a business meeting.  I thoroughly know the girl’s heart, and know that in winning the interview I win her.  Only’—­he pressed his friend’s arm—­’but, my dear Tresten, you understand.  You’re a luckier fellow than I—­for the time, at all events.  Make it as short as you can.  You’ll find me here.  I shall take a book—­one of the Pandects.  I don’t suppose I shall work.  I feel idle.  Any book handy; anything will interest me.  I should walk or row on the lake, but I would rather be sure of readiness for your return.  You meet Storchel at the General’s house?’

‘The appointment was at the house,’ Tresten said.

’I have not seen him this morning.  I know of nothing to prepare him for.  You see, it was invariable with her:  as soon as she met me she had twice her spirit:  and that she knows;—­she was a new woman, ten times the happier for having some grains of my courage.  So she’ll be glad to come to terms and have me by to support her.  Press it, if necessary; otherwise she might be disappointed, my dear fellow.  Storchel looks on, and observes, and that ’s about all he can do, or need do.  Up Mont Blanc to-day, Tresten!  It’s the very day for an ascent:—­one of the rare crystalline jewels coming in a Swiss August; we should see the kingdoms of the earth—­and a Republic!  But I could climb with all my heart in a snowstorm to-day.  Andes on Himalayas! as high as you like.  The Republic by the way, small enough in the ring of empires and monarchies, if you measure it geometrically!  You remember the laugh at the exact elevation of Mount Olympus?  But Zeus’s eagle sat on it, and top me Olympus, after you have imagined the eagle aloft there! after Homer, is the meaning.  That will be one of the lessons for our young Republicans—­to teach them not to give themselves up to the embrace of dead materialism because, as they fancy, they have had to depend on material weapons for carving their way, and have had no help from other quarters.  A suicidal delusion!  The spiritual weapon has done most, and always does.  They are sons of an idea.  They deny their parentage when they scoff at idealism.  It’s a tendency we shall have to guard against; it leads back to the old order of things, if we do not trim our light.  She is waiting for you!  Go.  You will find me here.  And don’t forget my instructions.  Appoint for the afternoon—­not late.  Too near night will seem like Orpheus going below, and I hope to meet a living woman, not a ghost—­ha! coloured like a lantern in a cavern, good Lord!  Covered with lichen!  Say three o’clock, not later.  The reason is, I want to have it over early and be sure of what I am doing; I’m bothered by it; I shall have to make arrangements . . . a thousand little matters . . . telegraph to Paris, I daresay; she’s fond of Paris, and I must learn who’s there to meet her.  Now start.  I’ll walk a dozen steps with you.  I think of her as if, since we parted, she had been sitting on a throne in Erebus, and must be ghastly.  I had a dream of a dead tree that upset me.  In fact, you see I must have it over.  The whole affair makes me feel too young.’