n or oral. But Eberhard had ignored them. Offensive insults
that had dared attach themselves to Eleanore seemed to him as incredible
as litter from the street on the radiant moon.

One day he had to call on Herr Carovius because of a note that had been
protested. They discussed the affair in a dry, business-like way, and
then, all of a sudden, Herr Carovius fixed his piercing eyes on the
Baron, walked around the table time after time, dressed in his sleeping
gown, and told, without the omission of a single detail, of the
lamentable death of Daniel Nothafft's young wife.

He became highly excited; why, it would be hard to say. "Let us hope
that the Kapellmeisterette will come to his senses now," he cried in a
falsetto voice. "He is already on the point of starvation; ah, believe
me, he is nearly done for. It will be necessary to take up a collection
for the unrecognised genius. He has already put one of his women in the
grave, the other is still kicking. By the way, how do you like her, the
angel? Are you not a bit sorry for the neat little halo that now hangs
like a piece of castoff clothing on the bedpost of an adulteress? Of
course, geniuses are allowed to do as they please. O Eleanore, bloody
lie that you are, you hypocritical soft, sneaking, slimy lie--Eleanore!"

With that Eberhard stepped up very calmly to the unleashed demon in
pajamas, seized him by the throat, and held him with such a fierce and
unrelenting grip that Herr Carovius sank to his knees, while his face
became as blue as a boiled carp. After this he was remarkably quiet; he
crept away. At times he tittered like a simpleton; at times a venomous
glance shot forth from under his eyelids. But that was all.

Eberhard poured some water in a basin, dipped his hands in it, dried
them, and went away.

The picture of the whining man with the puffed and swollen eyes and the
blue face was indelibly stamped on Eberhard's memory. He had felt a
greedy, voluptuous desire to commit murder. He felt he was not merely
punishing and passing final judgment on his own tormentor and
persecutor, but on the hidden enemy of humanity, the arch-criminal of
the age, the destroyer of all noble seed.

And yet the exalted outburst of Herr Carovius had precisely the effect
that Eberhard had least expected. His confidence in Eleanore's innocence
had been shaken. There may have been in Herr Carovius's voice, despite
the slanderous wrath with which his cowardly tongue was coated,