There
were no more. In the two last volumes there was no more mention of
Eynhardt. After the publication of the first volume, the young man
whose name adorned the title-page received a call to a public
school, of which he now forms one of the chief ornaments. To various
inquiries with regard to a concluding volume which should treat of
the nineteenth century, he replied by pointing out the doubtful
wisdom of a history or criticism of hypotheses and opinions which
were as yet incomplete and still under discussion, and put them off
with vague promises for the future. Schrotter only shrugged his
shoulders. He knew Wilhelm's views on the subject of posthumous
fame, and the immortality of the individual, and considered it
inexpedient to punish the clever young professor for being a man
like the rest.
About three months after Wilhelm's death Schrotter received one more
letter from Auguste. He observed curtly and dryly that Monsieur le
Docteur evidently did not wish to have anything more to do with him;
he wrote, however, once more, and for the last time, in order to
give him his new address in case he might desire to answer. He had
been obliged to look for another place, the game was up at the
Boulevard Pereire. In spite of all their watchfulness, madame had
managed to obtain morphine, and one night in July, when the sister
who shared her room was asleep, she had given herself so many
"pricks" that they had been unable to bring her round again.
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