Agathe apparently regarded it as futile to explain her decision rationally. Her marriage was in all external respects in perfect order, as was to be expected from a man of Hagauer’s character. No quarrels, almost no differences of opinion, not least because Agathe, as she told Ulrich, never confided her opinion to him on any subject. Of course no excesses, neither drinking nor gambling. Not even bachelor habits. Fair distribution of income. Well-ordered household. Quiet routine of social occasions with others and unsocial ones à deux. “So if you simply leave him for no reason at all,” Ulrich said, “you will be found at fault in the divorce; provided he sues.”

“Let him sue!” Agathe exclaimed.

“Maybe it would be good to grant him a small financial advantage if he agrees to an amicable settlement?”

“All I took with me,” she replied, “was what I would need for a three-week trip, and a few childish things and mementos from my time before Hagauer. He can keep all the rest, I don’t want it. But he won’t get anything more out of me in the future!”

Again she had spoken with surprising vehemence. One possible explanation was that Agathe wanted to avenge herself for having granted this man unfair advantages in the past. Ulrich’s pugnacity, competitive spirit, and gift for strategic ingenuity were now aroused, though he felt some misgivings as well; for it was like the effect of a stimulant that agitates the external emotions while the inner ones remain untouched. He changed the course of the conversation, hesitantly seeking a wider perspective: “I’ve read some of his writing and have heard about him too,” he said. “As far as I know, he’s considered a rising man in the field of education.”

“Yes, he is that,” Agathe said.

“Judging by what I know of his work, he’s not only well versed in every branch of pedagogy but also took a stand early on for reform in higher education. I remember reading a book of his where there was talk of the irreplaceable value of history and the humanities for a moral education on the one hand and of the equally irreplaceable value of science and mathematics as intellectual disciplines on the other, and thirdly, of the irreplaceable value of harnessing the élan vital through sports and military drill to prepare mind and body for action.”

“That may be,” Agathe said, “but have you noticed the way he quotes?”

“The way he quotes? Wait a minute: I vaguely remember noticing something. He uses a lot of quotations. He quotes the old masters. He—of course he quotes the moderns as well, and now I know what it is: he quotes in a way that is positively revolutionary for a schoolmaster—he doesn’t just quote the eminent scholars but also the aeronautics engineers, politicians, and artists of the day . . . But that’s pretty much what I already said, isn’t it . . .” he concluded with the sheepish feeling of a memory that has gone off the track and runs up against a buffer.