I long thought that Xantippe was his wife, and I wish he had had her. On the other hand, look at the three hundred Spartans who sent the others home and encircled themselves with wreaths, anointed themselves, and put on the festive garb to march to death. That elevates the heart; they were men. If I could show my veneration for their memory by means of my stupid head and weak hands, I would work for it till my fingers ached. But what can a poor creature like me do? At the utmost, embroider traveling-bags for their journey to the lower world, and these would come two thousand years too late. We women are pitiable creatures," she exclaimed, with vexation. "There were others in the battle," said Ilse, "who affected me more than the three hundred Spartans. These were the Thespians, who fought and died with them. The Spartans were impelled by their proud hearts and the strict discipline and commands of their rulers. But the Thespians died willingly. They were a small people, and they well knew that the greatest honor would attach to their distinguished neighbors. But they were faithful in their humble position, and that was far more self-sacrificing and noble. Ah! it was easy for all of them," she continued, sorrowfully; "but for those who remained behind, their poor parents, wives and children at home, what destruction of happiness and unspeakable misery!" "Misery!" cried Laura; "if they thought as I do, they were proud of the death of their loved ones, and like them wore garlands in their sorrow. What is the purpose of our life if we cannot rejoice in giving ourselves up for higher things?" "For higher things?" asked Ilse. "What men value higher than wife and child, is that higher for us also? Our duty is to devote our whole hearts to them, our children, and our home. When, therefore, they are taken from us, our whole lives are desolated and nothing remains but endless sorrow. It is natural for us to view their vocation differently than they do themselves." "I would like to be a man," cried Laura. "Are we then so weak in mind and spirit, that we must have less enthusiasm, less feeling of honor, and less love for our Fatherland than they? It is a fearful thought to be one's whole life long only the waiting-maid of a master who is no stronger or better than oneself, and who wears overshoes, that his feet may not get wet, and a woollen muffler the moment a breath of cold air blows." "They do wear these things here in the town," replied Ilse, laughing.