The evening was extremely beautiful. The sun was hanging like a red ball on the horizon and poured a magic light over the lonely landscape. In the tall heather the cicadæ were chirping; right and left, while above the swallows were swiftly shooting to and fro in the clear soft air. Oswald felt for the first time almost cheerful again, and had to admit that the wise man by his side was right in saying that the pleasures of solitude were paid for too dear. "How sorry I am," he said, "that we have not been able to carry out our intention of meeting more frequently." "_L'homme propose et Dieu dispose_," replied Doctor Braun. "We must try to do better hereafter. You will remain, I am told, for some time in this neighborhood, and I also will probably not move to Grunwald as soon as I had intended." "You mean to settle there?" "At least for a time. I am in competition here with an excellent man, who has certainly far more experience than I have, but who still suffers by the good luck I have had in some cases where I have cured my patients, and because the world is ever running after something new, though it may not be any better than what they had before. Two physicians, however, is too much for this neighborhood; my colleague is old and has to support a large family; I am young and as yet only engaged to be married--consequently it is for me to make room for him." "That is very generous." "It may look so, but it is not quite so generous. I only pour out the good water because I hope to find it still better. My future father-in-law is one of the first physicians in Grunwald. Half of his practice I shall certainly fall heir to when he retires, which he contemplates doing. My future wife is at home in Grunwald, and as every fish is most comfortable in its own little pond, and as I am, besides, heartily tired of the company of Cyclops and Ichthyophagi--well, you see my generosity does not go very far, after all." "Would it be indiscreet to ask you the name of your lady?" "Not at all: Miss Roban." "I have often had the pleasure of meeting Miss Roban in company, when I lived in Grunwald. My worthy friend, Professor Berger, used to call her the only swan in an enormous flock of geese." "You lived some time in Grunwald?" "I have but just left it, after having led a most idyllic life in the shady, silent street of the good old town for half a year, and after having passed through my examinations under Berger's auspices." "But--I fear you will complain of my indiscretion--what induced you, when you once had that bridge of the blind and the lame behind you, to prefer the still life of a tutor in a noble family to a sphere of action in a larger circle? You have evidently all the qualifications for the latter, while here it is simply impossible for you to develop your full powers?"