"Perfectly. And that is why, the night before last, I could not agree with you at all when you asserted that a young girl could not love a much older man, or was at least committing an act of folly if she did so, which, to her sorrow, she was bound to realise sooner or later, and therefore the sooner the better. Nor is it at all this consideration which makes Hilarie change, and which throws her into the arms of that youth who is behaving so childishly and insanely, that Flavio;--there is quite a different reason for it." "Then you know the novelette?" "No; I only read it now; and I had to hunt a long time for it, until I found it in the _Wanderjahre_. The book is lying there. And now I also understand the 'one element,' which you said the night before last that Göthe had excluded, or had not made use of--which is the right expression in this case?--because otherwise the comedy would have been turned into a tragedy." "And this 'one element,' what is it?" "The fact that her uncle is not in love with her at all. Was not that it?" "To be sure. I only wonder at your having found it out." "And my only wonder is that Hilarie did not discover it sooner. She must have been very blind not to have seen that her uncle returns--or rather does not return--her love from sheer kindliness of disposition; that at best his _penchant_ is but the faintest reflex of her passionate love. Look at this passage: 'You are making me the happiest man beneath the sun! Exclaiming this, he fell at her feet.' How feeble, how strained! And it contents her, makes her happy. I should have been ashamed of the whole business." "You must make some allowance for the spirit of the time, for the manner and expression of the period; in that case, these things do not look or sound quite as bad. But now for the other side of the medal: You hold that Hilarie did truly love her uncle, and would have remained faithful to her love, in spite of any number of Flavios, if her passion had been returned?" "Most certainly!" "Well, be it so. He loves, loves passionately. Enter Flavio, loving, loving passionately, too. The father perceives it. He sees that his own love would seal the doom of the son whom he loves. Moreover, he is sure--if he is not a conceited fool, but a man of heart and head, he must be sure--that Hilarie would undoubtedly, return his son's passion, if he, the father, the uncle, did not unfortunately stand between them; that the girl's love for the young man, and _vice versa_, is the only natural--that means, the only right thing; that therefore Hilarie cannot truly love him; that her love rather, if it be not absolutely unnatural, is anyhow an error, an aberration, from which she shall and must turn. Given these things, am I wrong in asserting that then, indeed, the comedy changes to tragedy--a tragedy the secret and silent stage of which, I admit, will be solely ... the elderly man's heart? Do you not agree with me?"