"You think not?" he asked--and she wondered if he had taken a little cold; his voice sounded that way. "Oh I don't mean that too literally. But I like the idea of our going through the same experiences--both succeeding. It seems to me I can understand you better this morning than I ever did before. I read a little poem last night, and at the time I liked it so much. It is about success, or rather about not succeeding. But I'm afraid it wouldn't appeal to me very much just now,"--again she laughed, happily, and it was well for the happiness that she was not looking at him then. "What was it?" he asked, as he saw she was going to turn around to him. "Say it." "Part of it was like this": 'Not one of all the purple host Who took the flag to-day Can tell the definition So clear, of victory, As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break agonized and clear.' "Say that last verse again," he said, his voice thick and low;--Karl was so different when he was sick! "As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break agonized and clear." "It is beautiful, isn't it?" she said, as he did not speak. "Beautiful? I don't know. I suppose it is. I was thinking that quite likely it is true." "But I didn't suppose you would care about it, Karl. I supposed you would feel about it as you did about the statue." "I wonder," he began, slowly, not seeming sure of what he wanted to say--"how much the comprehension, the understanding of things, that the loss would bring, would make up for the success taken away? I wonder just what the defeated fellow could work out of that?" "But dearie, _is_ it true? Why can failure comprehend success any more than success can comprehend failure?" "It's different," he said, shortly. "How do you know?" she asked banteringly. "What do you know about it? You don't even know how to spell the word failure!" He started to say something, but stopped, and then he stooped over and rested his head for a minute upon her hair. "Tell me about your picture, Ernestine," he said, quietly, after that. "Tell me just what it is." "The Hidden Waterfall? Why you know it, Karl." "Yes, but I want to hear you talk about it. I want to hear you tell just what it means."