replied
Daniel with unusual candour. "It is impossible. Nor is it possible to
get the old man to tear himself away from his former associations. He
was born and reared there. And I do not wish to live alone any longer.
Everybody needs a companion; even the miner digs with a better heart,
when he knows that up on the earth above his wife is preparing the soup.
I must say, however, that I am not so much taken up with the soup phase
of married life: it is the dear little soul that will belong to me that
interests me."

He turned around, and struck a minor chord.

"And even if everything were different, your great cities would not
attract me," he began again, wrinkling his face in a most bizarre way.
"What would I get out of them? Companions? I have had enough of them.
Music I can study at home. I can summon the masters of all ages to my
study. Fame and riches will find their way to me, if they wish to. The
dawn is missed only by those who are too indolent to get up, and real
music is heard by all except the deaf. God attends to everything else;
man has nothing to do with it."

He struck another chord, this time in a major key.

Herr von Erfft and his wife looked at him with evident joy and sympathy.
Sylvia whispered something to her mother, who then said to Daniel: "I
have a sister living in Nuremberg, Baroness Clotilde von Auffenberg.
From the time she was a mere child she was an ardent lover of good
music. If I give you a letter of introduction to her, I am quite sure
she will welcome you with open arms. She is unfortunately not in the
best of health, and a heavy fate is just now hanging over her; but she
has a warm heart, and her affections are trustworthy."

Daniel looked down at the floor. He thought of Gertrude and his future
life with her, and murmured a few words of gratitude. Frau von Erfft
went at once to her desk, and wrote a detailed letter to her sister.
When she had finished it, she gave it to Daniel with a good-natured
smile.

The next morning he left the castle with the feeling of regret that one
experiences on leaving the dwelling place of peace and separating from
noble friends.

XIII

The streets of Nuremberg were hung with black banners. It was raining.
Daniel took a cheap room in The Bear.

It had already grown dark when he started to Jordan's. He met Benno at
the front door. He did not recognise the foppishly-dressed young man,
and was on the point of pa