We must exercise patience--for the
benefit of the many generations of men that are to come after us."

Daniel got up and began to walk back and forth. After a silence that was
exceedingly painful to Benda, he said: "Let's go out. Let's go to a
cafe, or take a long walk on the streets, or go wherever you would like
to go. Or if I am a burden to you, I will accompany you for a short
stretch and then remain alone. The point is, I cannot stay here any
longer; I cannot stand it here."

"A burden to me?" replied Benda reproachfully. That was the tone, the
look of years gone by. Daniel felt at once that he was personally under
no obligation to talk. He saw at once that Benda knew a great deal and
suspected the rest. He felt his heart grow lighter.

They went downstairs.

XV

Daniel asked Benda to wait on the stairs, locked the door, and took his
hat from the hook. In the living room there was a great deal of noise
punctuated with laughter. Philippina came out of her room, and snarled:
"The way they're carrying on in there! You'd think they wuz all drunk!"

"What is going on?" asked Daniel timidly, merely to have something to
say.

"They are playing blindfold," replied Philippina contemptuously, "every
one of them is an old bird, and they're playing blindfold!"

There was a sound as if a plate had been broken; a piercing scream
followed, and then silence. But the silence was of momentary duration:
that vulgar, slimy laughter soon broke out again.

Above the din of screaming voices, Daniel heard Dorothea's. He hastened
to the door and opened it.

His enraged eye fell on the table covered with pots, empty cups, and
pastry. The chairs had been pushed to one side; the new gas chandelier
with its five frosted globes was functioning at full force; there were
seven or eight persons grouped around Dorothea, laughing and looking at
something that had fallen on the floor.

Dorothea had pushed the white sash she had been wearing while playing
blindfold back on her forehead. She was the first to see Daniel; she
exclaimed: "There is my husband. Now don't get angry, Daniel; it's
nothing but that idiotic plaster mask."

Councillor Finkeldey, a white-bearded man, nodded at Daniel, or at least
at the spot where he was standing, with marked enthusiasm. It was his
way of paying homage to Dorothea: everything she said he accompanied
with an inspired nod of approval.

Daniel saw that the mask of Z