He spoke these words so softly that it seemed only as if a breath had passed into Ilse's ear; and he did not await her answer, but left the room as quickly as he came into it.
Outside, in the open place by the common, the students threw their torches in a great heap; the red flame rose high in the air, and the gray smoke encircled the tops of the trees; it rolled over the houses and crept through the open windows, and stifled the breath. The flame became lower, and a thin smoke ascended from the dying embers. It had been a rapid, brilliant glow, a fleeting fire, now extinguished, and only smoke and ashes remained. But Ilse was still standing by her window, and looking sorrowfully out upon the empty place.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE DRAMA.
"He was a tyrant," exclaimed Laura, "and she was right not to obey him."
"He did his duty harshly, and she also," replied Ilse.
"He was a cross-grained, narrow-minded fellow, who was at last humbled; but she was a noble heroine, who cast from her all that was most dear on earth in order to fulfill her highest obligations," said Laura.
"He acted under the impulse of his nature, as she did according to hers. Hers was the stronger character, and she went victoriously to death. The burden of his deed crushed him during life," rejoined Ilse.
The characters which the ladies were discussing were Antigone and Creon.
The Professor had one autumn evening laid the tragedies of Sophocles on his wife's table. "It is time that you should learn to appreciate the greatest poets of antiquity in their works." He read them aloud and explained them. The lofty forms of the Attic stage hovered in the peaceful atmosphere of the German home. Ilse heard around her curses and heart-breaking lamentations, she saw a dark fatality impending over men of the noblest feeling and iron will; she felt the storm of passion raging in powerful souls, and heard, amidst the cry of revenge and despair, the soft chords of soul-stirring pathos, sounding with irresistible magic.