self and God; that is not an unfair
division," he said, and at the same time something moist glistened in
his eyes; but he was smiling.

"Very well, then," I said, "I shall surprise you some morning. Where do
you live?" He mentioned Gardener's Lane.

"What number?

"Number 34, one flight up."

"Well, well," I cried, "on the fashionable floor."

"The house," he said, "consists in reality only of a ground floor. But
upstairs, next to the garret, there is a small room which I occupy in
company with two journeymen."

"A single room for three people?"

"It is divided into two parts," he
answered, "and I have my own bed."

"It is getting late," I said, "and you must be anxious to get home. _Auf
Wiedersehen!_"

At the same time I put my hand in my pocket with the intention of
doubling the trifling amount I had given him before. But he had already
taken up his music-stand with one hand and his violin with the other,
and cried hurriedly, "I humbly ask you to refrain. I have already
received ample remuneration for my playing, and I am not aware of having
earned any other reward." Saying this he made me a rather awkward bow
with an approach to elegant ease, and departed as quickly as his old
legs could carry him.

As I said before, I had lost for this day all desire of participating
further in the festival. Consequently I turned homeward, taking the road
leading to the Leopoldstadt. Tired out from the dust and heat, I entered
one of the many beer-gardens, which, while overcrowded on ordinary days,
had today given up all their customers to the Brigittenau. The stillness
of the place, in contradistinction to the noisy crowd, did me good. I
gave myself up to my thoughts, in which the old musician had a
considerable share. Night had come before I thought at last of going
home. I laid the amount of my bill upon the table and walked toward the
city.

The old man had said that he lived in Gardener's Lane. "Is Gardener's
Lane near-by?" I asked a smell boy who was running across the road.
"Over there, sir," he replied, pointing to a side street that ran from
the mass of houses of the suburb out into the open fields. I followed
the direction indicated. The street consisted of some scattered houses,
which, separated by large vegetable gardens, plainly indicated the
occupation of the inhabitants and the origin of the name Gardener's
Lane. I was wondering in which of these miserable huts my odd friend
might live. I had complete