brought neither more intelligence nor more kindness into the world. It has been in vain. We also were born in vain, apparently." He glanced at his son. "Nevertheless you should not leave them a clear field."
Wolfgang sighed heavily. "What is there to hope for, father? They take good care not to push things too far, like the privileged classes before the revolution. History has unfortunately taught them moderation. Their social legislation prepares the way and corrupts. They satisfy the mob just enough to make it not worth while to fight them seriously for bread, not to mention freedom. Who is left to testify against them?"
Then the old man drew himself up, and his voice had its old sonorousness. "The spirit of humanity," he said, and, after a moment, as the younger man held his head down: "You must believe in that, my son. When the catastrophe is over which they think they can avoid, you may be sure that humanity will not consider the causes leading to the first revolution more shameless and stupid than the conditions which were ours."
Softly as a voice from the distance he said: "Who would have lived who lived only in the present."
Suddenly he seemed to totter. The son hastened to catch him and on his arm the old man disappeared in the darkness, with bowed figure and halting step. Diederich, who hurried off by a different route, had the sensation of emerging from a bad but largely incomprehensible dream, in which the very foundations had been shaken. And in spite of the unreality of all that he had heard, it seemed to shake more profoundly than the tremors of the revolution as he had known it. The days of one of this pair were numbered, the other had not very much to look forward to, yet Diederich felt it would have been better if they had stirred up a healthy uproar in the country, than to have whispered, here in the dark, things which were concerned only with the soul and the future.
