face in the evening of his earthly
life?

"The slag hid behind something in the cellar, and when his wife tried to
bring him his pants, she let them fall in the flour bin." This elegant
remark emanated from Bonengel the barber.

His auditors gurgled, the waitress roared.

As Jordan walked home he could hear above the wind the voice of Bonengel
the barber. It sounded like the rattling of a pair of hair-clippers.

He disliked walking up the steps to his front door; they were so narrow;
they creaked as though they were ready to fall down; and he was always
afraid he would meet some blind people. An oculist lived on the first
floor, and he had often seen sightless persons feeling their way around.

A letter was lying on his table. The cover bore the address of the
General Agency of the Prudentia Insurance Co. He walked up and down a
while before opening it. It was his discharge papers.

XII

Friedrich Benda became more and more dejected. He saw that as a private
individual he would have to waste energy that should be going into his
profession. It seemed to him that he was condemned to bury his talent in
eternal obscurity.

He broke off from the most of his acquaintances; with others he quit
corresponding. If friends spoke to him on the street, he turned his
head. His sense of honour had been wounded; he was on the point of
losing his self-respect.

Daniel was the only one who failed to notice the change that was coming
over him. Probably he had accustomed himself to the belief that Benda's
life was orderly and agreeable. The plebeian prosperity of the family in
which he himself lived probably made him feel that that was the way his
friend was living. At all events he never asked any questions, and was
never once struck by the fact that Benda would sit before him for hours
with his face wrapped in bitter, melancholy gloom.

Benda smiled at Daniel's naivete; for he felt that his attitude was due
to naivete and nothing more. He harboured no resentment. He decided not
to say a word about his condition to Daniel, then all taken up with
himself and his music. It was, however, at times impossible for him to
prevent his smarting and his desire to put an end to his ineffectual
existence from breaking through the coating of reserve in which he had
encased himself.

Late in the afternoon of a dismal day, Benda called for Daniel just as
he was finishing one of his piano lessons. The two