Victor had listened in silence to the conversation between sister and brother.
"Is he an old retainer of your house?"
Rita nodded assent.
"Is he going because I have come? Does his fanaticism drive him away?"
"Perhaps, but may be he is worn out."
It was apparent from the tone of her voice that she herself had no faith in her reassuring words.
"O no," said Hugo, "he goes because he can no longer comprehend us, so he writes, and he does not wish to make the leave-taking hard, therefore...."
"He does not wish to see me again?" Rita cried out in pain.
Superiority was sharply expressed in his countenance, strong self-consciousness, untempered by sympathy. Rita looked at Weilen as though to beg his pardon, while Hugo's serious eyes gazed into vacancy. For several minutes there was silence, then Dr. Weilen asked: "And what does your friend Rosenfeld write?"
Hugo breathed freely, as if a burden had been lifted from off his soul. "He! He wishes you joy from the bottom of his heart. He is delighted to hear that Rita is happy." Then he looked over the letter as if searching for a particular passage. "Here: 'I thank you for the news of your sister's engagement. Such a girl's choice can only bring happiness, and make her happy; for truth and purity are united in her, and such natures as hers are sure to find what is right. What little I know of Dr. Weilen warrants this assurance. Dr. Weilen seems to me a man of deep insight and fine feeling, in whom strength and tenderness go together—qualities desirable in the husband of a highly intellectual woman like Rita. Devout in her tender soul and tolerant in her clear head, that is her personality. Her mission is to minister to the happiness of one individual. But as for us, we must think of the common weal, and to it we will dedicate our strength and our blood. And now let us set forth on the road, even though it be wearisome. Let us be up and doing.... Let us labor in behalf of our co-religionists." He folded the letter. "Yes, that shall be our mission."