's children shone with delight. Because they sat there so
quietly--and because they looked so pale--Eleanore gave each of the
children a sandwich. The mother was very grateful, and said so. The
father, who said he was the foreman in a mirror factory, began to talk
with Daniel about the troubles of the present era.

All of a sudden Daniel caught sight of a familiar face at a nearby
table. As it turned to one side, he saw in the dim, smelly light another
face he knew, and then a third and a fourth. It was all so ghost-like in
the room that it was some time before he knew just where to place them.
Then it occurred to him where they came from.

Herr Hadebusch and Frau Hadebusch, Herr Francke and Benjamin Dorn were
having a little Sunday outing. The brush-maker's wife was radiant with
joy on seeing her old lodger. She nodded, she blinked, she folded her
hands as if touched at the sight, and Herr Hadebusch raised his beer
glass, eager to drink a toast to Daniel's health.

They could not quite make out who Eleanore was; they took her for
Daniel's wife. This misunderstanding, it seemed, was then cleared up by
the Methodist after he had craned his neck and called his powers of
recognition into play. The demoniac woman nodded, to be sure, and kept
on blinking, but in her face there was an expression of rustic
disapproval. Her mouth was opened, and the tusks of her upper jaw shone
forth uncannily from the black abyss.

The swan neck of the Methodist was screwed up so hardily and
picturesquely above the heads of the others that Eleanore could not help
but notice his physical and spiritual peculiarities. She wrinkled her
brow, and looked at Daniel questioningly.

She looked around, and saw a great many people from the city whom she
knew either by name or from having met them so frequently. There was a
saleswoman from Ludwig Street; a clerk with a pock-marked face from a
produce store; the dignified preceptress of a Kindergarten; an official
of the savings bank; the hat-maker from the corner of the Market Place
with his grown daughter; and the sergeant who invariably saluted when he
passed by her.

All these people were in their Sunday clothes and seemed care-free and
good natured. But as soon as they saw Eleanore a mean expression came
over them. The fluttering of the lights made their faces look ghastly,
while partial intoxication made it easy to read their filthy, lazy
thoughts. Full of anxiety, Eleanore looked up at Daniel,