every reproduction of Italian Renaissance art, every photograph of
church or castle. And I myself loved pictures even more ardently than
poetry. I was fond of comparing my relations with literature to
affection for a being of the same sex; my passion for pictures to the
stormy passion of a youth for a woman. It is true that I knew much less
about Art than about Poetry, but that made no difference. I worshipped
my favourite artists with a more impetuous enthusiasm than any of my
favourite authors. And this affection for pictures and statuary was a
link between my friend and myself. When we were sitting in my room
together, and another visitor happened to be there, I positively
suffered over the sacrifice of an hour's enjoyment and when Lange got up
to go, I felt as though a window had been slammed to, and the fresh air
shut out.


II.

I had for a long time pursued my non-juridic studies as well as I could
without the assistance of a teacher. But I had felt the want of one. And
when a newly appointed docent at the University, Professor H. Broechner,
offered instruction in the study of Philosophy to any who cared to
present themselves at his house at certain hours, I had felt strongly
tempted to take advantage of his offer. I hesitated for some time, for I
was unwilling to give up the least portion of my precious freedom; I
enjoyed my retirement, the mystery of my modest life of study, but on
the other hand I could not grapple with Plato and Aristotle without the
hints of a competent guide as to the why and wherefore.

I was greatly excited. I had heard Professor Broechner speak on
Psychology, but his diction was handled with such painful care, was so