"Ungrateful," he said to himself, "to commit a crime that would have brought affliction upon the last days, and covered with shame the white hairs of the worthy old man, your father, who loves you so tenderly, and has only yourself in the world. God knows if he would have survived your suicide, if sorrow would not have brought him to the grave. And why? For a woman that you have loved, that you still love more than words can express! How do you know she merits your love? And has she ever loved you? Foolish to doubt! She still loves you--Oh, no! she has lost all interest in you and treats you as if there never existed the least sympathetic sentiment between you." Saying this, he turned, stopped, and appeared to consider anew whether he should return to the canal. It was the last attempt of the spirit of evil upon his heart enfeebled by suffering. Happily his good angel watched over him and gave him strength to resist. After a moment of hesitation he continued his route, murmuring, "But no, that cannot be; she cannot have forgotten me, she must love me yet--Katharina, this angel with looks so pure, voice so sweet, expression so celestial, thoughts so candid, she could never deceive me. For her I would give my life. She cannot abandon me thus; but why does she not let me hear from her? She must realize that her silence and this uncertainty make me suffer torments." Thus reasoning, by turns filled with hope and despair, he gradually approached the principal entrance of the church. Divine service had long since commenced. The majestic tones of the organ rang through the vaulted roof, floating over the heads of the kneeling faithful. He entered more through curiosity and to distract his grief, than through piety, or to pray for the souls of the dead, as he felt that in his distracted state of mind it would be impossible for him to elevate his thoughts above the earth, and to invoke God with any other intention than that of seeing his well beloved.