draw with them the struggling one to himself, and yet could say nothing but "I and thou are innocent; but till my father comes, before that I cannot justify myself."--Flamin repelled him from him: "What is this for?--So it was at the garden-concert, too, and thou hast since that been daily with her, and at Easter-balls and in sleighs, without me. Say rather outright, wilt thou marry _her_?--Swear that thou wilt not?--O God, hesitate not,--swear, swear!--Ay, ay, Matthieu!--Canst thou not yet!--Well, then, lie at least!" "Oh!" said Victor,--and eclipsing blood-streams shot through his brain and over his face,--"thou shalt not insult me quite too much; I am as good as thou, I am as proud as thou,--before God my soul is pure"----But Flamin's blood on the sloe-bush repressed Victor's indignant exaltation, and he merely lifted a sympathetic eye full of the tears of friendship to the brighter, softer heaven.--"Only marriage, forsooth, dost thou not forswear?----Good, good, thou hast strangled me,--my heart hast thou trampled on, and my whole happiness.--I had none but thee, thou wast my only friend, now will I go to the Devil without one.--Thou dost not swear?--Oh, I tear myself away from thee bloody and wretched, and as thy foe--we part--only go--away! it is all up--all!--Adieu!" He rushed away, striking his stick into the ground as he went, and his distracted friend, lying at the feet of Truth, who lifts the flaming sword against Perjury, and dying in tears before Friendship, who casts upon the soft heart the melting look full of entreaties,--Victor, I say, cried, as with dying voice, after the fleeing friend of his soul: "Farewell, my faithful Flamin! my never-to-be-forgotten friend! I was indeed true to thee!--But an oath lies between us.--Dost thou still hear me?--do not hasten so!--Flamin, dost thou hear me? I love thee still, we shall find each other again, and come when thou wilt." ... He cried after him more vehemently, although with stifled, smothered tones: "Honest, precious, precious soul, I have loved thee very much, and do still and still,--only be right happy.--Flamin, Flamin, my heart breaks now that thou art my enemy."--Flamin looked round no more, but his hand seemed to be on his eyes. The friend of his youth vanished from his sight like youth itself, and Victor sank down _unhappy_ under the fairest heaven, with the consciousness of innocence, with all the feelings of friendship!--O, Virtue itself gives no consolation, if thou hast lost a friend, and the heart of a man, stabbed by _friendship_, bleeds on mortally, and all the balm of _love_ avails not to heal or to soothe!-- 32. DOG-POST-DAY. Physiognomies of Victor and Flamin.--Boiling-Point of Friendship.--Splendid Hopes for us.