I only know that a man is human and that a beautiful woman was made to be loved." Everything seemed solved now that Gretchen stood at my side.
But she turned as if to go.
"Gretchen," I called, "do not go.

Forgive me; if only you understood!'" "Perhaps I do understand," she replied with a gentleness new to me.
"Do you remember why I asked you to stay ?" "Yes; I was to be your friend." "This time it is for me to ask whether I go or stay." "Stay, Gretchen!" But I was a hypocrite when I said it.
"I knew that you would say that," simply.
"Gretchen, sit down and I'll tell you the story of my life, as they say on the stage." I knocked the dead ash from my pipe and stuffed the bowl with fresh weed.

I lit it and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
"Do you see that, Gretchen ?" "Yes, Herr," sitting down, the space of a yard between us.
"It is pretty, very; but see how the wind carries it about! As it leaves my throat it looks like a tangible substance.

Reach for it and it is gone.

That cloud of smoke is my history." "It disappears," said Gretchen.
"And so shall I at the appointed time.