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I pray God there may be a great plenty of trouble grow out of the crossing of this 't'. Father is always saying that women were put on earth to make trouble, so I'll do what little I can to make true His Lordship's words." She threw back her head, laughing softly. "Is it not glorious, Sir Karl?"
"You are now speaking of Yolanda," I said, not knowing what the wishes of the princess might be in regard to enlightening him. He looked at me and answered: "Karl, if a woman's face is burned on a man's heart, he knows it when he sees it." "You know Yolanda's face, certainly, and I doubt if Yolanda will thank you for mistaking another's for it." "I have made no mistake, Karl," he answered.
Returning to Berlin, Karl resumed his studies; but as before, they were very desultory in their character, and began to run upon social questions, which were indeed setting Germany into a ferment.
Karl at the same instant was seen hurriedly rising erect upon the opposite side of the glade, while both with cocked guns in their hands stood eyeing each other, like two individuals about to engage in a deadly duel of rifles!
Prince Karl, his messengers flying madly, has struggled as man seldom did to put himself in some posture about Leuthen, to get up some defences there. Leuthen itself, the churchyard of it especially, is on the defensive.
An Assembly of Protestants surprised by Catholic Troops, by Karl Girardet, was a most superior picture in Wilkie's best style; Reading the Bible, by Edward Girardet, also exceedingly clever; but one of the most delightful pictures in the exhibition was by Gué, of Raymond of Toulouse reconciling himself to the Church; I never yet saw any performance of that artist but evinced some great merit, either the finest imagination, the most beautiful execution, or the utmost truth to nature, according to the subject he undertakes.
"But it was not from Karl that I learned the worst. He was always trying to hide the worst. Never did I hear of such a man as he was for turning things bright side upwards. But Conrad Schramm, who was related to Barbara a sort of second cousin, I think lodged in the same house with us. Schramm was the closest friend Karl and Jenny had in London then, and he told me things that made my heart bleed.
For the last three months I lived with the picture, my heart and mind knew nothing else. But the day I finished it my strongest feeling was a regret that it was finished, a yearning to go on with it forever. For doctor, I painted my heart, my life, everything that I had within myself, everything I had taken from Karl, into that picture. I am lonely now without it, for it made my life.
Karl awoke next morning with the sense of something wrong. Something was making him uncomfortable, but he was not wide enough awake at first to locate the trouble. He lay there dozing for a few minutes and when he roused again he knew that his eyes were hurting badly. He awakened instantly then. His eyes? Why, they had bothered him a little all day yesterday.
The deep lines in Karl's face furnished the strongest argument against further waiting. "What have we here?" he asked, picking up one of the embossed books lying open on the table near Karl. "I presume that's my Bible," Karl replied. "Has it come to this?" the doctor asked dryly. "Didn't we ever tell you the story of my Bible?" "No. You never did. I never suspected you had one."
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