V.

"I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself, And falls on the other."--SHAKESPEARE.

When Wulf was a little child he had once seen, on an arch, a representation of the king's entry into Berlin. There stood the throngs of people--a multitude crowded together. At that time this thought had entered the sprightly boy's mind: How many things one might find among so many people, and that if he were only at Berlin there would be no end of pocket-knives, lead-pencils, and other desirable objects lying in the streets. To his youthful imagination that great city was always crowded full of people, just as it appeared in the picture. Naturally this idea had become somewhat changed with the passing years; but to-day, when he entered the metropolis, there was still a certain irrepressible feeling that he should find a great deal in it.

He was standing by a window of the room which Arnold had secured for him, looking down upon a beautiful, wide thoroughfare. Many people passed to and fro--not quite so many, however, as the arch had represented. The room was high, so different from the one at home, and even very different from the one he had recently occupied at the gymnasium. Wulf carried his head aloft, for now he was a medical student. A goal had been reached. He stood at the gate of his city of happiness.

There is surely something wrong with a youth who does not struggle after high aims, which he believes will eventually lead to great results. Wulf did not desire to become an ordinary physician. He wished to study in order that he might fathom the depths of every disease. He was possessed with the thought which presents itself to every strong, healthy nature; namely, that disease was an unnatural foreign element. He would therefore give it neither place nor authority, and when the intruder, with its distorted visage, invaded his neighborhood, he would bravely wage war against it for life or death. In imagination he saw himself a conqueror of death, to whose grim influence only the aged and life-weary should be a prey. He saw happy faces everywhere, which he had been the first to create; and with such visions before him his heart beat higher.

But one can not fly to the top of a mountain. No; step after step must be taken; and O, how long and tiresome often is the way! Yet at present he sat at the feet of the professors, and among the students there was none more diligent than he. During the past years the world, with its temptations, had stepped into the background, and his naturally youthful, buoyant character was again in the ascendency. With eager, inquiring mind, and burning, zealous soul, he listened now to all suggestions from within. There had been periods when ideas did not harmonize consistently; but now much that had been obscure presented itself perfectly clearly. Added to this was the new academic life. Although Wulf was acquainted with none of the students, and formed no intimacies, the multitude of impressions with which the gay, bustling city abounded overwhelmed him at every step. All this occupied his mind so intently during the first days and weeks, that he went around like one in a dream, out of which he only awakened in the evenings, when the heart asserted its claims, and sang to him a song without words, of friends and home.

Three weeks were thus passed, and Wulf had not yet visited the Kahrings.

Why?

He did not know why himself. There was a knock at his door, and Arnold entered.

Wulf was very glad to see a familiar face. He had hoped to find Arnold at the railroad station, with directions for the stranger; but no one was there, and he was obliged to give a cab-man the number of the house where his friend had rented a room for him. Surely there he should find the young ensign, but neither on the street nor in his apartment had a friendly face been glimpsed; a fact which conflicted with his ideas of true hospitality.

And now Arnold entered, as pleasant and unconcerned as possible. No apology, not the slightest intimation of any discourtesy on his part. This chafed Wulf, and he was somewhat reserved.

"Well, how are you?" exclaimed Arnold, immediately stepping to the window, and, without waiting for a reply, adding: "Wonderful view here; day and night always something going on! This is one of the streets where a person can thoroughly exist. Now, how are you?"

"Thank you, very well," replied Wulf, rather frigidly. "At first so many strange sights and scenes made me a trifle homesick. I have not made a single acquaintance, and the thought has occurred to me that if I were to plunge into the water over there and be seen no more forever, not a single human being would miss me or trouble himself about it."

"Well, you paid your rent in advance, and I guess your landlord would enter an energetic protest against such a violent disappearance; but the fact of no one troubling himself about his neighbor is city-like, and may be said, by the way, of the best people here."

After a pause Arnold continued: "But you have seen something meanwhile the--Kroll, museum, Lachse's saloon, the recent parade. Isn't it all superb, magnificent?"

Wulf replied that thus far he had been wholly occupied in his class preparations, buying textbooks, etc.

"But, man, how can you vegetate like that in Berlin?" pursued Arnold; and chatting glibly about things in general, he concluded by inviting the stranger to visit him at home. When he took leave, there was in his hand-shaking such a cold, heartless participation, that Wulf felt it keenly, and went to his studies somewhat wounded and dejected. And yet a few days later we find him at the door of the Kahrings' elegant mansion. His breath is short, his heart beats loudly over the excitement and dread of the first call; but a certain pleasure thrills him as he is conducted through splendid apartments, and presented to the gracious lady of the house. The spacious, beautiful rooms, the elegant appointments, the stately servants, who, apparently, know far better than he how to deport themselves--and now Lady Von Kahring enters in silk and satin, looking more majestic amid these surroundings than even she did in the cottage by the sea, but just as kindly, just as friendly and affable as she had been there. She referred to her pleasure at learning of Wulf's studies, and expressed the hope of seeing him very often during the Winter. These were the only personal allusions she made; after which the conversation drifted along to various commonplace remarks, among them a polite inquiry for Herr Ericksen, his uncle--and she withdrew without presenting her husband or children to the bewildered young student.

Unsophisticated one! how can you expect in a formal call to get a glimpse of the home-circle, or even to see all the members of the family?

And yet this was really what Wulf had desired. He longed for some place where he might feel at home.

He was not lonely during the busy hours of the day; but when evening came, there were moments when he yearned even for the simple whirr of his mother's spinning-wheel. He had experienced no such feelings at the gymnasium. There his surroundings had been so home-like at his instructor's house as to produce a deep impression upon his character. And now he had flattered himself that he should be privileged to seek Lady Von Kahring's counsel in the arrangement of all his affairs; but he was annoyed to find himself perfectly at a loss for words in her presence. This exceedingly polite and benign lady had not evinced the slightest interest in his private matters, appearing to be occupied in a sphere too lofty for such trifles.

But her son was often to be found with Wulf, and seemed to enjoy his society, although he regarded his opinions and observations as childish, and laughed at them. He had been so much in the world that he was satiated with all it offered, and while he greedily coveted and was always ready to share its so called pleasures, he heartlessly ridiculed and sneered at them an hour afterward. He had many acquaintances, but no real friends, nor aspirations; but the _naïveté_ of this ingenu was a certain, fresh excitement. Hence the association.

"Why can't you come to see us this evening?" he asked. "Mamma begs the honor; or are you engaged?"

Wulf laughed.

"No; if you wish it, I will come."

He who knew no one in Berlin--he "engaged!"

"Well, don't be too late. Soon after eight o'clock will answer. You will only find a few friends there."

At the appointed hour we see Wulf in the Kahrings' brilliantly lighted apartments. Happily he has passed the purgatorial ordeal of the servants, but he gives a final reassuring glance at his toilet. Yes; it is _en regle_, even to the cravat and gloves. The _portières_ are drawn aside, and Wulf's first glance seeks and rests upon Lady Von Kahring, who seems in earnest conversation with an elderly gentlemen. Perhaps she has not observed the young stranger's entrance, as he stands hesitating lest he should interrupt her _tête-à-tête_ in the least degree. She continues her discussion, until her companion directs her attention in a friendly way to the new-comer. Approaching Wulf with the most amiable warmth, she exclaims: "How kind you are to come upon so late an invitation! The servant forgot to deliver it, and we feared we should suffer from his negligence. Now, please find the young people in the next room, with Arnold." And with a pleasant gesture she invites him to enter.

The truth of the matter was, several of the invited guests had sent regrets, and as there promised to be more ladies than gentlemen present, the baron's wife at the last moment thought of Wulf as a make-shift.

"Who is this young man? Have I seen him before?" inquired Lady Von Kahring's companion.

"O," she replied, apologetically, "if I had imagined you were especially interested in him I should have taken pleasure in presenting him to you. He is a stranger we learned to know at the sea-shore. At present he is here studying medicine, and he is a kind of _protégé_ of Arnold's."

"One can readily discern that he has not been long in Berlin," was the unamiable response.

"He needs training, sir," remarked Arnold, derisively, passing at that moment.

Wulf was, as it were, in a new world. Welcomed by the baron's daughter and son, he was presented to so many persons that finally he had not the remotest idea who one of them was. But what of that? There was all around a magical atmosphere of light, splendor, beauty, kindness, and refinement. Such a throng of agreeable figures in white, glittering attire, with which the young officers' uniforms picturesquely contrasted, he had never before witnessed. It was like a dream of the Arabian Nights.

And Wulf was wonderfully complimented. In the conventional monotony of "society," stale associations become so palling that every new-comer is hailed with pleasure.

"Who is that handsome young man? Where does he come from?" were the inquiries made.

"He is a stranger, very gifted, and of good family. Young Kahring, who always has good taste, even if it be sometimes bizarre, introduced him. There must be something back of it, if Lady Von Kahring chaperons him; she does nothing without a motive. Perhaps he is very rich."

These were the passing comments upon Wulf, of which he had no suspicion. He was polite in conversation, had felt the need of companionship, and all these bright, charming people gratified him. That the beautiful assemblage was often hollow and insincere he never dreamed. He accepted as genuine coin what was simply empty compliment. For this reason he was intoxicated by every one's extreme friendliness, and believed honestly that so many delightful people had never been brought together before.

Lady Von Kahring was a model hostess. Her whole consideration was the comfort and enjoyment of her guests. She did not manifest this desire too anxiously, but most graciously. While sitting here, absorbed in conversation with some neglected old lady, her vigilant eye did not fail to observe a young man standing alone yonder, and a significant glance quickly brought a servant with refreshment to his side. While filling with readiness a gap at the whist-table, she was perfectly able at the same time to hold the young people in proper check.

"Arnold, be so good as to open the piano. Eugenie, please accompany Herr Ericksen as nicely as possible. O, Herr Ericksen we shall all be so much indebted to you, if you will kindly favor us with a song--one of the folk-songs with which you charmed us at the sea-side;" and turning to her whist companions she says softly: "You can not imagine what a beautiful voice this young gentleman has--a splendid bass, somewhat untrained; but the folk-songs are even more fascinating when sung in this popular way."

Wulf sang. He gave great pleasure to the company. The young ladies hung upon his lips; the privy counselor's wife secretly envied Lady Von Kahring this fortunate acquisition; the very economical Lady Von Steiniger hastily calculated in her own mind how she should be able to secure this young man for her salon, in order to save something in the way of material attractions by the musical entertainment he would afford her guests.

When Wulf had finished, several desired to make his acquaintance. His head whirled with high titles and princely names. A social game, which Arnold arranged, also conferred upon him much attention. The mistakes he committed against society's regulations were overlooked and laughed at as eccentricities, and even admired.

"Now, your _entrée_ into society has been very auspiciously launched," said Arnold. "You make conquests like the great Caesar."

Wulf made no reply. His face glowed: his pulse quickened. He was as yet so unaccustomed to so much attention.

"Only wait awhile," pursued the young ensign; "you will get cool, if, only, you do not take cold."

When Wulf returned late to his lodgings, his room looked even comical. He tried to study; but great, splendid forms capered around his books, and he did not long for his mother's spinning-wheel that night.