That he, at that time in his fortieth year, who had seen so much of the world, and had such wide experience, should perceive and acknowledge that the whole was his own fault, that he had to attribute to himself all the misery and misfortune ensuing upon so wicked and insensate a union--all this never occurred to him for a moment. He was the man more sinned against than sinning; he was the victim of his generosity; he had been cheated out of his life's happiness. How could a man have domestic habits who never had any enjoyment in his home? How could he learn the charm of a calm and peaceful life at the side of a woman restlessly tormented night and day by madness and superstition? "Yes, yes, my dear George, I once had fine plans of my own: I meant to restore the old castle, laid waste in the time of the French invasion, to its ancient splendor; I thought to regain all the possessions that once belonged to the Zehrens; but it was not to be. It could not be, in the years when I was still young and full of hope; and do you think now to make a careful, economical proprietor of me, now that I am grown old and half savage? You buoyant, hopeful young---- See! there he goes! That comes of talking. No; don't shoot now, he is too far. To heel, Diana, old girl! So frivolous in your old days? Be ashamed of yourself! Yes; what I was going to say to you, George, was--beware of the women. They are the cause of every man's misfortunes, just as they have been of mine. Take my brothers, for instance. There is the steuerrath, whom you know: the man was predestined to a fine career, for he is as fond of the shining things of this world as any thievish magpie, cunning as a fox, smooth as an eel, and being a man without passions of any sort, unpretentious, and so could easily hold his own. If he absolutely must marry, then, at a time when he made no pretensions, it should have been some plain sensible girl, who would have helped him make his way. Instead of this, when he was a mere penniless barrister, he lets himself be caught by a Baroness Kippenreiter, the oldest of two surviving daughters of an army-contractor, made a baron, I believe, by the King of Sweden, who wasted in speculation the fortune that had ennobled him, to the last farthing, and finally blew out his brains. And now the steuerrath must take the consequences. A Baroness Kippenreiter will not seal her letters with a coat-of-arms twenty years old, and have the richest man in the province for a brother-in-law, for nothing. If such a thorough plebeian could rise to such distinction and to the dignity of commerzienrath, her husband, sprung from the oldest family in the province, must die prime minister at the very least. The lithe fox with no pretensions would have found his way into the poultry-house; but when with hunger and debt he is changed into a howling and ravenous wolf, he is hunted off with kicks, clubs, and stones. One of these days they will put him off with a pension, to be