Then was it Elbert’s friendship further’d me. For finding me, and staring at my face, And books, and cassock—when the puzzle pass’d,— He, humbling to my humor, praised the priest And all the powers of priesthood, till delight Relax’d the rigor of my rôle; and then He wedged the wisdom of his own desire Within my dreams, and broke apart their spell, And drew aside the curtains of their couch, And spoke of dawn, and light for all the world. “First learn about this world,” he urged, “and then Learn how to help it. Minds like mine,” he said, “Should teach, revise, reform, and start the thought To counteract ill aim’d philosophy. Here loom’d an end worth reaching! which to reach ’Twere well to cross the sea.—His purse was mine. And go you as a student,” Elbert said, “Nor clad so like a priest, for whom all earth Will don some Sabbath-day demean; go free To find the man, hard by his work, at home.” Thus pleading many days, at last he won; And, yielding to his wish, the sea I cross’d. VIII. Soon, borne to Dresden for a leisure week, With whom, one morning, should I chance to meet But Elbert’s elder sister?—now grown staid And matronly withal, a second wife, In charge of half a dozen sturdy boys; Though these I saw not then; but all alone, Much flush’d and flurried, sweeping up the street, She stopp’d, and cried abruptly, “Why, my friend, Are you here, Norman?—you?—where from?—how long? Not heard of you for years! That Elbert, drone, Will never write the news. How glad I am To see a man on hand when needed once! Two girls, young friends of mine, just come to town, Have lost their trunks,—and I my husband too,— And there they stand amid such throngs of men!— And did you note the statues in Berlin, In all the streets?—of warriors, every one! And these two girls, here travelling, by themselves, Where might makes right, and woman slighted is, Not strange it is their feelings toward you men, In heat of indignation seething up, Should brew some barm at times of bitterness!” IX. Thus, rattling on, she led me, as confused As feels a warrior at the morning drum, Till came a sight supreme, arousing me:— Two bright eyes only, sparkling in the light, Where flush’d a face that flared, then hid itself Behind a travelling hood, befleck’d with dust, And fring’d with venturous locks of careless hair. “I have them now!” it cried; and straight began A tale, strain’d sweeter through those lips aglow Than sunset music. Then, when all was told, The name I heard was “Edith.” Bowing low, “Well done!” essay’d I; then,—to bandy back That charge against the men I just had heard From her who brought me,—“Well done as a man!” X.