The following day a judicial complaint again raised its Medusa's head between the two houses. This time even Mrs. Hahn was deeply incensed; and when she, shortly after, met Laura on the street, she turned her good-humored face to the other side, to avoid greeting the daughter of the enemy.
Laura received the Doctor's answer to her letter. In a pretty poem the happiness of the parental house was extolled, and he spoke of his great delight in his neighbor's charming daughter, whom the poet saw in the garden among her flowers, whenever he looked over the high hedge. He further added: "The advice which you express so sincerely in your lines has found an echo in me. I know what is lacking in my life. My learning makes it impossible for me to find recognition in wider circles, an honor, which the friends of a learned man desire for him more eagerly than he himself does; it also makes it difficult for me to adopt the academical course to which I have now a call in foreign parts. But the nature of my studies takes from me all hope that any outward results can ever overcome the hindrances which oppose themselves to the secret wishes of my soul."
"Poor Fritz!" said Laura; "and yet poorer me! Why must he give up all hope because he studies Sanscrit? It is not courage that is wanting to these learned men, as father says, but passion. Like the old gods about whom you write, you have no human substance, and no blood in your veins. A few sparks are occasionally kindled up in your life and one hopes they may light up into a mighty flame; but immediately it is all smothered and extinguished by prudent consideration." She rose suddenly. "Ah! if one could but lay hold of Fritz by the hair and cast him into the wildest tumult, through which he would have to fight his way bloodily, defy my father, and hazard a great deal, in order to win what he in his gentle way says he desires for himself! Away with this quiet, learned atmosphere: it makes those who breathe it contemptible! Their strongest excitement is a sorrowful shrug of the shoulders over other mortals or themselves."
Thus did the passionate Laura chafe in her attic-room, and again was her paper moistened by bitter tears, as she sought consolation in heroic verses, and called upon the foreign gods of the Doctor to take the field against the pranks of Spitehahn.
Glorious Indra and all ye divinities shining; in heaven,
That have so often conferred blessings on races of men,
Haste in rescue to us, for great misfortune doth threaten.
Ominous shadows of night darken our peaceable home,
Banish the child from the father; while flat on the door-step outsprawling,
Growleth with vengeful intent fiercely th' insidious cur.
The peace was disturbed not only for the neighbors of the Park street, but also for the young Prince, at whose fête the trouble had begun.
The Prince was detained some weeks from the city. After his return, he lived in the quiet retirement that the duties of mourning imposed upon him. Lectures in his room were again resumed, but his place at Ilse's tea-table remained empty.
On the day when the University prizes were distributed, the students made a great torchlight procession to their Rector's house. The flaming lights waved in the old streets; the fanfares resounded, in the midst of which the lusty voices of the singing students might be heard; gables and balconies were lighted in colored splendor; the marshals swung their weapons gaily, and the torch-bearers scattered the sparks among the thronging crowds of spectators. The procession turned into the street towards the valley; it stopped before the house of Mr. Hummel. Again there was music and singing; a deputation solemnly crossed the threshold. Hummel looked proudly on the long stream of red lights which flickered about and lighted up his house. The whole honor was intended for his house alone, though he could not prevent the glare and smoke from illuminating the enemies' roof, also.
Upstairs some of the rector's most intimate friends were assembled; he received the leaders of the students in his room, and there were speeches and replies. While those assembled were crowding nearer to listen to the speech-making, the door of Ilse's room gently opened, and the Prince entered. Ilse hastened to meet him, but he began, without greeting:
"I have come to-day to bid you farewell. What I foresaw has happened. I have received orders to return to my father. To-morrow I and my attendant will take formal leave of the Rector and yourself, but I wished first to see you for a moment; and, now that I stand before you, I cannot express the feelings that prompted me to come. I thank you for all your kindness. I beg of you not to forget me. It is you who have made the city so dear to me. It is you who make it hard for me to go away."