pale and strange.

"Yes--no. I do not know. What does it matter?"

He sat up upon the wolf-skin with passionate pain upon his face;
all his soul was in rebellion, and he was only a child and was
powerless.

"It is a sin; it is a theft; it is an infamy," he said, slowly,
his eyes fastened on the gilded feet of Hirschvogel.

"Oh, August, do not say such things of father!" sobbed his
sister. "Whatever he does, _we_ ought to think it right."

[Illustration: "IT IS A SIN, IT IS A THEFT, IT IS AN INFAMY," HE SAID]

August laughed aloud.

"Is it right that he should spend his money in drink?--that he
should let orders lie unexecuted?--that he should do his work so
ill that no one cares to employ him?--that he should live on
grandfather's charity, and then dare sell a thing that is ours
every whit as much as it is his? To sell Hirschvogel! Oh, dear
God! I would sooner sell my soul!"

"August!" cried Dorothea, with piteous entreaty. He terrified
her, she could not recognize her little, gay, gentle brother in
those fierce and blasphemous words.

August laughed aloud again; then all at once his laughter broke
down into bitterest weeping. He threw himself forward on the
stove, covering it with kisses, and sobbing as though his heart
would burst from his bosom.

What could he do? Nothing, nothing, nothing!

"August, dear August," whispered Dorothea, piteously, and
trembling all over,--for she was a very gentle girl, and fierce
feeling terrified her,--"August, do not lie there. Come to bed:
it is quite late. In the morning you will be calmer. It is
horrible indeed, and we shall die of cold, at least the little
ones; but if it be father's will----"

"Let me alone," said August, through his teeth, striving to still
the storm of sobs that shook him from head to foot. "Let me
alone. In the morning!--how can you speak of the morning?"

"Come to bed, dear," sighed his sister. "Oh, August, do not lie
and look like that! you frighten me. Do come to bed."

"I shall stay here."

"Here! all night!"

"They might take it in the night. Besides, to leave it _now_!"

"But it is cold! the fire is out."

"It will never be warm any more, nor shall we."

All his childhood had gone out of him, all his gleeful, careless,
sunny temper had gone with it; he spoke sullenly and wearily,
choking down the great sobs in his chest. To him it was as if the
end of the world had come.

His sister lingered by him while striving to persuade