low. He could still
see him sitting in the jacket that had been given him, at his beautiful
mother's table, timidly taking the smallest portions from the dishes
offered. But keenly alive to the nature and connection of intellectual
questions, he possessed moreover, a mind as dogmatically intrenched, as
the agitator's was inaccessible, and so willingly avoided useless
discussions. Yet he always felt that something was amiss, if he did not
see at the usual time the honest, somewhat care worn face, that always
incited him to a brilliant display of fireworks in the shape of little
witticisms and old school boy jokes, until the thick lips under the
bushy beard parted, the white teeth glittered, and the lines between
the heavy eye-brows grew smooth. Then the gloomy enthusiast could sit
down at the brother's table and share their frugal supper, with as much
childish pleasure as if no social questions were disturbing his soul.

But to-day an unusually dark shadow rested upon his brow which contrary
to custom even Balder could not succeed in dispelling. He evidently had
some trouble, which, with his usual slowness, he could not instantly
put into words. Blundering around the room and wiping his broad
forehead with a flowered handkerchief, he had at last fallen into a
deep reverie before the table on which the plate of plum cake still
stood. Balder had invited him to eat some, and related what a great
occasion, Reginchen's birthday, had been celebrated by this luxurious
revelry. The singular man had remained perfectly mute, seated himself
at the table with a heavy sigh, and resting his head on his hands
stared as persistently at the nice slices of cake as if they revealed
to him the solution of the social problem, as the arcanum of the world
flashed upon Jacob Boehmen from a tin dish. Balder had given up talking
to him; he was accustomed to such moods and perfectly satisfied to work
at his turning lathe and devote himself to his own thoughts.

Such was the state of affairs in which Edwin found them, when an hour
after he returned home. At first he was vexed not to see Balder alone;
he was very anxious to give vent to the feelings of his oppressed soul.
He greeted his old friend somewhat curtly, then went up to Balder,
passed his hand over his head, and said: "Have I been away long? I want
to read over the dissertation, excuse me, Franzel."

With these words he went to his desk, took out a printed volume, and
the three men in th