the air. Look at him for whom I did more than for
all the rest. Did I take a pfennig from him in payment?--when I saw
that he had talent? Not I! And I did it all. When he came to me, he
couldn't play a scale. I gave him extra lessons without charge, I put
pupils in his way, I got him scholarships, I enabled him to support his
family--they would have been beggars in the street, but for me. And now
soon will be! Yes, I have had his mother here, weeping at my feet,
imploring me to reason with him and bring him back to his senses. SHE
sees where his infamy will land them. But I? I snap my fingers in his
face. He has sown, and he shall reap his sowing.--But the day will
come, I know it, when he will return to me, and all the rest will
follow him, like the sheep they are. Let them come! They'll see then
whether I have need of them or not. They'll see then what they were
worth to me. For I can produce others others, I say!--who will put him
and his fellows out of the running. Do they think I'm done for, because
of this? I'll show them the contrary. I'll show them! Why, I set no
more store by the lot of you than I do by this plate of cakes!"

Again he ate voraciously, and for a few moments, the noise his jaws
made in working was the only sound in the room. Maurice stood in the
same attitude, with his hat in his hand.

"I regret more than I can express, having been the cause of annoying
you, Herr Professor," he said at length with stiff formality. "But I
should like to repeat, once more, that my only object in coming here
was to speak to you about last night. I felt dissatisfied with myself
and ..."

"Dissatisfied?" echoed Schwarz, bringing his jaws together with a snap.
"And what business of yours is it to feel dissatisfied, I'd like to
know? Leave that to me! You'll hear soon enough, I warrant you, when I
have reason to be dissatisfied. Until then, do me the pleasure of
minding your own business."

"Excuse me," said Maurice with warmth, "if this isn't my own business!
... As I see it, it's nobody's but mine. And it seemed to me natural to
appeal to you, as the only person who could decide for me whether I
should have anything further to do with art, or whether I should throw
it up altogether."

Schwarz, who was sometimes not averse to a spirited opposition, caught
at the one unlucky word on which he could hang his scorn.

"ART!" he repeated with jocose emphasis--he had finished the plate of
cakes, risen from the table,