of her name, Zoë, which, in Greek, means _life_; Gradiva is, as the man finally cured of the delusion tells us, a good translation of her family-name, Bertgang, which means _splendid or magnificent in walking_; the decisions about her father arise from the knowledge that Zoë Bertgang is the daughter of an esteemed university instructor, which is probably translated into the antique as temple service. Finally his imagination transports her to Pompeii not “because her calm, quiet manner seems to require it,” but because, in his science, there is found no other nor better analogy to the remarkable condition in which he has traced out, by vague reconnoitring, his memories of his childhood friendship. If he once covered up what was so close to him, his own childhood, with the classic past, then the burial of Pompeii, this disappearance, with the preservation of the past, offers a striking resemblance to the _repression_ of which he has knowledge by means of so-called “endopsychic” perceptions. The same symbolism, therefore, which the author has the girl use consciously at the end of the tale, is working in him. “I said to myself that I should certainly dig up something interesting alone here. Of course, I had not reckoned at all on the find which I made.” (_G._ p. 92.) At the end (_G._ p. 108), the girl answers to the announced desire about the destination of their journey, “by her childhood friend who had, in a way, also been excavated from the ashes.” Thus we find at the very beginning of the performances of Hanold’s fancies and actions, a twofold determination, a derivation from two different sources. One determination is the one which appears to Hanold, himself; the other, the one which discloses itself to us upon re-examination of his psychic processes. One, the conscious one, is related to the person of Hanold; the other is the one entirely unconscious to him. One originates entirely from the series of associations connected with archæological science; the other, however, proceeds from the repressed memories which have become active in him, and the emotional impulses attached to them. The one seems superficial, and covers up the other, which masks itself behind the former. One might say that the scientific motivation serves the unconscious eroticism as cloak, and that science has placed itself completely at the service of the delusion, but one may not forget, either, that the unconscious determination can effect nothing but what is at the time satisfactory to the scientific conscious. The symptoms of delusion—fancies as well as acts—are results of a compromise between two psychic streams, and in a compromise the demands of each of the two parties are considered; each party has been obliged to forego something that he wished to carry out. Where a compromise has been established, there was a struggle, here the conflict assumed by us between the suppressed eroticism and the forces which keep it alive in the repression.