"She is religious," began Fritz, doubtfully. "Are we not so also?" answered the Professor, drawing himself up to his full height.
"She is as far removed from the tenor of your mind as the holy Saint Elizabeth."
"She has sense," replied the Professor.
"She is firm and self-confident in her own circle, but she will never be at ease in your world."
"She has aptness here--she will have it everywhere."
"You blind yourself," cried Fritz, in despair; "will you disturb the peace of your life by a discord, the issue of which you cannot foresee? Will you demand of her the great change which she must undergo from being a thorough housekeeper to becoming the confidant of your profound investigations? Will you deprive her of the secure self-dependence of an active life and bring into her future, struggle, uncertainty, and doubt? If you will not think of your own peace, it is your duty to show consideration for her life."
The Professor leaned his hot head against the window. At last he began:
"But we are the servants and proclaimers of truth; and while we practice this duty towards every one who will hear us, is it not right and a duty to do it where we love?"
"Do not deceive yourself," answered Fritz. "You, the man of refined feeling, who so willingly recognize in every life the right to what befits it--you would be the last to disturb the harmony of her being, if you did not desire to possess her. What impels you is not a feeling of duty, but passion."
"What I do not demand of a stranger, it behooves me to fulfil in the woman with whom I unite myself for life. And must not every woman that comes to share our life experience a similar change? How high do you place the knowledge of the women in the city who come into our circle?"