"I promise you I will not give you more pain than I shall suffer myself," he said gently. "But we must buy dearly the happiness that is to content us. We are not of those who innocently and artlessly take upon trust whatever the present throws into their laps. Constituted as we are, we must needs make conditions with Heaven, and accept its gifts only when we have proved them. For we cannot be satisfied with what many would call happiness,--we can take no delight in what would charm thousands of others. It is the curse of natures like ours that they erect a standard of happiness far above what if usual,--and how many are there upon whom Providence bestows unusual happiness!" Ernestine smiled bitterly at Johannes's last words. "Providence!" she murmured, "we are our own providence. We shape our own destiny, create our joy or our misery,--the conditions of either are in ourselves!" "And because we are so mysteriously gifted beyond other creatures, because we are mentally freer and more conscious of ourselves than other beings, our responsibility as regards ourselves and those whom we see around us is all the greater. There are natures that are eternally wretched, because they demand more of life than it can possibly afford them, and undervalue all that it offers them, although it makes their lot enviable in the eyes of all. Then we say, 'Their unhappiness is their own fault, they have everything to make them happy, no one injures them; why are they so exorbitant in their longings?' But this is wrong. They are not insatiate, they would perhaps be contented with a far more moderate lot. What fault is it of theirs that the demands of their innermost nature are such that they require just what fate has not bestowed upon them? Of what use is a glittering gem to the traveller in the desert languishing for a drop of water? How willingly would he exchange the bauble for what he longs for! Who would say to him, 'You have a precious treasure, why are you not content?' Who would reproach him with being a human creature that cannot live without drinking? The most one can say to him is, 'Since you know that you cannot live without water, why go into the desert?' There is the point where we are responsible. If we know what are the conditions of our existence, we must see to it that what we choose in life accords with those conditions, always provided that Providence gives us the right of free choice. If this right is ours and we choose falsely, it is our fault if we are wretched. I call it an unusual boon, therefore, when Providence permits us to choose a lot that harmonizes with our nature. If this is denied us, the man of the greatest freedom of thought is not responsible for his fate,--he is under the ban of a higher power." Ernestine listened to him with undisguised interest. He saw it, and continued: