ter a long examination, he went on: "What you, my lad,
call an art, is only a knowledge of law, and the wisdom to turn it to
one's own profit. He who is up to this can not fail to be a great man,
for he will never be hanged." At which he laughed in a way that made a
painful impression even upon Itzig.

"This art," he went on, "is not easily acquired, my boy. It takes much
practice, a good head, prompt decision, and, above all, what the knowing
call 'character.'" At which he laughed again.

Veitel felt that a crisis in his life had come. He fumbled for his
worn-out pocket-book, and held it for a moment in his trembling hand.
During that moment, all manner of conflicting thoughts flashed like
lightning through his mind. He thought of his worthy mother's tearful
farewell, and how she had said, "Veitel, this is a wicked world; gain
thy bread honestly." He saw his old father on his death-bed, with his
white head drooping over his emaciated frame. He thought, too, of his
fifty dollars gathered together so laboriously--of the insults he had
had to bear for their sake--the threatened blows. At that thought he
threw his pocket-book on the table, and cried, "Here is the money!" but
he knew, at the same time, that he was committing sin, and an invisible
weight settled on his heart.

A few hours later, the lamp had burned low, but still Veitel sat with
mouth open, eyes fixed, and face flushed, listening to the old man, who
was speaking about what most people would vote a tiresome
subject--promissory notes.

Later still, the light was gone out; and the stranger, having emptied
his bottle of brandy, was asleep on his straw bed, but still Veitel sat
and wrote in fancy on the dark walls fraudulent bonds and receipts,
while the sweat ran down from his brow; then he opened the balcony door,
and, leaning on the railing, saw the water rush by like a mighty stream
of ink. Again he traced bonds on the shadows of the opposite walls, and
wrote receipts on the surface of the stream. The shadows fled, the water
ran away; but his soul had contracted, in that dark night, a debt to be
one day required with compound interest.

From that night Veitel hurried home every evening, and the lessons went
on regularly.

We may here briefly relate what he gradually discovered as to the
history of his teacher.

Herr Hippus had seen better days. He had once been a leading attorney,
and had then taken to the Bar, where he soon gained a high reputation