f my mother's helped me to get to Vienna; I was lucky enough
to find work with a man who used to decorate churches. We went about the
country together. Once when he was ill I painted the roof of a church
entirely by myself; I lay on my back on the scaffold boards all day for
a week--I was proud of that roof." He paused.

"When did you begin painting pictures?"

"A friend asked me why I didn't try for the Academie. That started
me going to the night schools; I worked every minute--I had to get my
living as well, of course, so I worked at night.

"Then when the examination came, I thought I could do nothing--it was
just as if I had never had a brush or pencil in my hand. But the second
day a professor in passing me said, 'Good! Quite good!' That gave me
courage. I was sure I had failed though; but I was second out of sixty."

Christian nodded.

"To work in the schools after that I had to give up my business, of
course. There was only one teacher who ever taught me anything; the
others all seemed fools. This man would come and rub out what you'd done
with his sleeve. I used to cry with rage--but I told him I could only
learn from him, and he was so astonished that he got me into his class."

"But how did you live without money?" asked Christian.

His face burned with a dark flush. "I don't know how I lived; you must
have been through these things to know, you would never understand."

"But I want to understand, please."

"What do you want me to tell you? How I went twice a week to eat free
dinners! How I took charity! How I was hungry! There was a rich cousin
of my mother's--I used to go to him. I didn't like it. But if you're
starving in the winter."

Christian put out her hand.

"I used to borrow apronsful of coals from other students who were as
poor--but I never went to the rich students."

The flush had died out of his face.

"That sort of thing makes you hate the world! You work till you stagger;
you're cold and hungry; you see rich people in their carriages, wrapped
in furs, and all the time you want to do something great. You pray for
a chance, any chance; nothing comes to the poor! It makes you hate the
world."

Christian's eyes filled with tears. He went on:

"But I wasn't the only one in that condition; we used to meet. Garin,
a Russian with a brown beard and patches of cheek showing through, and
yellow teeth, who always looked hungry. Paunitz, who came from sympathy!
He had fat cheeks and litt