as you keep saying, Countess,
nothing of that could be seen in her. A virtuous
maiden of the old-fashioned model ..."

"Excuse me, but in order to resist you ..."

"One need not be so very virtuous — were you
going to say, Madam? That is true, but the cir
cumstances under which I was repulsed, and the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

way in which she did it, certainly indicated the much-
praised ' fundamental principles.' "

" Don't you approve of them?"

"I never have, most gracious Countess."

"I know, I know; you have the reputation of
having been a genuine Don Juan. However, as
far as Franka is concerned, she seems to have
kept her head. In spite of this adventurous life —
this gallivanting about and making speeches, noth
ing discreditable has ever been charged against
her."

"So much the worse for her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if one hears nothing bad about a young
woman, it means that nothing pleasant has hap
pened to her."

"You are a terrible man! Albertine, we ought
never to have trusted ourselves to his escort!"

The old maid did not understand the joke. "Why
not?" she asked earnestly. "He is certainly a very
respectable gentleman. But do you know, Baron
Malhof, I should like to give you one piece of ad
vice: you ought not to comb your back hair over
your bald spot. Excuse my frankness ; but it is not
at all becoming to you."

The baron nervously and awkwardly moved his
hand over the place to which such invidious atten
tion had been called. "Good Heavens ! One does the
best one can ..."

"Oh, you, with your everlasting frankness," ex
claimed the countess reprovingly.

Coriolan went on reading his newspaper. "Here
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

among the names of the Rose comedians stands that
of a Herr Helmer; wasn't that fool Jew, who was
Eduard's last secretary, named Helmer?"

"Yes, that was his name," replied Countess
Adele. " But he was n't a Jew."

"Well, his maternal grandmother was Jewish,
and that is pretty much the same thing."

"So was our common ancestor Adam," said Mal-
hof angrily. " Especially here, in this free and dem
ocratic Switzerland, you should not assume that
tone. Here one must not brag too much of race
and rank."

A wrathful scowl contracted the brows of the
haughty aristocrat. "I certainly shall speak my
mind. Democracy does not impose on me. Besides,
here, in Switzerland there are a few very good old
families, even if they don't have titles. For instance,
there are the Hallwyls; only recently I subscribed
for their coat of arms for my collection ; . . . and
then, in our own country, thank God, the nobility
still means something — it is the mainstay of the
throne, the support of the faith — what do I care
for Switzerland?"

" I beg of you, Coriolan, do not lose your temper,"
said the Countess Adele soothingly, "and don't
talk so loud. What were we just speaking about?
Oh, yes, that Helmer ... I wonder if it is the same
man?"

Malhof signified with a nod that he was: " He has
become a famous poet and has been a frequent vis
itor at the Garlett palace."

"So-o-!" exclaimed the countess. "That is cer-
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tainly not safe. The young man was in love with
Franka. That is the reason Eduard dismissed him.
And he has become so famous since?"

"It certainly does not take much to make a per
son famous nowadays," remarked Coriolan. "No
longer are there any more classical poets. And as to
fame — that is something that belongs only to great
men, great field-marshals and statesmen. Prince
Eugene, Wallenstein, Metternich, the Archduke
Karl, Radetzky — those are names haloed with
glory. No such are to be found in this list."

"Don't you count great poets also?" asked Mal-
hof.

"Well, the classics, as far as I am concerned —
Goethe and Schiller."

"With the best will in the world, Mr. Toker could
not invite them. But who knows whether there
may not be a future Schiller or Goethe among the
guests?"

Coriolan shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. " In
this wretched age of ours there are no more great
men — either poets or heroes. All these suspicious
elements, this Socialism and Freemasonry must be
cleaned out once and for all. Authority must be set
up again and the people must have religion. Per
haps it will be better after the next war — such a
steel bath is mighty wholesome ..."

"Can't you leave off discussing politics, cousin?"
sighed the countess. "Fortunately, nothing is said
now about war."

"Do you think so? This proves that you read
nothing in the newspapers except gossip and the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

society news, and not the political part; otherwise
you would know that war is coming, and very soon,
too. Do you imagine we shall much longer endure
the gibes of the mischief-makers on the other side of
the Adriatic, and don't you know how in the Bal
kans they are only waiting their opportunity to
found a Great Servia? Austria will come out of a
war with such an increase of power that it will be
able to settle its internal affairs on a satisfactory
basis. And in the rest of Europe? The tension is
everywhere so great — who knows but before this
so-called Rose-Week shall end, the canister will
begin to rattle somewhere?"

"There, now! that will do," cried the old countess.
" You are a horrible bird of evil omen ! It is n't true,
is it, Malhof, that things are so bad?"

"I am no prophet. I grant that we are standing
on volcanic ground, but I believe that it will be a rev
olution sooner than a war. It must come to a finan
cial crash if things go on as they are — to strikes,
general strikes — how do I know? — or to an open
revolt. . . . But let us talk of other things. Let us
hope that everything will come out all right. Apres
nous le deluge! In the mean time, ladies, I propose
that in half an hour we set forth to have a little
glimpse of Lucerne. I will immediately order a
carriage. First of all, I will take you past the build
ings of the Rose-Palace. You must see how fairy-
like it all is. Even two years ago, when I was here,
it was dazzling in its magnificence. Since then I
understand Mr. Toker has introduced still further
embellishments and surprises. I have already pro-

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cured the entrance cards for the opening exercises
this evening. This forenoon we will spend in explor
ing Lucerne. But Coriolan, you must take an oath
that you will not say another word about politics as
long as we are on our pleasure trip."

CHAPTER XVII

THE OPENING NIGHT

THE exercises began at half -past seven in the even
ing ; so at that time of the year it was still broad day
light. The public was admitted to the grounds flanked
with pillared halls, spreading out from the lake to
the palace and covering a wide stretch behind it.
Here there was unrestrained freedom of movement.
Thus the festival began like a large garden-party.

Mr. Toker, his daughter, and his celebrated
guests, recognizable by the rosebud fastened to the
breast, circulated among the others. An automatic
orchestrion, consisting of instruments like the organ
and the harmonium, played by electricity, and con
cealed behind trees, filled the place with delicate
harmonies, ringing like the music of the spheres.
The fountains played, and in their lofty columns of
water glittered fiery red the rays of the sinking sun.
In the air flying-machines like birds or dragon-flies
performed artistic evolutions. Suddenly arose a
balloon with an aeronaut costumed like the god
Mars: from the basket two big guns were pointed
threateningly toward the earth. This uncanny in
strument of war rose to a great height, followed by
the eyes and the shouts of the spectators. Some
shouts of disapprobation mingled with the others,
for there were many in the throng who felt disturbed
by being reminded of the terrors of battles in the

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midst of a peaceful festival. It is true, men have
been accustomed to the military maneuvers attract
ing eager crowds to watch them, and at the world
expositions the military pavilion has always proved
to be a great drawing-card. But here, at this festival
of human exaltation, — celebrated under the symbol
of the queen of flowers, — they were really not pre
pared for the sight of cannon. But the slight dis
satisfaction soon resolved into pleasure, when from
the mouth of the threatening guns, instead of shells,
fresh rose-leaves were discharged over the throng,
and on their descent to the earth fluttered about in
the air like butterflies. There was universal applause.
Even a great cannon-founder who was among the
spectators, and who had recently signed very ad
vantageous contracts with several governments for
the delivery of balloon guns and of vertical cannon,
clapped his hands with the rest. One must be ready
to understand a joke; . . . the successful cannon-
king scarcely suspected with what deep seriousness
Mr. Toker prepared all the graceful details of his
work.

The little coterie of Austrian travelers were among
those present. But as both of the old ladies were too
weary to wander about, they took seats in one of the
marquees which had been pitched in the grounds.
Coriolan stayed with them, but Malhof went out to
mingle with the promenaders. He had hardly taken
two steps ere he fell in with Franka, who happened
to be going in the direction of the marquee where
her relatives were sitting. Malhof stopped in front
of her: —

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"Your very humble servant, Fraulein Garlett.
Do you remember me?"

Franka offered him her hand. "Certainly, Baron
Malhof. It is a pleasure to meet with a fellow-
countryman."

"Pray do not hasten on. You have no idea who
is sitting in the next marquee . . . you must not
meet them without being forewarned ..."

"Who is it?"

"That I must prepare your mind for by slow de
grees. Let us walk for a few moments in the oppo
site direction and talk about old times. May I offer
you my arm?"

Franka accepted. " You are really comical, Baron
Malhof. Old times ! We can scarcely be said to share
youthful recollections. . . . We have met just twice,
and the first time certainly under rather painful
circumstances. The second time at Sielenburg was
more agreeable."

"Well, now it must be agreeable, too. What a
change has taken place in your fate, Fraulein Franka !
First, a poor deserted orphan; next, one of the
wealthiest heiresses in the country; and now, in addi
tion, a European reputation! And as beautiful as
ever . . . yet your features have changed . . . there is
something melancholy in your face. Are you happy ? ' '

"Forever that question! Must one be happy?"

"Yes, one must if circumstances permit it, as in
your case they do — rather, demand it. Or are you
cast down by an unhappy love-affair?"

Franka laughed. "No, I am not in love with any
one."

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"Well, that is certainly a misfortune. Your laugh
did not ring merrily. I can easily imagine that a hun
dred opportunities were open to you, and perhaps
for that very reason you do not want to marry, and
you are not so far from wrong. . . . Freedom is a
fine thing. But have you no lover?"

"Truly, Baron Malhof, you are . . ."

" Oh, do not scold me! On the reef of your virtue
all the accumulated wisdom of my life goes to ship
wreck. But this time I am preaching unselfishly,
and the text of my sermon is: Do not let your youth
pass in vain; don't cheat your heart and your tem
perament of their rights. You did not come into the
world, blest with beauty, wealth, and independence,
to waste all these treasures, and bluestocking your
self merely for women's rights' tournees like any ugly
old maid. You must live, Fraulein Garlett — live! "

Franka stopped walking and withdrew her arm:
"You are incorrigible. This is in the style of that
letter of yours . . . but I am not making a show of
insulted virtue, it is insulted independence. What I
do, and what I leave undone, is not your affair. You
cannot look into my soul ; you cannot know what I
understand by living."

Baron Malhof put on a contrite expression: "I
have been at fault again, I see. I was trying to give
good advice and I get a lesson. Forgive me!"

Franka took his arm again: " Now, tell me, please,
what mischief lurks in the tent, from the neighbor
hood of which you have led me."

" How good of you to be genial again ! In the tent
sit your two aunts and Cousin Coriolan."

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Certainly no joyful surprise showed itself in
Franka's face. "Aunt Adele and Aunt Albertine?
How did they happen to come here?"

"To tell the honest truth, I persuaded them to
take the journey. You will forgive me for that,
too?"

"I will go this minute and greet my aunts."

Franka made the best of a bad business. It was
really disagreeable to her to meet again those three,
especially here in this place, where a spirit prevailed
which could not fail to be incomprehensible to
them; . . . however, when all was said, they were
her people. Her people? What a false expression.
How little she belonged to them. "To whom do I
belong, I'd like to know?" Franka asked herself
and a chill crept around her heart. . . .

" Really, then, you are willing to be precipitated
head over heels into the inevitable? That is true
courage!"

A few minutes later the two entered the marquee.
The meeting was rather stiff and constrained. Their
paths had gone so far asunder! And, moreover, they
had never been so very congenial. There was an
exchange of greetings, but no heartiness could be
felt or feigned ; then they talked indifferently of the
journey, of the festival week, and the like. Countess
Adele invited Franka to sit down with them.

"Tell us how things are going with you and what
you are doing. Do you speak this evening?"

"No," replied Franka, as she took a seat beside
her aunts. "I do not give my address until to
morrow."

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"And do you not feel alarmed? It is incompre
hensible to me what you are doing. . . . Tell me, is
the Helmer who is here, the one ..."

Franka anticipated the question: "Yes, grand
papa's former secretary. He has grown to be a
world-famous poet."

" I should never have believed it of him," remarked
Albertine.

"And I should never have believed that you, my
respected aunts, would ever dream of such a thing
as making a journey to the Rose-Festival. I really
believe you were never out of Austria. Did you come
in an airship?"

"That would be the last thing!" cried Countess
Adele with horror. "I would never go in such a
machine as long as I lived. . . . What has become of
your companion?"

"Frau von Rockhaus? Oh, she is still with me."

"That is good. One must always have a regard
to appearances."

Malhof sighed. "Oh, appearances! Besides, they
are all out of style."

After a while Franka got up. "Well, I must be
going. . . . We shall meet again in the hall. The
speeches will soon begin."

"Really," said Coriolan, "I am quite curious to
see this wild show."

A little later a fanfare gave the signal that the
festival was to be formally opened in the theater-hall.
Thither flocked all the visitors scattered throughout
the grounds.

It was an immense hall with boxes and galleries.
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Yet the parquet was not, as in regular theaters,
filled with rows of seats placed regularly, but was
like a great salon, in which a multitude of sofas and
armchairs were distributed about at haphazard, sep
arated by screens and flowering plants, with rooms
enough for people to pass from one group to another.
Behind the boxes were wide lobbies, available for
that part of the public that did not care to listen to
any particular address, either because its subject
was not interesting or because it was delivered in a
language not understood. There was no curtain
hung in front of the stage, which was really not a
stage, but rather a podium or platform. This podium
formed a second smaller salon with steps leading
down into the parquet. There, on the upper level,
were grouped Mr. Toker and all his illustrious guests,
sitting and standing. In front was a small reading-
desk with a chair.

Throughout the hall there was much to make it
evident that here also was the realm of roses. The
upholstery of the furniture and the fronts of the
boxes were of pink velvet, and by an electric appa
ratus a pale rose glow was everywhere disseminated.
A hidden ventilator provided the place with cool,
rose-perfumed air. No chandelier was suspended
from above, but the ceiling simulated the sky popu
lated with electric lights, distributed like stars and
nebulae, — an accurate copy of a segment of the
universe. Between the first row of boxes and the
gallery was placed a wreath of medallion-portraits
of great departed poets, savants, inventors, and dis
coverers from Vergil to Shakespeare and to Goethe ;

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

from Aristotle to Leonardo da Vinci, and then to
Darwin ; from Columbus to Gutenberg and to Mont-
golfier. Under the pictures the names sparkled
with electric letters. In the center a little struc
ture which, from the hall looked like a prompter's
box, concealed a phonograph apparatus to make a
permanent record of the speaker's words.

A signal rang out; Toker stepped to the front
of the platform, and soon expectant silence pre
vailed in the hall. In a loud voice, but in simple,
conversational manner and in English Toker began
to speak : —

"Ladies and gentlemen! A hearty welcome to
you all. I see in the hall many of the habitues of the
Lucerne Rose- Weeks, yet also many new faces. To
the new visitors I should like to tell in a few words
the purpose of our establishment: It is a centraliza
tion of forces, a great dynamo-machine. For what
is offered to you here in this limited place is meant
for the millions outside, and is to be carried to
the greatest distances, to be distributed among the
working-people, and to be brought before the mighti
est rulers. A number of the noblest spirits among
our contemporaries are working together here. Each
one brings a significant portion of the results of his
thinking, his poetry, his investigations, of his crea
tions; and all with the same aim, with the same end
in view : — the progress of society toward greater
righteousness and greater freedom, toward greater
beauty and greater happiness. It is already recog
nized that what lifts men from barbarism to human
ity is the work of growing intelligence, which awak-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ens the will toward goodness. This will animates us
here. And therefore I beg you to listen to the com
ing addresses not only with friendly attention, but
also with some reverence. Wherever men assemble
for the purpose of elevating their thoughts into high
regions, and of allowing their hearts to beat in good
will for their fellow-creatures, there is a kind of
temple. I now will allow Music to speak."

Toker bowed and stepped back. Now followed the
performance of the Rose-Quintette, directed by the
composer, the gifted young Pole, himself. After it
was finished, not only the Russian countess, but the
whole assemblage broke out into a delirium of
enthusiasm. "There," exclaimed Countess Vera to
Rinotti, who sat near her, "is n't that as much a
triumph as a victorious battle?"

"It is a battle, and the victor is named Melody,"
replied the marchese.

Next, the great French author went to the desk
and read a chapter from his last (as yet unprinted)
book. It was entitled "La Verite, toute la Verite,
rien que la Verite." Full of bold thought, of keen
wit, of sparkling turns of speech, it was a bundle
of new truths delivered to the auditors, and at the
same time it was an unmasking of the lies that sub
jugate human society. This reading was followed by
an intermission devoted to social intercourse, while
the two circles, the audience and the performers,
mingled together.

Prince Victor Adolph mounted the steps leading
to the platform and approached Franka: "Shall we
not hear you to-day, Miss Garlett?"

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"No, Your Highness; my turn comes to-morrow
— but I am already beginning to feel anxious."

"You feel anxious! Yet you are accustomed to
speak before crowded houses."

" But not before hundreds of thousands of people.
This fearful machine" — she indicated the phono
graph in the prompter's box — "will carry our
words before that number."

"Whether a thousand or a hundred thousand —
is n't it all the same?"

"Oh, no, the thousand, who come of their own
free will to listen to an address, belong to a certain
stratum of society, and are all animated by similar
feelings. My public, for example, was mostly com
posed of young girls from middle-class circles, and
had the desire to attain intellectual freedom and to
put it into practice ; but the public which I shall face
to-morrow ..."

"Yes, I know. Mr. Toker has told us — it em
braces all ranks in all lands. Even in this hall, there
is not much unanimity of sentiment. Look, for ex
ample, at the difference between my views and the
views of my companion, Count Orell ..."

"I must thank you for the splendid violets,
Prince."

"Oh, only a modest greeting."

The prince remained a long time near Franka, en
gaging her in lively conversation. That attracted
the attention of the two aunts and their friends.

"Well, it looks as if Franka had a very zealous
suitor: who may it be?"

Malhof happened to be able to inform them.
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Indeed?" exclaimed Tante Adele thoughtfully.
"A prince from the ruling house! That is danger
ous. He certainly could n't marry her."

Malhof shrugged his shoulders. "As if marriage
must always be in the wind ! I am curious to know
whether the sermons preached up there for the wel
fare of humanity will not be directed also against
the oppressive chains of marriage."

"Nothing is sacred to you!" sighed the countess.
"Besides, as you never were married, you cannot
judge of marriage."

"For the very reason that I have judged, I re
mained single."

Coriolan sat with a terribly bored expression. He
understood so little French that all the points of the
reading he had heard had wholly escaped him; fin
ally he had given up all attempt to listen. In his
heart he was already repenting that he had ever
taken this journey. The whole thing displeased him.
... At the Apollo Theater it is more amusing . . .
there one understands everything . . . and then this
Rose-Masquerade . . .

"You look very savage, Coriolan !" remarked the
Countess Adele; "you do not say a word."

"I say, stay at home and entertain yourself sen
sibly."

The young composer was now sitting next the
Russian widow.

"The piece was heavenly . . . perfectly splendid
... it must be a delight to be able to compose such
things." Her eyes rested warmly on the young
musician.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

" Every artistic creation carries with it a good bit
of agony, most gracious Countess."

"What gives others so much delight ought not to
cause its creator any pain."

"And yet, do you not always hear the sighs that
tremble through so many pieces of music? These
the artist must have drawn out of his own soul. But
not only that — he must have not only experienced
anguish in order to reproduce it in tones — creation
itself is accompanied by pain; yearning, trouble,
despondency . . . the crushing sense of the inexpress
ible . . ."

"You must explain all this to me more definitely.
Please come to-morrow and have a cup of tea — at
five o'clock . . . Grand H6tel . . . say yes . . . will
you promise?"

Helmer, informed by Franka of the presence of
the Sielenburg party, entered the hall and sought
out the little Austrian group. Bowing, he went up to
them: "May I be permitted ... in memory of old
times. ... I do not know whether you will remem
ber me."

The countess nodded: "To be sure, Herr Helmer
. . . you have made a great career . . . famous poet
. . . that is no small thing! Who would ever have
predicted it? You will give us your book to read,
won't you ? And tell me, is this Mr. Toker not a very
extravagant man?"

"He is certainly by no means an ordinary man."

" Do you imply by that," asked Coriolan sharply,
"that we are ordinary people?"

"I meant nothing more than I said. Mr. Toker
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

is an exceptional phenomenon. A man, who by work
and business has made an enormous fortune, and
who now is placing this fortune at the service of the
most ideal aims."

Coriolan shrugged his shoulders. "He simply
wants to get himself talked about."

"What ideal aims do you mean? " asked the count
ess.

"Heavens! it is hard to explain them all in a few
words. The main thing is the spread of thoughts
that soar — Hochgedanken ..."

"What is that?"

"If you will do me the honor of listening to my
address, then you will understand Mr. Toker's in
tentions, for I am going to speak in the spirit which
lies at the foundation of the motto of this year's
Rose-Festival."

"Are you going to speak to-day?"

"No; not until the third or fourth day."

" It is good that you do not speak this evening,"
remarked Fraulein Albertine, joining in the conver
sation. "I must tell you frankly that your voice
seems to me somewhat hoarse . . . perhaps you have
a cold; it seems to me, too, that your nose is swol
len ... you ought to rub on a little candle tallow."

Helmer smiled. " I am afraid I should not be able
to find a tallow candle in the whole Rose- Palace.
But now I will bid you good-evening ... a new
lecture is beginning."

The young Russian author now stepped forward
to the reader's deak with a manuscript in his hand.
At the same time ushers went through the hall,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

distributing printed pamphlets containing German,
French, and English translations of what the author
was to deliver in his native tongue. That portion
of the public which did not understand Russian —
and that was by far the larger — could now also
follow the speaker and enjoy his euphonious utter
ance, now trembling with melancholy, now glowing
with inspiration. What he offered, were brief sketches
in prose : scenes from the time of war and of revolu
tion, personal experiences or episodes, made vivid
by poetic intuition ; stories of the wolf's pits, stories
of barbed-wire fences, stories of shells filled with
poison, by the fumes of which people were asphyxi
ated slowly and agonizingly ; stories of women beaten
by Cossack- naga/ikas; of tortures practiced in dun
geons; of pogroms, of executions, of massacring and
of incendiary bands; of the woe in the hearts of
young Russians of all classes, from the humblest of
the people to the highest in court circles, who had
suffered awfully under this terrorism, because their
hearts and souls are open to the most progressive
ideas of freedom and mildness; of the sorrows of
the poets and the scientists, of the enlightened poli
ticians and the simple man of the people, whose
natural benevolence is opposed to all these cruelties,
perpetrated by the demon Violence, because the
minds of the masses are subject to the illusion that
violence is the only means of resisting evil.

The poet added an epilogue to his little histories: —

"What I have related is sad, profoundly sad.

Should I have refrained from doing this in this

cinacle? Our host has provided this festival week

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

under the protection and shelter of Beauty — Beauty
is the sister of Joy, not of Woe . . . and I have
brought before you so much woe. ... I have un
veiled so much that is unspeakably hateful ! But it
has not been a mistake; indeed, I know the goal that
beckons to the founder of this Rose-Congress. Lofty
thoughts are to fly forth into the world; lofty feel
ings must be aroused. And this object subserves a
still most distant object: namely, that it should be a
bit better, a bit brighter in this world of ours. To
this end one must see clearly, must look straight at
the reality. One must know all that is going on,
everywhere. All the cries of complaint and all the
shrieks of anguish must be heard as they are torn
from tormented human beings by human unreason.
Then flames up that lofty feeling — one of the
noblest of all : — Pity 1 And thereby is the will
strengthened — lofty will it may be called — to sub
stitute for the infamous system of reciprocal per
secution the sublime rule of reciprocal helpfulness."

A gloomy mood had taken possession of the audi
ence, yet with it was mingled also something of that
reverential emotion by which Toker \vanted to see
his public stirred. Then followed a short interlude
of music, and that in its turn was followed by a
small ballet of quite unique kind. Arc-lamps were
the instruments and variegated flames were the
dancers. It seemed like a divertissement from fairy
land, and yet it was only an experiment from the
realm of chemistry.

This brought to a conclusion the exercises of the first
evening, and social intercourse again assumed control.

CHAPTER XVIII
FRANKA'S LECTURE

WHEN Franka woke the following morning, she
was possessed by the consciousness that all sorts
of unpleasantnesses were weighing upon her. . . .
What could it mean? Oh, yes, that evening, she
had to give her address. Never, except the first
time, had she felt such a panic at the prospect of a
public appearance as she felt now. Always, before,
she had realized that she was making her addresses
as the exponent of a cause, as a guide for those of her
own sex who were searching their way — a way of
escape; her own person was, so to speak, eliminated.
But this time it seemed to her as if she, Franka
Garlett, were going to make her debut before the
assembled world, which would pass judgment as to
whether she were capable of cooperating with all the
celebrities of Europe and America in Toker's great
work of civilization. There would be in the hall no
band of enthusiastic young girls, but the majority
of the audience would be men who would either take
no interest in the tasks of the new woman, or would
even be opposed to them.

The second unpleasant thing that weighed on her
spirit was the presence of her aunts and their two
escorts, Coriolan and Malhof. To speak before
them was really painful, and it would seem to her
as if these four were her real audience. And then

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

there was Prince Victor Adolph, who would hear
her. . . . Why had she any timidity before him?
Why that wish to please him, that terror of dis
pleasing him? ... Is a person worthy of address
ing the whole world as the interpreter of "lofty
thoughts," when the question arises, What will that
young man think?

Accustomed to speak extempore, she had made no
written digest of her address ; but now she felt that
in these quite altered circumstances her inspiration
might desert her, and she resolved to write a draft.
She looked at the clock: it was still early, only seven.
No matter, she must have time to write. She rang
for her maid, made a hurried morning toilette, and
had her writing-apparatus, together with her break
fast, brought out on the balcony.

It was a wonderfully fresh morning, full of bird
songs and spicy fragrance. Franka's room looked
out on a small group of firs, and she regarded it as a
real blessing that here nothing was to be seen of the
everlasting roses, and no breath of the everlasting
perfume of roses. Just that day the whole rose-
scheme for the time-being seemed distasteful to her,
for it was responsible for her making her appear
ance as a member of the Rose-Order and perhaps
lamentably failing. . . .

She drew in long breaths of the forest-air and a
half-yearning, half-regretful thought stole over her:
"Why am I not in my quiet Moravian hunting-
castle, which lies so deep hidden in the fir forest?"
How beautiful it would be there, how restful, how
lonely . . . loneliness? No, that was not, after all,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

what she was pining for . . . some one must be
with her . . . who? Victor Adolph? No, he was a
stranger. It must be some trusty friend, some one
on whose heart — a heart containing no depths
hidden from her — she might lean ; at the same
time, some one to whom she would be the dearest
object on earth. . . . The image of her father rose
in her soul. . . . "Oh, yes, thou, thou! But thou
art dead."

She drew a deep sigh and went into her room to
fetch out the precious notebook. She would hold a
little colloquy with her father. She came back to
the balcony with the book in her hand, sat down
at the table where her tablet and pencil were
ready for her, and instead of writing, she began
to turn the pages of the notebook and to read.
The first sentence that attracted her attention
was: —

"The absent grow daily more and more distant!"
(Japanese proverb.)

Franka looked up to the sky. "Ah, yes, my poor
departed father ! Death is an eternal absence —
how sadly true that is. I love thee still — I see thee,
but how far, how far away!"

She read on : —

Saume nicht dich zu erdreisten, Do not hesitate to be full of

daring,
Wenn die Menge zaudernd When the crowd irresolute

schweift; drifts;

Alles kann der Edle leisten, All things can the noble accom
plish

Der versteht und rasch ergreift. Who perceives and quickly acts.
(Goethe, Faust, 2d part, Act I. "Chor der Geister.")
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Franka remembered how at this stanza her father
had remarked: "Do you see in how few words the
poet sums up the characteristics that make a man
a leader and accomplisher? He must be bold and
confident and noble; he must have intellect and
resolution."

Von Halbheit halte den Pfad Of mediocrity keep thy road

rein, clear;

Der ganze Mann setzt ganze Let the whole man bear the

Tat ein whole load clear

Und wahre Ehre muss ohne And pure honor must be of all

Naht sein. seam sewed clear.

(Ernst Ziel.)

"The whole man bear the whole load clear,"
repeated Franka. "The whole woman, too, — this
equalization in dignity Brother Chlodwig taught
me."

All men's advantage every man's rule.
Banish him far away — our age's demon far hence,
The sleepy, lame monster, whose name is Indifference.

I believe it is the secret of eminent men that they pre
serve into advancing life their childish feelings, — that
is to say, warm, deep feelings. This terrible world cools
down all ardor into nauseous lukewarmness. But emi
nent men have so much internal warmth that an ocean
of stupidity and unintelligence could never cool what is
burning in their hearts. They have an absolute lack of
affinity for everything common and ordinary ; they enter
into no combination with it.

"There didst thou describe thy dear self, my own
father. ... I never saw in my life such a childlike
person as thou wert . . . except Helmer, when he
laughs ... he also can laugh like a child. ..."

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VVenn auch nur Einer lebt, If only one man lives

Der nicht sich beugt Who will not fail

Und fur die Wahrheit zeugt — And makes the truth prevail —

Wie das erhebt! What joy that gives!

Wenn auch nur Einer still If only one man press

Die Hand uns driickt Silent our hands,

Und mit uns denkt und will, What happiness

Wie das begluckt! To know he understands!
(Hermann Lingg.)

For a long while Franka remained buried in the
perusal of the old notebook. At last, she put herself
to making an outline of her coming address. She
wrote down a few notes, but could not seem to warm
up to the work, and she accepted as a welcome
diversion the arrival of the morning mail. As
usual, she received a great number of letters and
documents. Dr. Fixstern regularly sent her reports
regarding the condition of the property entrusted
to him. The directors of the Garlett Academy kept
her informed of the progress of this flourishing insti
tution. Enthusiastic letters from young girls came
every day, and there were numerous requests for
autographs. On this morning there was in addition
the offer of an impresario who wanted her to under
take a lecture tournee through the United States;
not to speak of a declaration of love from a silent
admirer present at the Rose- Week's exercises and
moved to send her a few lyric effusions. This time
her whole mail made a particularly arid impression
on Franka. It seemed to her so lifeless and soulless.
But now her duty was to proceed with writing down
the lecture — it was already eleven o'clock. She
pushed the half-written page into position before

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her. . . . No, she could not master her thoughts.
. . . She needed advice, needed warm, living words.
She got up and pressed the electric button. ' ' Please, ' '
she said to the servant who answered her summons,
"see if Mr. Helmer is in, and if he is, I should like to
have him come to see me."

After a moment the servant came back: "Mr.
Helmer has just this moment come."

"Very good, ask him into the salon."

She stepped into the adjoining room. Helmer was
standing before the center table, contemplating the
great basket of violets on which was still attached
Prince Victor Adolph's visiting-card.

Franka offered him her hand: " It was good of you
to come . . ."

"Since you have summoned me ..."

"Oh. Do not be so ceremonious. ... I wanted
to see Brother Chlodwig. ... I need your encour
agement, your advice ..."

He seemed ill at ease. "My advice? Perhaps in
regard to this business," and he indicated the violets.

"What business? Oh, indeed, you think . . .
no, no, listen. ... I will tell you what I want."

Just at that moment Frau Eleonore entered by
the other door. "Do I disturb you"?

"Frankly, yes. I wanted to talk over my lecture
with Mr. Helmer."

"Very well; then I will write some letters"; and
she vanished again into her own room.

"So now you know what it is about. ... I am
simply in despair about my lecture. You must help
me, just as at the first time. You showed me the

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way and made it smooth, and here this day I am
standing again on a crossway, or rather before a
wall. . . . Help me over, reach me your hand!"

The demand was only meant symbolically, but
Helmer took her hand in his, and she got a degree
of calm, of consolation from the firm grasp.

"What is the matter, Franka? " he asked tenderly.
"What has come over you suddenly? Timidity?
. . . You, the victorious, you, 'the Garlett'?"

"Dear me, it is hard to explain. Timidity? Yes,
and such a sense of emptiness, such a lack of impulse.
When, before, I have spoken to my audiences of
women, I have had something to say to them. . . .
I wanted to persuade them, I wanted to transfer to
their souls what filled my own soul to the brim.
My addresses were a means, not an end. . . . But
here: I cannot feel the impulse to persuade all these
people, — beginning with Mr. Toker and his guests,
— and all these princes and diplomats and my
aunts and Coriolan (why did n't they stay at
home?) — to persuade them, I say, that the young
girls of our day must assume new duties. . . . And
I shall stand there on the platform, in order to
perform — hateful term ! — in order to show the in
quisitive company whether I have sufficient ability
to be accepted as one of the Rose-Knights, whether
I really deserved to be invited by Mr. Toker. These
people are not at all here to get edification, but they
come as critics; and I am here, not as one urging,
but as an artist, and I am not that. For if the inner
impulse fails, then I can't speak . . . and that is
the reason why I am unhappy. ..."

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Chlodwig pressed her hand still more firmly. "I
understand you, Franka. But oh, your lips are
actually trembling, like a child's when it wants to
cry. Do not be faint-hearted; there will be a way
out of this difficulty. If it is really only what you
have just told me, then it is easy enough to help
you. Or, perhaps, is it a fit of strained nerves?
Possibly the work that you have chosen does not
satisfy you any longer; — perhaps the emptiness
which you complain of is the emptiness of your
heart, a conscious or an unconscious yearning; — or
is it that you are tired of these roses here, and,"
with a glance at the basket, "are longing for more
violets?"

Franka shook her head vigorously. "Leave the
violets out of the question. I have told you the
honest truth, why I dread this evening so much."

"Well, then, we shall meet that difficulty. Let
me think."

He leaned his elbow on the table and supported
his head with his hand. Franka looked up to him —
expectantly and trustfully. The thoughtful expres
sion of his face touched and moved her: he was em
ploying his faculties for her. He wanted to help her.
Ah, after the verb "to love," "to help" is the most
beautiful verb in the world !

After a while he began to speak, looking her full
in the eye: "The public, whose criticism and lack of
sympathy thou fearest — forgive me for using the
familiar 'du' . . . I drifted back to the time when
I wrote you those letters as your brother in the
spirit — this public must vanish, must really vanish

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out of your consciousness. You must put it out
of existence yourself with your own introductory
words. There must be the feeling that it really is not
there, this public — that therefore it has no right to
criticize you. You are not speaking to it — it can
only listen, while you are speaking to a hundred
thousand others. Aye, to millions, perhaps ; ... it
is your best opportunity — that must inspire you
and fire you. Up till now you have been following a
fine, brilliant career; to-day you will set the crown to
it. Begin your address with the words : ' You young
girls, now listen to me ' ; and then continue in some
such way as this: 'Forgive me, ladies and gentle
men! I know very well that in this distinguished
assembly assuredly there will be only a small per
centage of young girls, and therefore my words will
arouse only a feeble echo in this room. But here I
stand because I have undertaken to deliver a mes
sage — a message to young people of my own sex
showing them the way which — as I believe — will
lead the girls themselves and at the same time all
human society to higher aims. And to-day in this
hall, the windows of which look out into the wide
world, the opportunity is vouchsafed me to be heard
by invisible throngs of those to whom my life-work
is dedicated, and therefore it is a sacred duty to
direct my utterances only to these and to call out
more loudly and joyfully than ever before: "Ye
young maidens, listen to me ! " ' After this exordium,
Franka, the whole audience of those that disturb
you will vanish out of your consciousness, and you
can repeat to the invisible listeners all the things

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with which at your first appearance you took all
maiden hearts by storm."

Franka sprang up and reached Helmer both her
hands. "Thanks, Brother Chlodwig, that is, indeed,
a saving way out. You are and always will be my
dear master!"

Some one knocked at the door. Franka let go
Helmer's hands and cried: "Come in."

Once more it was an offering of flowers and once
more the prince's visiting-card was attached to the
bouquet. A shade of vexation passed over Helmer's
face. He felt a twofold annoyance: in the first place,
at this importunate homage, and in the second place,
because he was annoyed . . . was it jealousy?

"I will leave you now. You must collect your
thoughts, and you need rest, Franka."

"Good-bye, then, for now. I thank you again."

"Shall you wear these violets this evening?"

"I always wear violets."

"If you marry this prince, Franka, then it is all
up with your career."

"What are you thinking about? The prince in
his position cannot marry any one of humble rank;
he is not imagining such a thing."

"What is he imagining, then?"

"I don't know you, Helmer. Hitherto you have
never interfered with my private affairs."

"Forgive my presumption. I shan't do so any
more." He turned to go.

"Are you angry, Brother Chlodwig?"

"Yes — with myself. " And he hastened out.

Franka gazed after him and smiled.

CHAPTER XIX

YE YOUNG MAIDENS, LISTEN TO ME

THE exercises on this second evening of the Rose-
Week began as before with music. But it was a kind
of music such as had never before, or anywhere else,
been heard. A feeling of wonder, and unprecedented
delight took possession of the audience — a delight
which almost reached awe. It was a newly invented
instrument, the tone of which had no resemblance
to that of any other instrument. It was more nearly
comparable to bell-tones, like cathedral chimes, loud
and grave and vibrating.

In the midst of a crescendo the player of it
suddenly ceased playing and said to the pub
lic:—

"What you are here listening to is the voice of a
magician — the magician ' Electricity. ' The in
strument, as you see, is not large, and its mechanism
is concealed; I invented it and constructed it. In
honor of the Maecenas who enabled me to accom
plish my invention, I have christened it the ' Toker
Organ. ' It is played by any artist who understands
the organ, but its tone and its timbre are the product
of a nature-force tamed. The surprising thing is
that the tone has such a sweetness that it can awake
the keenest musical delight, and that its attainable
power has no limits. The crescendo which I just
now broke off can be made ever so many times more

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tremendous on this 'Toker Organ.' A shut-off has
to be introduced here, for otherwise the strength of
the tone-waves would increase so that it might not
only burst your ear-drums but even the ceiling of
the hall. Yet, in open space, on a mountain- top or
from a lighthouse in the open sea, one might with
impunity fill a circumference of miles with music.
And because you are now assured that the sweet
tone, however powerful it may be, remains sweet
and tender, and will never become a deafening
noise, I will once more swell to a hitherto unknown
majesty of power, but certainly not to be unendur
able, as the shut-off is introduced a long way before
that point ; — I will continue my playing. I choose
an old song known to you all, the text of which
seems appropriate to this festival week: 'The Last
Rose of Summer. ' '

These words, spoken in English, — the young
inventor was an American engineer of the Edison
school, — were repeated in French and German
by interpreters. Then the young man again seated
himself at the instrument, allowing the resounding
bells to give out the melancholy melody, ever fuller
and fuller, so that it seemed to the listeners as if
the whole hall were filled with the vibrating waves
of sound. When the crescendo grew four or five
times as loud as it was when the player had broken
off the first time, voices were heard here and there in
the hall as if crying in anguish: " Enough, enough!"
The artist nodded and instituted immediately a
diminuendo, and gradually the melody, just as it
had mounted, so now it decreased to the most

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thread-like pianissimo, dying away as if in the re
motest distance.

Stormy applause now broke loose. Something
never before known had been experienced, life was
enriched by a new sensation. Then followed the
social intermission. Many mounted the platform
to examine the instrument. A buzz of conversa
tion filled the hall. Impressions regarding the mar
velous music were exchanged. A composer told his
delight that music had achieved now a new means
of expression of such inimitable beauty. An officer
of the general staff remarked that, in the infinite
possibilities of overwhelming noise, there might be
something of strategic importance. A passionate
lover of nature cried, "Well, I must say: now that
the sublime emptiness of heavenly space is to be
darkened with every kind of whirring aviating
rabble, the splendid silence of the mountains and
the seas will be desecrated by electrically bellowed
street-songs." On the other hand, a philosopher
remarked thoughtfully: "Boundless powers put
into the hand of man — what prospects open up!"

Coriolan expressed his views to his cousins: "Did
n't I tell you so? Tingel-tangel, klingel-klangel.
. . . Vari6te". . . . And the next number is the ap
pearance of Franka Garlett, who is still, unfortu
nately, our kinswoman. Where is she hiding? She
is not to be seen anywhere. "

Franka was in fact not present in the hall. All
day long she had denied herself to every one, so that
she might devote her time uninterruptedly to the
preparation of her address. She had not even gone

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to the hall at the beginning of the exercises, but had
asked to be called only when it was her turn to
speak.

The moment had now arrived. She stepped out
on the platform.

A murmur of admiration swept through the hall.
She looked classically beautiful in her trailing pure
white gown with its long, winglike sleeves, with no
other adornment than a pearl necklace and the usual
small bouquet of violets at the heart-shaped open
ing of her bodice. Her face was pallid in contrast to
the black diadem of her tresses, coiled high on her
head. As she stepped forward, loud applause broke
out. She acknowledged it, without smiling, with a
graceful inclination and began : —

" Ye young maidens, listen to me ! " Just as Helmer
had suggested, she delivered her proem and then
repeated the argument of her first speech in which
she took as her text the injunction: "We are here
to share in man's thought, " added to Goethe's
"We are here to share in men's love."

"Since she had thus spoken," she added, "the
domain had widened out ever more and more, —
the domain which woman had conquered for herself
inch by inch, — and the time was rapidly approach
ing when young womanhood was also to share in
man's work, even in his political work. Now the
important question was not as formerly to win posi
tions for themselves, but it was important for them
to make themselves capable and worthy of filling
the places waiting for them. In many countries —
Australia, Finland, Norway, and other lands — the

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doors of Parliament have been thrown open to wo
men as electors and elected ; probably little by little
the other countries would follow. Probably, also,
women — if once they entered deliberative bodies

— would be entrusted with official positions, and
the ministries would not remain closed to them. In
short, equal rights and equal positions would be theirs
along the whole line : simply a terrible state of things,
unless we have sufficient imagination to conceive of
simultaneously altered forms of society and a more
highly developed community. The great distrust
and displeasure, ordinarily felt against any proposed
change in conditions, are derived from the fact that
the environing conditions are supposed to be un
changed, and a harsh dissonance is experienced, just
such an one as a discordant tone must give in a
well-tuned instrument.

"Only one example: a woman as an executioner

— what a horrid picture. Restrain your emotion —
if ever woman finds her place among the lawgiv
ers of the land, capital punishment will surely be
abolished.

"Do you fully realize what is the gist of this
question? Whether our sex shall share in the direc
tion of institutions and events is not merely a ques
tion of the improvement of women's lot, but it is
also that of the improvement of man's lot. All
the virtues which are entrusted to our charge, and
which are supposed to be superfluous in public
affairs, wholly conducted from the masculine side, —
mildness, gentleness, moderation, purity, the power
to endure without complaining, and to love with

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utter devotion, — all these virtues we must carry
intact into the new circles of activity. Before all,
however, we must strive to possess them, indeed;
those virtues in a large measure are only ascribed
to us in poems.

" But that is not sufficient. If women are to enjoy
equal rights with men in deliberation and action,
then they must also appropriate those characteristics
that are generally regarded as exclusively masculine
virtues: courage, steadfastness, energy, resolution,
logical thought. On the other hand, they must be
ware (thinking thus to legitimate their claim to equal
rights) of adopting those failings which are regarded
as masculine prerogatives: habits of drinking and
brawling, brutality, harshness, intemperance. If the
emancipation of women develops in this direction, as
its opponents at the outset generally believed to be
its tendency, then it would be no blessing — it would
be a curse. But this will not happen. For humanity
develops upward. And the cooperation of both sexes
in all callings will have as consequences that each will
adopt the virtues characteristic of the other and
will drop the faults and vices hitherto regarded as
special privileges, so that they themselves and the
practice of their callings will be thereby ennobled.
Then there will not be mannish girls and coarse,
manlike women, and no effeminate men, but com
plete human beings of both sexes, standing on a
loftier plane!"

Here Franka was interrupted by applause. As
she stood there in her thoroughly gracious woman
liness, in her absolutely feminine dignity, at the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

same time performing her great mission with such
unshaken conviction, she seemed, indeed, to be the
personification of that ideal — of combined tender
ness and strength — which she had conjured up
before the audience.

She continued speaking for some time longer.
She depicted what had been gained in positive
social advantage by the participation of women in
the social duties of the present day, now that this
movement was really on the fair road to accom
plishment. The battle against one of the worst foes
of humanity — alcoholism — had resulted in its
greatest victories in countries where women exer
cise an influence on the making of laws. The war
against another of the shameful blots on our civili
zation — the sexual slavery of women ; this is also
to be eradicated only where pure and blameless
women have the courage to look the infamous evil
in the face, to call it by name, and to lead the re
volt against it. Dueling and war are two functions
in which the feminine sex are forbidden to take
part, because they stand in absolute opposition
to all those qualities and feelings that characterize
the feminine half of mankind. If now this half
should gain their due influence in the conduct of
public life, then those two deadly modes of settling
disputes would no longer remain legitimate. "The
mission of woman, thus conceived, is anticipated
and poetically symbolized by the sovereign figure
of the Madonna trampling a dragon under her
dainty foot."

Here the speaker paused for a moment. On many
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

sides there was applause. Yet many refrained from
expressing approbation, because they felt offended
by Franka's words — what did she mean by dragon?
Could she mean militarism? Or the whole mascu
line sex? Would she like to see petticoat govern
ment established? Remarks were heard: "What
idiots these feminists are!" "And she is so pretty;
she certainly would not need to take up such
fads!"

On the other hand, those in the audience who did
not understand German were captivated by her
appearance and entranced by her melodious voice.
They followed the occasional gestures with which
she emphasized certain phrases, and they kept their
eyes fixed on her calm, white hands with their long,
tapering fingers and their rosy, gleaming nails. Her
tone of queenly calmness, now and again vibrating
with restrained feeling, exercised on all the same
charm, whether they understood her spoken word
or not ; and the very ones who could not understand
applauded most unrestrainedly, because they de
tected nothing in her speech to disturb their con
victions. Even De la Rochere clapped vigorously,
as he assuredly would not have done if he had known
what she had been pleading for: in his eyes there
was nothing more ridiculous, nothing more baneful,
than the object aimed at in the Feminist Move
ment. In his eyes "woman" was "une creature
d'amour, " and this sentimentally uttered epithet
was, as he believed, the highest compliment that
could be given to a woman. Prince Victor Adolph
found an artistic satisfaction in listening to Franka's

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address. For the cause itself, he had little sym
pathy — it did not appeal to him.

In the Sielenburg group a painful emotion was
stirred. Coriolan gave utterance to an inarticulate
grunt of disapprobation ; the Countess Adele sighed ;
Fraulein Albertine raised her eyes beseechingly to
heaven; only Baron Malhof cried, with sincere
warmth: "Ah, she is a splendid young creature!"

Franka proceeded: "I have indeed overpassed
the limits that I once set for myself as a field of
labor. I am not accustomed to plead for the con
quest of professions and for attainment of political
rights — all that I leave to other champions of the
Woman Movement. But if these callings and rights
come gradually into the hands of those of my sex,
then they must know how to exercise them; they
must be educated to the task. Their minds must
be open and their interest must be awake to the
universality of the problems of civilization: these
are all correlated, and for this reason the only duty
that I put before my young sisters was this: Learn
how to think! But to-day, knowing that an echo
from this address will be carried to the remotest
circles, and therefore also to those women who
stand in the van and who have already won such
important strategic points, — as, for example, the
women in Australia, — I felt myself compelled to
drop those restrictions, in order to gaze out over the
whole wide field of the Woman Question.

"And, in conclusion, I turn to the men that hear
me: We demand nothing of your magnanimity. We
do not come as petitioners, but as givers — for the

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time being as desirous of giving ; for still a portion
of mankind, both men and women, reject the gifts
we would confer. 'Let things remain as they are!'
this fundamental desideratum of the conservative
spirit is still cherished by the majority of women.
Therefore, even among them there is still a large
proportion of those opposed to the Feminist Move
ment. Among men, on the other hand, it numbers
an ever-increasing host of adherents. The admission
of collective energy to the work for the elevation
and enrichment of human society is a matter of
equal concern to both halves. The ideal of that
social condition in which brutality is to be driven
out, in which gentleness, benevolence, and beauty
are to become effective, is, God knows, no exclu
sively feminine ideal. It has swept before the vi
sion of all the great teachers of mankind ; and that
is to-day also the guiding star of all those poets,
thinkers, and statesmen who are yearning for a new
and better day and are laboring to bring it to pass.

"All these welcome the cooperation of women as
a reinforcement of their effective forces. The battle
against ancient rooted evil, against the dominion
of force, is truly not easy, and the men who are con
ducting it will only rejoice if to their aid come forth
coadjutors and assistants from the ranks of that
half of mankind whose most distinctive domain
lies in those virtues which they are trying to diffuse.

"Aye, this is what the new Eve is to become: a
coadjutor recognized as of equal value; and for
this purpose must you, my young sisters, educate
yourselves, and for this purpose must you, my

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noble brethren, " — and here she extended one hand
toward her auditors, — "help and sustain us. "

She bowed and stepped back. John Toker went
to meet her and shook her hand. The audience
applauded vigorously.

During the social intermission following her ad
dress, Franka went down into the hall. She was
surrounded, and numerous admirers — both men
and, especially, women — asked to be introduced
to her. She had the agreeable feeling that she had
made a good impression, and this conviction was
assured in her mind not so much by the warm re
ception given her by the public as by the silent
glance and pressure of the hand whereby Chlodwig
Helmer had expressed his satisfaction on the plat
form after she had finished.

Baron Malhof now mingled with the group that
surrounded her. He offered her his arm: "Come,
please. Your aunts are eager to offer you their con
gratulations. "

"Really?" exclaimed Franka, astonished, as she
took Malhof 's arm and went with him. "I should
never have believed it. "

At the other end of the hall sat the two old ladies
and Coriolan.

"Here I come, bringing the conquering heroine,"
said Malhof.

Countess Adele moved along on her sofa to give
room for Franka. "You surprised me ... to talk
so long at one stretch without stammering and with
no paper in your hand . . . that is remarkable.

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It is plain that you have had much practice. Are
n't you very tired?"

" I am a little used up. ... I have been dreading
all day the ordeal of speaking ; — before so many
people ... I mean those out in the wide world
. . . and also to a certain degree before you. I
realize how little you approve of my speaking and
of what I say. "

"Well, that is quite true," said Aunt Albertine.

Coriolan wanted for once to be courteous : "Well,
I must admit, your voice is very pleasant and you
do look very beautiful."

"But you ought to wear gloves," remarked
Albertine; "you notice, don't you, that everybody
wears gloves?"

Franka smiled. " But have you nothing to say
about the subject of my address? "

" If you were to kill me," replied Coriolan, " I
could not tell you now what you talked about. I
am incapable of following a lecture for five minutes
consecutively. ... I only know that you preached,
girls ought to be like men, and men like girls . . .
and, truly, that is not to my taste. It would be a
fine muddle — but it is the end and aim of all
modern movements — the topsy-turvy world ! For
tunately, it is not so easily turned topsy-turvy, and
whatever you may talk — man remains man, and
woman remains woman — and that is as it ought to
be."

The old countess came to Franka's aid: "Franka
only urged that both ought to be better, and that
surely could not do any harm to mankind. But there.

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is one thing that I should like to blame you for,
Franka. If you really want to improve people,
why do you not draw their attention to the injunc
tions of our holy Faith? And if you call atten
tion to the virtues of women, why do you forget
the most womanly and most important — piety?
As far as I can remember, you did not say one single
word about religion."

" I spoke of goodness, of mercy, and of mildness —
is not that religion?"

"But, my dear friends," cried Malhof at this
juncture, "Miss Garlett is certainly not an officer
in the Salvation Army. Moreover, as far as con
cerns these religious dogmas . . . '

Countess Adele evidently wanted to turn the
conversation from this theme, for Malhof s skepti
cism was well known to her: "Franka, tell me where
are you going, when this week is ended? Don't you
want to come to the Sielenburg for a while?"

"What am I going to do? I have not the slightest
idea; I have an invitation to London, but I am hesi
tating. If I go back to Austria, then I will make you
a visit at the Sielenburg. But now, I will say good-
evening. We shall meet again to-morrow."

She had gone only a few steps when Prince Victor
Adolph joined her.

"At last I can tell you, my dear young lady, how
fascinating — but, no, I will not pay you compli
ments; but I should like to have a little serious
discussion with you on what I heard you say this
evening. You were fascinating, that is a fact, but
that is not the point. What I want to talk about is

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the meaning and the scope of what you put before
us. Your idea certainly was not to please, but to
attain something definite, was n't it? This is what I
should like to ask you about — your purpose. It is
not altogether clear to me."

"So you expect me to give you a private lesson
on the Woman Question? Very good, you may ask
what you desire to know, and I will answer."

"Here is no place for a serious, undisturbed con
versation, among all these people fluttering about.
Might I do myself the honor of calling on you some
afternoon?"

"Certainly, Your Highness."

"Then perhaps to-morrow?"

She nodded: "Yes, to-morrow at three o'clock."

CHAPTER XX

ANOTHER LETTER FROM CHLODWIG HELMER

THAT night Helmer could not sleep. The experiences
of the day had deeply agitated him. First, the
morning call on Franka. The feeling of panic which
she had so confidingly confessed to him, had seemed
to transfer itself to him. What if she should suffer
discomfiture on that day, when, so to speak, the
whole world was directing its eyes on her? That
would embitter her whole career, and he felt that
he was responsible for her career.

The crises had been successfully passed; Franka
had borne herself gallantly and had won a striking
success, but this had not lessened his agitation and
the success did not seem to him sufficient. It had
not shown itself in the eager adherence of enthusi
asts, filled with gratitude and devotion, but in the
condescending applause of a curious and well-amused
theater audience. To him she was a priestess, and
to the whole people yonder she was a — diva. Had
she not done a priest-like and heroic act? Had she
not sacrificed herself in order to offer to the world a
part of what appeared to her as truth and wisdom —
only to give others, not herself, a little more hap
piness? For herself, indeed, she had treasures of
happiness at her disposal — youth, beauty, wealth,
freedom. Everything stood open before her: a life
in the great world, with all its enjoyments of luxury

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and pleasure, a life of love at the side of a man who
worshiped her, the joys of motherhood, . . . and all
this she had thrown over in order to devote herself
wholly and entirely to the duties and cares of an
apostleship . . .

"Oh, my poor Franka, my noble, sweet . . ."
With these words, spoken aloud, he interrupted
the course of his thoughts. He was alarmed at the
tender expression of his own voice — could it be
that he really was in love with her? At this question
other considerations occurred to him — circumstances
which had mightily affected him in the last few days :
the offering of the violets . . . and then, after the
address, just as he was about to go down into the
hall to speak with Franka, there stood the prince
again at her side. ... It had caused a flaming agony
to dart through his heart. ... So he was jealous,
was he? It was not to be denied — he loved her!
And even as he confessed the soft impeachment,
he realized it as a heavy load of trouble, but at the
same time so delightful, that not for the world would
he have been willing to get rid of it. And was it really
a new love; was it not rather one long kindled, which
for years had been smouldering and had now burst
into flame? Was not possibly this old sentiment the
reason why in all these years, in spite of many more
or less transient love-affairs, he had never been able
to let his heart go completely? As a dramatic poet
he had enjoyed many opportunities of frequenting
the theater behind the scenes and many an adven
ture had come in his way. One of them was an af
fair which lasted two years. But it had not brought

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ease to his heart; rather it had become a burden.
Fortunately it had been broken off gradually and
without pain on either side. For some time he had
been quite free, and was able to say that he had
never been under the spell of a genuine passion. Al
ways this or that quality had not quite satisfied him
in those by whom he was attracted; always he had
discovered that they lacked something; and the
secret of it was, that he compared them all with
Franka Garlett; not one of them came up to that
ideal.

The following morning a letter was brought to
Franka. She was sitting again on her balcony and
looking out over the forest. Her first thought was,
that the missive came from Victor Adolph, but a
glance at the handwriting dispelled this assumption
— the letter was from Helmer. She tore open the
envelope and read : —

Two o'clock in the morning. It is in vain — I cannot
sleep. Racing pulse and whirling thoughts deprive me of all
possibility of rest. Now it occurs to me that I have the
prescriptive right to address a letter at rare intervals to
a sister-soul with whom I may commune most intimately.

I am making use of this right and I have sat down at my
desk. It stands by the open window and bright moon
light is streaming into the room. Only this sheet of paper
is illuminated by my shaded lamp — the rest of the room
is all bathed in soft, silvery blue. I had put on my clothes
to take a stroll in the garden and to cool my fever in the
moon-enchanted night air. But I can put before you
something of the overflow of my thoughts. You yourself
are the center of these thoughts. What has so disturbed
me is the experience that I went through to-day on
Account of you and because of you. And in this emotion

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so much was revealed to my consciousness concerning
you and myself . . . but I am going to write you here only
of what concerns you, what touches your life. I leave
myself out of the question. It would be very enticing
now, when I am coming to you for refuge in this moment
of restlessness and loneliness, to make you the confidante
of my trouble, — for I have that, — but it is my own
secret.

Now let me speak of you and your address. I had no
opportunity of talking with you about it. You disap
peared in the hall; first you were surrounded by the
Sielenburg people and then you were accosted by the
prince. Shortly afterwards you retired, evidently ex
hausted by your triumph. For it was a triumph in spite
of the panic which tormented you in the morning. You
spoke with sovereign assurance, and said all that was
to be said. Indeed, you went beyond your accustomed
domain, — the education of women for an intellectual
participation in the questions of the day ; you entered the
domain of actual feminism — for you pleaded for practi
cal cooperation of women in government and lawmaking.
But such general and abstract considerations do little
toward the attainment of this end. The gradual conquest
of the whole will be accomplished only by practical work
ers in details, doing practical things, here one and there
one, thousands of them in thousands of different places.
And this development is already in full swing, though it
still lags far behind the ideal which you have foreseen.

Yet, what am I driving at? Here I am speaking also of
generalities which do not interest me at this moment.
What interests me now is yourself, is your life. My con
science reproaches me that when you gave me all your
confidence, as to a brother in the spirit, I pointed out to
you this path where you are entirely forgetting yourself.
I was the one who suggested the word "Renunciation" as
the countersign of that path.

Yet I recall that I added : this full devotion to the cause
would be demanded only for a few years. These years are

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now past. Your duty, as far as you could fulfill it, is ful
filled. With generous hands you have scattered the seed
of great ideas into the world of women. You have called
into existence the Garlett Academy, and lavished a large
part of your fortune on it — it is working on in your spirit.
The congregation of the " Frankistinnen " has been
formed and is spreading. It is no longer necessary for you
to throw your whole self into the work of the propaganda;
it will go forward henceforth automatically. Let your
address of to-day be the last of your public addresses.

It will find an echo in a thousand places — it will be
perpetuated in the "Rose Annals" — it makes a brilliant
finale. Laboriously and courageously and persistently,
you have put your shoulder to the wheel to set it in
motion ; — now it is in full motion . . . what is the use of
pushing it any more? Time will bring you other work; but
there is no reason for you to go out and seek work — you
must think of living, you must think of your own still
fresh, joy-deserving life. You are here also "to share in
loving," Franka. And now I come back to Prince Victor
Adolph. I believe he worships you. He is no ordinary
man. I have trustworthy information as to his worthi
ness. Do not do violence to your heart if it beats for him.

Having reached this point, Franka dropped the
sheet into her lap — she had not expected this.
The first words of the letter, "racing pulse and
whirling thoughts," thoughts which complemented
her picture — she would sooner have been prepared
for his appealing to her heart for himself and not
for another. Well, it was better so. In this way
her "Brother Chlodwig" was not lost to her.

She had no idea what it had cost him. At the very
place where she ceased reading, he had ceased writing.
He had sprung to his feet, and, clasping his head in
both hands, had groaned aloud. He paced several

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times up and down the room in his excitement. Then
he leaned out of the window and gazed toward the
horizon which already betrayed a pallid premoni
tion of the early dawn. The moon was veiled in
passing clouds and one or two stars were twinkling.
"One may not yearn to grasp the stars!" Have I
not often repeated this to myself? He was vexed
with himself. This jealous emotion seemed to him
senseless, unworthy. He must and would crush it
down, and the very best way before him was to help
Franka to incline to the prince. And so he went on
writing: —

I really believe that an alliance with this royal prince
might make you happy in several directions : first through
merely loving — that crown of life — why should you not
make it yours? And secondly, if the opportunity is given
you, to work for your, for our, ideals (and in this word
' ' our ' ' I include also the spirit of your father) . Only think
what might be accomplished in this important, influential
position. How the young prince would be strengthened
and inspired by you in his bold, independent ideas.
There is certainly no genuine happiness on earth for the
like of us, unless we continue to work for the great objects
which our longing eyes have beheld. We cannot, as long
as we live, cease our efforts. In the midst of every other
kind of happiness this work remains our chief desire, as
it is our consolation in every misfortune. In my own
trouble — I confessed to you that I have trouble — I am
still with the half of my soul — the better half of my soul
— at my task. You have already fulfilled your task for
the Rose- Week Festival. Before me is still my reading
in the presence of the whole world. I am not — like
Franka Garlett — used to public speaking ; my tool is the
pen. So I look forward to this ordeal not without trem
bling, yet not without pleasure. It is a splendid opportu-

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nity to pour out what fills the soul to overflowing. I burn
to be heard and understood. Not because I flatter myself
that I have something beautiful to say, but something
that may bring help. But how to find the right words?

The things that float before my mind are so dazzling
and so new, while the words that one has at one's disposal
are so banal and so flat. The sublimest concepts, like
goodness, freedom, right, have become dimmed by so
many editorials, committee speeches, and election procla
mations, that they have lost all their brilliancy — what is
worse, all their value. The lofty thoughts mined from the
new time lie in bars, like gold, but in order to bring them
into circulation, one must first coin them into new words,
while we have only thin and worn coins to pass. If we
come to the modern man — I mean a man with broad
philosophical and aesthetic views — with these morality-
dripping words (a morality which has been amply
preached but never practiced in all these thousands of
years), then it moves him like the admonition, "Be a
good little boy," spoken to a grown-up man.

It is beginning to dawn — this is no metaphor: you
know the old fault of my style of letter-writing, but this
time I have really had no other meaning — it is beginning
to grow light. In order to scare away the torment of
sleepless night hours, I have written till morning. In the
foliage-crowned trees awakens the twittering of birds.
What is it that they have to say to one another every day
at waking and every evening before they compose them
selves to sleep?

Now I am going to shut my window, pull down the
Venetian blinds, and try to get a little rest. It has re
freshed me writing to you. Perhaps I may have a nap —
perhaps even a dream. . . .

CHLODWIG.

Franka and Helmer sat together as usual at lunch
eon. Franka had come in a little late.

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"Well," said she, as she took her place, "did you
have your dream?"

"Yes, I dreamed about you. I saw you standing
on the platform again and ..."

"And it was to be for the last time, was it?" in
terrupted Franka. "You wrote me, didn't you,
because it would be easier than to say to me, by
word of mouth, during breakfast: 'Miss Garlett,
you spoke very indifferently. You are no longer
accomplishing your work — retire ! ' '

"Oh," exclaimed Chlodwig, pained, "did you
understand me so?"

"The principal thing I understood was that you
were in a very melancholy and excited frame of mind
and came to me for comfort : that delights me. And
one thing more — you desire my happiness. But
do you really think it beckons in the direction you
suppose? Two or three bunches of violets are hardly
to be regarded as an offer of marriage. LTp to the
present time, I have not the slightest ground for
supposing that Prince Victor Adolph has ever
thought of such a thing."

"He has not intimated to you that he is in love
with you?" This question was in a jubilant tone.

"No, and if he should do so, do you know what
. . . what I ... well, I confess, I am not quite cer
tain myself. . . . Perhaps it would have been better
if you had not suggested such a thing . . . you have
kindled a spark in my heart."

Their dialogue, carried on in an undertone, was
interrupted by Mr. Toker, who from the other side
of the table engaged Franka in conversation.

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After the luncheon was finished and the company
had drifted into the adjoining salons, Gwendoline
took Franka's arm.

"Oh, Miss Garlett," said she in a voice trembling
with emotion, "I must thank you. You have no
idea what an impression you made on me, you fill
me with admiration ..."

Franka made the courteous deprecatory sign
with her head with which we are accustomed to re
ceive flattering phrases.

"No, no, no!" cried the young American girl
vehemently, "I should not be so presumptuous,
stupid thing that I am, to pay you mere compli
ments. I wanted just to tell you what feelings you
awakened in me . . . not merely agreeable feelings
— for it is certainly not agreeable to be made
ashamed of one's self, when one has hard things to
say to one's own face; as, for example: 'You are cer
tainly an empty-headed creature, Gwen! You must
decidedly improve, my girl, if you want to rise again
in my estimation* . . ."

"And why did you speak so disrespectfully to
MissToker?"

"Oh, you understand me perfectly. You know
right well, when you address young girls, that
hitherto very, very few among them have ever
thought with you. I belong to the majority. I have
always kept aloof from serious things; for instance,
I have not the slightest remembrance what that
clever Frenchman said yesterday — my attention
was wholly diverted to the various groups in the
hall, for I had discovered several comical people.

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When you began to speak, I was interested in the way
the folds of your gown fell — there was something
Greek about it. Who knows, whether I should have
listened to your words at all, if you had not sud
denly addressed your speech directly to young girls.
Then I had to listen to what you had to say to me,
and after that I did not lose another word. I did not
understand it all, nor can I remember it all, but so
much I know — I should like to be your pupil. Do
teach me to think, show me my place in the world,
so that I may accomplish something, be of some
use. . . . You see, papa has always treated me as a
child, and I have never been interested in his plans:
I never thought that there was anything in them
for us young people . . ."

"Oh," cried Franka, "it is precisely the young
and the youngest who are called and who are ca
pable of walking in new paths. For that reason we
all (I mean, we whose aspirations are directed to the
future) look with such hope to America, for there
the whole land is so young ..."

"And we Americans look so timidly and admir
ingly up to Europe, because it is old and venerable.
All we have, we have from you."

"And you are going to repay us richly for that.
For what is going to ameliorate our future, — inven
tions, wealth, free institutions, peace, — all that you
will carry over to us. Mr. Toker is a messenger
of that kind."

"Oh, my dear father ... I fear I do not know
him as I should."

Gwendoline went on to explain that she had never
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

lived very much in her father's society. In her child
hood, she had been almost entirely in her grand
mother's hands, as her mother had died when she
was born ; and then, when six years ago the grand
mother died, the child, then eleven, was entrusted
to a Swiss Pensionat, from which only the year be
fore she had returned to her own country. In this
excellent Pensionat she had received the usual edu
cation of young ladies — that is to say, to take a
part rather in dancing than in thinking. She had
got only one idea there of the Woman Movement
— that it was a far from elegant aberration of
high-strung females. What Franka had said about
it was a revelation to her. Now she felt she must
and would accomplish something — Miss Garlett
must instruct and advise her further.

Franka now felt obliged to tear herself away
from this interview. She was expecting a caller.
She kissed the eager young disciple, whose attitude
toward her filled her with joyous pride. "To-morrow
we will talk further about this, my dear girl ; I must
go now."

She summoned Frau von Rockhaus and went with
her to her rooms. Shortly afterwards Prince Vic
tor Adolph was announced. Franka went forward
to greet him. Frau Eleonore, who was sitting near
the window, stood up and curtseyed, but immedi
ately resumed her seat, for the call did not concern
her.

Franka's heart began to beat more quickly.
"Helmer is to blame for this," said she to herself
with vexation.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

After the first interchange of greetings and after
they had sat down the prince said : —

"Permit me to enter in medias res without delay,
and ask you the questions which I have on my
mind."

He did not speak loud. Frau von Rockhaus, who
from her remote corner was visible de profil perdu,
could not hear what was said.

"Well, I am ready to listen," said Franka, and
raised her eyes to her visitor.

Once more she realized that she had never seen
a handsomer and more elegant man than this young
prince. Yet, in his attitude there was a certain
haughty, peculiarly unbending reserve — more no
ticeable if possible than ever. It was as if something
had annoyed him.

" I heard you yesterday for the second time, Miss
Garlett. You spoke as eloquently as you did the
first time, perhaps even more so; but you crossed
over into another field where I could not well follow
you."

"How so? I still treat the same question."

" But from a different standpoint. When I heard
you in Germany, you protested that you were not
going to stand for the current aims of feminism —
the franchise, candidacy for all public offices, and the
like; that sort of thing you would leave to others.
You would only urge that women should cultivate
their intellect sufficiently to interest themselves in
political and social life, so that by their influence
they might be capable of imparting something of
feminine virtues into the conduct of political and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

social affairs . . . that is what I understood you to
say."

"You understood quite correctly, Your High
ness."

"And suddenly yesterday you began to join in
all the extreme demands of the Women's Rights
party, — female voters, female members of Parlia
ment — how can I tell to what extent they would
go ... no ... there I am opposed. Perhaps I am
reactionary, but I shudder at the mere thought of
seeing women — delicate, lovely women — dragged
about in the dusty battle-field."

"Do you mean Parliaments? Parliaments need
not be dusty and need not be battle-fields, but
places for work."

" Why yes, you expect that all will be changed.
But that is the very thing I dread. There is so
much that is fine, it would be a pity to change it —
in other words, to destroy it. As, for example, sup
pose one were to cultivate nothing but vegetables
instead of flowers. Of course, it would be more use
ful. And the captivating types of women who are
to be found in our present state of civilization —
to see them all disappear — that would be, indeed,
deplorable. And must every woman have a calling?
Wife, mother, sweetheart — are not those also
callings?"

"There is no need of excluding others — just like
husband, father, lover!"

"They are not to be compared. Oh, it has often
been lamented that the world is robbed of its gods
— I tremble at the thought that it may be robbed

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of its feminine elements. I question whether this
whole movement for equality — because it is con
trary to nature — is not to be regarded as a tem
porary aberration, now and again doing harm and
destined to disappear. Please give me your ideas
about this."

Franka interrupted him with an impatient move
ment of her hand. The trend of the conversation
affected her unpleasantly. "Excuse me, Your High
ness, I cannot give you a second lecture! I should
not convert you, for your objection does not rest
on grounds of reason, but is rather instinctive and
therefore especially vehement. Nor have I the wish
to convert you. My specialty, as you yourself have
remarked, is certainly not that of the militant femi
nist. It is remarkable, what an effect my yester
day's address has produced : it moved a good friend
to advise me to give up the whole thing — while it
made the brilliant daughter of the house my enthu
siastic disciple; and it entirely revolted you, Your
Highness."

Victor Adolph started: "Good Heavens, how can
you use such a word — revolt ! Your address en
chanted me, as your whole being enchants me, but
the theme — yes, you are quite right — aroused an
instinctive antipathy. And it would have been
pleasant to me if you had been willing to explain
your meaning, yet this expectation was presump
tuous. Do not be angry with me. "

He rose and took his leave. Franka did not at
tempt to detain him.

CHAPTER XXI

NEW WONDERS

THE programme of that evening began with an
aviation festival over the lake. A surprise had been
prepared: the first trial of a new method of flight.
The invention had been worked out and tested
privately under John Toker's patronage ; this day it
was to be exhibited before the world.

The festival began at six o'clock. The weather
was marvelously fine. A cloudless blue sky, the
temperature, seasonable for June, was warm, but
agreeably moderated by a cool breeze which ruffled
the surface of the lake. On the shores a fleet of
boats was arrayed with streamers and flowers, and
provided with rugs and soft pillows. On the op
posite side lay a number of passenger vessels, the
decks of which had been hired for spectators. The
population of Lucerne stood in dense throngs along
the lake. Excitement and anticipation stirred
through the crowd. The spectacle of aeroplanes and
flying machines had, indeed, already by this time
lost its heart-thrilling fascination. It wras no longer
as in 1909 and 1910, when the sight of these pioneers
of the upper air seemed to take one's very breath
away, when they still seemed to be both dream and
miracle. The device had now become extremely
common everywhere: in many places airships were
making regular trips, aeroplanes had been adopted

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widely as vehicles of sport and luxury, just as auto
mobiles had several years before, and every nation
possessed its little air-fleet. No one longer uttered
the exclamation, "Ah!" when a flyer shot up into
the air — the marvel had become a commonplace —
was simply taken for granted.

But on this occasion, expectation had been once
more keyed to the highest pitch. It was known that
when Toker promised a surprise, something sensa
tional was going to be produced, something that
was not only magnificent and unprecedented, but
also of vital significance and calculated to give con
temporary society an uplift into new regions.

A programme had been issued for the aviation
festival. At six o'clock commencement of evolu
tions in the air over the lake; at seven o'clock: a
surprise announced by three cannon shots.

More than half an hour before the specified hour,
the boats, the vessels, the wharves, and also the
windows and balconies of the villas and the hotels
facing the lake were packed. At the stroke of six,
the Toker flotilla of flying-machines ascended and
began to perform their evolutions.

"Those aeroplanes are masked and costumed,"
cried one of the spectators, and that exactly ex
pressed it. These air-vehicles had the shape of all
kinds of historical and imaginary equipages. The
primitive type of superposed and juxtaposed frames
without sides was no longer affected. The wonderful
things swept slowly, one behind the other, at a com
paratively low elevation, circling about the lake, as
far as it was peopled with spectators.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Now the throng really uttered its "Ah!" for such
graceful vessels had never before been seen in the
air. Slender ships with inflated sails, Roman char
iots, Venetian gondolas, Lohengrin swans, enor
mous shells glittering in mother of pearl and the
like, were occupied by aviators, appropriately cos
tumed. The planes and apparatus used for pro
pulsion and steering were concealed with plenty of
white and gray material, which looked like clouds,
giving a magically picturesque effect. A manufac
turer of flying-machines, present among the spec
tators, shrugged his shoulders and remarked to a
bystander: "Child's play with masquerade!"

Several hundred metres high in the air above the
heads of the spectators circled a great airship of the
Zeppelin type. That, according to the rumor, was
to be the bearer of the surprise.

Franka sat in one of the boats with her companion
and several other of Toker's house-guests. General
conversation was going on, and Franka, leaning
back on her cushion, gave herself up to her thoughts.
A peculiar melancholy weighed on her spirit — a
feeling of isolation. A few hours previous there had
been awaiting her something which she had looked
forward to with keen anticipation, something which
promised to give her a powerful emotion : — the
visit of Prince Victor Adolph. Helmer had been
responsible for this expectation. The words in his
letter were, "He worships you"; he must have
known it, else he would not have written so author
itatively, and those three words had gone through
her like an electric shock. And what had the visit

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brought her? A bit of ill humor, nothing else. Not
only the man did not worship her; he did not even
understand her; her activities and her views were
alien if not repulsive to him. Fortunately, she was
not in love with him as yet, but only on the point
of being. Consciously she had felt: It has not come
as yet, but it is coming, it is coming. . . . She had
heard it knocking at her door and had said, "Come
in!" — but across the doorsill entered — nothing.

At this moment a mortar shot rang out. All
looked up into the air. The Zeppelin began to de
scend in great spirals ; now it was about fifty metres
high. The basket and its passengers could be
distinctly seen. Three or four persons were sitting
in it and two forms were standing close to the rail.
Another shot: the rail was thrown open. For
Heaven's sake — the two forms might fall out.
And sure enough — for just here the third shot was
heard, and the two swung off over the edge. A cry
rose from all throats. The two figures as they fell
stretched out their arms and with a quick motion
unfolded a great pair of wings. It was a young man
and a young girl. The youth wore striped tricot
which gave his body the aspect of a butterfly's form
and the two wings were shaped like a butterfly's.
The maiden was enveloped in a white flowing robe
which came down below her feet; her face was
framed in blond curls and her wings were white
and long like those frequently depicted as adorn
ing the shoulders of the guardian of Paradise, the
Archangel Michael, or those of the angel of the
Annunciation.

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Butterfly and angel floated down in an oblique,
gently gliding flight. The throng was now breath
less and dumb. In the center of the lake was sta
tioned a large float ; it was supposed that the daring
flyers would land on it, but before they reached it,
they turned up from a height of five or six metres,
and, mounting, flew horizontally, came back, then
flew down, and mounted again, performing aerial
evolutions, crossing above the fantastic aeroplanes,
and then returned to the Zeppelin which once more
received them.

A tumultuous uproar of applause rang through
the air. An immense feeling of happiness and vic
tory stirred all hearts. So now the air was actually
made subservient to mankind. Without an engine,
independent as a bird, one could rise from the
ground, glide through the air, rise and sink away,
be conscious of the motion ; it was, indeed, an intoxi
cating gain !

The address given that evening in the theater
auditorium of the Rose-Palace concerned the new
acquisition. The inventor, a hitherto unknown
young English engineer, gave an exposition of the
mechanism of his artificial wings, and related how
for some years in all secrecy, under Mr. Toker's
auspices, he had been carrying on his investiga
tions, labors, and experiments until at last he had
been able to make a gift of his accomplished work
to his fellow-men.

After the inventor had concluded his address,
Toker himself stepped forward and announced that

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no other addresses would be given that evening,
but that the respected public might enjoy the con
sciousness that henceforth no one would any longer
need to envy the birds.

The auditorium was now transformed into a social
assembly-room where the liveliest conversation was
carried on. The topic of applicable pinions truly
gave sufficient material for all sorts of interest
ing variations. Some rejoiced, others bewailed, still
others tried to perpetrate witticisms; all were full
of astonishment; exclamations flew about in merry
confusion.

" I shall be mighty grateful when market-women,
instead of swallows and doves, shall be seen flying
round in the air with their baskets."

"In place of the light-horse regiment we shall
now have regiments of light birds."

"The joy of such self -constituted flight must be
supermundane in the true sense of the word."

"The world grows richer, more beautiful, more
wonderful every day. "

"We will rather say: more unpleasant, more
weird. "

"Where are the days when people were satisfied
to travel on two feet or at most with four or eight
horses' feet? Now we must have roller-skates, skis,
bicycles, motors, balloons, aeroplanes, and here at
last duplex-elliptic back-action folding wings."

"Women will no longer turn into hyenas, but
rather into wild geese. "

" Do you long for constancy still, my dear madam?
now, when we are all become fly-away?"

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Franka had retired early to her own rooms. She
felt quite unstrung and hungry for solitude. Prince
Victor Adolph had not put in an appearance either
on the water or in the hall. Was he avoiding her?
This was the first time that he had missed any of
the exercises. His absence troubled Franka, and
she drew disagreeable conclusions from it. Her con
clusions, however, were baseless. The absence of the
prince was not in any way connected with Franka.
That afternoon, a near relative had arrived at
Lucerne, to stay only a few hours, and the prince
had been obliged to spend the time with him. The
two had watched the wonderful flights from the
balcony of their hotel.

Franka was glad that Frau Eleonore had not
joined her in coming upstairs but had remained
below in the hall. Her companion, who had been
with her now for some years, was dear and sym
pathetic to her, but she had never admitted her to
a real heart intimacy. Spiritually, also, the woman
had never been to her what is called a "resource";
she lacked the "uplift. " A cheerful, harmless, hon
est mind, a lady to her finger-tips, not given to
narrow judgments, but also lacking in a bold out
look, she had every quality of a model companion;
but she was far from being the ideal of an intimate
friend such as Franka really needed. And, there
fore, in hours when she was in any way depressed,
when an indefinite yearning came over her, when
she meditated on God and the world and herself, she
always preferred to be alone rather than have Frau
Eleonore with her.

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She stepped out on the balcony and leaned against
the railing. It was a warm night ; the air was heavy
as if a storm were threatening. Along the hori
zon frequent sheet-lightning flashed against a back
ground of intensely black clouds; above, the sky
was clear and the stars were shining brilliantly.
The fir grove which bordered the garden stood
dark with the white sand-strewn paths meandering
through the trees. A gentle rustling could be heard
in the branches. A screech-owl lamented some
where in the distance, and from the near-by pool
came the subdued call of a toad at long intervals;
it was assuredly a lonely creature which, sighing
again and again, queried: "Is there no other toad
near me ? ' ' Everywhere — loneliness ! That was the
mood that drifted down upon Franka from this
nature — perhaps because she invested nature with
this very mood. Yonder, each flash of lightning
zigzagged down for itself alone, unconcerned about
its forerunners and successors; in obtuse egoism
sparkles every star without caring that, many mil
lions of miles away, other stars are pursuing their
own courses; the tree-tops must rock as the wind
bends them without other trees coming to their
aid — yes, the most perfect indifference reigns where-
ever she might turn; were she to die that moment,
the lightning would continue to flash this way and
that; the toad would not call in the least degree
more mournfully and the stars in all eternity would
not have the slightest notion of it. Alone . . . alone
. . . that was the keynote of the whole concert of
dread and melancholy which whispered around her.

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She stretched her arms out toward the vacant
night and drew such a deep breath that its expira
tion was a groan. Then she sat wearily down in a
soft, upholstered wicker chair, leaned her head back,
and in her lassitude and depression of spirits the
consciousness that she was resting did her good
physically. But psychically her indefinite longing
developed into a hot sense of woe. Her eyes filled
with tears. Oh, how good it would be to have some
fond heart on which she might pour out her sor
rows . . . yet if she had, perhaps she would not
have the impulse to weep! For in that case the
pain, the dull pain, called "loneliness," would be
cured !

She sat there for some time, thinking of no defi
nite person and conscious of no definite trouble;
she merely felt sad, in a certain sense platonically
sad. Her thoughts were without clear outlines: all
that she had experienced — and missed — that day
flowed into a hazy picture. Her eyes closed and
gradually she began to doze: her indefinite thoughts
were confused into a still more indefinite dream.

Again it seemed to be clear day around her. The
call of the toad and the rustling of the leaves had
ceased. In place of them there seemed to be the
light, murmuring plash of the oar. She was sailing
in a gondola on the lake and the boatmen were
Helmer and Victor Adolph — both in the charac
teristic garb and attitude of Venetian gondoliers.
The slender black boat was surrounded by cloud-
borne aviators. Ah, if she could only wing her way
up into the upper air in such an airship. The wish

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was followed — as so often occurs in dreams — by
its instantaneous fulfillment. A hovering cloud-car
took her up and bore her away. She wanted to call
to the gondoliers, but they had vanished together
with the gondola. All around her only clouds were
to be seen, rushing onward and changing their
shapes like locomotive smoke which one sees stream
ing by the train windows. Soon her equipage rose
above this region of clouds and the sky grew blue
over her head. In easy motion it went up — up
and down in rhythmical regularity like a swing, but
like a swing which at every gyration lifts farther
from the earth; then another forward plunge in
speediest flight — like a sailboat driven before a
wild wind ; — nothing more was to be seen of the
earth. On the zenith a dazzling orb — is that the
sun? How, then, can her eyes endure its brightness?
The orb grew ever larger; it was coming nearer . . .
for Heaven's sake, how high was she doomed to
mount?

A sense of terror darted through Franka's limbs.
. . . "Enough! Enough!" she cried and looked
everywhere in her vehicle. . . . Where then is the
helmsman? No one! she was all alone. "Alone" —
that was the anguishing word which just before had
been oppressing her heart; but now for the first
time she understood it in its most gruesome sense:
alone in the universe! What in comparison was all
earthly solitude? Ever higher she arose toward the
sun-resembling orb; ever wilder became the storm
wind . . . whither, whither, into what boundless
ness filled with horrors? A paroxysm of anguish and

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terror contracted her heart. Then she felt a strong
arm flung protectingly around her; one of the gon
doliers stood at her side. She could not see his face ;
only that strong, rescuing arm with its warm clasp
filled her dreamy consciousness with a hitherto un
known joy of security. The little airship now glided
gently downwards. It was a blissful feeling: the
antithesis of loneliness, a lovely sense of safety;
a tide of tenderness billowed, literally billowed,
around her, for it was to her as if great warm drops
fell on her forehead and trickled caressingly over
her body. If one might imagine a paroxysm of ap
peasing — this miracle she experienced in her dream.

But even in a dream the extreme of happiness
lasts only a second. The equipage had become en
tangled in a knot of other airships which precipitated
themselves on one another — painfully their frag
ments fell into her face ; a booming salvo of artillery
tore the air, and Franka, awakening, found herself
sitting on her balcony in a heavy shower of hail,
and the storm, which had broken, was raging with
lightning and loud peals of thunder. She jumped
up to run into her room and at that instant she felt
that the bar of the blind, loosened by the wind, had
fallen on her chair, and slipped down to her side.

Just then Frau Rockhaus appeared at the bal
cony door. "Why! Are you here? I should not have
thought of looking for you here. How do you happen
to be out in all this storm? It has been raining for a
long time, and now it is hailing and thundering. You
are wet through. "

"Yes, dear Eleonore; I merely fell sound asleep."
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Who ever heard of such a thing! Now, get to
bed as quickly as you can."

"Yes, I will. Please ring for the maid, and good
night."

As soon as her light was put out and she had com
posed herself for going to sleep, a vivid recollection
of her dream came to her. Again she believed that
she felt the strong arm at her side, — it must have
been the bar, — and she tried to conjure back that
peculiar consciousness of security which, after the
terror of the blood-curdling plunge into endless
space, had so deeply inspired her. . . . She suc
ceeded in doing so: she could bring back almost
the whole dream with all its details, and she felt
enriched by a new experience. Can it be, then, that
such a heavenly refuge, such a paradise of security
can be found?

It was long before she went to sleep again; in
deed, she did not care to sleep, for the sweet recol
lection of the dream, like a slight intoxication of
opium, was more refreshing, more tranquilizing than
any sleep. Only toward dawn did she fall into a
deep, sound slumber.

When she awoke the sun was already high. She
felt strengthened and full of joyous life. The mel
ancholy of the evening before had been dispelled.
It even caused no diminution of her good spirits,
when, in the course of the forenoon, her aunts came
to see her.

"Oh, it is lovely of you to visit me ... please
sit down. Now tell me, how do you enjoy being with
us? Is n't it all wonderful?"

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The old ladies sat down. Then Franka for the
first time noticed that their faces expressed a cer
tain solemn sullenness.

"We have come to say good-bye, Franka," said
Countess Adele.

"We cannot endure it any longer," added Frau-
lein Albertine in explanation.

"What, you are going to leave Lucerne, before
the Rose- Week is ended?"

The countess nodded. "Yes, we are leaving to
day. I believe that, if I were to remain longer, I
should lose my mind. These flyings up in the air,
these uncanny pictures on the sky, all these up
setting performances and declamations .• . . No,
it is not normal at all, I might almost say not
comme il faut. We of our class cannot take any
pleasure in it. Yesterday evening, at supper, I de
clared that I was going home. Albertine was agree
able."

"Perfectly agreeable," corroborated Albertine.

"Coriolan was delighted; only Malhof — he was
furious — he is going to stay. We do not need him.
Coriolan is sufficient protection for our return
journey. He is a genuine knight of the good old
stamp. . . . Now, tell me about the prince who
was paying you such pronounced attention the day
before yesterday. . . . Why did he not show him
self yesterday? Is the affair at an end?"

" 'T is no affair at all, " replied Franka testily.

Fraulein Albertine nodded assent: "You are
quite right, not to get any such idea into your head.
Men of such elevated rank seldom have honest in-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tentions — certainly not with one of the ' emanci
pated' women."

"Well, I should have liked Franka to make such
a match, " said the great-aunt soothingly. " Morga
natic marriages are frequently contracted. But you
will never lack suitors, for you are pretty ; and such
little escapades as lecturing will be forgiven you,
especially as in the mean time you have managed to
retain your respectability. . . . But where is Rock-
haus?"

"Gone out for a walk."

"And you here alone? That is not correct. You
must be very circumspect. What I was going to
say apropos of your getting married . . . there is
a cousin of mine — not Coriolan — no longer as
young as he used to be, a widower, but of very high
nobility ; that would be worth while. Do you know,
with the Sielenburg estates you ought to marry
into the aristocracy, so that they would come into
the right hands again. You yourself could get an
assured position in society and lead a happy life.
Certainly, you could never feel lastingly contented
among all these Americans and Russians and vaga
bond people, and wandering round yourself with
them. ... I should wish my brother's grandchild
a pleasanter existence : I want to see her respectably
settled. . . . Did n't some one knock? It must be
Coriolan ; he promised to come round here and fetch
us. He has only to get the railway tickets for us,
... I was right ... it is he. Come in, come right
in, Coriolan; Franka will be glad to see you."

Franka was, indeed, glad — but chiefly because
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

these three inestimable relatives were going to be
take themselves away, and she firmly proposed to
break off once more the interrupted and patched-up
acquaintance. Behind Coriolan followed a servant,
who brought the customary great basket of violets.

"From His Royal Highness, Prince Victor
Adolph, " said he.

A vivid flush mounted to Franka's cheeks. She
indicated with her hand that the basket was to be
placed on the table. The servant obeyed and left
the room.

" Aha ! " exclaimed the Countess Adele saga
ciously.

"Ei, ei," commented Fraulein Albertine.

Coriolan felt that it was incumbent on him to say
something. "When a pretty woman sings or dances
or speaks on the stage, then they send her flowers —
that 's the way it goes."

"Yes, it has no other significance," said Franka.
"Will you not sit down? And are you really going
to take the ladies away?"

"Indeed, I am, and with the greatest pleasure.
I am more homesick even than they are. Here one
gets the blues, or is driven wild with rage."

"But there are such interesting events still com
ing off, " remarked Franka. "An American inventor
is going to tell us of the most unheard-of things,
things that will quite revolutionize the future."

Coriolan shrugged his shoulders: "There are noth
ing but unheard-of things here. It would be much
better to teach people to go back to the past, to
cultivate their historical sense, than to be always

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

trying to stir up new rubbish. Is the man going to
speak to-day?"

"No, Chlodwig Helmer is to speak to-day."

"Well, that does not tempt me. On the Sielen-
burg he always preserved a discreet silence; only
once he broke out and what he said — I don't re
member what it was — turned my stomach. I re
gard him as a radical. "

"Eduard was very much attached to him,"
spoke up the Countess Adele in defense of the for
mer secretary; " he would not have kept a radical
so long. . . . But, children, we must be going now.
It is lunch-time and there is still much to do about
packing."

She stood up. The others followed her example,
and they took their leave. It was not a painful
parting. Franka drew a breath of relief when the
door closed behind her relatives. But the door
opened again, and Fraulein Albertine came back
with a deep air of mystery.

"Franka," she whispered, "I have restrained
myself all the time we were here, because I did not
want to offend you; but I consider it my duty to
warn you — it is for your best: do not eat too much,
and take much exercise, you are beginning to grow
stout! There, now I must hasten to overtake the
others. Adieu ! God bless you !" And she was off.

Franka had to smile: that was so like Albertine.
She cast a glance at herself in the pier-glass and
turned away not at all alarmed: there was no fault
to be found with the elegance of her figure.

Now she hastened to the table where the basket
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

of flowers was standing and detached the note that
she saw gleaming among the violets. What might
the prince — one of the gondoliers of her dream —
have written to her? Perhaps a declaration of love!
She hastily tore open the envelope which bore a
small royal coronet in gold. It was no declaration
of love, but only a formal apology for having been
absent the day before, which he explained " was due
to the passage in Berne of an exalted personage."
Franka was possibly a little disappointed — but in
reality it was better so. The one, on whose strong
arm she leaned in her dream, was perhaps the other
gondolier.

CHAPTER XXII

CHLODWIG HELMER'S LECTURE: THE CONQUEST
OF THE AIR

ON the fourth day of the Rose-Week, the audi
torium was as usual filled to the last seat. At the
right, on the front of the platform, a kind of prosce
nium-box had been set up, designed for the special
guests who had signified their intention of being
present, — the King of Italy and the President of
the French Republic. Besides these two chief exe
cutives, there were several other members of the
ruling families of Europe in the hall, but they were
mingled with the other auditors. On the stage, the
speaker's desk was placed in the center, but pushed
somewhat to the rear, and in the background sat
as usual Mr. Toker, his daughter, and a number of
his distinguished guests. Some of them, however,
had preferred to listen to the exercises from the body
of the house.

It was still ten minutes before the hour set for
the commencement, but the hall was already packed ;
only the King and the President had not as yet
appeared. Lively conversation buzzed through the
place. Persons who naturally belonged together sat
in little groups: thus, for example, the two wid
ows, Countess Solnikova and Frau Annette Felsen,
accompanied by several gentlemen, among them

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Marchese Rinotti and Baron de la Rochere, as if
they were in their own salon; the Countess Schol-
lendorf, Albertine, Coriolan, and Malhof formed a
little Austrian colony, to which the well-known
sportsman also joined himself. Franka Garlett with
her companion sat in the background of a small
box, just out of sight of the public.

Franka's excitement was great. She had never
heard Helmer speak in public — it was practically
his first public address, and she trembled a little
for him.

The Sielenburgers had not taken their departure
after all. It had happened that the sleeping-coupe1
tickets procured were meant for the following day
and consequently the involuntarily prolonged so
journ allowed them the opportunity of hearing
Helmer's address. The Countess Schollendorf was
gazing about through her opera-glass. Suddenly
she cried out with a startled expression: "For God's
sake, there in the third sofa in front — is n't that
the Archduke . . . ?"

"Sh!" interrupted the sportsman. "Don't utter
the name aloud; it is certainly he, but he does not
want to be recognized."

"Still, perhaps we are mistaken," said the Count
ess; "our imperial family has not much taste for
such American extravagances."

" But really, it is the Archduke; I cannot be mis
taken, for he bought a horse of me once and closed
the bargain himself. Besides, he is said to be a very
enlightened prince."

Coriolan flared up: "What do you call 'enlight-
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ened'? That is a suspicious word. . . . Thank God,
our court is nothing of the sort."

The countess had now directed her glass toward
the platform. "Franka is not sitting up there this
time . . . but that Helmer! Who would have
thought that I should have seen Eduard's secretary
in this way again ! It is said that he is going to give
an address. I am curious. "

"I am not," muttered the cousin.

"You are an unendurable man, Coriolan, " re
marked Albertine suavely.

"We need not be vexed, my worthy friends,"
observed Baron Malhof at this moment, taking a
part in the conversation, after having vainly looked
round to find Franka. "One must never be vexed;
certainly not while on a pleasure journey. One
ought thankfully to get from it all the possible
satisfaction that may be offered. Domestic cares,
local prejudices, have been left far behind. One
drinks in all the delight of the 'now,' of the un
familiar, of the unusual. And especially here in this
festal hall, where such a brilliant company is as
sembled, where it smells so fragrant, — I would
wager that the ventilator distributes atomized rose-
water, — where sweet music is playing, where beau
tiful women are to be seen, and where one can
stare at two living rulers of great States, and where
there is to be great oratory in various tongues of
Babel about the 'lofty flights of human thought.'
... If this is not a place of amusement, what is it,
I 'd like to know? Do you see, in my opinion life is
a storehouse, filled full of joyance and annoyance,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

and all wisdom consists in getting out of that store
house all possible joy and avoiding everything that
can possibly annoy ..."

A stir went through the audience. The President
of the French Republic and the King of Italy had
entered their box. Mr. Toker had ushered them in,
and he remained for a few moments standing in the
back of the box in order, as could be plainly seen,
to give his illustrious guests some information about
his likewise illustrious house-guests; for his eyes, as
well as those of the two rulers, moved, during the
conversation, from one to another of the selected
circle filling the background of the platform.

Now Mr. Toker went back to his place and gave
the signal to begin.

For the introduction, a second performance was
given of the Rose-Quintette which on the first day
had afforded such enjoyment; again it exerted the
same charm and aroused the whole audience to the
utmost enthusiasm. The King from the land of music
set the example, and the applause throughout the
auditorium rose into a perfect storm. Vera's eyes
were filled with tears of delight. The Rose-Quintette
was a genuine affront to that ultra-modern school
of those who pose as scorners of melody; they did
not, indeed, hiss, but they exchanged significant
glances and bitterly ironical smiles.

After the applause had subsided, the great Ital
ian tragedienne came forth and recited Hero's la
ment over the body of Leander, a soul-stirring mon
ologue from the first work of a Roman poet as yet
comparatively unknown. It was a decidedly long

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while after she had finished, before the applause
began: people were too deeply moved to express
their gratification instantly. Genuine tears trembled
on the eyelashes of the great artist, and in the audi
ence many cheeks were wet. Who has never stood
by the bier of one dearly beloved, and has not gazed
down into an abyss of grief so profound that the
heart is penetrated by the terror of eternity?

Now followed one of those ten-minute pauses
during which the auditorium changed into a salon.
Some of the guests left their places ; calls were paid ;
there was promenading up and down the lobbies.
The master of the house stepped into the box where
sat the two exalted rulers in order to explain to them
the meaning of the intermission ; they in turn went
out on the platform and allowed the various celeb
rities to be presented to them. The King greeted
the actress as an old acquaintance, shook hands
with her, and talked with her for some time. Then
he greeted his other fellow-countryman, the great
inventor, with equal heartiness. To be proud of
one's king and to feel for him a genuine affection,
is a widespread sentiment in monarchical countries ;
but there is also very frequently in royal personages
a feeling of pride and of gratitude for those who as
artists or otherwise wear the crown of glory of their
country, and this feeling might be called kings'
loyalty. For centuries monarchs have showed this
loyalty in the form of gratitude to the heads of the
great noble families, especially for the leaders of
armed forces on land and sea; but of late they have
begun to realize that the fame of a country is borne

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over wider reaches of space and time by the names
of its intellectual great men than by the names of its
aristocrats and soldiers.

The ringing of a bell announced the resumption
of the exercises, and an expectant silence reigned
throughout the hall. John Toker and Chlodwig
Helmer stepped out to the speaker's desk. The
American began in English : —

"Your Majesty! Mr. President! Ladies and
gentlemen! I have the pleasure of introducing to
you as the speaker of the evening — I might almost
say the speaker of the week — Herr Helmer, of
Vienna, the author of the poem ' Schwingen ' which
quickly became famous. Not that I have any de
sire to place his deserts higher than those of the
other illustrious members of the Rose Order — but
because the theme which he is about to treat is
the fundamental theme on which our whole plan of
action is arranged: the conquest of the upper re
gions — Herr Helmer, you have the floor."

And he stepped back to his place in the circle.
As he took his seat some one whispered to him:
"That was not very democratic of you, Mr. Toker,
when in your introduction you apostrophized the
two rulers with their titles!"

"Please do not confuse democracy with incivility,
as is so often done. It is exactly what they are —
rulers. To every one his due."

The fault-finder remarked still further: "The two
rulers certainly do not understand German and they
will be mightily bored with Herr Helmer's address."

"But they do understand German, as I happen to
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know. Besides, the French translation of the gist
of the address has been printed and is in their hands."

In the mean time Helmer had taken his place at
one side of the desk, letting his hand rest on it and
surveying the audience. First of all, he looked for
Franka. At last he caught sight of her in the corner
of her box. He gave her a mute greeting. At that
instant Prince Victor Adolph and General Orell
entered her box. Franka shook hands with them,
but put her finger to her lips, as a sign that they
must not speak; then she turned toward the plat
form. Her heart was beating wildly. She was as
deeply agitated as on the evening of her own debut.
Victor Adolph took his seat behind her.

Helmer made a slight inclination toward the two
rulers ; then turned to the audience : —

"Fellow-men! The meaning of this address re
quires an explanation: I am conscious that I am
speaking not merely to the small assembly of promi
nent men and women in this place, but to the world
outside. I know that what I am about to say —
whether well or ill — will be repeated in type, on
human lips, on phonographs, in scientific reviews,
in popular assemblies, in the homes of workingmen,
in university halls, in all the nooks and corners of the
whole civilized world; that it is therefore rightfully
addressed to my fellow-men ; and what is more : the
object itself touches every one personally, no mat
ter to what rank or what land he may belong.
Fellow-men, this matter concerns you all alike. Tua
res agitur — Humanity ! One of the greatest hours
of your destiny has struck!"

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Franka drew a breath of relief. The speaker's
voice rang out clear and full, and at the same time a
restrained fire could be felt under his words, spoken
so calmly and with such assurance. Verily, it was
the same fire as had inspired her, when he delivered
into her hands the shield and spear — Hojo-to-ho —
the cry of the Valkyrie!

She turned round to Victor Adolph, who must
have understood the mute question in her eyes —
"He speaks well, does n't he"? — for he nodded
affirmatively.

In a somewhat altered tone Helmer went on: —

"'Alas! corporeal pinions do not so easily corre
spond to the pinions of the Intellect,' are the words
in Goethe's 'Faust.' . . . The opposite is true. Cor
poreal pinions we already have, but the spiritual
wings have not as yet been found to correspond.
Obedient to the will of man, the flying ship soars
a thousand metres into the air, but the will itself
remains in the depths. High and free, in beautiful
premeditated curves, the artfully constructed pin
ions drive through the pure ether, while far below,
enchained, remains the intellect groveling in the
dust. By a marvel of technique, the gates into a new
age have been boldly forced, but nobody seems to
perceive this. The marvel is now only a few years
old. During the first week or ten days, tumultuous
jubilation, universal astonishment: — 'At last the
millennial dream comes true ! ' ' How vast is human
genius ! ' But after a short while everything goes on
as before. No trace of the new age. One further
means of locomotion, a new article of commerce, a

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

fresh sport and opportunity for laying wagers, one
more childish toy, one weapon more, that is all !

"All respect for so-called human genius, but as
far as concerns human imagination — it displays
a pitiful feebleness. It ventures a few leaps into the
air — a metre or two, like the first flying-machines
— models as yet unprovided with motors ; but forth
with it sinks back again to the ground. A door into
the future forced open: whether from behind it, a
golden radiance is to stream, or gloomy clouds are
to threaten, people do not see — they have no desire
to see. They shrug their shoulders, put on an air
of sound common sense, and deny all discussion of
future possibilities and revolutions. The matter is
left to specialists, and no one any longer takes any
interest in it, save as it may affect one's private
business or one's private satisfaction.

"Above all, the military authorities always take
possession of every new invention and it gets special
ized into merely technical limits. Any possibility
of its use other than for future wars is not taken
into consideration, and hence, the more universal
points of view, the indirect consequences, are put
aside and only the nearest-lying applications are
discussed.

"Shortly before the invention of dirigible airships
and flying-machines, armies employed captive bal
loons and balloons driven before the wind ; even then
there were aeronautic troops — of course nothing more
natural than that these should be entrusted as suit
able experts with the introduction and maneuvering
of the new air- vehicles. This was regarded in military

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circles as nothing revolutionary; it was simply a
small improvement which might be made useful in
connection with the existent system of tactics — that
is to say, for instance, in reconnaissances. As a
weapon also, the thing might come into use, and
experiments were, indeed, made in this direction;
but that was relegated to the dim future and would
never attain any great effective significance, for its
certainty of aim was of the very slightest, its ra
dius of efficacy very limited, and by means of per
pendicular guns the attack might be easily warded
off : — such was the style of appeasement with which
the suggestion of adding fleets of airships to the other
effective forces was set forth and any wider outlook
into the possibilities of the new acquisition was not
admitted by government circles. Whenever practi
cal necessity demanded such experiments in actual
warfare, why, then they might be made, but it was
useless to indulge in fanciful dreams of the future.
. . . And the specialists continued to occupy them
selves with present-day tasks, without abandoning
the old ways ; — as to the future, let it take care of
itself.

"At bottom, indeed, it is not the business of vari
ous callings, making use of any new discovery, to
investigate it in all its aspects ; nay, this would even
be too much to expect from the inventors themselves.
Does the aviator understand very much about the
scope of his invention? Occasionally and exception
ally he does, of course — but not because he is an
aviator. As such he is a technician or an acrobat.
Or, if he wants to make a show of ideal objects, he

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may be a patriot, and offers his apparatus to the
ministry of war. He has no inkling of the fact that
he has opened the way into a new epoch in which
new conditions of life are to produce a new humanity.

"What these new conditions of life may be, many,
indeed, of our clear-sighted contemporaries have
already recognized, but it has not as yet penetrated
into the common consciousness. On this subject
I should like to say something to my fellow-men
from the far-echoing tribune on which I stand, and
especially to tell them about the mighty alternative
that has so suddenly been brought before our race."

Chlodwig paused. He seemed to be collecting his
thoughts for a moment or two. This interval the
public utilized for observations and the exchange
of views.

Coriolan muttered: "Some such rubbish as that
about flying I remember he put forth when he was
at the Sielenburg."

Countess Adele came to the speaker's defense:
"He talks right fluently."

" I am curious, indeed," said Prince Victor Adolph
to Franka. "Have you any idea what he is aiming
at?"

"Certainly, I know Herr Helmer'slineof thought.
He has been my instructor."

"Your instructor? . . . You have a high opinion
of him?"

"Indeed I have."

The group to which the two Russian widows
belonged had not been listening very attentively.
Annette Felsen and Minister Rinotti were sitting

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close together and a scarf falling from Annette's
shoulder had arranged itself so conveniently that
under its protection their hands could touch. Per
haps this electric contact was too powerful to allow
any other to connect the speaker and these two.
M. de la Rochere understood not a word of German,
and so any criticism that he might be moved to utter
concerned only externalities ; but it was a favorable
criticism : —

"The man has a fine voice and such intelligent
hands! Have you noticed how he pressed the ends
of his fingers on the top of the table, — as firmly
and vibratingly as if he were table-tipping, — while
with his other hand he made such eloquent and grace
fully sweeping gestures that one might actually fol
low the drift of his discourse: — he was evidently
speaking of the air in which he drew curves as ele
gant as those of Latham or Bleriot."

Helmer now proceeded with his address : —
"The making of fire by artificial means and the
invention of speech were the first stages in our pro
gress from animal to man. Articulate man belongs,
at all events, to another species than did his dumb
ancestor. What kind of a species flying man is to
represent, only the scientists of the coming centu
ries will be able to decide. To-day I would merely
call your attention to the conditions of social life,
in which we can, even now, predict a change. There
is, for example, the whole protective system of so
ciety, which might be designated as the 'lateral
system/ — for walls, hedges, gratings, shut us off
on the sides, — but this now has lost its advantage.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Only the places that are covered with a roof are
entirely protected, yet we cannot build roofs over all
gardens and all stretches of land. There are no more
islands either, if by that term we designate a terri
tory isolated by its coast-defenses and by its fleet.
Since the day when Bleriot sailed over the British
Channel, Great Britain ceased to be an island. Like
the concept 'island,' by means of aviation will also
disappear the custom-house of the frontier . . . aye,
the frontiers themselves.

" Let us pause for a moment and consider that
totality of things which bears the name of war:
What modification will be likely to ensue in this
domain by these new acquisitions? The militarists
are quickly ready with their answer: 'War will
simply be carried on simultaneously in the air.'
But the business is not so simple as on the earth
and on the water. All the methods of war, we might
say, all the rules of the game, are based on the
following hypothesis: the two opponents go forth
against each other to the borders, try to cross them,
try especially to prevent the enemy from crossing
them; try to win and to command positions; to
march, if possible, against the capital, and if they
succeed, then they dictate terms of peace. In order
to make this game more difficult, obstacles are erected
in time of peace, forts are built along the borders
and the soil is undermined; the farther one pene
trates into the country, more and more fortifications
are found, which must be captured one after the
other by the invading army; and, moreover, every
village, every farmstead where the belligerents might

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meet, is made into a stronghold. The game can be
supported by sea, when the fleets approach the coast,
which must be made more difficult to reach by means
of fortifications and submarine mines.

"And now comes the third military arm — that
of aviation. For this, the crossing of boundaries is
child's play. Fortifications would no longer be im
pediments; not merely that they could be blown
up by a couple of pyroxin bombs ; — they would be
simply a negligible quantity. These artificial con
structions, with their trenches and walls and case
ments, have also ceased to be defenses, just as the
islands have ceased to be islands. Headquarters,
hitherto the safest places, most protected by dis
tance, places where the maps of the country used to
be studied, and serving as the center from which
the troops were directed, are now the most exposed ;
for an enemy's flyer would make it his chief object
to fling his explosives down on that particular spot.
All the most modern methods of fighting, the con
cealment behind high-piled earthworks, are hence
forth without object; the approach of great army
corps offers these air-skirmishers the most favorable
circle of trajectory to be imagined — but who will
there be to endure this consciousness in addition to
all the other hardships of the march? Still more
vulnerable to attack from above would be every
munition-train.

"The cavalry, which in modern warfare is em
ployed only for recognizances, has become a mere
article of luxury through the dirigible balloon, the
usefulness of which in the task of spying out the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

country has been from the very beginning appreciated
as its most brilliant service ; but the cavalry, when the
regiments ride in close order, would offer a fine mark
for the troops of the air. But while all the attempts
would be made on the ground with the object of pen
etrating the hostile country, the aerial troops of both
armies would already have flown over both capital
cities and would be turning them into smoking heaps
of ruins. Likewise, a dirigible could in the dead of
night glide over the fleet of twenty-five-thousand-
ton ships arrayed in battle order, and annihilate it.
High in boundless, unobstructed space there is no
definite theater of war, no commanding position;
consequently the decision of the campaign cannot be
transferred into the air. Aerial machines of murder
will not march up side by side in line, but each single
one will work from up above downward ; up above,
there is nothing to conquer and nothing to annihilate.

"If now, under these newly created conditions,
nations go forth to fight each other as before, it will
be just as if two chessplayers should sit down at the
board and should say: 'We will allow the old rules
to prevail; the pawn shall be just as valueless; the
Knight shall make his jumps ; Rook and Queen shall
preserve their great power; the King shall have the
privilege of "castling"; but we will add a new rule:
either of us may throw something on the board
from above and upset all the chessmen!' A beau
tiful game — that would be — which would fail to
please the chessplayers!"

He then added, as if in a parenthesis: "The chess
men fail to be pleased anyhow."

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Some sounds of dissatisfaction were heard in the
auditorium. The military men present were express
ing their disagreement. "If only civilians would
not talk about things of which they have n't the
faintest notion," remarked a retired colonel to his
neighbor.

General Orell had demurred the most indignantly:
"All nonsense!"

"I don't find it so," replied Victor Adolph.

But no great time was allowed for exchanging
opinions, for Helmer now proceeded : —

"The opponents of war — and such I find to-day
even in the most influential social positions " — he
bowed toward the royal box — "the opponents of
war might congratulate themselves that such a war-
destroying element has entered into the very appa
ratus of war; but the chances are that the experi
ment would bring about a catastrophe involving not
the destruction of war, but rather the destruction of
civilization.

" In a book, which is the work of a prophet and of
a forewarner, H. G. Wells, whose powerful imagina
tion never leaves the solid ground of logic, there is
a description of what must become of the present
world if once the rain of fire should pour down upon
it from out the clouds. Aye, ' the conquest of the air '
— we have little cause for rejoicing over it — con
ceals the most awful perils.

"And one thing more: What will henceforth be
the sense of the term 'sentinel'? Hitherto, those
that were threatened could feel a certain degree of
security, by surrounding themselves with a body-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

guard; by keeping all the doors and entrances to
their palaces and gardens closely watched, night
and day; by stationing armed hedges on the right
and left, when they went out into the streets; or,
if they traveled, by protecting the railway track
through its whole length by lanes of soldiers and
police ; but what will all this avail against assassina
tion from above?

"And altogether: the execution of every act of
hatred or revenge will be greatly facilitated and its
discovery made more difficult; no police stations
can be erected in the upper air, no police dogs could
follow the trail; what yesterday was called 'flight'

— then a very difficult and dangerous undertaking

— can to-day be taken as a pleasure trip !

"How could one find any traces in the heights
above? The aeronautic Sherlock Holmes will offer
a new and as yet unexploited subject for detective
stories. A winged gendarmerie will first have to be
organized ; but a great obstacle stands in the way of
patrolling space: not only is there the stretch from
north to south and from east to west, but also
zenithward. The desired point will no longer be
crossed only by two lines, but by three. All this
must be faced. If really man is a wolf to his fellow-
man and is bound to remain so, then our enemy, the
wolf, by means of our new achievements has got a
new and tremendous accretion of strength."

Helmer made a brief pause. A slight feeling of
uneasiness had taken possession of his audience. . . .
What the man was predicting did not seem so rosy !
But Helmer passed his hand over his forehead, as

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

if he would drive away a swarm of annoying visions,
and then he went on in a louder voice : —

"I do not stand here as a prophet of misfortune.
I see the evil, but I also see the cure for it. If new
conditions of life are brought forward, if the world
around us undergoes changes, then our mode of life
must be made to conform to them ; for what does not
conform goes to destruction. Nature herself accom
plishes this process of adaptation by dooming to de
struction those who are incapable of conforming. At
the present stage of human development, however,
we do not need to leave this process to Nature
alone: we have reason, we have knowledge, and we
have experience: we ourselves can take the work of
transformation into our own hands! Nature works
slowly and works relentlessly; we can hasten her
work, and we can avoid those harsh and pitiless
means which Nature employs to bend us under the
law of adaptation. So now, wre are capable of recog
nizing the new conditions, the new needs, that grow
out of the human conquest of the air. We can esti
mate what of the old contrivances, of the old forms
of thinking, cannot be brought over to the new
dawning epoch ; we can mentally construct the con
ditions and principles which might prevail in the
altered circumstances; we can strive and we can
bring it about, that the necessary conformation
shall take place without its involving the method of
Nature — 'The destruction of whatever resists.'

"And the formula of the needed action is provided
for us by the new acquisition itself: We are already
able physically to soar up into the heights — we must

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

do the same thing morally. We must learn to hold
dominion over the realm of High Thinking.

"For thousands of years mankind has been dream
ing of the possibility of learning to fly. It has so
often tried in vain that at last it came to the con
clusion that it was impossible. And yet it has been
proved to be possible.

" In the same way, and almost even more timidly,
mankind has behaved toward those dreams which
attributed to human souls the capacity of applying to
the intercourse of nations the moral injunctions that
have been laid down as law for the behavior of indi
viduals, and of renouncing violence in all its forms.
This has been called Utopia. . . . ' Man is essentially
a wild beast ' — they say : ' only by force can he be
tamed, only by force can he be held under restraint,
and force has always conducted the fate of nations.'
Well, now, the most Utopian of all Utopian possi
bilities — flying — has become a reality. Technical
art has won this victory. And must the spirit alone
remain forever enchained in the wallowing depths
of hatred and brutality? Certainly not!

"Just as soon as human genius shall put forth
the same determination, the same assurance, as it
has put forth in technical work, for the attainment
of moral ideals, it will be likewise victorious. All the
technical inventions have had the one end and aim
of making life more beautiful, more enjoyable, easier,
— in a word, of distributing happiness. But what
genuine happiness is possible if all intellectual ac
tivities are ever maintained for the purpose of ren
dering life more unendurable and of destroying it?

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With his physical capacities, man must grow psy
chically, else will he become more and more dan
gerous and wretched instead of growing greater and
happier. Now that he has subdued steam and elec
tricity and radium and the Hertzian waves, in order
to make existence more comfortable for him, the
time has come that he should, with equal confidence
and equally firm resolution, try to make serviceable
those other forces which also are inherent in the
world, — good will, love, reason, — and which alone
are fit to endow life with beauty and value."

A murmur of approbation stirred through the
hall. Helmer advanced a step toward the front of
the platform and stretched out both his hands : —

"Aye, Good Will! I have uttered there the holiest
concept in the universe. For the upward flights of
the soul, this is the only motor-power — 'Good Will ' !
If aeronautics and aviation had not discovered the
lightest possible motor, they would still have been
Utopias. And all endeavors to solve social problems,
to bring security and comfort to human society, all
attempts to rouse men's souls into higher spheres,
have necessarily failed, for the precise reason that
Good Will, Goodness — called weakness by the nar
row-minded — has not been made the moving power
for the conduct of social and political life. Of course,
there are still other splendid qualities, and these are
universally upheld as the basis of character and as
the motives of noble behavior: courage, determina
tion, intellect, enthusiasm, strength. But there is
only one criterion for their inward value and outward
valuation — they are worthy and blessed only when

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

they are used in the service of Good Will. The quali
ties I have named strengthen our activity — they
do not ennoble it. There is courage shown in wicked
ness, determination in cruelty, intellect in malignity,
enthusiasm in hatred, and strength in arbitrariness.
And in fact, these elicit our admiration, because in
the brilliancy of the qualification the abomination
of the subject is forgotten.

"I repeat, I am not standing here as a prophet
of misfortune; but neither do I stand here as a
preacher of virtue. The need is not to educate to
goodness, to create and awaken feelings of benevo
lence ; only the goodness which is alive among us men
needs to be put into action. There is a field, a vast
field embracing almost all social relations, and at
its very entrance stands this placard of warning:
'Goodness and Benevolence are forbidden entrance
to this field' — the name of which is: ' Politics.'

"This placard, put up by folly and stupidity,
must be torn down. There must be room even on
this, especially on this, field for humanity's Highest
Thinking.

"Some two thousand years ago a great, good,
wise spirit put into words a similar High Thought :
'Love one another.' But in vain. And some thou
sands of years ago an Icarus had attempted to fly
up to the sun — but in vain. And yet to-day we
can fly. And likewise that other lofty realm is to be
won — in which not our bodies but our souls are to
soar!

"Woe to us if we delay much longer to make
ready for this new conquest. Persecution, slavery,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

and destruction must no longer be regarded as legiti
mate means for the attainment of social and politi
cal ends. For the possibilities of annihilation have
grown to be too powerful. There is no other way of
self-protection against the flying man than by mak
ing him a brother. We are now at the parting of the
ways ; we must go up higher — up to the highest
heights with intellect and heart — sursum corda —
or we shall sink into nameless abysses. We must
make clear to ourselves whither lead the two paths
that lie open before us — for the choice is ours."

Here again Helmer made a brief pause; then he
stepped to the very edge of the platform : —

"Now one further word about thoughts that
soar. . . . The evil does not consist in the fact that
men are incapable of cherishing High Thoughts, but
in this: — that they have a low opinion of man.
Their so-called Worldly Wisdom culminates in their
declaring with a scornful face that it is impossible
to set up noble and elevated ideals as acting rules
for life. He who scents out low and selfish motives
back of every really noble word and deed believes
that he is wise and keen, that his mind is peculiarly
shrewd. Such men are always trying to see through
things — they have not learned to look up. Con
fidence in the good awakens the good. The masses
will follow up to that height to which a real leader
will venture to lead them ; they will never go farther
than the leader thinks them capable of going. We
have arrived at an epoch when, in spite of the law of
gravity, the body can soar to unknown heights. It
is beyond the power of the imagination to foresee

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to what spiritual heights we and our children may
attain, when once, with resolution and earnestness,
with confidence and enthusiasm, we endeavor to
bring about the conquest of High Thinking. The
great philosopher who was filled with equal awe be
fore the splendor of the starry heavens and before
the Categorical Imperative of his own conscience,
Immanuel Kant, anticipated the motto of this Rose-
Week when he said — and with this quotation I
bring my address to a close: — 'Men cannot think
highly enough of man.'"

CHAPTER XXIII

A COZY SUPPER

FRANKA drew a deep breath. She had listened with
the deepest interest to every word spoken by Hel-
mer, and now, when he had concluded, she turned
around for the first time and became again aware
of the prince's presence.

"Well, what do you say, Your Highness?"

Victor Adolph had risen to his feet. His features
expressed inward emotion. "The man stirred me.
— Did you listen, Orell?"

The general respectfully answered: "At your serv
ice, Your Royal Highness."

"Truly, did you follow it all?"

The question was put in a very skeptical tone.

"Not all. Much was too nebulous. Man'savision-
ary — a dreamer ... no ground under his feet."

"Well, yes," remarked Victor Adolph, smiling;
"in this epoch of aviation, this thing 'the ground
under the feet,' seems to lose its importance."

Several of Toker's guests at this juncture entered
Franka's box. . . . The prince took his departure: —
" I want to look up the speaker. I must shake hands
with him."

Helmer had in the mean time been conducted by
Toker into the royal loge. Not without emotion did
he make his bow before the two powerful rulers. If
by any chance his message had worked upon their

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

wills, this might turn into action pregnant with
results. Power is no illusion. A democratic spirit
may regret that any one person should exercise it
and may desire to change the fact, but no democrat
need be blind to the importance of this fact as long
as it exists. Abundant opportunities for doing things
are placed in the hands of rulers, even when they
are no longer autocrats, so that they might easily
shorten the distance that separates idea and accom
plishment.

Naturally, Helmer had no expectation that the
King and the President would say to him: "Dear
Sir, what you have said to-day will give the direc
tion to our future activities." — But at all events,
they had listened to him and listened with sufficient
interest to express the desire now to talk with him.
Who could tell if this might not expedite the fulfill
ment of what he had wanted to suggest to his audi
tors?

The trivial ceremony of the presentation, of the
friendly hand-shaking, the rather unmeaning ques
tions and answers, went off in the conventional
manner; yet Helmer did not prize the opportunity
any the less: the seed of his work might have fallen
on fruitful soil. After three minutes the whole af
fair was at an end and Helmer was stepping down
into the hall. He intended to seek out Franka whose
presence attracted him, but he was instantly sur
rounded by a crowd of people congratulating him
on his discourse or asking him what he meant by
this or that passage in it.

A gentleman approached him and introduced
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himself: — "My name is Henri Juillot," said he in
French; "I am an engineer and I built a dirigible
airship myself."

'"La Patrie'?" asked Helmer, interested. He
had heard of the triumphant flight of this military
airship and also of the accident which had happened
to it later.

" You know about it?" exclaimed the Frenchman.
"Then you also know the unfortunate 'Patrie' was
driven out of its course by a storm and was never
seen again."

"Yes, I know; Count Zeppelin did not have much
better luck at Echterdingen. But I hardly think,
M. Juillot, that you will be very well satisfied with my
conclusions. You designated your dirigible for war,
and I protested most urgently against the exploita
tion of the splendid invention for such a purpose."

"I believe that our views are not so very diver
gent," replied the Frenchman. "My opinion is: the
airship is going to give the death-blow to war."

"And you say this? You, who worked in the serv
ice of the ministry of war?"

"Why not? Activity in a given calling does not
necessarily shut out the view of the intellectual
horizon, does it?"

"It ought not to do so — yet it generally does."

The engineer stood up. "I will not detain you
longer now, and indeed here comes some one looking
for you."

Helmer seized his hand, and shook it heartily.
" I thank you for your words, M. Juillot. I hope we
shall meet again."

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"Ah, at last you are discovered. I was looking
for you as for a needle in a haystack ! " It was Prince
Victor Adolph who came up to him.

Helmer bowed.

" I felt I must speak to you," continued the prince.
"I wanted to tell you how deeply your address
stirred me. A light seemed to rise before me, and I
cannot tell you in merely a couple of words what
I see in this light."

Helmer expressed his thanks for these friendly
words of recognition. He, indeed, cherished a high
opinion 'of the prince, and therefore his praise gave
him a real pleasure. And yet he was overmastered
by a gnawing bitterness as he stood facing the hand
some, manly, young prince. No self-deception availed
any more; he was obliged to confess: the horrible
tormenting passion so allied to envy — jealousy —
began to poison his mind. How he had thought him
self superior to such a feeling ... he had even en
couraged Franka to bestow her love on this splendid
young man, and had taken pleasure in his own magna
nimity . . . and now this evil passion had him in its
clutches! There was only one cure for it: absence!
The week at Lucerne was nearing its end and then
their ways would diverge — his and Franka 's. Be
sides, he had his great solace : art, labor. For some
time the idea of a new drama had been gradually
dawning in his mind, So, as soon as he should be
back, he would immediately gird himself to the task
of writing it. As if in line with this idea, the prince
now asked : —

" Have you conceived the idea of writing any
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

new poem. It will be difficult for you to surpass
' Schwingen' ! "

" I am going to write a drama, Your Royal High
ness. I have the notion that one can speak in that
way more directly, more persuasively to one's con
temporaries than in an epic."

"Scarcely more persuasively than you spoke
to-day. I thank you once more for the vistas which
you opened up before me. Auf wiedersehen, Herr
Helmer!" He shook Helmer's hand and left him.

A minute later Helmer found Franka. She hastened
up to him.

"Ah, Brother Chlodwig, at last," she cried.

"7 say 'at last.' I had such a longing to see you.
You must tell me ..."

"Oh, I have ever so much to say to you," she in
terrupted. " It almost seems like that evening when
I talked with you the first time — do you remem
ber? Or that other evening when you outlined the
plan for my career. Let us do as we did then. . . .
We will have supper, we three . . . and talk, talk.
... If we have supper now with the whole Rose
Order, we cannot say half what we have to say.
Do you consent?"

"Do I! That will be splendid!"

"Very good, then. So Eleonore and I will go up
to our apartment and get the festive supper ready.
Follow us in a quarter of an hour."

When Helmer rejoined the ladies, the table was
already set. Plates with all kinds of cold meat,
patties, lobsters, chicken, strawberries and sweets,
were arrayed on it, and at one side in a silver bucket

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a bottle of champagne. Moreover, on a small table,
drawn close, and presided over by Frau Eleonore, a
singing tea-kettle.

Franka, who had changed her evening gown for
a soft white kimono, came forward to meet her
guest with outstretched hand: "Welcome, Brother
Chlodwig ! Now we will enjoy a pleasant cozy hour.
After all the great and overpowering things that
surround one here, one really yearns for something
domestic, calm, and comfortable."

Chlodwig kissed her hand: "You make me happy,
Franka. You could not have put a prettier crown
on this day than this kind of invitation. And I mean
to do honor to all these appetizing things — the fact
is that, in the anxiety of preparing my address, I
have scarcely eaten anything all day, and I am as
hungry as a bear."

"I am glad of that. So let us sit down. Let the
feast begin!"

"Even the stage-setting is festive," remarked
Helmer. "I never saw your rooms lighted in the
evening before. . . . This subdued rose-light is magi
cal in its effect."

"Oh," sighed Franka, "it is impossible here to
escape from the magical. Don't you find also that
it brings with it some homesickness for the simple
and commonplace? . . . Please, take a bit of this
patty."

Helmer helped himself. "Yes, there seems to be
a sort of pendulum law in our wishes."

"Then, what would be the equilibrium? To be
without a wish? But let us not philosophize — let

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

us chat. We should have so much serious talk that
I would rather not begin. Your address — I have
not as yet said a word about it to you, let me shake
hands with you ... it was fine! That address with
its wide outlook, — it would lead to such deeply
serious discussion on a hundred abstract things!"

"Then we will not talk about it," assented
Helmer.

"But please fill the glasses," Franka held out
her champagne-cup. "If we are not going to talk
about your lecture, let us drink to the hope that
what you suggested to our fellow-men may be ful
filled."

They touched glasses.

"May also what your teaching promises be ful
filled, Franka Garlett, " said Helmer; "will you not
join us, Frau von Rockhaus . . . may I fill your
glass?"

Frau Eleonore shook her head: "Thank you, I
only drink tea . . . and to tell you frankly, these
toasts are too vague. Let our contemporaries and
those who come after us look after their own good.
Won't you folks also think a little about yourselves?
I am ready to drain my cup of tea to the nail-test
if the toast shall be: 'Three cheers to Franka,' or
' Three cheers to Helmer, ' or even a cheer or two
to Eleonore. . . . And please understand, the fate of
the last-named lady affects me more than that of
unborn generations!"

"Good!" cried Franka; "agreed. Health to the
three of us! — a ninefold cheer!"

The glasses clinked. Then Franka leaned her
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

head back on the cushion of the easy-chair and,
smiling, closed her eyes. "At this moment I do
have an attack of selfishness. ... I feel all thrilled
with a longing for . . . for ..."

"Happiness?" suggested Helmer.

"That expresses too much. Only a deep, heart-
filling joy. But not a lonely joy ... I want your
company, dear friends." So saying, she stretched
out her hands to left and right, and laid them on the
arms of her two table companions.

Helmer felt this touch like an electric shock.
What filled his heart was not an unquestioning,
unwishing joy; rather it was a dream-happiness
which flashed through him like lightning. But what
this flash of lightning revealed was a burning sand
waste of hopeless yearning. More clearly than the
impulse of jealousy which he had recently experi
enced, this instantaneous burst of glowing tender
ness showed him that he loved, as passionately as
man ever loved. It was fortunate that the com
panion's presence checked his impulse, for he was
strongly tempted to fling himself at Franka's feet
and confess to her what made him so deeply un
happy. But he controlled himself. Franka must
not be aware of the tempest that raged in his soul.
He would not spoil the calm joy to which she had
referred ; yet he could not help knowing the source
of this joy — could it be that on the very day she
had made up her mind as to her future? Had the
prince declared himself? But if that was the case,
why was he not sitting by her side instead of Brother
Chlodwig? Well, possibly she had not considered

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

that proper. She had only invited the harmless
"Brother" in order to confide in him her joy, in
order that he might be let into the secret of the
change of her destiny, he who had hitherto exerted
such a powerful influence on her life, he who had
been the guide in her vocation, the master builder
of her fame. These thoughts had not occupied ten
seconds. He took her hand which still lay on his
arm and held it firmly with a tender pressure.

"Tell me the ground of your joy, dearest Franka
... let us speak of your future. "

Franka had not changed her position. Her eyes
were still closed, her head leaning back: "No, no,
nothing of the future now. I wanted to anchor my
joyous feeling in the present, that only safe anchor
age . . . But I am willing" — she sat erect and with
drew her hand — "I am willing ... let us talk of
my future plans. I decided day before yesterday
to withdraw from publicity. That address is to be
my last. "

"Is that his wish?"

"Whose wish? . . . Oh, I see what you mean.
. . . You are mistaken. If what you imagine had
come about, then, of course, the lecture trips would
have had to cease, but it has not come about. "

"It will," interrupted Frau Eleonore, "if you
mean by this mysterious reference the threatened
proposal of the violet prince."

"Even in that case it is a question how I should
deal with it," retorted Franka.

A stone fell from Chlodwig's heart. . . . Now he,
too, felt flooded with the joy of the present.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"My decision," pursued Franka, "is quite in
dependent of these eventualities. It takes its rise
from entirely new views, intuitions, and wishes which
have come to me here during this wonderful week. "

"And you are going to give up your activity?"

"Traveling and public speaking, yes. I see be
fore me other possibilities of work. And, besides,
did you not advise pretty much the same thing
after my last address?"

"Did I?"

"Yes, and you were right. ... I feel it."

"What are you going to do, then, Franka? What
are your plans — your plan independent of the case
'Victor Adolph'?"

"I am going to ... but it is not so entirely clear
tome ..."

"So, then the case 'Victor Adolph' is not alto
gether out of question!"

Franka laughed: "How persistent you are. You
seem very anxious for me to have that chance. You
were the first to call my attention to it. Moreover,
I can imagine how eagerly you must think of this
affair and desire it. Don't you? You mean that if
I should win power over the heart and actions of
one of the great ones of the earth, I might then
exert an influence, might be useful to my — to our
ideals?"

" I might believe that — but wish it?" He shook
his head. "Oh, let 's not talk about that possibility
— it is much nicer not to do so."

"Let us talk about yourself, then. You are cer
tainly no 'case,' but the theme interests me."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"It interests me, too, — especially if you treat
it."

"Do you know, I have made the acquaintance of
an entirely new Helmer to-day. . . . Through your
address ... I followed it all — all its political and
social and high-thinking parts, but one thing espe
cially impressed me: You are a good man. "

"That compliment does not always sound flatter-
ing."

"Oh, but you must have recognized from my tone
how I mean it. Moreover, the way in which you
spoke about Good Will, about Goodness, the rank
that you assigned to that quality as a motor power
for all spiritual elevation, — you see, I understood
you, — proves to me that you would prize no com
pliment higher than this. Or would you have pre
ferred that I had said 'a clever man'? Applied
to a world-renowned poet — that would have been
tautology. And that term carries no warmth with
it. When you say to any one, 'You are good, ' that
is equivalent to saying, ' I thank you. ' It is as if
you would cradle your head on his heart and say,
' Oh, here — here is safety. ' '

"Franka!"

Both were silent for a while, looking into each
other's eyes. What is that substance called which
often goes bombarding back and forth between the
steady eyes of a man and of a woman? — It has
not as yet found its Madame Curie.

Frau von Rockhaus broke the spell by asking
Helmer what the two rulers had conversed with
him about. He informed her. And now the conver-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

sation turned for a while on the events of the even
ing. He also told them about his meeting with the
engineer Juillot. Franka on her part gave an amus
ing description of her aunt's last call. Now gayly,
now seriously, the talk went from one subject to
another and the time flew. Franka sprang up as
the clock struck twelve.

"Midnight already! Now we must say good
night."

Helmer had also risen to his feet. "Forgive me
for staying so ontrageously long ... but it has been
so lovely!"

"Yes, it has been lovely," assented Franka.

Words of thanks and of farewell followed. Still
talking, Franka took a few steps by Helmer's side
toward the door. Then suddenly she stepped on
something soft, that lay on the floor — a little piece
of orange-peel — and slipped. She would have
fallen, had not Helmer caught her with his strong
arm. Then only Franka uttered a little cry.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, no; it was nothing. " And she released her
self. "Adieu."

After Helmer had again shaken hands with the
two ladies and departed, Franka remained standing
for some little time on the spot, lost in dreams.

"Well, what is it? What are you thinking about?"
asked Frau Rockhaus.

Franka shook her head and made no answer.
She was thinking of the bar of the blind.

CHAPTER XXIV

SUNDRY CONVERSATIONS

THE next afternoon many scattered groups were
sitting again in the hall of the Grand Hotel, and in
the majority of them the conversation turned on
Chlodwig Helmer's address. Translations of it into
French, English, and Italian were lying about on
the tables. Some of the hotel guests held in their
hands Helmer's book "Schwingen." The works of
all the authors present in the Toker palace were
not only to be found in the Lucerne bookshops, but
were for sale also in the various hotels. Many
visitors who had heard the poet's address, the day
before, had now got the work that had made his
name famous and were eagerly turning its pages.

In one corner sat Bruning, Malhof, and Regen-
burg chatting over their wine and cigars. They
were discussing their fellow-countryman, Helmer.

"He was a schoolmate of mine," Bruning was
saying. "Not at all a remarkable scholar: weak in
mathematics; hardly up in the ancient languages.
His teachers, however, were easy on him — he was
the son of a cabinet minister. "

The well-known sportsman exclaimed in astonish
ment: "Oh, you don't say so? I had supposed he
used to be a secretary or the like with a count ..."

"Quite right, he was ... at one time. His par
ents died early; his property was gone; he did not

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

stick to his career as government clerk; poetizing
had got into his blood ; he was always in the clouds,
even on the school form . . . and then he accepted
a position which afforded him leisure for writing.
After he left the count's house, he devoted himself
entirely to the art of poetry. I should have expected
a more brilliant career for him."

"Pardon me," said Malhof, "is n't that a rather
brilliant career — being a celebrated poet?"

Bruning shrugged his shoulders: "What is it to
be a celebrated poet in our country, while one is
alive? Did you ever meet one at court? Is a street
ever named after one? And one was never known
to get rich like a successful operetta composer or a
brewer. My friend Helmer ought to make a good
match. I had schemed one for him long ago. But
he is so horribly unpractical — you could see that
from his address yesterday. These sentimental im
possibilities ! Lack of tact — talks there before a
public audience composed of kings, statesmen, people
of the world, as if it were a gathering of Socialists. "

"Yes," said the sportsman in confirmation, "I
noticed that he attacked military institutions with
especial virulence — like a real Red. He apparently
thinks it is not right for aeronautics and aviation
to be used for military purposes. That is unpa
triotic. I long ago enlisted in the volunteer auto
mobile corps and I should not hesitate to place my
flying-machine at the disposal of the Ministry of
War. But, by Jove! that was a marvelous exhibi
tion of flying the day before yesterday. I must get
a pair of folding wings like those!"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"To return to Helmer," said Malhof. "A good
deal that he said was rather striking . . . things
that I had never thought of before, though I am an
old man of wide experience; things, the possibility
and desirability of which I must admit."

"Really!" cried Bruning. "Such changes — that
will turn things upside down — do they seem desir
able to you?"

"Desirable for the next generation, not for our
own, for people do not like to be disturbed in their
quiet and in their habits. We do not only say, ' After
us the deluge'; we also say, 'After us the millen
nium ' ; for in order to bring it about, we should have
to make quite too inconvenient efforts ... let our
great-grandchildren attain a golden age ; we ourselves
are quite comfortable in our present circumstances;
we want to go on enjoying the present order of things
and educate our boys to do the same."

Bruning nodded his head in assent: " We say this
— but our friend Regenburg is right: the Socialists
think otherwise; they are not contented with the
circumstances ; they want revolution ; therefore such
cloud-storming addresses are not merely unpracti
cal; they are dangerous, and we must be on our
guard against them."

"'T is not necessary," replied Malhof. "Active
measures against them would only profit the rev
olutionists. All their dreaming, speechmaking, dis
sertations remain inoperative through the vast pas
sive resistance which they buck up against — a
wholly unconscious resistance, for it is combined
of indifference and absolute ignorance. If one of

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

them speaks in an assembly and the assembly ap
plauds, then he believes that he has conquered a
comprehending world of his contemporaries. Never
theless, not only does the world of his contempo
raries remain unmoved, but even among the as
sembled audience the majority, when they have left
the hall, scarcely remember what arguments have
been put before them. How little interest men feel
in universal questions! Most people do not even
know that there are circumstances that might be
changed. Everything that exists in the social and
political line, they take for granted, like the weather
and the seasons. It is easy enough to hear about
those matters, but to take an active part in them,
that is another thing. People have so many pri
vate interests which are wholly absorbing — their
career, their business, their trade, their passions,
their family cares, their bitter days and their joyous
festivals — there is no room for speculations and
Utopias and revolutions. Existing institutions have
their competent directors regularly appointed to
look after their management, or, in case of neces
sity, to bring about reform; but we do not have to
get mixed up in it ... everything revolutionary is
so inconvenient; it disturbs every kind of activity
— Heaven protect us from it! You see, that is the
state of mind of the compact masses. And so let
the world reformers talk themselves hoarse. When
they are talked out, it is burnt-out fireworks —
nothing more!"

"Do you reckon yourself also among the 'com
pact masses,' Herr von Malhof?" asked Bruning.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Certainly I do. Never in my life have I taken
any interest in the so-called 'questions.' I have
had far too much to do in making my existence as
pleasant and enjoyable as possible. For me, the
wisdom of life consists in making the little square
metre of existence which we possess as comfortable
as we can, in trying to embellish it, without at the
same time staring at the thousand-mile stretches
that lie beyond. And then, one thing more, my good
friend: to battle against thousand-year-old institu
tions with addresses and volumes of poems, as your
honored friend does, is like scratching away Chim-
borazo with a nail-file. As far as I could make out,
Herr Helmer strikes at the belt-line of militarism
with his aeronautic arguments — I could not repeat
them — the things rebound from my memory like
dry-peas from a wall. Just look at our military
establishment at home. How does it stand there?
Is n't it just like a Chimborazo? All that glory, that
prestige, that power — there is only one other power
comparable to it — the Church. That is the reason
the two stand by each other so firmly. And really
are not all who have their habitations at the foot of
these Chimborazos perfectly contented? Have n't
they planted there all their joy, their ambition,
their fame, their ideas of virtue? . . . What is the
good, then, of frightening them out of their com
fortable security under the pretext that other and
more comfortable conditions are to be created for
coming generations? No, your young friend must
not cherish any illusions; believe me, he will
not. . ."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Why do you say all this to me?" interrupted
Bruning; "I am entirely of your opinion and have
never pretended to Helmer that I shared his illu
sions. I know the world better than he does.
. . . ' One cannot think highly enough of man ' ! —
such an idea as that can only be expressed by a
philosopher far removed from reality, and repeated
by a cloud-sailing poet. Well, and what do you say,
Regenburg?"

"I — what do I say? — About what? "

"Have n't you been listening?"

"Oh, yes — I — well, I am afraid that through
all these new sports, — especially in the air, — the
horses will entirely die out. "

"Even Pegasuses?" suggested Malhof, laughing.

In another niche sat Romeo Rinotti and Gaston
de la Rochere in a colloquy. They, too, were dis
cussing the yesterday's address. The Frenchman
held the translation of Helmer 's speech in his hand.
He looked disgusted.

"What do you say to it? Have you read it
through?" asked Rinotti.

"I have just glanced over it, my dear Marquis.
And that has sufficed to make me angry enough."
He flung the pamphlet on the table. "German poets
should confine themselves to singing about forget-
me-nots, but not deliver discourses about things
they do not understand. WThat does this one know
about the action of airships in the war to come?
Or perhaps he wants to spoil the pleasure of other
nations in building air-fleets, because Germany —

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

thanks to her Zeppelin — has gone so far ahead.
... In return our single flyers are far more numer
ous and much better perfected. Besides, we have
really made a beginning with the dirigibles . . .
might far more easily reach the forefront again, if
this miserable pestilential republic would only look
out better for the national defense."

Rinotti laughed: "So then you are an arch-royal
ist? But you are really doing injustice to your pres
ent r6gime ; just see how in the last few years your
expenditure for the army and the fleet has mounted
up."

"Oh, stuff; that is only hypocrisy . . . they are
afraid of arousing the anger of genuine patriots,
and consequently they do not venture to hold back
the funds as much as they would like to; but at the
same time they have n't the slightest intention of
standing up boldly for the honor of France."

"You mean the Revanche. Certainly, only a very
few of your fellow-countrymen wish for that any
longer."

"That is just the trouble. Magnanimous feelings,
bold ideas are dying out. . . . No, not quite so bad
as that . . . they still live, but they are suppressed,
kept down . . . and what can you expect as long as
a party is in power sacrilegious enough to lay violent
hands on the Church? Thence only one thing can
rescue our poor land: to restore the monarchy."

"Are you a leader of les Camelots du Roy ? " asked
Rinotti.

"No; the methods of these young men are too
coarse for me — they even shock the claimants them-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

selves. Yet I am undisturbed : Dieu protege la France.
In one way or another Providence will restore to us
our old rights. If not a king, perhaps a dictator, or
a great soldier will come. . . . We have already had
one or two attempts to that end: Boulanger, Mar-
chand . . . the right one will sometime appear, and
if he should succeed in winning back the beloved
provinces, even if he should merely wave the colors
in order to hasten to the frontier, then, — then all
Frenchmen would follow him with wild enthusiasm."

Rinotti shook his head. "Do you believe so? I
opine that a war which your nationalists themselves
should start would no longer be popular in the coun
try. The storm must break out somewhere else:
Germany would have to be entangled in war with
England or Russia; then France might go to their
help and in the natural course of events the Revanche
might come of itself; even the regime might be
changed. Why, even a defeat might result in over
turning the republic and the new king might have
the chance of restoring the conditions that you de
sire."

"That would be fine! But how can one look for
ward to such events when everywhere these anti-
military doctrines are making their way not only in
Socialist congresses, but even in public entertain
ments, like these here — and in presence of the heads
of States!"

"Words, words!" exclaimed Rinotti scornfully:
"borne away by the wind. And even if the wind
should carry away a few fruitful seeds, when will
they sprout? — In the far, distant future. Mean-

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time, however, deeds come to the front . . . deeds of
the present, which are the fruits of seeds scattered
in the past. The old hatred, the old distrust, the
long cumulated threats: all that must rage itself
out first. And the entire world of to-day is prepared
for it ; school has trained for it, the masses are drilled
for it; the instruments are ready. And how easily
do these latent forces break out into acute manifes
tation ! What is preached by good people, but bad
politicians, — a la Helmer, — arouses no fanaticism,
however conciliatory, however reasonable it may
sound. Can one ever bring conciliation to fever-
heat or reason to a flame? Ah, believe me, only the
violent instincts drive the machinery called history.
And those who are elected to make history need
nothing else but force, and again force, in order to
keep the machine going in the direction which they
want. And the general conception ' force ' splits into
separate qualities: unbending will, unscrupulous-
ness, inflexibility, formidableness — these are the
attributes of the great statesman. But only in his
political activity ; as a private citizen he must at the
same time be amiable, yielding, full of good humor,
tender to his family, polite to his subordinates — in
general, what is called 'un charmeur.' In addition
he must have genius; and this, too, is needed: he
must have luck!"

La Rochere had accompanied Rinotti's utterance
with nods of satisfaction. "You are a wise states
man!" he exclaimed; and leaning over to look the
marchese in the eye, he asked in a lower tone of
voice: "Tell me, is there likelihood of war breaking

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

out anywhere? Do you perchance know anything
about it?"

Rinotti bit his lips: " I know nothing, and if I did,
I should not tell."

Prince Victor Adolph was sitting on his balcony,
reading over and over a letter which he had received
that morning from home. Its writer was his oldest
brother, the crown prince, who informed him, under
the seal of confidence, that an old project, which
had once before been broached and then dropped,
had come to the front again and was on the point
of accomplishment. The point was, that Victor
Adolph was to be made regent of a border prov
ince which was aspiring to independence. By this
appointment, the province would immediately find
its desires for autonomy fulfilled. This was a tempt
ing outlook: anything rather than the empty show
of military service so detestable to him. In this po
sition, opportunity would be afforded him of work
ing up, of carrying out plans the mighty outlines
of which hovered before his mind. A joyous feeling
of expectation stirred the young man's soul. The
future, the future — it lay open before him ; and he
would fill it with progressive ideas, with progressive
deeds, with "soaring thoughts" ... He dwelt on
these words.

Then an idea suggested itself to him. He went
to a writing-table, dashed off a few lines on a sheet
of paper, and rang.

"Take this immediately to the Rose- Palace," he
ordered the servant who responded to his summons.

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The note was addressed to Chlodwig Helmer, and
contained an invitation to Mr. Helmer to call on
the prince in the course of the afternoon, if he had
time.

A quarter of an hour later, Chlodwig sent in his
name. The prince was in his salon alone. He started
forward to meet his visitor.

Helmer bowed : —

"Your Royal Highness summoned me ..."

Victor Adolph offered him his hand: "Thank you
for fulfilling my wish so promptly. Yesterday even
ing we had no opportunity, and I was so desirous
of hearing a good deal more on the subject of your
address. Let us sit down. . . . Here, please. A cigar
ette?" He held out his gold cigarette-case.

Chlodwig thanked him and took one. The prince
also offered him a light and then kindled his own.

"You see, Herr Helmer," he pursued, "what you
said yesterday evening moved me tremendously.
Partly, because you gave utterance to ideas which
have been for a long time floating indefinitely in my
mind, and partly because you opened up before me
entirely new perspectives."

" I am delighted to hear such a thing, Your High
ness. Tell me what was familiar to you and what was
new?"

"There is, for example, . . . good Heavens, I
really don't know where to begin. ... I should like
to have a lesson in things which you did not speak
about. I will ask you: If you were a king, what
would you do to carry out the lofty flight of your
ideals?"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"If I were a king," repeated Chlodwig thought
fully. "Many a man has imagined to himself that
contingency. Sifetais roi is the title of an opera. —
If I were a king, then I should have lived in other
conditions, should have had another kind of educa
tion, inherited other instincts. . . . The love of sol
diering would be inherent in my blood — the first
king was a victorious soldier; — the concept 'Ma
jesty,' mounting from the humbly bowing masses,
would have risen to my head, stinging and bewitch
ing me, like the bubbling spirits rising in champagne-
cups. . . . My breast would be swelled with the con
sciousness of power. I should probably not let it be
noticed, and I should take pains to seem affable and
natural. I should be well aware that my power was
to a certain degree limited in modern, constitutional,
and enlightened times, and, therefore, I should in
stinctively fear what threatens it still more : revo
lutionary ideas and activities; and likewise should
instinctively prize all that protected it: my faithful
nobles, my loyal army; on the whole, the conserva
tive spirit. I should simply know nothing of the
struggles and problems and aims of the progressive
spirit. 'Liberal,' in the court-jargon, is synonymous
with 'suspicious,' and 'radical'; signifying a will
power, which goes to the very root of things, is
synonymous with 'criminal.' I should not have had
much experience of the sorrows of the poor and
wretched ; that would be to me as remote and natu
ral as a pool in a morass or the debris of a quarry.
My consolation would be that the poor people
would still hope for compensation beyond the grave,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

and in order to strengthen them in this hope, I should
set them an example of piety — should perhaps
actually be pious, through the necessity slumbering
in every better soul of being occasionally humble.
As I am one who tries to do right, and should be the
same if I were a king, I should fulfill scrupulously
my really difficult duties. I should work with zeal
and industry. For recreation and pleasure, I should
go hunting. Indeed, this sport would involve a cer
tain amount of ambition, for I should be well aware
of the respectful interest with which the world
would chronicle every successful shot of my rifle
and be ready to erect a monument in memory of
my thousandth stag. I should ..."

"Stop!" cried the prince; "you are unfair!"
"Quite possibly. I have been generalizing, and in
doing so, one cannot be fair. And above all, Your
Royal Highness, I regret having somewhat failed in
due tact. I should not have spoken to a king's son
as I have. But because I know that you are quite
different from the others ..."

"But you are also unfair to those others, Herr
Helmer. Don't you believe that the spirit of the age
also makes its way through the seams of palaces
and throne-rooms? That 'lofty thinking' and free
thinking are also carried on under crowns? Look
at those little German courts the princes of which
cherish a cult for art or promote the investigations
and activities of such men as, for example, Ernst
Haeckel ! And this ' lofty thought ' for which you seem
especially enthusiastic, 'universal peace': don't you
see that the very emperor who at his first accession

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to the throne was expected by the world to hanker
after military laurels, has for long decades done
everything he could to avoid war?"

"I recognize that," answered Helmer; "but the
question means more than merely not waging war;
it means putting down war."

" I call your attention to this: I just remarked the
Emperor has done what he could. The power and
will of a great ruler stand behind mighty barriers
and walls. His court, his army, his environment, his
whole inheritance of traditional principles and the
institutions which he is placed there to preserve —
all these things combine together to hamper the
accomplishment of his aspirations. The portrait
that you have just painted of a king does not apply
any longer to our contemporary rulers in their in
most reality — yet their environment combines to
make them such. Now, see here, my dear poet, you
were complaining that they knew nothing of the
sorrows of the people; you are right: the classes are
too widely separated; they know nothing of each
other. So it is with the princes: those that do not
live in association with them know but little about
them and form false notions; they conceive them to
be of the 'demigod' or ' Serenissimus ' type, but in
truth they are exactly like other men ; differing from
one another, good and bad, stupid and clever, in
significant and talented. But they do have one actual
advantage: they control more power and influence
than ordinary mortals, and for that reason it would
be a good thing if princes were to come forward as
champions of the highest aspirations of the time."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"But suppose — my objection may, perhaps,
again sound somewhat tactless — but suppose these
aspirations include what Kant once laid down as a
postulate — that monarchies are doomed to make
way for a republican regime ..."

"This will not be accomplished overnight."

" No ; and then I grant you that the question is not
whether the r6gime ought to change. Governmental
forms are, after all, only forms — the content is the
important thing. What must change, what must
grow, is the spirit, and certainly in all strata. The
general level of all mankind must rise. I myself
should not like to see the control of government put
into the hands of the masses as they are to-day."

The prince made a somewhat impatient gesture.
" I beg of you, Herr Helmer, let us not deal in gen
eralities. Yesterday, I heard a wonderfully beautiful
litany of them proceed from your lips ; now I should
like something positive, concrete. For that reason,
I put my question to you: What would you do if
you were a king? Do — work at — that is the gist
of the matter. And a king can do things, as long as
Kant's wish is not as yet fulfilled — because he has
much power; not unlimited power, of course. Put
to yourself this case: that you — you yourself, no
one else, you with all your experiences, your knowl
edge, your poetic accomplishment — were suddenly
made a powerful king. . . . One can imagine one's
self in another position — I know it from experi
ence. I have often asked myself, if I were a com
mon soldier, if I were a poor proletarian, how should
I feel, what should I try to do in order to win a little

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

happiness and freedom for myself and my fellows, or
to give vent to my wrath over the unfairness under
which we sigh and drudge. . . . Perhaps you do not
know, Helmer, that I take a passionate interest in
social problems ; that often, just as others sneak into
gambling-hells or other places of forbidden pleasure,
I have slipped into assemblies where the Social
ists . . ."

"I know it, Your Highness," interrupted Helmer.

The prince had been speaking with animated
voice and his cheeks were flushed. Now he seized
Chlodwig's hand. "So then, tell me! You who are
a poet and therefore something of a prophet; you
who would raise goodness to the level of a motive
force for political action, — tell me, how would you
help the people?"

"What people? Mine? Is it impossible to help
one people alone. In our day of universal interna
tional intercourse and trade, every country is de
pendent on every other. One nation cannot by
itself be rich, happy, and independent. The nations
are not hermits; they form a community. In my
kingdom, could I put down capitalism, could I do
away with war, if others threatened me with it; if
I took down my own tariff walls, could I break
through the limitations of the others? There is
no individual happiness — ' reciprocally ' — ' cooper
atively* — 'mutually*', those are the adverbs without
which no blissful verb can be conjugated."

"Then what would you do?"

"Seek to make alliances with my fellow- royalties.
I should — yet I have no perfected plan of action

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in my mind, Prince. Only one thing is quite clear:
the mechanicians have won over a new element
which for many thousands of years they never dared
hope to enter into. There is also a spiritual, a moral
upper ocean into which hitherto no one has ven
tured to steer the so-called ship of State. I cherish
the faith that by this time among the potentates,
one — the Zeppelin — is born and will work and ac
complish, and dare obstinately, confidently, prophet
ically, in spite of all doubts, all resistance ; and will
let his ship mount up into those heights of light. . . .
Pardon me, Prince, I have one great fault into which
I am always falling : speaking far too much in meta
phors."

"Pardonable in a poet."

"But you wished to hear something concrete,
positive, — in this respect I have served you ill."

"No; your Zeppelin picture gives me a quite cor
rect orientation. First one must gather from the light
of reason, even if no experience answers for it, that a
thing is feasible ; then one must will and dare. The
individual manipulations will come into play later."

Helmer gazed at the prince. A warm wave of liking
for him arose in his heart; then instantly this same
heart seemed to contract as if under a cold pressure.
The thought of Franka .' . . how natural it would
be that she should love that man. . . .

As if Victor Adolph had read the poet's thoughts,
he asked: "You are an old acquaintance of Fraulein
Garlett's, are you not?"

Chlodwig gave a start. "Yes, Your Royal High
ness."

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"The lady interests me very much. Can you tell
me anything of her story?"

Helmer told him what he knew: the secluded
childhood and youth with her father who was in
slender circumstances; her worship of that father;
the summons to the grandfather's home; the fabu
lous inheritance; and then her passionate desire to
accomplish some great work, to offer herself up in the
service of her fellow-men — as if an atonement for
the unearned wealth ; then her career and its results.

" A remarkable fortune ! " exclaimed Victor Adolph.
"You were her teacher?"

"I? Her teacher?"

"Yes, she told me so herself."

"She meant that when she was as yet uncertain
how she might find the great thing which she dreamed
of doing, I gave her some advice."

"And has not this pretty young woman had any
love-affair in the course of her life?"

"I know of none."

" Is she so cold? She must have had many suitors."

"Indeed, she has. She has been much sought
after and has refused many an offer."

"And you yourself, Herr Helmer,- in all this giv
ing of advice, has your heart remained without a
wound?"

"Your Highness.. . I ..."

"Well, well; it was an indiscreet question. Pray
don't feel obliged to answer it."

The valet brought the afternoon mail on a silver
salver, and at the same time announced that His
Excellency the adjutant to the King of Italy desired

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

to see His Highness. Chlodwig arose and took his
departure.

The prince shook hands with him: "Auf wieder-
sehen. We will have another talk — not on indis
creet questions, but about dirigible ships of State."

"Papa, am I interrupting you?"

Gwendoline stood at the door of Toker's room.

"Of course, you interrupt me, for I am never
unoccupied. But come in, Gwen; it will do me good
to have you divert me a little from all kinds of
melancholy things."

The young girl stepped nearer. "How is that?
You are in trouble ! Does not everything go accord
ing to your wish in this rose-magic of which you are
yourself the great conjurer?"

"Here everything is fairly satisfactory; but out
side, in the wide world!" And he indicated a heap
of newspapers and letters lying before him on the
table.

While glancing through these messages from the
outside world, John Toker had been spending a
couple of uncomfortable hours. Very bad tidings
had come. Not only the alarmist predictions which
emanate from those parties that always have on tap
announcements of an unavoidable war with this,
that, or the other neighboring State; but also posi
tive proofs that in various places, in circles that had
the necessary power in their hands, the intention
prevailed to deliver the blow. In more than one
center of discord, little flames were rising and might
easily break out into a destructive conflagration.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

The press was not lacking in writers who were work
ing with poker and bellows for this end so desirable
to them for many reasons. Fortunately there were
not lacking, among either rulers or statesmen, those
who were using their best endeavors to stamp out
the dangerous embers; who hesitated about draw
ing the sword even when they were provoked —
but the decision finally lies, after all, with the ag
gressive and not with the opposing portion.

Not only from the papers, but also from private
sources, Toker had received the intimation that
dangerous dissensions were likely to break out. He
was in friendly relationship with powerful circles
in various countries, and he got wind of much that
was going on behind the scenes in politics. Thus it
had been conveyed to him that day that one coun
try, whose chief ruler was thoroughly opposed to
war, had a large military party working with all
its might, in order that an insignificant question at
issue should be made the cause for an ultimatum.
This party desired to march right in. It found that
the moment was favorable. The victory would be
easily won; glory and laurels might be obtained;
internal dangers fermenting might thus be obviated ;
and in spite of the opposition of the monarch they
were plotting to aggravate the friction in order that
the "marching in" might be plausible.

However, that is not the proper word: what the
war-lovers in question had in mind was not "march
ing in," but "flying in." In all countries the air-
fleets had attained considerable proportions, but
just at this time this particular State had made a

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

remarkable advance. Moreover, a new invention
in the domain of aviation had been recently made
and was kept a great secret, and a new explosive
had been introduced. With this, the enemy could
be annihilated and the world confounded. The
admiral of the air-fleet was all on fire to enrich the
military history of the world with a hitherto un
heard-of battle and victory. John A. Toker felt a
quite peculiar horror at this form of the modern,
ultra-modern art of war; not only because he ex
pected the most terrible destruction from it; but
also his aesthetic and moral feelings were revolted
by seeing hell carried even into the regions of the
skies.

Still other catastrophes were looming on the hori
zon: bread riots; economic crises; terrorism from
below by assassination and incendiarism ; terrorism
from above by executions; . . . and for those who
looked far ahead, a general break-up; civilization
buried under ruins. Can this be the end and goal
of mankind's lofty aspirations?

Toker felt like one who has brought a wonder
fully beautiful garden, situated at the foot of a
mountain, to a high state of cultivation, and sud
denly notices that the mountain has begun to
smoke.

"Every comparison limps" is a correct expres
sion: the lameness in this figure is, that the destruc
tion streaming from the fiery depths of the vol
cano is the work of incomprehensible, uncontrollable
powers of nature, while in these eruptions treasured
as ''historical," men themselves have fabricated

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

the lava, and, thanks to their crater-deep idiocy, use
it for their own destruction.

Yet not all the news that had been brought to
Toker's notice, and lay there in a great pile, was
bad: there were also some encouraging items. If
one attentively listens in every quarter, one can
hear the subdued regular rumble of the great loom,
where the genius of Progress is weaving stitch by
stitch the web of Unity which is bound ultimately
to bring together the whole civilized world. Toker's
alarm grew out of the fact that the all-reigning
spirit of growth is often interrupted and set back
by the spirit of destruction, which by fits and starts
exercises its harmful calling and in some places un
does what seems on the fairest path of development.

"Well, Gwen, what amusing thing have you to
tell me?"

"Amusing? I wanted a serious talk with you,
papa. "

"You — and serious! But really you look quite
solemn. Has anything happened?"

Gwendoline made several attempts to speak, and
then paused again; she was seeking for the right
words and could not find them.

"Courage, Gwen! Have you some wish?"

"More than that, papa; — it is a resolution."

"Oho! that sounds really serious. Perhaps you
want to marry one of my Rose-Knights. We should
have to think that over very gravely."

"You are making sport of me, papa. I believe
you consider me a very stupid girl, and, indeed, I
know I am. Up till now I have not taken any in-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

terest in all the great things which you are working
for. But in these last few days my eyes have been
opened. "

"Have you been listening to all the things that
my great guests have said, and did you understand
them?"

"No, not all. I believed, as you yourself seem to
believe, that those things are too high for me ; that
I could not understand them; that they had noth
ing to do with me. Only when the personal appeal
was made to me, did I prick up my ears. "

Mr. Toker raised his head in astonishment^.
"An appeal made to you personally? How so? by
whom?"

"By Franka Garlett: 'Ye young maidens, listen
to me!' she said. I listened to her and ..."

"Well . . . and . . .?" urged Toker eagerly.

Gwendoline, who had been standing behind the
writing-table, now sat down, as she was frequently
wont to do, on the arm of Toker's chair. She put
her arm around her father's neck and said: "You
have called all these prominent people here, have
n't you, in order that their words, which you permit
to be so freely uttered, may have a wide audience,
may arouse to convictions and to deeds; in a word,
may make proselytes ..."

"Yes, that is my intention."

"Well, I believe it will succeed. I know of one
enthusiastic proselyte already made by Miss Gar
lett."

"You, my dear?"

"Yes, I. Let me have a share in your work; ini-
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tiate me! I want to learn to have the same kind of
ideas. I don't believe that I lack the ability. Yester
day, I listened very attentively to the address of
that 'Schwingen' poet. (And between us, if I am
not mistaken, he is in love with Miss Garlett.) I
could not understand all that he said, but still I
understood enough to get some new light ; the ques
tion is to make men, that is to say, their souls, fly
up into higher regions."

Quite correct, thought Toker; but that their souls
may fly high, the main thing is to help their bodies
gut of wretchedness, depravity, hunger, and squalor
— the masses must be able to free themselves.
Aloud he said: "Just see, how my little girl has
profited from the teachings of my speakers! Gwen,
this gratifies me, indeed ! Go on with your thinking
and your learning."

" But I should like also to do something, papa, and
you must tell me what!"

"Just at this moment I can't tell you what you
will be capable of doing. First let what has been
sowed in your little head during these last two days
ripen. I have my doubts about such sudden con
versions. Nine chances out of ten, such seeds will
be blown away again. "

Gwendoline sprang to her feet: " Have you so little
faith in me?" she exclaimed reproachfully. "No
wonder, though, for up till now I have been such a
superficial good-for-nothing thing."

" You have been a child, and that was all that was
expected of you ; there is no reason why you should
not remain such for a while yet. Destinies and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

tasks are unequally distributed. Not all men can
give themselves exclusively to caring for the weal
of others; there must be some, also, who are care
lessly happy themselves — especially in life's May-
time."

The morning after the supper with Helmer,
Franka awoke with a dull headache. She had not
slept well, but restlessly, feverishly, anxiously. She
could not have told what had filled her mind with
worry, with anticipation, with uncertainty; for her
thoughts had led her on rather confused meander-
ings. Now as she got up, she felt that there was a
burden on her mind, and she explained this state of
things by the deluge of impressions that had swept
over her, and by the fact that her resolution to
renounce her career as a lecturer had left her facing
an uncertain and aimless future. . . . And yet at the
same time this resolution was agreeable to her, for
in that career she no longer saw before her any shin
ing goal, any prize of victory to satisfy her longing.

Aye, it was longing which lurked in the back
ground of her unrest. Longing? For what? Franka
was no unsophisticated child, and she put the ques
tion to herself, without unconscious bashfulness:
"Is my hour come? Does Nature demand her
rights? Do I wish to live, to love?"

Her thoughts turned on the two young men who
for several days had filled her imagination and her
dreams. But neither of them had declared himself.
The prince was perhaps too proud, the poet too mod
est, to want to marry her. And to which of them

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

should she give the preference? To this question
her heart gave a whispered answer, but so softly
whispered that it was not decisive.

After her cold morning bath and her hot morning
tea, she felt refreshed and somewhat calmer. She
put on a simple street-toilette and left her room. She
felt the need of getting out into free nature, and she
bent her steps toward the neighboring wood. Pur
posely she refrained from inviting Frau Eleonore
to accompany her, for she wanted to be alone with
her thoughts, to take counsel of her own heart.

She wanted to ask herself what now were her
wishes, her hopes, her purposes. — Was the resolu
tion definitely fixed to retire from a public career?
Was it justified? She had taken up as her task
"To accomplish something great": was this task
accomplished? And was it not presumption to sup
pose that she was capable of accomplishing any
thing "great"? To do that, one must be great one's
self, and that she certainly was not. During this
Rose- Week, when she had met with so many bril
liant men and women of genius, she had fallen very
low in her own estimation.

What was she with her rather superficial fluency
in comparison with all these mighty artists, thinkers,
poets, inventors? Could she only tell them all how
insignificant she felt in comparison with them ! Just
as there are attacks of pride and ambition, so Franka
now had an attack of the deepest humility, a strong
yearning for seclusion : — it was one of those hours
when one wishes one's Ego dismounted from its
too prominent pedestal, whereon it has been stand-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ing in far too haughty isolation; when one would
like to compel it into a kneeling and leaning atti
tude of humbleness before a dearer "Thou" . . .

Through the grove breathed a delicious fragrance
of warm resin and moist moss. Buried in her
thoughts, Franka had been wandering for an hour
hither and thither through the forest, and had
reached a spot where a wooden seat was built around
an ancient oak tree. She was rather tired, and so
sat down on the seat, winding her arm around the
trunk and leaning her forehead on it: thus she rested.
The air was hot and full of the hum of insects.
An agreeable weariness closed Franka's eyelids ; yet
she was not asleep, only sinking into a comfortable
half-doze, comparable to the feeling that plants
may have under the caress of the sunbeams or the
fanning of gentle breezes. Her breath, the beating
of her heart and the song of the forest, the whisper
ing of the tree-tops, melted together into one har
monious rhythm. It was the undefined, softly sooth
ing delight of mere existence — nothing more. And
yet with it all was mingled something new, some
thing never before experienced by her, something
that did not seem to belong wholly to the present,
but throbbed as if at the coming of a future fulfill
ment —

A voice startled her out of this twilight of the soul :
"Is that you, Signorina Garlett?"

It was the great Italian tragedienne who was out
also for a lonely morning walk.

Franka sprang up.

"Don't move. I will sit down with you for a few
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

minutes. It is very charming here, so quiet and
peaceful. I have disturbed you. You were deep in
dreams . . . probably you were thinking about your
lover."

"I have no lover."

"That is incredible — only you will not confide
in me. But you might, carina. I am so much older
than you are; I have tasted so fully of the joys and
sorrows of life, and I know well that we women —
if we are genuine women — experience all our pleas
ure and all our grief only through love . . . every
thing else is nothing. Our art, our beauty, our social
or domestic virtues — all that is only the shell, is
only the tabernacle ; the true sanctuary is our burn
ing and bleeding heart. "

"So speaks one from the South, " replied Franka.
"The rest of us are colder. My heart truly — up to
the present time — has neither burned nor bled for
any man. I do not take into account any passing little
acceleration of its throbbing. My work, my duties,
have completely occupied me — up to now ..."

"What has been your special work?"

"Making girls over into thinking beings."

"Thinking — not feeling?"

"The one does not exclude the other. Men, too,
feel and love; at the same time it is their duty to
think — not that they always do so — I must agree
to that. You, great artist that you are, who have
penetrated into the depths of poetry, would surely
be the last person to forbid women thinking."

"No, I do not; but I insist that they love. And
ultimately, they all obey — even the women of the

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North. In the Northern poets especially I have
found the most fundamental love-problems. How
ever, madamigella Franka, you just said the words
' up to now ' in a tone which makes me suspect that
perhaps the coldness which you boast of is already
beginning to melt."

Franka's cheeks glowed: "How you read people's
souls, maestra!"

The other smiled sweetly, and seized Franka's
hand. "So it must come, " said she, "once in every
life. But," she added in another tone, "shan't we
return? Don't you hear distant thunder?"

In fact a low growling of thunder was heard, re
peated two or three times; and the air was sultry.
Franka got up.

"Very well, let us go. We shall have time enough
to get under shelter. You see, it is the same way
with my love ... far and low I seem to hear the pre
monition of what may prove to be a heart-storm.
It has not as yet arrived, but it is coming and it will
be welcome : I shall not flee from it, as we are now
trying to escape from the threatening shower."

By this time a few scattering drops were falling.
The two women hastened their steps. Suddenly the
Italian actress said: —

"Its coming has been noticed."

"The coming of what? A quarter of an hour ago,
the sky was perfectly blue."

" I am speaking of your love-affair, dearest."

Franka, surprised, lifted her head. "What do
you mean?"

"Well — the handsome German prince. "

CHAPTER XXV

SCENES OF BEAUTY AND OF LOVE

THIS evening the exercises were devoted to the
concept Beauty. They were to begin with a con
cert; but not a concert of tones, rather of colors and
lines — charm for the eye, intoxication for the sense
of sight — the delight of seeing, carried to ecstasy.

The hall was only faintly lighted. Toker and his
guests were not as usual on the platform; a white
screen surrounded by a golden frame filled the back
ground. Franka sat in the box that she had oc
cupied on the evening of Helmer's address. But
this time Helmer was with her. He had escorted
her into the hall, having been, as usual, seated next
her at the dinner-table. The two had not had much
opportunity to talk together, as some one opposite
had engaged Chlodwig in an urgent conversation,
and Franka, on her side, was taken possession of
by Gwendoline — who had also accompanied them
to the box. In the background sat Frau von Rock-
haus and Malhof.

Franka was scanning the hall with her opera-
glass.

"Are you looking for some one?" asked Helmer;
"he is sitting there in the lower tier at the right."

Franka's glass followed the indicated direction, and
she caught sight of Victor Adolph, who had turned
round and was likewise searching the audience with

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his lorgnette. The two glasses met and the prince
bowed. Franka answered the greeting and blushed,
as Helmer saw only too well.

"I had a long talk with the prince to-day," he
said; "he is a fine fellow."

"Who? — the German king's son?" broke in
Gwendoline; "he pleases me, too, immensely; and
if he were not so evidently taken with our Miss Gar-
lett, I should have a good flirtation with him."

On the signal for beginning the programme —
three loud peals on a bell — a tall figure of a woman
in the costume of a Greek Muse stepped forward and
began to speak: —

Still through the hall the golden bell-tone vibrates low!

List to it, for you will not hear it ringing

A second time to-day.

A simple word which I have still to say

Of prelude or of prologue — call it as you may —

And then the silence show!

For voiceless colors will be together singing
And lines in exquisite harmonies will melt away.
Nor flute nor drum, viola, violin;
The instruments are called but Blue and Gray
And Red and Green and Yellow, bringing in
The rainbow's soundless orchestra.

This week for Lofty Thinking held its pious rites;

Free spirits have stood forth to plead for Goodness and

for Duty,

So let us also worship Beauty.
Let Wonder bear us in its spellbound flights;
Since those alone that have the power to marvel
Possess the power of mounting to the heights.

The speaker retired and the hall was completely
darkened. All the more brilliantly gleamed the great

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white screen on the platform. A half-minute of
intense expectation passed.

Franka turned to Helmer: "Do you know what
is coming?"

" Yes, Mr. Toker gave me an inkling of it. Pictures
of landscapes more magnificent than were ever seen
before — except in reality: nature- framed. The im
pression is said to be magical."

Suddenly, the white screen was transformed into
a view of a primitive tropical forest — a remark
ably picturesque piece: in the foreground, at the
right and at the left, two gigantic gnarly trees, whose
branches arched upward until they met, forming a
kind of triumphal gateway; on the ground and to
ward the back a luxuriant growth of unknown plants
and flowers.

"That reminds me of Ernst Haeckel's marvelous
travel pictures," remarked Helmer.

It was evidently photographed from nature and
in the most brilliant colors. Polychrome photo
graphy had, to be sure, been invented some years
before, but here, for the first time, perfect fidelity
to nature had been attained: not only the succulent
green of the foliage, and the velvet brilliancy of the
moss, but something like real light, such as prevails
in the primeval forest, streaming with emerald tints
through the tree-tops and flinging bronze reflections
on the brown trunks. Dark and pale lilac blossoms
glowed in the maze of vines, resting here and there
in dense masses among the branches ; here and there
hanging down like the sprays of weeping willows;
then again, springing from the soil, tall-stemmed,

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crimson-red flowers, with broad, wonderfully serrated
calyxes — a flora quite unknown in our temperate
zone.

The prologue had not promised too much: no
painter could depict such a scene: it was nature it
self. To near-sighted eyes, the picture may have
presented a more or less confused maze of colors ; but
through the opera-glass every leaf and every stalk
could be seen in its sharp outlines, and if one looked
with a high-powered glass one might have detected
the gauzy wings of some brilliant-colored butterfly
sitting motionless on some flower.

Franka drew a deep breath and murmured: "It
is bewitching."

"Yes, the world grows richer every day," said
Helmer ; "but look, there comes something still more
amazing."

Through the hall swept a subdued murmur of as
tonishment. Franka pointed her glass to the plat
form again: she expected to see another, perhaps a
still more beautiful picture, but it was the same.
And yet different. . . . Was it not alive? Did n't the
vines sway? Did n't the light dance on the mossy
ground? — Yes — and now a small bird flew from
one tree to another — a gayly feathered little bird
gleaming in metallic colors. For a minute or two
the fixed photograph had appeared in the frame, and
now the kinematographic reproduction of the same
bit of nature was substituted for it. To be sure,
living pictures were no longer a new marvel, but the
sudden animation of the apparent painting — that
was the surprising effect; and the new victory was

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that kinematography in colors had been added to
the achievements of this art. For long ages men had
been seeking to imitate, to preserve the life around
them — and now, what a long distance between
the first rude attempts at delineating the forms of
animals or the bones of animals, to the living picture
accurate in color and full of motion !

The tropic landscape was followed by one from
the Far North : the luxuriance of warmth by the
splendor of the cold : a polar-sea region in the morn
ing light. The picture must have been taken on
board of a ship, a ship surrounded by glittering ice
bergs. Here also there was motion; the spaces of
open sea were alive with dancing waves; sea-gulls
swept by ; the clouds that moved along the horizon
changed their form and color. A third picture por
trayed a bit of the sea-depths. Had a diver carried
his kinematographic apparatus down with him, or
was the picture taken from an aquarium? The ques
tion could not be decided; what seemed to fill the
frame was azure water with coral formations on the
bottom, and populated with marvelous creatures.
Opaque crustaceans tinier than grains of sand flew
this way and that quicker than a flash; gelatinous
creatures were seen going about in all directions
by means of invisible organs ; others proceeded by
contracting their feet; diminutive medusae moved
slowly about, carrying their umbrellas; little sagit
tate animalcules dashed in agitated flight like tor
pedoes; anemones hung there, like chandeliers;
shadow-like, transparent creatures, iridescent, phos
phorescent creatures — beauty, beauty everywhere!

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After a brief pause, what followed was the actual
Color Symphony promised in the prologue — a con
cert for the eyes. The eyes alone should enjoy it and
wholly without accessories of landscape and life.
The framework disappeared ; the whole platform was
swallowed up in darkness for a time, and then sud
denly flamed up in a crashing chord of ruby-red,
topaz-yellow, and sapphire-blue. Then the colors
began to move rhythmically and dispose themselves
into figures ; they obliterated one another and formed
new combinations of ever new nuances; just as a
solo voice rising above an orchestral accompaniment,
now hovers an emerald-green line in the foreground
and depicts — adagio — a vibrant arabesque like a
melody, while the accompanying colors diminish to
a dull silver-gray.

A second line, of the tenderest rose, now curls
round the green, as if it were a second solo voice.
Now the duet is swallowed up by a violet glow and
again begins a genuine ensemble of all the instru
ments: violin-tones from the golden yellow, flute-
tones from the celestial blue, a trumpet-blast from
the red, a drum-tap from the brown. In ever new
forms and interchanging tempos the colors stream
together and apart. Here they cluster into balls;
there they tumble in waterfalls or hover in flakes
like soft-falling snow. The most variegated lights
and reflections and beams and flame-gleams and
mother-of-pearl tints make up the ensemble. The
color symphony contained also a scherzo wherein
the melodious arabesques are transformed into a
whirl of grotesque hopping figures. The finale intro-

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duces a prestissimo with the rapidity of a tornado,
of a blizzard, which finally dies down again into
calm serenity. And ever more and more pallid grow
the colors, ever duller the lights, with a decrescendo
dying gradually into the most delicate pianissimo,
until at last the stage again lies in absolute dark
ness. And then against the darkness, shining bril
liant red, appeared, a hundred-fold in size, the crest
of the house, the symbol of beauty: a rose in full
bloom.

After the intermission one of Toker's famous
guests, the German physicist, delivered a brief ad
dress. He also produced a variation on the theme of
the evening. He proved, even more clearly than the
animated pictures could do, the manifold and hidden
beauties of nature. He revealed the wonder-pictures
that are discovered by the microscope to our aston
ished senses; the splendor of form of the Radio-
laria, the symmetry of the thousand-faceted eyes of
insects; the delicate traceries of mould and mosses
invisible to the naked eye; the rich life in a drop of
stagnant water — beauty everywhere.

But in order that the visible world may resolve
into beauty, we must learn two things: to see and
to enjoy. Could there possibly be splendor of color
and grace of contour if all living beings were blind ?
And could what we see ever be felt as "beautiful"
if the spectator remained without enjoyment? The
evolution of organisms required a long time until
the eye was formed; and a second long period
stretched between the use of an organ of sense and
the enjoyment that grew out of the use of it. How

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long it took for man to learn to enjoy the beauties
of nature! In all ancient literatures no description
of nature is to be found in tones of admiration. The
ancient Greeks found delight in the grace of human
bodies, in the noble lines of artistic buildings; but
in their songs there is no trace of enthusiasm over
a mountain landscape, or a seashore. Among our
peasantry, living in the midst of the most magnifi
cent nature, the majority are unmoved by beauty
of scenery. The formation of the organs of sense
must be followed by the exercise and the refining
of the corresponding organs of the soul. Then only
the soul may be raised to the inspiring mood which
is called the enjoyment of beauty.

After the conclusion of the physicist's address,
Toker entered Franka's box. "To-night, Miss Gar-
lett, you must once more come into our circle, and
you also, Mr. Helmer. This period of talk between
ten o'clock and midnight is certainly the best and
most productive recreation after the labors of the
day. And you, Gwen, have you been happy in
spending the whole evening in the company of your
idol? — For you must know, Miss Garlett, that my
daughter has conceived the most violent admiration
for you — which I can perfectly understand."

A little later the Rose-Knighthood had gathered
in Toker's salons. In spite of the brevity of their
acquaintance, many warm friendships had sprung
up among the famous guests of the house. And,
indeed, there was no lack of interesting material for
intercourse. The atmosphere was alive with ideas

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suggested by the preceding addresses and perform
ances. "This is the week of wide perspectives,"
one of the visitors pertinently remarked on one oc
casion.

Frequently distinguished personages invited by
Toker from outside joined the house-company. This
evening he had invited Prince Victor Adolph, among
others, to spend the rest of the evening in the Rose-
Palace, an invitation which the young man had
accepted with alacrity in spite of Orell's comment
that it was a very mixed society: "Eccentric people.
A revolutionary flavor. No milieu for Your Royal
Highness."

The night was very warm. When Prince Victor
Adolph entered the suite of salons, many of the
guests had taken refuge on the terrace to seek its
refreshing coolness. Franka, for whom the prince
was looking, had also disappeared from the salon.
Toker stopped him as he was about to follow her.

"Fine, that you came, Your Highness. I should
like to tell you something important."

"Me?" His eyes wandered searchingly.

"Yes, you. There are things which will interest
you and which you might be willing to take hold of
and help. I regard you as a young man of high
thoughts and ideals," — the prince made a gesture
of surprise, — "perhaps lam speaking too uncere
moniously?"

" Not that — but what can you know about my
mode of thought, Mr. Toker?"

"What all the world knows. You are recognized
as an unusual type. You are interested in questions,

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

a knowledge of which as a general rule does not
reach your circles. The weal and woe of the poorer
classes seem to you important questions. You are
certainly an opponent of any war, instigated from
frivolous motives. . . . Let me tell you what is in
preparation. In your position, as the son of a power
ful ruler, you might perhaps exert an influence which
would avert a threatening misfortune."

"You excite my curiosity."

"It is as yet a very imperfect world in which in
dividuals have the opportunity to bring about na
tional conflicts from personal ambition, and where
the good will of individuals is required to forfend
such evils, instead of security being the normal,
natural basis of the intercourse of nations; where
one must lay secret plans to save the life of one's
fellow-men!"

" I am ready to enter into such a plot, Mr. Toker.
Speak!"

"Thanks, but you came here this evening to enjoy
the society of my guests, and what I have to say is
not so quickly explained. Could you come to-mor
row to my study? I should like to give you a glance
at some of my correspondence which has induced me
to venture approaching you."

"Very gladly, Mr. Toker. Would eleven o'clock
suit you?"

"Perfectly. And now I will not detain you any
longer."

Victor Adolph took advantage of this permission
to look for Franka. He found her on the terrace,
sitting with only Gwendoline for companion, at some

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

distance from the others. After greeting the daugh
ter of the house, he turned to Franka.

" I did not come to see you in your loge this even
ing, gnadiges Fraulein, because I knew that I should
have the pleasure of finding you here."

Gwendoline, in accordance with the proverb which
she knew so well, "Two is company, three is none,"
found a pretext for going away. Victor Adolph sat
down on the seat which she had vacated. Franka
was ill at ease: she had a suspicion that the prince
was not going to talk about indifferent things. He
was silent for a while. That made her still more
uncomfortable, and in order to relieve the situation
she began to speak : —

"How were you pleased with the silent con
cert?"

"Concert? What concert?" he asked absently.

"The color symphony."

"I was not looking at the platform, but into an
almost perfectly dark box in which I still could make
out the outline of a beloved form."

Now Franka remained silent. What could she
answer to that?

After a rather long pause he remarked: "What a
lovely evening!"

"Marvelously beautiful," replied Franka. The
conversation could continue on this subject. And
she added: "So mild, so fragrant, so still."

"Still? Why, no ... don't you hear the chirping
of insects and the wavelets breaking on the shore?
The night is breathing."

"As if in peaceful slumber."
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"No, it is not asleep — just see, how its hundred
thousand open eyes are sparkling."

She looked up at the starry sky. Indeed, there
shone a myriad of glittering eyes. As Franka sat
there, bathed ia the soft moonlight, with her head
upturned, her large dark eyes directed to the firma
ment, her delicate features as it were illuminated
with reverence, she seemed more exquisitely beau
tiful than ever.

"You are right. . . . Every instant one or another
of the stars seems to say, 'I am.' That is after all
the deepest of mysteries, that unfathomable meaning
of the verb 'to be.'"

"Franka, I love you!"

The words came so abruptly that Franka felt a
violent shock. It fell upon her like a burning bolt.
She drew herself up and pushed back her chair.
Victor Adolph was himself startled at his own words;
he had not anticipated making so sudden a declara
tion of his love. Here once more were those primi
tive incitements to passion and love : — the summer
night, the perfume of flowers, the moonlight . . .
and that bewitching beauty!

Beauty had been the topic of the whole evening:
the magic of the tropics and of the Arctic sea, of
Radiolaria and anemones, but there had not been
a word said about the most potent of all the powers
of beauty — in a lovely young woman's face. What
were all the lilies and birds of paradise, what were
all the dancing colors and lights, in comparison to
such a pair of beaming eyes, from which gleamed a
human soul?

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A short pause ensued, duringVhich both felt their
hearts beat faster. Then Victor Adolph began to
speak in a low tone : —

"You must not be angry, Fraulein Garlett . . .
the audacious words came almost involuntarily out
of my mouth. Honestly, I, myself, as I said them
for the first time, have realized what deep feelings
toward you I cherish. Yes, I love you, sincerely and
passionately. I believe you might crown my hap
piness with the richest gift one could conceive if
only you would return my love. You must not for
an instant misunderstand me — I offer you my
hand. Do not answer now — I desire no hasty an
swer. You must first weigh all things in the balance
— for there would be difficulties, reserves ... I am
not a free and independent man, and perhaps great
responsibilities will be put upon me ..."

Franka stood up: "You asked me not to answer
and I beg you, my prince, my dear prince, " — her
voice trembled with deep emotion, — "do not say
anything more. ... I am going into the salon now. "

She took a few steps and was soon surrounded
by a number of persons. The tevte-a-t£te was at an
end. The prince, bowing low, went off in another
direction. Franka took no further part in the social
festivities but fled to her room.

CHAPTER XXVI

CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON

IN the mean time, John Toker and Helmer were
chatting in the salon. The two men were sitting in
the embrasure of one of the windows behind a screen
of tall, big-leafed plants, and were unseen and un
disturbed.

"This would seem an admirable place for a pair
to flirt in," remarked Toker, as he led his guest to
it; "but this privacy will also suit us. I have as
yet had no good opportunity to thank you for your
address; moreover, this afternoon, I have read the
translation of it, and so only now realize how com
pletely our ideas and aims are in agreement. You
say quite rightly, mankind has reached the turning
of the ways. Either — Or. It truly cannot continue
as it is. Therefore, we must put forth all our ener
gies, even if our energies are of no great magnitude.
And I have a high opinion of the power of the pen ;
it can charm in a playful way; but it can also be a
very mighty instrument of harm and of help. "

"What you say, Mr. Toker, reminds me of a con
versation which I had not long ago with a fellow-
countryman, a boyhood friend of mine. He asked
me how I could devote my art, my talent to the
service of politics and such inartistic objects. I
answered, 'Because there is a fire, my dear friend.
And if — in such a case — one holds in one's hands

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

a brimming pitcher, one uses it to quench the flames
and not to water flowers.' "

"Quite right; so let us put out the fire. News
which has reached me to-day makes me fear that
there is going to be a great disturbance. The work
which we are doing here — the exerting of influence
on thinking men — proceeds — quite too slowly, I
am sorry to say — in spite of all 6ur apparatus for
wide publicity."

"Yes," agreed Helmer; "it is a dribbling, in
stead of a flood. Before minds gradually change,
the avalanche of collected stupidity comes rolling
down and buries the whole region. Here I am speak
ing in metaphors again. ... I keep detecting myself
in this habit. Prince Victor Adolph thought that
pardonable in a poet. Now, that I think of it: this
prince — in spite of his position — is on our side
in all his inclinations, and so — precisely because of
his position — he might successfully help us in the
endeavor to put out the fire. "

"I had the very same idea. You know his repu
tation?"

"More than that: I know his inclinations." And
Helmer related the interview which he had held
that very same day with the prince.

"Well, he seems to be a splendid young man,"
said Toker. "To-morrow, at eleven o'clock, he is
coming to see me, in order to plan a campaign. The
rescue, the saving of the lives of a hundred thousand
people — that is to be the object of our conspiracy.
He just told me ..."

"Just told you? Is he here?"
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

t

"Yes, he came at my invitation. At this instant
he is on the terrace, as my daughter told me, and
is sitting in the moonlight very sentimentally talk
ing with Miss Garlett."

Helmer made a sudden motion and suppressed a
groan. This did not escape the older man's atten
tion.

"Oh, Herr Helmer, is that disagreeable to you?
Perhaps you are somewhat sentimentally inclined
to your pretty table-companion and fellow-country
woman yourself? . . . That would be quite natural.
Don't shake your head . . . young men are quite
properly in love; I like to see it. I will not detain
you ... go out on the terrace and interrupt the
flirtation, if you object to it. It would be much
better for the young lady if she should incline her
heart to you . . . '

"Good Heavens! I could not enter into competi
tion with the prince ... if things are actually as you
seem to think. "

"Why not? 'Faint heart never won fair lady.'"

"You yourself, Mr. Toker, set me very different
tasks from that of winning a maiden's heart."

"Hold on! Hold on! ... I am no fanatic, no
man of one idea.; To work for a great public object
does not require that a man should give himself
body and soul to this affair. One must not neglect
one's duties toward one's own happiness. When
one has the foundation of domestic content, of cheer
ful peace of mind, one can work much more effec
tively for a great cause. It gives harmony and bal
ance. And then, energy grows out of it as a tree

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springs out of a rich soil — you see, I can also speak
in figures. Well, good-bye for now. I will go around
among my guests for a little while longer. To-mor
row we will take up our plot again. "

Helmer hastened out on the terrace: not as Mr.
Toker had advised, to break up the flirtation, but
to observe it. Yet in spite of his zeal to find that
which would cause him misery — he found nothing :
the couple was not to be seen on the terrace.

Franka had been for some time in her room. She
did not turn on the light, but went out on the bal
cony and threw herself into her rocking-chair. She
wanted to think over what had occurred in the very
same atmosphere in which it had occurred — in the
fragrant moonlit, summer night.

She drew her lace shawl closer over her shoulders
and leaned back in her chair, rocking slowly to and
fro. She recalled the words which had so over
whelmed her with amazement. Again she seemed
to hear distinctly the accent in which "Franka, I
love you" had been spoken and the still more mo
mentous "You must not for an instant misunder
stand me: I offer you my hand." My hand — my
hand . . . like a refrain which runs in one's head
these words sang themselves to her, and here again
were the same warm breath of the night, the same
penetrating perfume of violets which emanated
from the already half-faded bouquet that she wore
on her bosom. He was in no hurry for a reply — so
much the better! Had she given either a hasty
" Yes " or a hasty " No, " perhaps she might be even

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

now regretting it. So the decision was postponed:
it was left to her free and deliberate choice, whether
she should seize this marvelous Future, big with
portentous eventualities, or reject it. ... "Diffi
culties, reserves. "... Her pride revolted . . . why
had she not said "No" on the spot? But is it not
true — a king's son: such a step is not taken so
easily. And it would involve sacrifices, renuncia
tions, struggles. . . .

That very morning she had been anticipating
with some longing a thunderstorm of love — to
tell the truth, the image of another lover had arisen
in her mind; now in truth such a storm had burst
upon her, but it had not brought any relief to her
mental strain. In the dazzling lightning-stroke of
that declaration of love by the one, the image of the
other had grown somewhat pale, but was not wholly
obliterated. Evidently this other did not love her.
He had constantly shown himself active in promot
ing the interests of Victor Adolph; that very even
ing in the hall . . .

"Are you there, Franka?" It was Frau von
Rockhaus. She had turned on the light in the room
and was now standing in the balcony door. "I did
not see you any longer downstairs and supposed that
you had gone to bed. . . . Why did n't you call me?"

"I knew that you would soon be following. It is
pretty late."

"That was a very pronounced wooing this even
ing," observed Frau Eleonore. "Did he propose
at last?"

"Who?"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"Who! The prince, of course!"

"You are inquisitive, dear Eleonore. Let us go
to bed. I am sleepy. Good-night."

She rang for her maid and went to her bedroom.
But she found no rest.

Victor Adolph also spent a restless night. During
the past forty-eight hours events and impressions
had been overwhelmingly sweeping in upon him.
That address of Helmer's, opening new perspectives
before his soul; the tidings that perhaps a throne
would be offered him; that conspiracy for the ad
vantage of the contemporary world, which John
Toker wanted to conduct with his assistance; and
finally this summer night's dream which had ended
with such a sudden and mighty flaming up of pas
sion that he had surrendered to it for all time. . . .

The tormenting part of the situation was that he
saw himself facing not merely one, but several fate
ful questions. When he wanted to devote himself
to thoughts of his beloved arose the vision of the
beckoning throne, and when he attempted to bal
ance the chances and the obligations which such a
change of conditions would bring with it, then arose
the image of the woman whom he loved — to whom
he had offered his hand. And what difficulties
heaped themselves up before him! What battles
there would be ! Had not this step been indiscreet?
Aye, that it had; but is passion ever discreet?

When the prince, agreeably to his promise,
reached Toker's study the next morning, Toker had

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already gone through his mail. He had found vari
ous additional particulars which tended more than
ever to arouse his fears regarding the threatened
dangers. He went to meet the exalted visitor.

"You are very punctual, Prince."

Newspapers and letters were arranged on a round
center-table.

"Please, let us sit down without delay; I have
put in order the various papers which might serve
to show my motives for the action I have in mind. "

"I have faith in your action, Mr. Toker, without
your proving motives,"tsaid the prince, as he took
his place at the table.

Toker followed his example and put a few Eng
lish, French, and German newspapers before him.
" Please read first of all the passages marked in blue
pencil."

"Those are sheer alarmist prognostications,"
remarked the prince, after he had glanced through
the designated passages. " ' War-in-sight ' news.
And actually maps — already — of the probable
seat of war!"

"And now read the passages marked in red."

"Bad news again : bomb-throwing . . . strikes . . .
conspiracy . . . lynchings . . . hunger-revolts . . .
riots ..."

"In other words, we are facing a war on the one
hand and a revolution on the other."

"Excuse me, Mr. Toker, but perhaps you take
the matter too tragically, " said the prince, pushing
the papers to one side. "The rumors of wars are
apparently false or are merely incitements — we

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

have been reading the like for many years regularly
in the papers and yet nothing comes of them. These
revolutionary attacks do happen here and there and
are always speedily suppressed: order is immedi
ately restored."

"Yes, yes, it has been smouldering now for a
number of years. But we must not wait until the
flames break out ; it is time for us to trample out the
sparks." Toker spoke these last words in a wrathful
tone. " Patience ceases to be a virtue, " he went on
to say, "when it consists in allowing misfortune to
approach; then it should be called simply uncon
cern. Now read this also." He handed the prince
some letters and telegrams for him to glance over.
"Those are private communications from parties
in a position to be well informed. They show much
more clearly than the news published in the papers
that the evil so much talked about is ready to ap
pear. "

The prince read the letters and dispatches care
fully. "In truth," was his comment, "things do
look a bit threatening. What do you propose, Mr.
Toker, in order to avert the danger? And do you
think there is still time enough?"

"The term 'too late' should never be allowed
when the question concerns a work of help or rescue.
As you yourself just remarked, for a number of
years conflicts have cropped up in the most varied
places; panics have been precipitated; people have
been getting ready for the conflict; the catastrophe
has been generally expected, and then nothing has
come of it. In early times it was not so. When the

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well-known black speck appeared on the political
horizon, one could expect a storm with certainty.
Now new forces have entered into the world,
which have succeeded in driving away the clouds.
The peaceable intentions of the rulers have been
strengthened ; the pugnacity of the nations has been
curbed — the world is gradually changing. And
perhaps these perils also " — he pointed to the news
papers and letters — "will be dissipated and there will
be time to act. Only we must not delay. If we allow
things to go on unchecked, the crash must come. "

"Well, what is to be done? And what could / do
to help? A little princelet like me — I need not tell
you — has no power and no liberty. Even at this
minute, while I am engaging in this conspiracy with
you behind the back of my honorary jailer, General
Orell, I am deeply involving myself in disgrace!"

Toker smiled. "This is not your first offense, as
I have reason to suspect. Your attendance at popu
lar meetings is well known; your predilection for
the reading of sociological books, not receivable at
court, is well known. But for the very reason that
you have a knowledge of the problems of the day
and an open mind, I have turned to you. So, then,
listen — this is the thing: — A new Hague Confer
ence is about to be opened ..."

"Pardon me," interrupted Victor Adolph, "these
conferences have so far failed to bring about the
change expected of them. "

"Still, they have brought something significant,
new, and great into the world — the generality of
the people certainly know very little about them.

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They have not attained their object for the reason
that they have been diverted from that object by
their own members : — an article was smuggled into
the programme that had no business to be there —
regulation of war: — for a large proportion of the
delegates consisted either of soldiers or adherents
of sovereignty. These men were assiduous in keep
ing the old principles safe from the danger with
which they were threatened by the conference as
originally proposed — that is, from compulsory ar
bitration and limitation of armament. But the old
principles have not remained entirely intact, for
there were also representatives of the new ideas at
The Hague, who fortunately achieved the founda
tion of new institutions. Imagine a congress of
freethinkers in which the majority of the delegates
were bishops and where the larger part of the time
was spent in discussing the regulation of ritualistic
forms! . . . There you have a picture of the first
Hague Peace Congresses. But I am speaking of the
next one. Since the last one, things have ripened.
Since then, the desire for peace has strengthened
among all the governments, and especially among
the masses. Since then the waste of money on
armaments has reached such dimensions that uni
versal bankruptcy is at hand. Since then, the battle
ships have grown into such monsters, and all the
other instruments of death and destruction have
attained such fiendish power, that they serve not
so much for fighting as for combined self-annihila
tion. . . . Since then, the common people have been
brought to the end of their endurance by loans and

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taxes and high prices. Since then, the proletariat,
always hostile to war, has more and more come to
a realization of its solidarity and power. Since then,
so many friendships, treaties, and conventions have
arisen that it needs now only an impulse for a gen
eral European 'Legal Union.' Since then, all the
groups interested have combined in an international
organization. Since then, a world-conscience has
come into being. Since then, the atmosphere has
been conquered. Since then, human thoughts have
attained wings. . . . Since then ..."

The old gentleman had worked himself into a
fine heat; he had got up, and at every sentence his
voice had grown louder. At the last "Since then,"
he suddenly stopped and sat down again. Then he
went on in a calmer tone: —

"Here we will pause — at the conception 'Soar
ing Thoughts.' The delegates to the next confer
ence are to be inspired with such thinking. They
must bring with them the resolution to accomplish
something great, something bold. The position of
affairs has so entirely changed in the mean time,
with its promising new possibilities, and the dangers,
so nearly threatening, must be looked in the face
unflinchingly. That would be our salvation."
"But what can I do-in all this, Mr. Toker?"
"Prince, you by virtue of your rank can obtain
the ear of those on whose will the programme and
the results of the conference depend."

"And you believe that I could influence that?"

"You can explain. They will listen to you. You

can show what golden bridges this conference offers.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

You can bring it about that a peace league of rulers
shall be formed."

"Rulers are the prisoners of their armies ..."

"If they do not break these chains, which also
at the same time bind the peoples, — then the peo
ples will do it; and that would be terrible, like every
deed of despair."

"And do you believe that the armies would con
sent to disband?"

"Who speaks about 'disbanding'? If the States
make an alliance for one common international law,
then their armies — the greatly reduced armies —
will unite for the protection of the laws that affect
them all in common, for defense against attacks
from those that stand outside the alliance, for the
maintenance of internal order, for affording aid ..."

"I understand . . ."

"Yes, I knew that you are one who would under
stand. But do you understand also why I, an Ameri
can, have the fate of Europe so deeply at heart ; why
I want to see the Old World protected from a catas
trophe, why I likewise wish that its aristocratic and
monarchical institutions, so long ago with us out
lived, should, at least for a time, remain intact?"

"Perhaps from an artistic sense," suggested the
prince, "just as we preserve picturesque ruins."

" ' Ruins' is too strong a term; they are still proud
and lofty castles ; only they are — let us say — a
little dilapidated: a violent storm would devastate
them ; they can still be safeguarded by rods. Again,
why do I feel and act for Europe? You must know
that we Americans, at the bottom of our hearts

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cherish a family-feeling for Europe. It is the cradle
of our race; it is the ultimate source of our civiliza
tion — physically and spiritually, it is our ancestral
fatherland. We love it and are thankful to it. There
fore it comes about that, when we accomplish any
great technical advance or conceive some higher
social or political ideal, we immediately feel the im
pulse to let the ' whole world ' — and by that term
we think especially of Europe — share in it. We are
like children who have been educated far away,
have made our fortune there, and regard it as a
pleasant duty to send back to the aged parents some
share of the treasures we have gained. . . . But let
us return to our conspiracy, Prince. You are not the
only one with whom I am conspiring. I place my
mines in various localities. The Government at
Washington is in the alliance. The propositions
which it will bring forward at the next conference
will not leave anything in the way of ' High Think
ing' to be desired. I have already spoken with the
President of the French Republic — "

"Yes — as I have mentioned before: Republi
cans — "

" No ; that is not the condition. In order that some
thing great may come out of the conference, it is
essential that it be approached with magnanimous
resolves ; we must attempt not only a little step for
ward, but we must attempt flying. I know one man,
one powerful man, who is capable of making such
resolves and such a flight. And what I want of
you, Prince, is: Speak with the one man — he will
listen to you — you are his son!"

CHAPTER XXVII

SPEECHES AND LETTERS

WHEN Victor Adolph left Toker's study, he felt still
more oppressed than he had been before. A new task
had been added to the many prospects and obliga
tions that were so disturbing to his peace of mind:
alluring prospects, noble tasks, sweet obligations,
but in their combination a scourge of anxieties. And
there was no one with whom he might take counsel,
to whom he might open his heart; on the contrary,
he had the perpetual companionship of a man from
whom he was obliged to conceal his inmost thoughts
and inclinations — this Orell — and now he had
two more secrets to hide from him. Suppose he
should discover that the Royal Highness entrusted
to his protection had offered himself to a woman
without rank and title, and had concealed plans
with an American for the demilitarization of Eu
rope!

Victor Adolph could not help smiling as he pic
tured to himself the general standing there, his face
scarlet with wrath and horror, his hair standing on
end, and the points of his mustaches trembling.
How he would gasp for words and for breath, and
how these words would be even more laconic and
drastic than ever — "Prince ripe for the madhouse!
. . .Cursed girl . . . Caught in the first net. . . .

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Old Yankeedoodle . . . Proposals to His Majesty!
... To hell with the Rose-Saint- Vitus-dance !"

As he drove away, the prince met Helmer return
ing from the morning walk. The encounter was a
pleasant surprise. Here was one with whom he
might exchange a few thoughts, — at least, might
talk with him about Toker's plans, — since he was
already initiated into the conspiracy.

"Good-morning, Herr Helmer; I am glad to meet
you. Are you just on your way home?"

"Yes, Your Royal Highness."

"Have you anything important that you must do
immediately?"

"Not at all."

"Then, if you will permit me, I will go with you
to your lodgings."

"That will be an honor and a pleasure. If you
please, this way, Your Royal Highness; my rooms
are on the ground floor."

He conducted the prince up a few steps, through
a corridor to his sitting-room door, which he opened
to usher his visitor in.

"But you are all roses here!" cried Victor Adolph
as he entered.

"Yes, the whole house is dedicated to the queen
of flowers. But all this splendor will soon be ended.
Two days more and the Rose- Week will be a thing
of the past. Then we shall all be scattered to the
four winds."

" But what has been uttered, planted, experienced,
felt here will not be scattered to the winds." And
as the prince sat down in the easy-chair which Hel-

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mer pushed forward for him, he added with a deep
sigh, " I have gone through a vast lot of experiences
since I have been here."

Helmer looked up inquiringly: "Yet nothing ter
rible, I hope?"

"That's as one looks at it — may I?" And he
took a cigarette from a smoking-table standing near.

Helmer gave him a light, then sat down on the
other side of the table, and they were soon engaged
in earnest talk.

The prince related his interviews with the master
of the house, the news which he had got from the
letters and papers and the plans that Toker had
developed. Helmer manifested the liveliest interest.
The observations that he interpolated, the opinions
that he expressed, the warmth and readiness of en
thusiasm which accompanied all his words and ges
tures, were so sympathetic to the prince that he felt
mightily drawn to the poet. It did him good to be
free to talk with an intelligent mind about the mis
sion with which Toker had entrusted him. His bur
den of care already began to seem lighter. Here he
could find counsel and stimulus and support. His
heart began to glow.

" It is a perfect delight, Helmer," said he, bending
over the table and laying his hand on the other's
arm, "to speak about these things with you. You
have experience and a keen insight, and you have —
what shall I call it? — Schwingen — pinions — the
upsoaring spirit ... I wish you were my friend . . .
Be my friend!"

" I am, as far as I may, my prince."
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The two men shook hands.

"Truly, I have never had a friend ; always nothing
but flatterers, time-servers, or else highly respect
able jailors, eager maitres de plaisir; here and there,
among those of my own rank and relationship, a good
fellow all too ready for sport and the like — but a
friend? Not one! Not one whom one may trust if
one is in trouble or is experiencing a great happiness
— not one to ask advice of in a difficulty."

"Is that your case, Your Highness?" asked Hel-
mer sympathetically.

"That is my case."

"Will you honor me with your confidence?"

The prince stood up and walked in some agitation
back and forth a few times ; then he went to the win
dow and gazed out for a while. He was evidently
having a struggle with himself. Then he suddenly
turned round: — "Well, then, listen!"

Helmer had also risen and was leaning on his
writing-table which stood near the window. He bent
his head. "I am listening." And at the same time
a suspicion flashed through his mind that he was
about to hear something unpleasant.

"Well, then," proceeded Victor Adolph. "Happi
ness, difficulty — everything comes all at once.
During the last twenty-four hours, more things and
more important things have surged into my life
than hitherto in many years. It has been revealed
to me that a position of great power — the position
of a monarch — a crown — might be offered to me.
I am as democratic in my instincts as any one could
well be ; you know that . . . yet, I confess, the notion

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

seems dazzling to me. In the case of other men only,
too great power seems perilous; in one's own case,
one is convinced that it can be used only for advan
tage. How much I could help and accomplish —
even in the spirit of those ' lofty thoughts ' which are
at the present time soaring out from here into the
world. — Then the mission, which I have under
taken at Toker's desire, to win over my father to an
action which might establish on a firm basis his
treasured ideal of international peace — all these
things would be splendid tasks."

" In what consists the trouble, Prince? I see only
the happiness and no difficulty."

"The happiness consists in something else — and
the difficulty is, that I must renounce either those
duties or the happiness. If I cling to the happiness,
I should lose yonder position and influence, and per
haps my rank. I am in love, Helmer, madly in love
— and I have not the strength of will to renounce
my beloved : — yesterday I made her an offer of
marriage."

Helmer was playing with a paper-cutter: it fell
with a crash on the floor. He stooped over to pick it
up, and thus he concealed the pallor that suddenly
invaded his face. So then the moment had arrived,
when that which he had so often dreaded was a
reality. He had really never even hoped to win
Franka; he had himself hinted to her the remote
possibility that the prince would be her suitor and
had tried to persuade himself that he would unsel
fishly rejoice at it. But hitherto it had been only an
unreal figment of his imagination; now it was the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

truth. He took longer in regaining the paper-cutter
than was necessary. Now he drew himself up once
more.

"So you are to be congratulated," he said, trying
hard to control his voice. "Is Fraulein Garlett al
ready your betrothed?"

" I cannot as yet call her that . . . she has not given
her answer . . . the whole affair is still a secret. Oh,
Helmer, I cannot tell you how it has relieved me to
take you into my confidence!"

Without knocking, John Toker entered the room :
"Hello, Mr. Helmer; the gong is about sounding
for luncheon; I wanted to speak with you about
something beforehand. Ah, you are not alone? ..."
He at that instant became aware of the presence
of Victor Adolph, who stepped forward from the
embrasure of the window. "Ah, is it you, Your
Highness?"

"Yes, it is I; but I must be going now." And he
heartily took his leave of the two men.

Helmer entered the dining-room in great agita
tion. How could he endure meeting Franka with the
knowledge that the die had been cast, that she was
about to belong to another? And how would he suc
ceed in hiding the pangs of jealousy which tormented
his heart? Yet he was spared for a time these diffi
culties. Franka was not present, and he was in
formed that she had sent her apologies for missing the
luncheon — she had a headache. Helmer felt re
lieved, and yet disappointed. Now it seemed to him
as if he had a hundred things to say to her, and as if

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

he had been robbed of his privilege of being the first
to congratulate her, the first who should venture to
speak with her about this crisis in her destiny, even
before the others knew anything about it.

The conversation at table on this occasion was
very animated. Toker's guests, as well as Toker him
self, had detected in the reports of newspapers signs
of threatening political peril, and there was a dis
cussion of the conditions. It was conducted in a
tone of dismay, but not at all in the spirit of the
usual political "Kannegiessereien" — narrow-minded
twaddle: no combinations based on diplomatic-na
tional-strategical-historical premises as to whether, if
X-land should declare war on Z-land, Y-land should
stand by X or Z; whether X or Z would have the
better chances of winning out; in what relationship
the sea-power of the one would stand toward the
air-power of the other ; from what grounds of rivalry
or expansion the conflict had arisen and its outbreak
become unavoidable; what clashing of interests in
lofty spheres and what alterations of boundary lines
were imminent, and other technical absurdities of
the same routine variety. No, here were assembled
the elite among men, who looked down from the
higher pinnacles on the course of the world; who
based their judgment on philosophical criteria and
their will on humane sentiments.

The French senator and the American statesman,
as they sat side by side, had been for five minutes
engaged in a confidential conversation. Then the
Frenchman arose, and tapping on his glass to call the
attention of the Table Round, spoke as follows : —

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

11 1 ask your hearing for a proposal." All came to
silence. With the refined, quiet manner of a diploma
tist he went on : — " My honored friend, sitting next
to me, whose statesmanlike services for the cause
of peace are known to all of you, and I, have just
been talking over an idea which has been suggested
by the political news so unanimously commented
upon in our midst. The war of the future, so long
predicted, stands before our door: not so near that
it may surprise us at any hour, but still near enough
to make us mobilize without delay all the forces that
can be used to ward it off."

"Hear, hear!" cried John Toker, with flashing
eyes.

"There are people who desire this war — espe
cially among the officers and general-staff circles, with
whom such a desire is part of their profession — and
there are people who do not want it. Now the ques
tion is, which of these two groups will have the pre
ponderance? The masses, for the most part, wher
ever there is any thought at all, belong to the second
group, but they are dumb and as yet powerless — I
say as yet powerless, for the day may come, and now
seems not so very far away, when this will no longer
be the case. But to-day the power of decision still
lies in the hands of the few. Among these few some
are for war — some are against it. Here also those
who are against it are already more numerous; but
the others have higher positions and more influ
ence. What we have to do, then, is to weigh down
the scales against the war with the weight of pub
lic opinion and the combined pressure of widely

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renowned and highly respected names. And now
comes our proposition."

He paused to drink a swallow of water. The others
gave eager attention. Helmer also, who had been
till that moment absorbed in his own thoughts, was
now listening attentively: —

"Ladies and gentlemen," continued the senator,
"we possess here — thanks to the genius and the
millions of our host — it is good when these two are
combined — an apparatus for publicity of marvel
ous efficacy. What we say here is sent by wireless
telegraphy circling round the world; it is taken up
by ten thousand rotary presses, is repeated by ten
thousand phonographs, is preserved in all the libra
ries and archives in existence. So much for the
echo. And now for the weight. Let us put aside
false modesty; the Knighthood of the Rose must
be conscious and ought to be conscious of its noble
rank, in order to be forever mindful of the work to
which it is pledged. John Toker summons only his
contemporaries of world-wide reputation ; only those
who through their art, their scientific abilities, their
inventions, their political activities, — particularly
their service in the politics of peace, — have served
all men, and therefore possess universal authority.
Just as in every great country there is the upper ten
thousand of the aristocracy, so we — once more I
say, away with false modesty! — form the world's
half-hundred of talent."

Toker clapped his hands; the others began to do
the same, but the speaker stretched out his arm in
a deprecating gesture and proceeded : —

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"We have here a tribune which is visible from all
the civilized places of the earth ; our voices ring out
as from a gigantic gramophone. So let us raise these
voices in a solemn protest. Let us on the last even
ing, instead of indulging, as usually is prearranged
on such occasions, in rhetorical and artistic perform
ances, — let us attempt an act of rescue. Let us, in
a tone of thunder, call a halt to this disaster! This
disaster is no elementary catastrophe beyond the
power of the human will ; it is an action commanded
by rulers and executed by the nations, and it must
not be commanded and it must not be executed. If
all see clearly how things lie, and if all have the op
portunity to express their will, the ' Halt ! ' sounding
forth from here can swell up into an irresistible nega
tive. The threatening war — we all know what an
insignificant controversy is at the bottom of it —
can be averted either by mediation or by an appeal
to the Court of Arbitration. If this is not done, if
the Fury — a Fury armed with fangs, fins, and jaws,
and now also with wings — is again let loose, then
it will kindle a world-conflagration. We will to-day
give the world a clear demonstration of the case ; we
will put forth an energetic demand for mediation or
arbitration ; we want to raise a strong protest against
an easy or an intentional sufferance of the catas
trophe. In all the centers, where our message pene
trates, opportunity is offered for all the leaders and
all the consenting masses to unite ; and the word ut
tered here may swell up into a plebiscite that will
encompass the earth. Is this your sentiment, Mr.
Toker? — do you agree to this, gentlemen?"

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Toker, who sat opposite the speaker, bent across
and shook both his hands.

" Is that my sentiment! One more mine laid!"

Helmer, as soon as he returned to his room, sat
down to write to Franka. He felt compelled to
speak to her. His heart was full to bursting. Yet
he did not know what he should write her. Only
the necessity was upon him to direct to her another
of his "Brother Chlodwig" letters, after the manner
of those which he had sent to her at several of the
serious crises of her life. He began : —

"Sister Franka" — but hardly had his eyes
rested on the dear name when he was irresistibly
impelled to add, "I worship thee!" Of course, it
was evident to him that he must tear up this sheet
and throw it into the waste-paper basket. But first
he wanted to let his feelings exhaust themselves to
a certain degree in the same vein, and so he wrote
further: — "Yes, I worship thee! Sweet . . . lovely
. . . the only one ! I press thee to my heart and kiss
thee . . . kiss thee ..." (Oh, how this word flamed
on the paper — he wrote it a third time.) ' ' Kiss thee
on thine eyelids, on thy parted lips ! Franka, Franka,
that another man will have a right to do ... it is
horrible! ... I am wretched! . . . How can I en
dure it? Let us not think of it. I kiss thee again,
Franka, my Franka, mine, mine, mine. . . . The
dear lovely name, 'Franka,' in French, 'Franche, '
is n't it? Franchetta, donna idolatrata! Frankie,
my own darling! Dost thou suspect what bliss
thou hast to dispose? Dost thou know also ..."

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This brought him to the end of the page. He did
not turn the sheet over, but tore it up and flung it
into the basket. Then he put another sheet before
him, sat for some time buried in thoughts, and then
began again to write. This was to be the actual
letter which he would send : —

FRANKA GARLETT!

Again you stand at the turning of the ways and it is the
privilege of Brother Chlodwig to bring you a few words
— words of blessing. To-day you have withdrawn your
self apparently in order to think over the crisis that af
fects your heart and your future. I do not have any faith
in that excuse of a headache! So it is forbidden me to
talk with you about the matter: therefore I am writing.
It is, after all, more agreeable for me to do so. If I first
offer you my congratulations, it will be possible for me
to meet you more calmly. For I must confess that I am
deeply stirred. I should not have found the right attitude,
the right words, if I had been obliged to sit by your side
at the luncheon-table, knowing what I know, and appear
calm and at my ease in the presence of all those people,
while inwardly I was more disturbed than ever before in
all my life.

Franka, do you remember? I was the first to give you
the Valkyrie consecration; you received from my hands
the shield and the spear. These weapons have certainly
to-day become a burden to you, and yet you perhaps feel
a reproach from your conscience at the thought of laying
them down. Now I will be helpful to you, and I myself
will put forth my hand to relieve you of them. My noble
Valkyrie, you have gallantly battled and have won the
victory — it is enough ! Be henceforth — and be unregret-
fully — merely a joyous human being, just a happy
woman. A fire-spell flames around you, but there is
nothing fabulous about it — it is only Love. . . .

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By Victor Adolph's side, you will, moreover, be able to
work for the loftiest human ends. For he himself stands
now facing mighty tasks, which he has energetically as
sumed and which you will be able, by your influence, your
advice, your sympathy, greatly to forward. Certainly,
the epoch which is approaching is pregnant with fate —
so much explosive material has been heaped up, and yet
wisdom enough also has been collected to hinder the ex
plosion, enough also to conduct the forces on hand from
destructive to beneficent uses. Your betrothed will help
in this work and you will help him. Is not that a proud
destiny?

But, above all, let it be a beautiful, gladsome destiny!
Smile, be rapturous, live, be crowned with roses.

CHLODWIG.

Helmer folded the sheet and thrust it into an
envelope. One might judge from the contents of
the letter that he did this with a sort of gentle
ceremoniousness ; not at all: he did it grinding his
teeth, with fever-cold hands, with swift-beating
pulses. Then he rang for his man and ordered him
to deliver the letter immediately.

Bruning entered the room simultaneously with
the servant.

"Ah, I am glad to find you in, Helmer; I have
been for a long time anxious to have a sensible chat
with you. "

Helmer did not share this longing; the call
seemed to him highly inopportune; but what else
could he say than "Fine; I'm pleased to see you.
Sit down."

Bruning made himself at home. " You don't look
quite up to concert-pitch, old man? Evidently, you

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

are right glad to have the whole affair over and done
with. I, too, am glad enough that it will be ended
in a couple of days. A good deal has been very
interesting, but the whole effect is so exotic and so
extravagant. You know me — I can't stand hum
bug. What 's your plan? Where are you going from
here?"

"Going back to Berlin. And you?"

" I am going to the Sielenburg. The old Countess
Schollendorf invited me. The Sielenburg really be
longs to Miss Garlett, does n't it? And she has still
other estates? All of it might have been yours long
ago if you had been a bit clever. But you have let
her get snapped away from you : every one has seen
that the German prince is after her. "

Helmer made a gesture of annoyance. "And you
call this a sensible chat?"

"Well, then, let's talk about other things. There
is lots of news. Our famous sportsman yesterday
got a pair of wings fitted to him and fell into the
lake."

"Regenburg? Was he drowned?"

"No, they fished him out. But if I know him, he
will not rest until he has flown round the Stefans-
turm. Ambition is a fine thing and especially when,
by satisfying it, one breaks his own neck and not
otherpeople's . . . as ambitious statesmen are mighty
apt to do. In their case hundreds of thousands are
in danger of their lives. "

"You have in mind the old-fashioned type of
statesmen," said Helmer, shrugging his shoulders.

"Not by a long chalk. ... I had especially in
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

mind our Marchese Rinotti. He will blossom out
only in the future, and he will have nerve and tem
perament enough to mow his way through heca
tombs of victims in perfect sang-froid if it suits his
plans. That belongs to his trade. "

"Times are changing, my dear Franz. . . . Nowa
days, the national helmsmen — whether princes or
ministers — already begin to set their ambition on
being considered the guardians of the peace. "

"In their words and phrases . . . but you are ir
retrievably naif, my good Chlodwig. Whoever is to
be a genuine statesman must lie, must endeavor
to pull the wool over the eyes of the others. He con
tracts friendship with other powers, not in the least
out of good will toward his allies, but to make com
mon head against a third. He secretly stirs up en
mities ; for he may get advantage from possible con
flicts of others in which he himself is not involved.
In order to confirm and strengthen his own power,
he without any scruples drives rough-shod over all
obstacles, such as treaties, conventions, and the
like: in short, he — "

" In short, he is a scoundrel!"

"Call it so. In popular parlance he is a genius.
But don't let us dispute. Your kingdom is in the
clouds. Only I fear you will soon get a bad fall. Do
you happen to be reading the news? Such things
are under way as — "

"Oh, I know perfectly well what is threatening;
but I know also what beckons. I have long given
up discussing with you. It is remarkable how two
men, classmates and comrades in childhood and in

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the early days of youth, can so grow apart in their
views of life. And neither of us is stupid!"

"The difference is this — you are intellectual and
I am prudent. "

"I hate the word 'prudent.' It sounds cold and
harsh: it has no uplift."

"That I grant you, my dear pinion-poet! I am a
sober, matter-of-fact man. As such let me tell you
a couple of incidents from real life. You must know
that the two interesting widows, to whom I intro
duced you lately — that impetuous Countess Sol-
nikova and that gentle Annette Felsen — have been
having a great experience during the last two days.
Romances are brought to a climax here with amaz
ing rapidity . . . perhaps for the reason that we
have here, as it were, only a week's respite. Now
the countess has been making a little flight with
your Polish composer — not a flight in the figura
tive, but in the actual, sense of the word. For you
see they hired a fine aerotaxi and in it flew over the
mountains: the wind drove them into a deserted
region and they had to spend the night in a shed
. . . There is no need of harboring any suspicions
about it. And as regards Annette Felsen she be
came regularly engaged to our Machiavelli yester
day."

"Is that so?" said Helmer, with mild interest.
"Yes, " he added rather to himself, " romances come
to a climax here with great rapidity."

At the very door of his hotel, Prince Victor Adolph
met General Orell, who came to him in great haste.

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"At last, Your Royal Highness," he exclaimed;
and added reproachfully, "You went out without
my escort!"

" I don't want always to trouble you, dear Orell. "

"A telegram has just come for Your Royal
Highness. "

Victor Adolph, surprised, took the dispatch and
tore open the envelope. He was evidently startled.
The dispatch was from his father: — "Your pres
ence here is imperatively needed in a highly impor
tant political emergency, affecting you personally.
Come by next train. "

" If possible we must leave this very day. Please,
General, find what time the trains start and bring
me the information to my room. I will precede
you."

As soon as he reached his room, he threw himself
down into his easy-chair, and read the dispatch a
second time. Evidently it concerned that eventual
ity of the throne . . . then he must obey. Besides,
he would necessarily in any case obey such a per
emptory command of his father and king. Yet how
inconveniently it came. . . . That other great even
tuality — his relations with Franka — was still in
the air — he had not as yet received her answer,
and she knew nothing of the difficulties that had to
be surmounted. To depart now! Truly, too many
complications . . .

General Orell brought the time-table. The next,
being also the last train, left at five o'clock in the
afternoon. It was now one, — time enough for
making preparations and for a farewell call upon

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Franka. He felt he must speak with her. He took
a hasty luncheon with Orell. Then he returned to
his study and put his papers in order. He wrote to
Toker, explaining his sudden departure and prom
ised to keep his task in mind. He also addressed
a few cordial lines to Helmer.

Now the next thing was to go to Franka. What
should he say to her? If she accepted his proposal,

— and he really had no doubt that she would, —
the engagement could not possibly be made public

— certainly not at this time, when the question of
the accession to the throne was still undecided: it
would be the most unsuitable moment to anger his
father. His choice would anger not only his father,
but the whole clique. He was well aware of that.
What a lunatic world ! What a compulsion ! Under
other circumstances, he would have been more than
willing to renounce all the prerogatives of his rank,
in order, without further dissimulation, to follow
the dictates of his heart as a private citizen. But
the question for him did not merely concern an
empty title and the insignificant gratifications con
nected with it ; it was perhaps a question of an actual
position of power in which he could do immeasur
able public service. Even if he did not attain the
crown, it would nevertheless be necessary to retain
his rank and his influence for the furtherance of the
mission entrusted to him by Toker. If he now should
fall out with his family and the people of his own
class, how could he then carry on a propaganda
among them for the objects of the conspiracy? It
was a complicated situation — no single direct

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aim for his duties and desires. But supreme in his
heart, his fancy, his very blood, was still the image
of the lovely Franka, and there was the hot desire
to hold her in his arms.

With quick steps and a mind deeply disturbed,
he covered the short distance back to the Rose-
Palace. He found the door to Franka's apartments
open; the anteroom was empty, and he knocked at
the salon door and entered.

Frau von Rockhaus came to meet him: "Oh,
Your Royal Highness ..."

"May I speak with Fraulein Garlett?"

" Franka is not at home. How sorry she will be — "

"No, no, my dear lady, she must not be denied
to me. ... I must speak with her — it is too im
portant. "

"On my word of honor, she is not in. She went
out a quarter of an hour ago with Miss Toker. She
did not go down to the d6jeuner, and so Miss Toker
came to see what had become of her and persuaded
her to take a drive — the fresh air would do her
good."

"Then I will wait till she returns."

"The two ladies will not be back before five
o'clock. Their intention was to go to a place of re
sort, quite a distance away."

"What was the name of the place? "

" I do not remember the name. "

Victor Adolph suppressed a curse. This was too
unfortunate. So, then, he would have to leave the
town without seeing her again. . . . He begged per
mission to write a few lines for the young lady.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Frau Eleonore conducted him to the writing-table,
and provided him with paper. He began to write,
but his hand trembled so violently that the letters
ran together, and he could not collect his thoughts.
He threw the pen aside, crumpled up the sheet, and
arose: "I prefer to write at home," said he, and
hastily took his departure.

In the quiet of his own room, he managed, after
much consideration and some false beginnings, to
compose the following message : —

GNADIGES FRAULEIN!

As I have not as yet received a consenting answer to
my question, I do not venture to use any more intimate
address. Frau von Rockhaus will tell you that I came to
see you. But she does not know how unhappy it made me
to miss you. A telegram from my father — which I in
close — compels me to leave Lucerne by the five o'clock
train. It is terrible to me not to have had a chance to see
you and talk with you before my departure. I know that
you are to remain in Lucerne for three or four days longer.
I hope sincerely that I can return — unless you forbid me.
In any case, wherever you are, pray let me know the
place where I may get the answer from you that will de
cide my fate.

I still owe it to you to explain my circumstances and
the conditions which these circumstances impose upon
me. This I can do only by word of mouth. But I will
repeat in writing what I said yesterday from an over
flowing heart: I love you and ask you to be my wife!

VICTOR ADOLPH.
Address: Royal Palace .

When Franka had returned from her excursion
with Gwendoline, she found the two letters. She

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read and re-read them, first hastily, then deliber
ately, weighing every word and trying to find be
tween the lines what had gone forth from the hearts
of the senders. From Victor Adolph's — although
the conclusion of it confirmed the greatest proof of
love that a man can give a woman: the offer of his
hand — there seemed to emanate a cool breath ;
from Helmer's, on the other hand, — although in it
he gave her away to another, — came forth some
thing like a warm caress.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A CORNUCOPIA FULL OF GIFTS

THE next to the last evening of this Rose- Week was
at hand. The principal speaker was to be that
young American, as yet unknown to the great ma
jority, to whom Helmer had referred when he said
to the little coterie at the hotel: "I know of things
which are in preparation . . . there is in our midst
an inventor, a conqueror ..."

In the hall great excitement reigned. The pre
liminary exercises, although they were of the highest
artistic excellence, had been listened to with but
half an ear. Only when the American had taken his
place at the reading-desk did the public experience
that piquant satisfaction which one expresses in the
three words: "Now it is coming!"

Franka did not come down until just before the
recess; she took her place in a somewhat remote
and dimly lighted corner. But Helmer caught sight
of her and hastened to her. She was alone. Frau
Eleonore, afflicted with a bad headache, had gone
to bed.

Franka offered Helmer her hand: "Thank you
for your letter, Brother Chlodwig. Sit down with
me." And she made room for him on the small
sofa on which she was seated. "But tell me how
you knew that the prince — "

"He himself told me so."
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"That he was betrothed to me?"

"That he had proposed to you . . . and now he
has been compelled to go away."

"You know that, too?"

"He told me this in a note. This is really sad for
both of you."

"He will be back again."

"Back here? But you were intending to return
to Austria after the Rose- Week ..."

"But he might come to Austria."

"Of course."

Both were silent. Helmer himself did not under
stand how it was possible for him to speak with her
so calmly and not to show any sign of the mighty
feelings that were tormenting him. However, he
had actually become more composed in her presence
— such loftiness and purity radiated from her that
covetous emotions and jealous ideas were banished
from her vicinity. He enveloped her in a gentle, af
fectionate glance. How beautiful she was in her flow
ing white robe with the modest bunch of violets at
her breast, and the proud string of pearls around her
neck ! yes, proud and modest she was, and thus she
adorned herself.

For a time she met his eyes. There lay in them the
same delicate, affectionate caress that she had
detected between the lines of his letter. Then she
broke the silence.

"I like your fraternal letters. Always, when a
fateful hour is striking for me, comes such a letter
and brings me comfort, stimulus, warning, or bless
ing, as it happens. And in such symbolical language:

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

at one time, you hand me shield and spear, and this
time it was myrtle and the bridal veil. Yet you did
not say that ; you carefully avoid such banal figures
of speech!"

"Carefully? No: he who is tormented by fear of
commonplaces can never be true and simple. Tell
me, Franka, also quite truly and simply, how do you
feel in view of this turn in your fate?"

Franka deliberated. Then with a deep breath:
" How do I feel about it? Truly, that is not so simple
to say. Such remarkable experiences have come to
me ... in what I have gone through this week: it
is not merely one, there are ten emotions. Just as
after a convulsion of nature, islands are suddenly
surging up, mountains are toppled over, so has
my earth-surface been transformed. The Garlett
career has been drowned . . . Franka's love-life has
come to the surface."

"Franka's love-life ..." repeated Helmer slowly
and softly.

"But that is not all," continued Franka; "so
much that is new has surged into my spiritual life.
My conception of life has altered, has widened; I
have seen such magnificent, such tremendous things
arise, things still unsuspected by any of us. And in
the measure as my conception of life has grown, the
little Ego has shrivelled up. And what this poor
little Ego can do for the incomprehensible giant
'world' seems so insignificant to it that it recalls
that, after all, it is a part of the universe, a tiny
part endowed with a right to happiness. Every man
has two souls in his breast, which take counsel and

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

struggle with each other, and say: 'I claim my
right.'"

"Yes, I understand. . . . Then the one Franka
does what the other wants, and — a third person is
blessed."

The conversation was interrupted : Baron Malhof
joined them, and so it became three-cornered. And
then the young American began to speak, and all
stopped talking and listened.

His first words were: — "I bring gifts!" — then
he made a brief pause: — "A cornucopia of gifts:
immeasurable riches for you, for all the world!"

Again he paused for a while, and just as he began,
so he continued his discourse in paragraphs sepa
rated by brief pauses, and the paragraphs marked
by concise sentences.

"You who will receive these gifts will not exult
like children around a Christmas tree. Children
receive what they comprehend, what they have been
wanting, what they immediately use. The new
things that I bring will be slow in becoming under
stood : likewise slow in spreading and winning appre
ciation. Many will indifferently push them aside;
many will even resist them. Whatever destroys the
beaten track — the customary habits of thought
and of action — people avoid. A Japanese proverb
says: 'An evil which has lasted two years becomes
a necessity.'

"I bring riches. But our society is schooled to
poverty and want; it is built up on these. Especially
for the rich, their existence seems indispensable.
Performance of the baser necessary functions, stim-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ulus to progress : on this the social usefulness of pov
erty is founded; opportunity for the preaching of
contentment, for the giving of alms, so certain to
bring one to heaven — these advantages of poverty
are becomingly treasured by the rich. When I tell
these rich men that there can be riches for all, this
disturbs their circle, and they reply indignantly:
'Sheer fancy! Utopia! Humbug!' The poor and
wretched are not quite so entranced with the ad
vantages and amenities of poverty which appeal so
forcibly to the well-to-do. And whenever they do
not belong to the great majority of the dully re
signed, they strive to remedy it by planning a new
division of the property extant, or a change in the
economic system.

"You all know what this attempt is called. But
do not be alarmed — I am not going to preach social
ism. Division and control of property belong to
another field. Here I am speaking of the increase of
property : an increase so infinitely great that it leaves
no place at all for want.

"Possibly, by application of common sense and
justice, it might be feasible, even with the materials
in our possession, to banish wretchedness from the
world. Whether the existing unreason and injustice
would not maintain poverty even when superabun
dance were obtained — who knows? Certainly not
for any length of time.

"More than ten years ago, the tidings of Luther
Burbank's miracles in the cultivation of plants was
communicated to the world. This man succeeded
in cultivating, on his lonely California farm, varie-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

ties of vegetables and fruits of a size never before
known, and he managed to rid of its spines a kind of
cactus which grows in the most arid sands of the
desert and so make it edible for man and beast.

"Does not that sound like a dry botanical fact,
interesting only to a few truck-gardeners, but sure
to leave the great mass of the people indifferent?
The world did remain unmoved: a couple of illus
trated articles in family magazines, causing a few
readers to shake their heads dubiously, — ' Straw
berries as big as a child's head, stoneless plums,
spineless cactuses — remarkable ! ' — and then it
was all forgotten.

"Would you not have thought there would be a
cry of jubilation from one end of the world to the
other: 'What — we can compel Nature to new gifts,
we can bring forth provender and food in such quan
tities! We can make the deserts and rocky soil to
provide us with such cheap harvests that the evil
demons, Hunger and Famine, will be banished for
ever from the earth ! ' No, the readers of the family
magazines did not see so far.

"Human art creating species, giant species, — is
that a mere trifle? Are we not on the way to becom
ing gods, when we conquer the mysterious power
from which flows new life in new forms?

"But wait! We are still far distant from that.
Our moral will still stands much below our physical
power. Our colleague, Chlodwig Helmer, has at
tached this reproach to the conquest of the air, and
with equal justice this same reproach can be made
to our conquest of the hidden creative forces of the

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

earth. We master the technical, the mechanical,
the physical — but where remains the uplift and the
depth ? Where remains the exultant comprehension
of the miracle, where the ecstasy?

" Certainly, those inventions are not passing with
out any notice. Professionals have busied them
selves with them. Capitalists have made use of
them ; first in small concerns, then gradually in great
corporations — but always for the advantage of the
exploiters. There are already stretches of the Sa
hara given over to culture of the Opuntia cactus;
there are California vegetable-gardens, raising the
giant cabbage, and a lively export trade is carried
on with it, made very difficult, however, by the cus
toms restrictions hastily imposed: the poor lands
must still be foref ended against overabundance —
they must never be swamped with cheap foreign
products. Divitiae ante portas. . . . An agrarian
' Marseillaise ' will soon be sung with a fiscal rattle
of drums: 'Aux tarifs, citoyensl' "

"Oh, dear!" whispered Malhof, who was a warm
advocate of protectionism; "the man comes out for
free trade. Is that also to be a part of High Think-
ing?"

Helmer nodded: "Certainly. Freedom belongs to
the highest concepts."

"I also prize freedom, especially in love!" said
Malhof ; ' ' but in the domain of political economy — ' '

Franka uttered a warning: "Sh!" She wanted to
hear the address.

The speaker went on to say : —

"A strange error has been holding and still largely
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

holds men in its toils : The belief that the good things
of this world are to be had in a constant and limited
quantity ; he who would have anything must take it
from some one else ; every man can get more only at
the expense of some one else who gets less. And thus,
all practical self-seeking, all ethical altruism, all
political-economical wisdom is confined to the rear
rangement, the redivision, the stealing, and the giv
ing away of the whole existent mass. This error in
its most primitive form engendered the battle for the
fertile soil : every consumer left dead was a gain for
the hungry survivors. At the first beginnings, the
belief that the good things were limited in quantity
was by no means a heresy . . . nothing at all was pro
duced. In later times, however, such an increase in
the general store of wealth has come about that no
one any longer would have needed to starve had
not limited exchange, unjust division, and senseless
waste assured the continuance of poverty! The
worse waste consists in the nations' spending two
thirds of their wealth in making preparations to
annihilate the other third.

"O Stupidity, mighty sovereign, thy empire is
abysmally deep! We know well that the common
possession has greatly increased, but still we say to
ourselves : ' Not enough, not enough ! ' And still we
think that property is a thing which may be looted
and must be defended. And still we believe that any
one can win only in proportion as another loses!

"But now something has been brought forth
amongst us which certainly is as splendid as the con
quest of the air : this which is to be announced now

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

by me — this is the secret concealed in my hand
like a costly present, with which I shall give you a
great surprise."

He took a step nearer to the edge of the platform
and held out his right hand tightly closed toward the
audience. All eyes and all glasses were directed to
him, as if they expected to see some kind of a won
der-bird fly from his fist. His face looked also so
promising, — there was a victorious smile hovering
over his lips. It was a typical American face : smooth-
shaven, with firmly chiseled features of Napoleonic
cast, clear eyes, and glistening teeth. He opened his
hand with a gesture of giving : —

" I bring you the news that we are able to increase
and enlarge our common fund — increase it infinitely
beyond all our needs, beyond all our powers of im
agination. Rejoice, all ye who are here present, and
all ye whom in the outside world my words may
reach, among whom surely there are many poor and
heavy-laden ! Rejoice — we are all winners of the
great prize! Some time will, indeed, elapse before
the prize is paid over, but, all the same, the lucky
numbers are drawn!

"Let me explain: Wealth consists not only in suf
ficient quantities of victuals, — although it would
be a fine result if abundance of that should prevail
in all places, — but it also consists in a thousand
other products of human labor. On the whole,
wealth is the product only of labor, not of money.
Money is merely a conventional medium of exchange,
nothing more. Its value is regulated by the abun
dance or the scarcity of what is on hand. Where there

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

is no production, and therefore nothing on hand,
then even the heaviest gold-piece has no value. With
out labor nothing is produced; even the planting
and the harvesting and the use of the spineless
cactus demand the power of labor; and how much
more of it is needed for the creation of a thousand
things which beautify and alleviate the lives of the
rich — buildings, works of art, means of intercourse,
materials, implements, machinery. To have an
abundance of all these things, what quantities of
work — hence of working-power — is needed ! Do
we possess a sufficiency of that?

"Now, then," — again he extended his arm and
opened his hand as if he were flinging something
into the hall, — "now, then, here is another gift:
the message of an increase of the universal treasure
of working power — an increase beyond all neces
sities, beyond all our flights of imagination. What
we need is a pitcher full, and what will be at our
disposal is an ocean !

"This is not the place or the hour to make physi
cal demonstrations in order to prove what I say.
You must take my word for it. In a pamphlet, pre
pared for the occasion and containing all the prac
tical details, you will find the clear technical and
mathematical proofs. A copy of this pamphlet will
be handed to each one present. Here and now I will
only bring the fact to your knowledge that of late
a new series of discoveries and inventions have been
made. I will tell you of these and of the results which
are expected to flow from them. Of some of them
I myself have been the fortunate originator, others

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

proceed from others. I shall mention no names, but
merely explain the things themselves: — no, not
explain, — bring them before you."

The speaker made a long pause during which the
pamphlet, printed in three languages, was distrib
uted. A loud buzz of remarks exchanged, mingled
with the rustle of turning leaves, arose. The excite
ment had been growing more intense from the be
ginning; there was a general expectation of some
thing solemn, revolutionary, joy-conferring.

This word "general" can scarcely be said to in
clude the dyed-in-the-wool conservatives, who were
present in no small numbers; to such people new
inventions are a torment — they antagonize and be
little them as much as possible; they are rilled with
distrust and depreciation in the presence of innova
tions — the new jolts ; the new is dangerous. Not as
yet perished from the face of the earth is the race of
those who opposed the introduction of the railway
on the ground that the trade between Grossme-
seritsch and Jungbunzlau might suffer!

"Now what is he going to bring us — you prob
ably know, Herr Helmer."

Chlodwig stared up as from a dream. "What?
who?" He had not taken the drift of Baron Mal-
hof's question; moreover, he had barely heard that
man yonder on the platform, so deeply had he been
absorbed all the time in studying Franka's face and
his own feelings. He, who had before been so pas
sionately interested in the events of the world, he
who in other circumstances would have listened
with the keenest interest to the stimulating words

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

of the young American, was now so completely un
der the spell of the two passions — jealousy and love
— that everything else sank into a dim mist. Franka
also was only partially attentive to what was going
on. To be sure, she had listened to the conclusions
of the lecturer, but in the background of her thoughts
she was ceaselessly engaged with the questions of
her destiny now so imperatively facing her, and the
more the man on the platform spoke of the treasures
of happiness beckoning to human society, the more
insistent within her grew the demand that she her
self should drain happiness in long draughts, and
bestow happiness in lavish generosity, united to the
man she loved. . . .

Again the young inventor took up his theme : —

"Radium has been known since the year 1900.
Its marvelous properties were gradually discovered.
The possibility that this element which, from its
rarity, at first cost a hundred dollars a milligram,
might be obtained in large quantities, dates from
yesterday. This furnishes us with a source of power
beyond comprehension. A profusion of force has
been placed at our disposal so that all efficacy of
work can be multiplied a hundred fold, a thousand
fold, a hundred thousand fold.

"No figure need alarm us any more when we ex
perience what molecular forces exist in this radiant
matter. Every molecule has minute particles, atoms ;
the atoms of radium are thrown out with the rapid
ity of twenty thousand miles a second. Can you pic
ture to yourself the weight of the impact?

" Not only can we procure this in masses — this
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

fabulous element — but we can compress it. The
radium condenser has been invented. It will be mere
child's play to annihilate in a few minutes hostile
fleets and armies, to destroy hostile cities by means
of packages of radium-beams sent down from
cloudy altitudes. Reciprocally, forty-eight hours
after the so-called 'opening of hostilities* both war
ring parties might vanquish each the other and
leave in the enemy's land not a building and not
a living thing."

The speaker paused and looked around. Then he
apostrophized his auditors: —

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are certainly aston
ished that I here announce a present of the good
things of this world and thereupon spread before
you such a vision of horrors. Merciful Heaven! I do
not say that these things are to be, but that you can
do them if you desire. It remains within your choice
and your will to make use of destructive possibili
ties or not. Power and force, a force approaching
almightiness — is that not a wonderful possession?
It would not be an almighty power if it had not also
the capacity of working the utmost iniquity and the
limit of imbecility. If I could have presented you
with Aladdin's lamp whose slaves carry out every
command, these slaves would infallibly murder you
if that command were given them. But I take it
for granted that you would utter quite different
wishes.

"Aye, the obedient Genii of the radium-lamp, the
fluorescing electrons, can annihilate, destroy, and
exterminate ; but at our bidding they will annihilate

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

bacteria, destroy the germs of disease, put an end
to the weakness of old age — but they are not going
to annihilate cities and useful lives. For the very
reason that they are capable of carrying out to its
ultimate absurdity the aims of war, their annihilat
ing powers are not going to have as their offering
the crumbling into ruins of human society, but the
shattering of the idol, Mars.

" I have not come to the end of my gifts: The lat
est inventions include the wireless transmission of
the electric current; and this: the electrical fertiliza
tion of the soil ; and this : the direct transformation
of the heat of the sun into mechanical energy. We
have the sun-motor. Have you a suspicion of what
that signifies? The primeval source of all life, the
storehouse of all power, the hot sun-ray captured in
our pocket apparatus !

"Even now, I have not done with my gifts. This
time it is only a few trifles, just as on the Christmas
tree next some precious jewel hangs a little bag of
chocolate bonbons. We are now able to fly through
the air almost as do birds. One of my fellow-country
men has invented a contrivance — he calls it the
4 Nautilus ' — in which we can glide through the
water like a fish without the slightest exertion, with
torpedo-like swiftness. Provided with the Nautilus
one can go from Calais to Dover in a quarter of an
hour. This has the advantage over travel through
the air: one cannot fall into the water!

"Then — one more bonbon — a dynamic marvel
of an apparatus — the inventor has given it the
name of ' Talmi Athlete.' With this, bound around

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

the wrist, the weakest man can lift and carry the
heaviest burden.

"Still another bonbon! The ear-spectacles: a
little instrument with which the deaf can hear as
well as the nearsighted can see with glasses of high
power.

"And still another and marvelously sweet bon
bon — the inventor has called it a ' Paradise Air-
Bath': a cabinet is filled with an artificially com
pounded atmosphere: ozone, compressed resinous
air, tempered electrical waves, pungent carbonic
acid, and a hitherto unknown material. Whoever
enters this cabinet is permeated by that physical,
causeless feeling of happiness such as the mountain-
climber experiences on the top of the Alps, the child
at play, the young person dancing: quickened pulses,
heightened heart-action, expanded lungs — in short,
intense joy of life.

" But to return to the mighty powers we have con
quered. The question of first importance is not the
creating of new possibilities of enjoyment, — the
well-to-do already have a sufficiency of such things,
— but rather the abolition of misery : the physical
moral atmosphere of the rich would also be purified
by this, since at the present time deleterious vapors
of crime and illness mount up into it from the caves
of poverty. We have penetrated into the bowels of
the earth and have brought to light whole cargoes
of radium. We have constructed the condenser, and
now we have in our hands the mysterious and al
most unlimited creative power which decides death '*
and life. — Everything on which the death-dealing

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ray is directed, is irrevocably lost — whether it be
a colony of microbes or a whole province. We can
accomplish death by wholesale; we can strengthen
the development of life. Radium can hasten the
growth of plants threefold and make them thrice as
large; it can also retard growth. According to the
way it is applied, the wonder-element is the awak-
ener of life-energy, or cripples it. We shall be en
abled by means of it to lengthen the span of human
life ; we shall be able — but now I will desist. The
line of consequences which follow a newly accom
plished advance is inconceivable. The gold ingot
lies before you — now go hence and coin it!"

CHAPTER XXIX

FRANKA DECIDES HER FATE

THE next morning, Helmer had arranged to be at
Franka's at half-past eleven. After the American's
address, she had retired, and in bidding him good
night, she had asked Helmer to come to see her the
following morning. It was to be the last day of the
Rose -Week, and she desired to consult with him
about the journey and other plans for the immedi
ate future. She had long been accustomed to ask
Brother Chlodwig's advice at the crucial moments
of her life.

About nine o'clock in the morning, Helmer left
the house to take his last walk to his favorite spot.
He looked forward not without anxiety to the pro
mised call upon Franka. The self-control which it
cost him in repressing the ebullition of his feelings
would be put to a severe test once more. For the
moment, it impelled him to seek that forest quietude
where he had already spent so many dreamy hours
with Franka's image before his eyes .... But then
she was, if not his Franka, at least not as yet an
other's.

It was a clear summer day; but in the forest,
shady and cool ; especially in that place where Helmer
was accustomed to retire, the impression of fresh
ness was intensified by the murmuring brook and by
a spring which burst forth from a mossy rock and

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ran foaming and bubbling down in a series of little
waterfalls. Through the lofty, thick tree-tops the
sun's rays could scarcely make their way, but here
and there gleams of light fell golden along the tree-
boles, making circlets on the ground and kindling
sparks in the pellucid waters of the brook and the
spring. Helmer selected a spot at the edge of a little
wood-encircled meadow, abounding in flowers and
tall grasses, and sat down at the foot of a lofty oak
tree. For a time he let his thoughts run on and
drank in the sweetness of the peaceful forest. Then
he took out his notebook. He felt the impulse to
write a few verses which might perpetuate the mood
which this modest idyl had produced in his mind —
a mood of calm enjoyment of nature, commingled
with the sorrow of love's renunciation.

But before he had written a line, he looked down
the path by which he had come and saw a figure,
clad in white, approaching. Was it possible? He
sprang up and hastened to meet her.

"Franka!"

Yes, it was she. Chance had not brought her to
that spot. She also had felt the call of the forest,
and she had seen Helmer a hundred paces ahead of
her slowly strolling along. "Let him be my guide, "
she had said to herself, and followed him, not di
minishing the distance between them. Now he
reached his goal ; she saw him sit down in the grass
and prepare to write; by this time, however, she
had caught up with him, and now they were face
to face. She stretched out her hand in greeting.

"How fine that we should meet here! We can
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

have our little consultation now. It is far more
lovely than in the house."

Chlodwig controlled his inward emotion and
offered her his arm: " Shall we not walk a little
farther? I will take you to a place where we can
get a wonderfully fine view."

" No, no; let us stay here; you have chosen a per
fectly beautiful spot. You sit down where you were,
under that tree, and I will find a place near. ... I
just love to sit in the grass."

He required no second bidding and led her to the
oak. There he installed her where he had been, so
that she could lean her back against the tree, and
he threw himself down at full length at her feet.
Supporting himself on his elbow he leaned his chin
on his hand and gazed up at her.

She was dressed wholly in white: also the shoes
on her little feet peeping out from under her skirt
were white. She took off her hat. As she had be
come somewhat heated by the walk her cheeks and
lips glowed and she looked remarkably young. Her
eyes rested on Chlodwig's face. How could she have
ever regarded him as ugly? An expression of sorrow
trembling about his lips gave his features a noble
pathos ; and a gentle affectionateness was expressed
in his eyes — certainly the reflection of his chief char
acteristic — goodness. He also had taken off his hat :
she now noticed, for the first time, how very thick
and wavy was the short-cropped hair on his head.

He was the first to speak: "Well, what now? Is
this to be our parting hour ? Are our ways to sepa
rate now, forever?"

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"Separate! ... for always? . . . Certainly not.
. . . Helmer, answer me one question. Until now,
you have always talked with me about myself,
never about your own life, about your 'endeavors
and wishes. If I did not know you from your
1 Schwingen, ' I should scarcely have had a glimpse
into your soul. "

"What do you want to ask, Franka?"

" It is not a very discreet question, but I want to
know one thing. . . . Are you . . . have you a ...
have you any ties, that bind you?"

"You mean a betrothed, a sweetheart? No, I
am free from such ties."

"Then you are heart-free?"

"Did I say that? For God's sake, let us talk
about you again — not about me. The question
now concerns your fate, your future — "

Franka nodded thoughtfully. ".Yes, that is the
question."

"Then let us talk about it. Shall you remain in
Lucerne? Shall you wait here for the return of the
prince, or shall you go back to Austria, and is he to
come and find you there? That would seem more
fitting. "

"Would seem more fitting ..." repeated Franka
in a low tone, abstractedly. It was as if she were
thinking of something else and repeated mechani
cally what had been said, only in order to say some
thing.

"Shall you go to one of your estates?" continued
Helmer. "The chateau on your Moravian property,
for example, would make a fine setting."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"A setting for what scene? Would you like to
come to my Moravian property, too, Helmer?"

He shook his head vigorously. Franka pro
ceeded : —

"In the forest skirting the garden, you would
find places similar to this: there also flows a brook;
there also springs gush out of the moss-covered
stones."

She pulled off her glove and laid her slender white
hand on Chlod wig's shoulder: "Will you go with
me to my Moravian chateau?"

He shrank under the touch. "I? I should not
dare to; I could not."

"Why not?" And she increased the pressure on
his shoulder.

There was no help for it — the impulse was
stronger than he. He seized the dear hand and
kissed it passionately on the palm which he pressed
to his face. Then he sprang to his feet and leaned
against the tree under which Franka was sitting.
He looked down upon her as she had just before
looked down on him. Her features betrayed no
sign of anger — on the contrary, they were bright
ened by a gentle smile.

"You ask why I cannot come, why I dare not —
very well, I will tell you. I wanted to hide it from
you forever, but now you must know it — I love
you, Franka! I have always loved you from the
first hour. But always you have been and are the
unattainable, the unapproachable! Even if the high
destiny to win you had fallen to no one else, I should
never have dared raise my desires to your starry

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distance. ... I knew you would sometime be an
other's, and when such a brilliant and worthy suitor
drew near you, I almost made it easier for him. But
now, when Fate has actually brought to you what
I had dreamed might be yours, I am the prey of
wild jealousy. ... If you knew what I have suffered
during the past days ... I shall fight it down, I
shall certainly conquer it, but I must avoid your
presence and I dare not be the witness of his happy
love : — that would drive me mad ! Since this adora
tion which I have kept for years like a religion, so
to speak, has been goaded by jealousy, such a fire,
such a fierce, agonizing craving has taken its place.
. . . Oh, I am confessing too much. . . . Why do you
let me speak so, Franka? — Why do you look at
me with that strange smile? . . . Am I ridiculous?
. . . That must not be ! My love is not a funny thing.
... It comes to me as too great, too sacred ! When
we shall be separated, and when years pass, it may
change — and I hope it will — into warm friend
ship again. Then you can summon me ... to your
royal court. ... I shall keep my courage. ... I am
no sentimental boy who goes to destruction or com
mits suicide because of disappointment in love. I
have my art and great tasks still beckon to it, and
I still have a mission to fulfill. . . . But now, now,
Franka, I am profoundly unhappy. . . . What self-
control I have to exercise, not to seize you and for
once, only once, hold you close in my arms, only
once press my lips ..."

Franka stood up. Chlodwig raised his hands im
ploringly: —

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"No, do not hasten away; be assured. ... I know
what is due to you. Never must you think of
Brother Chlodwig with regret or anger. "

But Franka had no thought of escaping. With
the enigmatical smile still on her lips, she came quite
close to him, flung both arms around his neck, and
with a little cry hid her face on his heart. Some
thing like an electric shock went through him. He
pressed her to his heart: —

" Franka, thou only one, thou great-hearted, thou
generous ..." he stammered.

It seemed to him that this was a gift which she
was offering him in token of farewell — the indel
ible remembrance of a blissful moment. As he held
her there in his arms, a cuckoo's note sounded in
the distance. Franka raised her head as if to listen ;
then her lover's lips found hers.

Twelve times the cuckoo called; when he ceased,
Franka released herself. She sank down into her
former place in the grass, and with a gesture in
vited Helmer to sit by her side.

"Now let us talk, Chlodwig," she said; "now let
us make plans for the future!" And she snuggled
up close to his shoulder. "Now all doubts are
solved : now the world belongs to us — this beauti
ful, splendid world! ..."

He grew dizzy. "Franka, how am I to under
stand this?"

" How? " She laid her hand in his — "That I am
thine forever."

" Franka — is it possible? The Unattainable, the
Unapproachable will be my own, my wife?"

421

"Aye, that she will. "

"And the prince?"

" I had not accepted his hand. I shall write him
a line to-day: — ' My heart is not free ' ! "

"Because it belongs to me?"

"Yes, to you, Chlodwig!"

" I cannot realize the joy of it !"

He wanted to kiss her again, but she evaded it:
"Only when the cuckoo calls," she said, laughing.
" Now we must make our plans. "

"Will you not regret it? Will not Victor Adolph
be in despair?"

"I think not. It will more likely be a relief to
him; for the sacrifice, the hindrances ... all that
sort of thing has been a burden to him, and hurt
my pride. I want the gift of myself to . . . "

"Insure absolute happiness, celestial bliss," in
terrupted Helmer, completing her sentence; "to
make the man who receives this gift feel like a king
and be a Croesus ..."

"And do you feel all that, Chlodwig?"

"That and more besides than I can tell. You
must know that speech has no satisfactory expres
sion, for our highest emotions — poets do their best
to compass it, and therefore they strive by means
of rhyme and rhythm to give pinions to speech —
but it is all in vain. "

"Still I am going to try," said Franka, "to de
scribe how I feel: without rhythm and without
rhyme, perhaps not even very coherently; but you
will certainly understand me. It belongs to my
treasure of happiness, this knowledge, that you

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understand and always will understand what I feel
in the deepest depths of my soul. And I understand
thee, my poet, my teacher, my beloved. So then,
listen, thou who art wont to speak in figures; with
two little pictures I can give the whole enigma of my
happiness: a haven and a chest. The haven is — "

The explanation was interrupted: for once more
and this time much nearer the cuckoo began to
call. At the same instant Helmer's kiss was glow
ing on her mouth. After the third note, the cuckoo
ceased. Franka released herself, but the complaisant
bird began again, and when he ceased the second
time, Helmer permitted his tremulous but willing
prisoner to escape from his arms.

"You see, Love has far more intelligible means of
expression than words ; but now go on with what you
were going to say: the haven is — "

Franka drew a tremulous sigh and passed her
hand over her forehead. "Yes, I know — the haven
is the sweet security of being protected. — What
ever may come — I am safe!"

"And the chest?"

"Oh, yes, the chest? — that is as yet firmly
locked . . . but I have got the key. Treasures are
in it, that I am sure of — bills of exchange, letters
of credit on the great bank of the future. We two
united ! . . . Just think of all that we can draw upon
it for all the great and little joys of life even till old
age! We who are so congenial, traveling together,
working together, furnishing a home together ..."

"A home which will perhaps embrace more than
two!" suggested Helmer.

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"... Living together — the joys and the sorrows
that when transformed into recollections we can
store away in the chest. But as yet I have not
opened it. Further treasures are hidden there —
I do not as yet know them . . . glowing red rubies
which I have never adorned myself with. Yet, quite
lately, an inkling of it has been disclosed to me by
one..."

"One? Who?" demanded Helmer, with new-
awakened jealousy.

"Who?" She smiled. Then, deliberately and in
a whisper: "The cuckoo."

"Oh, thou — " And the answer was just as if the
bird had again uttered his enticing call. Through
the tree-tops sighed a gentle breeze which, laden
with the perfume of spicy herbs and ripe straw
berries, fanned and cooled the glowing cheeks of the
lovers.

"Now, then," exclaimed Franka, after she had
again freed herself, "let us make our plans."

"But first let me say something. . . . Also in
figures — you know my weakness — and if at this
moment the pictures did not rise up before me ..."

"Then you would be no poet! But why invent
at a moment when reality is so super-earthly?"

"Super-earthly certainly, but not super-cosmic.
Whoever feels and makes any one feel so happy, so
superhuman, works in the service of a cosmic fac
tory. There a magnificent material is woven from
star to star, from eternity to eternity out of fine
glittering threads. These threads are called ecsta
sies, pleasures, joys, the very greatest and likewise

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

the very tiniest joys. Every living thing experienc
ing this serves as a shuttle for this loom."

"And what becomes of the material, oh, my
metaphorical poet?"

"God makes his royal mantle out of it."

' ' Lovely ! ' ' exclaimed Franka. ' ' Still, ' ' she added,
shaking her head gently; "you employ very old ma
terial for hewing your images : God as king — in that
figure I do not recognize my bold modern thinker."

"Solid material is required for hewing images.
The new thoughts are for the most part as yet lack
ing in consistency, gaseous, so to speak ; one cannot
make any images out of them. But, dearest, let us
not talk any more about generalities now, when we
are breathing in the midst of such concrete beauty
touching us both ; at this moment when everything
lying outside of ' thee and me ' sinks into nothingness.
For heaven's sake, let us not indulge in subtleties
and let us not be deep! We have the right to lose
ourselves in the regions of the higher folly ! We have
the still higher right to be — silent!"

"I will not be silent," cried Franka. "I must
shout it out that I am happy, happy, happy!" And
in saying this she flung her arms up into the air. "Oh
how many times have I heard that word, read it,
spoken it, and — to-day, for the first time, I know
what it means."

Approaching voices and steps were heard. Their
moment of blessed solitude was past.

Franka hastily snatched up her hat from the
ground. "Come, let us go before these odious per
sons find us here."

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

" May the cuckoo fly off with them ! " cried Helmer
in vexation.

"But, Chlodwig," exclaimed Franka reproach
fully, "how can you put such a burden on our be
loved bird?"

"You are right! Holy cuckoo, forgive me!"

" Now, you know, holiness is not the right term for
him. I have heard many things to his prejudice . . .
he is said to have no family sentiment ..."

"Oh, there, he does not need Philistine virtues.
He is a kind of forest magician and consequently
superior to civil morals."

"Just as a poet laureate is superior to provincial
rulers?"

Thus laughing and jesting, they walked for a while
side by side ; but once their eyes met, and a sudden
earnestness spread over their features ; on their .si
lent lips trembled something akin to pain; they
had simultaneously discovered that between them
hovered something like the spirit of consecration,
awe-inspiring, something like an emanation from the
mystical source of being : — Love ! — something un
der whose breath jests and laughter seem as inap
propriate as under the breath of that other solemn
mystery — Death. What they had seen in each
other's eyes permeated them with a thrill of devo
tion, and they walked for a long distance in silence;
yet by their arms they still exchanged the pressure
significant of affection.

Only when their path turned into a frequented
place in Lucerne was this magic mood dispelled.
They came to an aeroplane-hangar.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

Franka paused : —

"Chlodwig, grant me one wish — let us take a
little air-trip together. I have never been in an
aeroplane and I should like to make my first ascent
with you; and to-day especially . . . this very mo
ment. ... I feel a great thirst for the heights, don't
you?"

"I? No. My most burning thirst you have — I
mean the cuckoo has — quenched ! But if it would
give you a pleasure — I am ready for it. Let us
fly!"

He made the arrangements with one of the pilots,
and a few moments later the machine was speeding
up with its passengers into the air. Franka at that
moment experienced a powerful shock rather psy
chical then physical. Set free from the ground,
hovering free, with reasonable velocity their aero
plane swept up at a height of about ten metres. It
was a quite peculiar new sensation. Suddenly, how
ever, the machine began to mount and mount; not
perpendicularly, but still preserving its forward
motion, until it had reached a height of some hun
dred metres. Franka could not repress a cry. She
had the impression that the aeroplane remained still
while everything else was sinking down. Into what
depths fell the earth ! Ever wider became the view
of the country gliding away beneath them, and ever
tinier little points — now trees, houses, like toys;
men, like ants — juggled together on it.

Still higher went their flight. The mountains
shrunk into flatness and finally everything seemed to
be a plain with black streaks — the forests ; a white

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

pool — the lake; and winding ribbons — the roads.
And as Franka was not far-sighted, the whole pic
ture swam in her vision into an empty gray plain.
She recalled her dream and that terrifying feeling
of being alone in space. But in sooth, she was not
alone: her beloved was by her side.

"Put your arm around me," she besought him.
And as soon as that firm strong support went
obliquely down from her shoulder embracing her
waist, it seemed to her exactly as in that dream —
the blessed sense of security that one is held and
protected . . . only this time with the difference, that
she now knew who that one was, and she thanked
Heaven that it was this one and not the other. She
closed her eyes and bent her head back. She looked
so pale that Chlodwig was alarmed, and bade the
pilot to glide down and land them. Then Franka
opened her eyes : —

"No, no, not yet — it is splendid!"

Her panic had vanished, and the peculiar fascinat
ing intoxication of the flight through the upper air
had seized her. "Do not land yet! Tell him to go
in a wave-motion — up, down, up — down so that
I may feel the sensation of flying, that I may know
that we are flying."

"Aren't you frightened, my love, — you are so
pale—"

"No, not afraid — only this new experience is so
surprising, so overpowering — it is the fulfillment of
a dream. Is n't it delightful?"

"Oh, yes, the human race might, indeed, be proud
of the heights which it has attained, if at the same

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

time it had not remained so abject! Yet have pa
tience — our watchword still is — ' Excelsior!"

After another quarter of an hour, in which they
had their heart's content of mounting and descend
ing, of gliding and curving, the pilot directed his
aerial car to the landing-place and the two happy
passengers dismounted.

They proceeded to the Rose-Palace on foot. Frau
Eleonore came to meet them, as they walked along
the terrace.

"At last!" she exclaimed; " I was beginning to be
concerned about you — lest something had hap
pened, Franka."

"I can't deny that something has happened to
me!"

"In Heaven's name, what?"

"You will find out soon enough. Let us go up!"

She relinquished Helmer's arm and took Frau
Eleonore's instead. "Good-bye for now, Chlodwig;
we shall meet at luncheon. I am going to write Prince
Victor Adolph now. Come, Eleonore!" And she
pulled her companion toward the entrance.

Helmer bowed and went off in another direction.

As soon as she reached her salon, Franka threw
her hat and parasol down and with a long, long
breath sank into an easy-chair.

Frau Eleonore took her place facing her.

" Dear Franka, forgive me, but " — she was at a
loss for the right words — "I know you do not like
me to be preaching . . . but don't you think that
such walks with Herr Helmer. ... As far as I am
concerned, it is nothing ... I know what an old

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

harmless friendship means . . . but don't you think
that perhaps the prince. . ."

"Oh, thank you for reminding me of the prince —
I must write to him. Has any telegram come for
me?"

"No, but here is a letter from the Sielenburg."

Franka took the letter and tore open the enve
lope. "From Tante Albertine ... I can't make out
the wriggly handwriting very well. Please read the
letter for me, Eleonore, will you?"

"Willingly. But what I said just now . . . you
are not vexed with me, are you?"

"Really, I did not notice what you said . . ."

"You seem very much disturbed. You have not
told me as yet what happened to you."

"Later, later — please read the letter first. Let
us see what the good auntie has to say."

Frau Eleonore read : —

MY DEAR CHILD!

I have only just returned to the dear old Sielenburg,
but I sit down to write you a few lines to tell you that we
made the journey without mishap. Dear Adele is very
much done up, to be sure, and quite cross; the trip did
not gratify her at all. I, too, am much pleased to be at
home again. Here we get so much of what we missed
while away; for instance, respectful treatment by people.
Here we are addressed with proper terms once again:
"Kiss your hand," or, "Saving your grace" — that to
Adele — or, "at your command," while the Swiss are so
unmannerly; they called us "Madam," and on the train
one conductor spoke to me as "a woman"! It was, in
deed, out of politeness; he pushed a passenger to one side,
saying, "Let the woman pass." I wanted to tell him that

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I was nothing of the sort, but one can't enter into conver
sation with such clowns.

We had to stay another day after our "P.P.C." call on
you — Coriolan got the wrong tickets, and so we heard
Helmer after all. It was so strange to see Uncle Eduard's
former secretary up there among the celebrities. He was
so quiet at the Sielenburg, as if he could not count up to
five. I could not make out what he said — it was all such
a medley — exaggerated. He was always eccentric. He
even presumed to cast his eyes on you. Who knows how
it would have ended if I had not — for your advantage,
you must know — upset his calculations and informed
Uncle Eduard in good time. I am proud of that even to
day. Take care that he does not try his little game again ;
it might injure you with the prince.

Frau Eleonore stopped her reading — "I agree
with Fraulein Albertine about that."

Franka shrugged her shoulders with annoyance:
— "You must not be proud of that."

Frau Eleonore went on with the letter: —

You ought to hear Cousin Coriolan's opinion of Hel
mer — for he has a correct judgment and is a gentleman
through and through. He was not at all enthusiastic over
our stay at Lucerne; he declares he will never again be
induced to take such an exotic journey. Really, I had a
pretty good time; it was such a complete change; but I
shall doubly enjoy the quiet here. What pleased me most
in Lucerne was the conquest you made. Be very wise . . .

" Is there any more of that?" interrupted Franka.

"Four pages more."

"Then we will leave it until by and by: Now I
am going to write to the prince. . . . Eleonore, on
the whole, I prefer to tell you now: I am betrothed."

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"Oh, you are?" exclaimed Frau Eleonore, her
face radiant with joy. "And why did you delay
telling me till now? What good fortune! Only it is
a shame that he had to go away."

"My dear friend! You are under a wrong im
pression. Victor Adolph is not my betrothed . . . '

" Not the prince!" Her eyes grew gloomy, "Who
then?"

"It is not very hard to guess."

It certainly was not difficult, and Frau Eleonore
was well aware who the fortunate suitor was. In
spite of the disappointment which it brought her,
she was too clever, and also too well disposed to
Franka to betray any dissatisfaction. To be sure,
her dream of having the position of a lady-in-waiting
at court was dispelled, but she concealed her dis
appointment: — "Chlodwig Helmer — is it, then?"
she said. "Well, if you love him, Franka, I wish
you joy with all my heart."

"Yes, I love him."

Half an hour later, the two ladies went down to
the Toker luncheon. Franka had in the mean time
written the letter to Victor Adolph : — a perfectly
candid confession that she had already given her
heart to another man, and, moreover, her assurance
that she perfectly well realized what obstacles would
have been put in the way of his life-work and his
lofty position if she had accepted his impulsive and
far too unpremeditated offer.

Helmer came forward to meet Franka as she en
tered the dining-room. The separation which had

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lasted at the most about an hour seemed to them
both frightfully long, and the joy of seeing each other
again accelerated the beating of their hearts. They
sat at table side by side as usual. After the last
course, Helmer asked Franka whether they should
keep their happiness to themselves for a while, or
communicate the news to the Brotherhood of the
Rose. "Oh, let them know about it! I should like
to have it shouted over the housetops!"

Helmer stood up and tapped on his glass.

' ' Hear, hear ! ' ' cried Toker. "In spite of the regu
lation forbidding formal toasts at this table, our
poet of the pinions seems desirous to offer some one's
health. Well, to-day is our last meeting — give your
eloquence full rein, Mr. Helmer."

"I do not intend to make a speech. What you
are going to hear from me, Mr. Toker and Miss
Toker, and all of you, brethren and sisters under the
token of the Rose, is merely a bit of family news. I
have the feeling that we all, during this delectable
week, have become a sort of happy family, and there
fore I hope for your interest when I tell you that
this morning Franka Garlett and I were betrothed."

Gwendoline rushed to Franka and gave her a tu
multuous embrace. After the confusion of the uni
versal congratulations had somewhat subsided, Toker
tapped three times on the table with the handle of
his knife in order to obtain a hearing : —

"Under such extraordinary circumstances it is
not only permitted, but it is obligatory upon us to
offer a toast. Let us greet it as a good omen that
in our serious community, gathered to enlarge the

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general realm of High Thinking and thence of human
welfare, two such noble hearts have joined to win
personal happiness by their love. Let us greet this
as an omen for the development of the coming race :
if the custom obtain that the champions of the most
brilliant ideas, the possessors of the greatest talents,
in a word, the most splendid specimens of the human
race, come together as here, and fall in love, as our
highly honored new couple have done, and if they, as
we hope even for this same bridal pair, increase and
multiply, then, after a few more generations, even
more fortunate results of careful breeding will be
seen than our friend Luther Burbank has obtained
with his gigantic cabbages. Therefore, proceed,
Chlodwig and Franka, and found a home. That is,
after all, the most beautiful and most satisfying
happiness to be found on earth — however far and
high our thoughts may soar and our exploits may be
carried, let us provide a warm, safe place of calm
ness and of love to which we are all entitled.

"We men have in these days imitated the most
magnificent prerogative of the birds — the art of
flight. But let us never forget that other example
which these masters of heights and distances give
us — the nest!"

FINALE

ON this final evening of the Rose- Festival, all the
guests were assembled on the platform, the host in
their midst. It had been determined that on this
last evening there should be no long addresses by
individual speakers, but that all the members of the
Rose Order, whether their voices had been heard
during any of the sessions or not, should make brief
speeches to the audience: speeches in which, if pos
sible, by a few short sentences, each individual
should declare what was his loftiest aim in life and
what he would most of all wish to have carried away
as a message to his fellow-men from that far-sound
ing tribune. John Toker announced his programme
to the public and added : —

"We regard this last evening of ours as a special
opportunity for us to communicate with the outside
world and to grasp in compact form the things that
have been revealed to us during this Rose-Week.

"I will use this opportunity to comment on what
we heard yesterday from the mouth of my young
fellow-countryman. He spread out before us a whole
cargo of precious gifts ; he handed us a gigantic ingot
of gold and said: 'Go hence and coin it.'

"Now the question arises: 'How?' Above all, a
new valuation is required for the new coins which
are to be minted. The whole system, the whole prin
ciple on which the social life of the present time is

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built up, must be invalidated so as to give place to
another system, another principle. Economical and
political intercourse of men with one another at the
present time still rest on robbery, imposture, fraud,
distrust, unscrupulous extermination of competitors,
and all this supported by the spirit of envy, which
runs through the whole gamut from ill will to hatred.
And do you know what we need in order to coin the
new currency? — the spirit of good will. And that
is certain to come. It will not create the new social
intercourse, but it will grow out of the soil of the
changed circumstances, as ill will flourishes in the
morass of to-day.

"Inestimable is what has been given to mankind
by the unlimited control of the powers of nature,
creating wealth and labor ; all the forces which may
be spent in doing mutual harm, in mutual attack
and defense, in deceiving, in betraying, in robbing,
in destroying one another — all these forces are
now to be free for the common task of coining that
ingot of gold into current coin.

" It will be no small trouble, no brief work, to re
organize the world on this quite changed principle.
Stupidity, routine, and malignity will resist for a long
time; but just as radium can annihilate microbes,
so will the radiant element of the human spirit,
aroused to comprehension, annihilate the microbes
of malignity. We shall become healthy, physically
and spiritually.

"I am glad that the awakening call, the shout
of the herald, rings forth from here. The tidings of
triumph are to sound back from the victorious van ;

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a vast new country is ours; we must make it fertile;
let us take possession!

" But to do so, the old methods and the old uten
sils are useless ; we must first train the whole race till
it is fit for its new destiny. Practical work must be
expanded in this direction. May all those to whom
our summons comes, clearly ringing, gird their loins
to take hold of this work! Domestic colonization,
garden-cities, hygiene along the whole line, exter
mination of the last vestige of illiteracy. And then,
high schools will be established for the nurture of
High Thinking and world-journals will be founded
for its propaganda. And temples will be built dedi
cated to the cult of good will.

"The problem must be worked out intensively,
strenuously. It is not sufficient that from here and
there more ideas fly forth; ideas are all right, for
they are the seed from which things spring — but
actually, what now opens up before us consists al
ready in things, and they demand to be executed:
above all, they want to be grasped. I intend to seize
upon them: as soon as I reach home, I intend to
take measures to found the free academy of High
Thinking. May this become the mint which my
young friend requires for the store of gold which he
displayed before our eyes.

"And now shall the knights of my Wartburg have
their chance to speak. Let Wolfram von Eschenbach
begin — I mean you, Mr. Helmer."

Chlodwig stepped forward : —

"I should like once more to sum up in a single
sentence — if possible in a single word — the sub-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

stance of my whole poetic dream, of my whole vision
of the future. But here I find an obstacle in the
limitations of language, for it has as yet no words
for the coming things that now only project their
shadows and are attainable only by longing and by
forebodings. The word always comes into existence
after the thing. The thing follows the conception,
and this in turn is followed by the expression. For
example — first there had to be a knight and the
especial nature of his bearing and of his sentiments
had to be conceived before the term ' knightly ' was
adopted.

"And thus before my vision stands the coming
man — the man of the heights — der Hohenmensch
— whose qualities correspond to the magnificent
achievements which literally lift him above the
clouds. What will be his characteristic quality?
The term for it does not as yet exist. For it will not
concern any peculiar quality already known to us,
but rather a combination of qualities to which will
be added possibly one never before discovered: the
new combination will grow into a concept and the
concept will be grasped in one word — a word which
will be as current among our descendants and as
clear to them as the word 'knightly' is to us. I
recently spoke of 'goodness.' This word, as it is
used among us, is far from expressing what my mind
conceives of it. It is as yet, too, incomposite. I
should want to command a term in which, besides
' goodness, ' much else would be understood — dis
tinction, gentleness, courage, good will, force, mag
nanimity — all in combination; and, moreover, that

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

soul-material which will come into activity by the
new impulses of the Age of Flying — this is to be the
characteristic quality of the ideal man of the future,
but what its name will be, that we do not know.

"How the ideals of spiritual greatness change
may be seen in a single example: Vico, the founder
of the philosophy of history, who wrote at the end
of the seventeenth century, — hence not so very
long ago, — thus described the heroes : ' They were
to the highest degree rough, wild, limited in in
telligence, but possessing enormous power of imag
ination and the liveliest passionateness ; as a conse
quence of these qualities they had to be barbarous,
cruel, wild, proud, difficult to deal with. '

"That was the picture of hero-greatness which
awakened the admiration of earlier times. This
admiration has not entirely died out, but it is fading
away, sinking out of sight, slowly changing into
detestation. Much that is barbarous still lives
amongst us, but we try to deny it. The word ' bar
barous' has become a term of reproach. The man
who knows no pity does not seem to us worthy of
regard; the wider the range of his commiseration,
the nobler is his heart. The good will of a noble
soul extends even to the dumb creation. He who
cannot love a good, faithful dog is not a worthy
man, and whoever is cruel to an animal — how can I
express my detestation of him? — well, I will quote
Hermann Bahr — 'Such a person, whoever he be,
I cannot regard as my kind.' In the third 'King
dom' to which our aspirations are soaring, there is
no room for barbarism.

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

"And now, if as our host desires, I must sum up
in one phrase all that I have brought to you here,
then I say : — There is no High Thinking without
likewise Kind Thinking."

"The man has a touch of the feminine in his make
up," remarked some one in the audience, disap
provingly.

The next speaker was Franka Garlett. With a
smiling face, betraying the gleam of her new happi
ness, she stepped forward: "You young girls, listen
to me!" she began. "You must not be alarmed,
because I repeat my appeal to you, that I am going
to repeat my entire address. No, I am not going
even to make a resum6 of it, but I am going to say
something which will interest all girls, all, all ! There
is a magic word which will not find one of you in
different: if it is spoken you must listen — joyfully
or woefully, with curiosity or with yearning, but
never with indifference . . . and yet it is something
quite simple, quite commonplace. Truly, the one
whom it concerns will find it unique, will find it
all-important, something world-convulsing — that
world which is our own little Ego. This thing has
happened to me this morning — and I cannot help
myself — it fills me so — I must tell you, ye sisters
of mine: — I am betrothed. "

A flutter went through the hall. Among the in
articulate words also rang out distinctly, "Con
gratulations!" and the question — "To whom?"

Franka's face grew still more animated: "Thanks
for the congratulations, and, if I heard correctly,
some one asked 'To whom?' — a quite justifiable

440

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

curiosity: in such family chronicles we must find
names. My chosen husband is the poet of ' Schwin-
gen ' — Chlodwig Helmer. And since he, as he told
you a moment ago, has a kind feeling for every
worthy little beastie, he will assuredly be kind to
me."

The speaker's gayety communicated itself to the
audience, and a wave of laughter swept over the
hall. But now her features took on a serious ex
pression and in altered voice she went on: — "But
here another question demands to be answered:
How is it that I venture to speak of my own little
private affairs from this tribune where such lofty
problems have been treated and when a whole world
is listening to me? I justify myself thus: On this
tribune I have advised the young persons of my own
sex to use their brains, to learn, to see clearly in
scientific, social, and political matters; even to take
part in public affairs, and this has certainly awak
ened in many minds the notion that woman, in do
ing so, would suffer a loss in her affections and in
her family relations; that those young girls who
might devote themselves to studies and callings
hitherto reserved for men alone, might be lost for
love and domestic happiness. On this very spot
from which I have disseminated my teachings, and
before the very same listening world-audience, I now
come forward to combat that erroneous notion; not
in words, but as a living witness. The doctrine that
'You are in the world to share in all thought' can
not be so very perilous since the exponent of it
stands here, happily betrothed. "

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

She bowed and went back to her seat, heartily
cheered by the audience.

Now, one after the other, brief parting farewell
addresses were made and each speaker gave preg
nant expression to his favorite and leading thought.
All these thoughts, without exception, were turned
by different ways in the one direction: Excelsior!

Then Toker announced that he would speak the
final word, but first they would enjoy the usual inter
mission. This was employed by the speakers and
the audience in unrestrained social intercourse.
Here are a few snatches of conversation : —

Bruning, hurrying up to Helmer: — " Most heart
felt and respectful congratulations, my young gen
ius! My old dream and good advice are fulfilled.
You have won her — the pretty heiress ; you snatched
her away just in time from the prince who was so
madly in love with her! Superb!"

"I shall have to withdraw my friendship from
you, Franz! You have a trick of blighting every
thing in bloom. "

"And you of talking in exalted figures. We shall
not let our twenty-years-old good-fellowship drop
for that ! There have to be different kinds of owls ! "

In a group of politicians : —

A. "Don't you find that there is a little too much
preaching of morality to us during this Rose- Week?
Of course we know that the destinies of the nations
are not fulfilled in accordance with moral laws, that
they are not conducted by ethical impulses, but that
they obey economical necessities. "

442

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

B. "Economical necessities? Yes, but not wholly
so. One is usually mistaken if one tries to reduce
complicated phenomena to one single factor. For
instance: Did the crusades take place because of
economic causes?"

C. "I should like to make one observation.
Morality is nothing else than the result of the rec
ognized conditions of collective life. When two or
more are dependent on one another, then the con
duct which promotes their welfare is elevated to the
rank of a moral rule, and whatever impedes it is
proscribed as immoral. The nations have treated
one another unlovingly and immorally, because
they have as yet no realization of their interdepend
ence. Have you, for instance, ever entered into
any ethical relationship with the inhabitants of
Mars?"

In the corner where the two Russian widows were
sitting with their suitors, the marchese whispering
in his soft fervid Italian: —

"Annette, gracious lady, what have you done to
me? The blood is storming through my veins as
if I were a boy. I quite forget my advancing years.
You can make me forget everything. ... I could
even renounce my ambition in order to give myself
up forever to the sweet intoxication which I find
in your eyes. But no, just for your sake I will get
as much glory as I possibly can. . . . The man who
is to be worthy of you must be like the sun in the
radiance of his glorious power, the head that rests
in your lap must be crowned with laurel. You,
madonna, must be surrounded with splendor, you

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

must be raised to the highest rank so that all may
look up to you in worship and envy. A world must
tremble before the man who trembles before you.
. . . There is no price which I would not pay, no
deed that I would not venture, no multitude that I
would not sacrifice relentlessly, merely to place one
more pearl in your diadem, Monna Anna. "

The little Baltic widow quivered under this
avalanche of sweet-brutal cinquecento phrases.

Baron Gaston de la Rochere came up and joined
the group, putting an end to this sentimental coo
ing:—

"I have just arrived. Am I very late? I don't
understand the English and German speeches and
the French guests present are distasteful to me.
But I came to look you up, for I must share my hap
piness with you. I have just received by the even
ing mail some wonderful news from Paris. Just
imagine: things are coming to a climax. The Min
istry — that bunch of heretics — has fallen. Per
haps God will take his France under his protection
again. The situation is so threatening that exter
nal or domestic war may break out any minute, and
this is the favorable moment to proclaim royalty.
My friends write me that everything is all ready,
that even a part of the garrison is won over to swear
fealty to the standard of the king — in short, great
events are impending. The genius of my glorious
country has awakened once more. Of course, you
already know all about these circumstances, Mar-
chese di Rinotti?"

"Of course, I know what is taking place and what
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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

is proposed; but weeks must elapse before any
thing decisive can come about. The men in charge
must reckon with the resistance of the democratic
parties."

"But the men in charge will act with vigor,
Marchese. "

"Well, I hope so, Baron."

"Oh, gentlemen," said Vera Petrovna, beseech
ingly; "don't be tedious; pray don't talk politics."

Malhof accosted Franka and Helmer, who, arm
in arm, were promenading up and down the corri
dors. "Am I interrupting the gushing fountains of
love? You will have all your lives for that, and I
must express my surprise and delight. I am, in
deed, a very old friend and admirer of your be
trothed, dear Helmer, and I have always desired
her happiness. . . . How unexpectedly this came
upon us! Yesterday evening, while they were ma
nipulating with radium on the platform, we three
sat so cozily together, and I had not the slightest
idea of your being a bridal pair. You played your
cards mighty well, you young people!"

"Neither did we have the slightest idea," pro
tested the two in absolute sincerity.

After the half-hour's intermission, Toker again
mounted the platform — quite alone ; his guests
remaining below in the hall.

i " It is my privilege, " he began, " to utter the last
word in conclusion of this our Rose- Week. I feel
myself compelled to express before the whole world
my deepest thanks to the illustrious contemporaries

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

who have come at my call. And I must also thank
you, my honored audience, for the lively interest and
the sympathetic reception which you have accorded
our offerings.

"But let us end our cooperation not with a dis
course, but rather with a deed. You all know that
a war-cloud pregnant with storm is rising on the
horizon. We must not allow this well-worn metaphor
to strengthen the current impression that we have
to deal with anything elementary; we have to deal
with human intentions, with the direction of human
wills. These can be paralyzed by counter-intentions,
by the putting forth of still stronger wills. Such an
exercise of will-power has been created in our circle :
in order to make it efficient, we must use the ap
paratus of wide publicity which is here at our ser
vice. Two statesmen, of uncontested reputation in
their service for promoting the organization of peace
in the Old World and the New, have drawn up a
manifesto, protesting against the letting loose of the
war-demon which is planned in various quarters, and
at the same time pointing out the way in which the
conflict may be solved in an amicable manner. This
manifesto has been signed by the entire membership
of the Rose Order, and at this moment is being tele
graphed to all regions of the world. If the masses
agree to it, it can grow into a hurricane of public
opinion. I am not going to delay you by reading
the message, the paper which will now be distrib
uted through the hall contains its text. I also re
frain from any explanations ; neither shall I ask you
to vote. Only this I will say: If this wish, this com-

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

mand, this storm-cry which goes forth from here is
obeyed, that is to say, if the approaching contest
is submitted to arbitration, and if the decision by
force is given up, though, indeed, this may not pre
vent the recurrence of dangers in the future, and
not as yet introduce a new political order — still,
time will be gained. And that is the main thing in
this crisis. For in order to appreciate and to apply
the new treasures which of late have been won from
nature, in order to cultivate the lofty thoughts to
which the human mind has already begun to attain
in its flights, and in order to transform in accordance
with these thoughts the intercourse, the laws, the
opinions of men, in a word, the whole social life,
time is above all required. A time of peaceful, quiet
development. If now a world-conflagration should
break out, the development would be not only
delayed, but would be set back enormously — in
stead of a lofty flight, we should have a terrible fall !
Once more a bed for the stream of hatred and horror
and destruction would be excavated, and this flood
might carry away with it all that has been so pain
fully constructed.

"One can formulate an idea of the consequences
of such a conflagration by hearing what H. G. Wells
tells us in his 'War in the Air.' 'Oh, a piece of fic
tion, a romance of the future!' Granted, it will all
come out differently. No one can take account of all
the millions of interweaving threads out of which
the web of the future may be woven. But the poet
and the thinker, if he creates such pictures, does not
at all pretend prophecy. He does not predict that

447

WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

it will come in this way or that : he only shows how
under given conditions things must come, if this
way or that is chosen.

"So, then, we want to gain time! — time for the
building-up of future happiness, time to rescue men
from the woe that threatens. Indeed, the majority
will not listen to the warning, the chiding, the aid-
promising voices . . . these annoying calls only dis
turb them in their pursuits of business, work, pleas
ure. . . . 'Why don't the birds of evil omen leave
us alone — let things take their course — what
comes must come — merely let every one see to it
that he does his work where Fate puts him' . . .
this is about the way in which the passive resistance
expresses itself; a resistance against which all those
who speak the warning words constantly stumble.
But they are not to be frightened away; they can
not help themselves, they must speak.

" I will use a parable: —

" Let us imagine we are on a noble ship bound for
the promised land. The journey is long. There is
much work and much amusement on board of the
ship. It must be steered and must be maneuvered ;
much promenading and flirting and reading and
feasting are carried on; all are busy and each one
thinks his work or his pleasures highly important.

"But the ship springs a leak. If help is not af
forded, the proud vessel must sink.

"It would not be difficult to get help. But the
people refuse to see the leak. Is it not natural that
those who do see it should not weary in calling for
help? Is it not the height of unreason that the others

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WHEN THOUGHTS WILL SOAR

should leave the leak unheeded, so that they may
not be disturbed in their customary pursuits, and
that they should zealously devote themselves to
steering and clearing the ship instead of trying first
of all to save it from sinking?

"Our civilization is such a ship, my honored fel
low-passengers. Its engines are working better all
the time, its flags are flying ever more triumphantly,
swelling out with lofty thoughts. But it has a leak
— namely, the time antiquate regime of force :
through this rent annihilating floods pour in and
threaten to draw it into the deep ! Therefore, every
man on board and all hands to the repair of the
damage !

"And when that has been accomplished — and it
shall be accomplished! — then onward, and 'happy
voyage!'"

THE END

Bitoersibe

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U . S . A

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