Agitation is weakness, and it had always been her father's aim to foster strength of mind and self-command.
Irma forced herself to observe what was going on about her.
It was twilight when they reached the first post-station. Irma fancied she could almost feel the air of her native mountains, although they were still far off.
They drove on at a rapid pace. The evening bells were ringing, and the air was filled with their sounds, carrying them out to the men and women in the fields, and measuring time and eternity for them.
What would the world be without its bells, whose pealing harmonies are to serve as a substitute for the beautiful creations of antique art?
But these thoughts failed to satisfy Irma. They lifted her out of the world, whilst she desired to occupy herself with what was present and established.
In the villages through which they drove, and the fields by which they passed, there was singing, interrupted, now and then, by the rattling of the carriage wheels, and Irma thought: We make too much noise in this world, and thus miss enjoying what the rest may have to tell us.
No thoughts were to her liking. No outlook pleased her.
The stars appeared in the heavens, but what were they to man? They shine for him who is free and has naught to seek on earth. She, however, was seeking, and, in the world's vast circle, could see nothing but two starry eyes directed upon her; and they were her father's.
They continued on their journey, disturbing lazy horses and sleepy postilions at every station.