“They were enemies.”
“Then one may hate them?”
“And to-day or to-morrow,” said Frederick, aside to me, “the priest will be telling him that one ought to love one’s enemies. What logic!” Then, aloud to Rudolf: “No; it is not because we hate them that we may strike our foes, but because they want to strike us.”
“And what do they want to strike us for?”
“Because we wanted to—No, no,” he interrupted himself. “I find no way out of the circle. Go and play, Rudi; we forgive you, but don’t do so any more.”
Cousin Conrad was, as I thought, making progress in Lilly’s favour. There is nothing like perseverance. I should have been very glad to see this match now made up, and I observed with pleasure how my sister’s countenance lighted up with joy when the tread of Conrad’s horse was heard in the distance, and how she sighed when he rode off again. He no longer courted her, i.e., he spoke no more of his love, and did not bring his suit forward, but his proceedings constituted a regular siege.
“As there are different ways of taking a fortress,” he explained to me one day, “by storm or by famine, so there are many ways of making a lady capitulate. One of the most effectual of these is custom; sympathy. It must touch her at length that I am so constant in loving, and so constant in keeping silence about it, and always coming again. If I should stay away, it would make a great gap in her way of life; and if I go on in this way some time longer, she will not be able to do without me at all.”
“And how many times seven years do you mean to serve for your chosen one?”
“I have not counted that up. Till she takes me.”
“I do admire you. Are there then no other girls in the world?”