Else shook her head. "No, no. He wanted this last romance too late."
"Or despaired too soon," replied Thiel, gazing thoughtfully at the bronze
statuette of Asclepius, which stood on the writing-desk before him.
HOW WOMEN LOVE.
I.
ONE WAY.
It was the first of November, 1878. The Paris Exposition was over, and
Herr Rudolph Weltli was preparing to return to his home, Switzerland,
after spending a beautiful sunny fortnight on the Seine. He had made
the great bazaar on the Champ de Mars the pretext for his journey; but
in reality the study of the exhibition, many as were the interesting
objects it could offer to him, the engineer, was a somewhat minor
matter, and he devoted his stay in Paris principally to walks through
the streets, excursions to the environs, wanderings through the
museums, in short, endless pilgrimages to all the scenes where, more
than a quarter of a century before, the drama of his student's life in
Paris had been enacted for three years, and whose image was interwoven
with the most beloved memories of his youth.
A quarter of a century! Almost a human life-time.
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