ic
rooms and sobs, and Daniel goes moping about, refusing to eat any food
and looking at you with eyes that would fill you with fear even if
everything else was as it should be."

This is the point to which Daniel has brought things, she showed in her
gratuitous report, in which there was an attempt to chide him for his
waywardness: He has put two women under the ground, has a helpless child
in the house, is out of a job, is not making a cent. Now what could this
kind of doings lead to? Judge Ruebsam's wife had paid the funeral
expenses. Why, you know, Daniel didn't even know what they were talking
about when the bill came in, and old Jordan, he didn't have twenty marks
to his name. She swore she wasn't going to stand for it much longer, and
if Daniel didn't quit his piano-strumming--he wasn't getting a cent for
it--she was going to know a thing or two.

Quite contrary to his established custom, Herr Carovius failed to show
the slightest interest in her gabble; at least he made no concessions to
her. Nor did he fuss and fume; he gazed into space, and seemed to be
thinking about many serious things all at the same time. His silence
made Philippina raging mad. She jumped up and left without saying
good-bye to him, slamming first the room door and then the hall door
behind her.

Dorothea was standing by the piano rummaging around in some note books.
Her thoughts were on what she had just been hearing.

She remembered Daniel Nothafft quite well. She knew that there was an
irreconcilable feud between him and her father. She had seen him; people
had pointed out the man with the angry looking eyes to her on the
street. She had felt at the time as if she had already talked with him,
though she could not say when or where. She had a vague idea as to what
people said about him, and she knew that he was looked upon in the city
as the adversary of evil himself.

Her breast was filled with an aimless longing. Her blood began to run
warm, the fusty _milieu_ in which she just then chanced to be cleared up
and began to bestir itself. She took her violin and began to play a
Hungarian dance, while an enlivening smile flitted across her face, and
her eyes shone with the audacity of an ambitious and temperamental girl.

Herr Carovius raised his head: "Tempo!" he exclaimed, "Tempo!" and began
to beat time with his hands and stamp the floor with his feet.

Dorothea smiled, shook her head, and played more and more rapidly.

"Tempo,"