quiet on his knees
when he spoke to her in this way on these subjects. His twitching,
angular face, weather-beaten by the storms of life, took on an expression
of sorrow that was most becoming to it.

When she had a headache or was tired, he expressed his anxiety for her
in touching tones. He would go about the house on tiptoes, and close the
doors with infinite care. If a dog barked on the street, he rushed to
the window and looked out, enraged at the beast. When she retired, he
would help her undress, and bring her whatever she needed.

It was also strange that he disliked the idea of leaving her alone.
There was something child-like in his restlessness when he was at home
and she was out. He pictured her surrounded by grievous dangers; he
would have liked to lock her up and hold her a captive, so as to be sure
that she was quite safe. This made her all the weaker and more dependent
upon him, while he was like a man who presses what he has to his heart,
plagued with the thought that by some mischance it might escape, and
yet clings to it also lest he be disturbed by the thought of another
more precious possession he loved long since and lost a while.

Once he came to Gertrude while she was playing the harp, threw his arms
about her, looked into her face with a wild, gloomy expression, and
stammered: "I love you, I love you, I do." It was the first time he had
spoken these eternal words. She grew pale, first from joy and then from
fear; for there was more of hatred than of love in his voice.

VIII

He felt that association with congenial men would help him over many a
dark hour. But when he set out to look for these men, the city became a
desert and a waste place.

Herr Seelenfromm came to his house now and then. Daniel could not endure
the timid man who admired him so profoundly, and who, in the bottom of
his heart, had an equal amount of respect for Gertrude. The young
architect who had been employed at the St. Sebaldus Church while it was
being renovated, and who loved music, had won Daniel's esteem. But he
had a repulsive habit of smacking his tongue when he talked. Daniel and
he discussed the habit, and parted the worst of enemies. His association
with a certain Frenchman by the name of Riviere was of longer duration.
Riviere was spending some time in the city, looking up material for a
life of Caspar Hauser. He had made his acquaintance at the Baroness von
Auffenberg's, an