e street
in front of the shop was as deserted as it ordinarily is at midnight.
After some time, the chief of police came up; he was followed by a crowd
of curious people, who stood around and gaped at the scene of
devastation.

Jason Philip, seeing what was coming, had left the shop betimes and
hidden in his house. He had even locked the front door and was sunk down
on a chair, his teeth clappering with vigour and regularity.

He returned at last to the shop, and with heart-rending dignity faced the
dispenser of justice, who by this time had put in his appearance. He
said: "And this is what I get from people for whom I have sacrificed my
money and my blood."

In giving his testimony as an eyewitness, Zwanziger displayed boastful
hardiness in his narration of details. Philippina looked at him with
venomous contempt from under the imbecile locks that hung down over her
forehead, and murmured: "You disgusting coward!"

When Jason Philip came back from the inn, he said: "To believe that
people can be ruled without the knout is a fatal delusion." With that he
stepped into his embroidered slippers--"For tired Father--Consolation."
The slippers had aged, and so had Jason Philip. His beard was streaked
with grey.

Theresa took an invoice of the damage the mob had done: she felt that
Jason Philip was a ruined man.

As he lay stretched out in bed, Jason Philip said: "The first thing I
want to do is to have a serious, heart-to-heart talk with Baron
Auffenberg. The Liberal Party is going to take direct action against the
impudence of the lower classes, or it is going to lose a constituent."

"How many quarts of beer did you drink?" asked Theresa from the depths
of the pillows.

"Two."

"You are a liar."

"Well, possibly I drank three," replied Jason Philip with a yawn. "But
to accuse a man of my standing of lying on such small grounds is an act
of perfidy such as only an uncultured woman like yourself could be
brought to commit."

Theresa blew out the candle.

II

Baron Siegmund von Auffenberg had returned from Munich, where he had had
an interview with the Minister.

He had also seen a great many other people in the presence of whom he
was condescending, jovial, and witty. His amiability was proverbial.

Now he was sitting with a gloomy face by the chimney. Not a one of those
many people who had so recently been charmed by his conversational gifts
would have recognised him.