ssaint too
frequently referred to the United States as the dollar land.

On the after-deck the passengers in unrestrained jollity, had begun to
dance. It was Hans Fuellenberg, the ever vivacious Berlinese, who had
taken the lead. Inspired by the Strauss waltz that the band was playing
he had engaged the lady in the fur coat. A number of other couples
followed their example, and there, under the bright sky, an informal ball
was opened, which did not end until sundown.

When the musicians with their shining brass instruments were about to
make their way inconspicuously below deck, the passengers detained them,
and in the twinkling of an eye, a large collection was taken up.
Thereupon the dance music began again, even blither than before.

XXVI

Doctor Wilhelm was summoned away, and after a while Frederick succeeded
in taking leave of Toussaint and his wife. He remained alone. The clear
heavens, the deep blue sea, smooth as glass, calmed as if by a miracle,
the music, the dancing, the sunlight, and the dear, sweet, pacifying,
all-forgiving letter of his mother--it was in his pocket--awakened in him
a fresh, pleasant sense of vitality.

"Life," he said to himself, "is always this way or that, a moment filled
with pain or pleasure, with darkness or brightness, with sunlight or
heavy, black clouds; and according to the moment in which we view our
past and future, these will darken or brighten. Should existence in the
shining light possess lesser reality than existence in the dark?" "No, it
should not," was the answer that came from everything within and about
him, filling him with youthful, almost childlike joy.

Frederick had pushed back his slouched hat, had unbuttoned his light
overcoat, and was standing with his arms crooked over the railing. He
looked out upon the sea. He felt the pulse beats of the engines, his ears
were filled with the pliant, melodious chords of the Viennese waltz; the
whole world had turned into a brilliant, lively, sparkling ballroom. He
had suffered and caused others to suffer. Now he embraced all those
through whom he had suffered and who had suffered through him, and seemed
to wed them in blissful intoxication.

At this point Ingigerd Hahlstroem passed by with the giant Von Halm.
Frederick heard her say she did not dance, that dancing was an insipid
pleasure. With that, he started away from the railing, went up to the
Canadian, and in a peculiar, fiery German manner ruthlessly drew