greasy comedian get it into his head that he is
going to steal you away from me! Or let some wabbly-hipped office-boy
imagine for a minute that he is going to drag you into his circle along
with his other unwashed acquaintances! If this ever happens, Dorothea,
give it to 'em hot and heavy! Show the wanton satyrs what kind of blood
you have in you."

"Ah, Uncle," said Dorothea, "I know you mean well by me. You are the
only one who does. But if I were only not so poor! Look at me! Look at
this dress I have on! It's a sight!" And she put her head in her
uplifted arm and sobbed.

Herr Carovius pulled at his moustaches, moved his eyebrows up and down,
went to his writing desk, opened his strong box, took out a hundred-mark
bill, and gave it to her with turned head, as if he were afraid of the
wrath of the protecting spirit of the money chest.

This was the state of affairs when Daniel met the youthful Dorothea in
Herr Carovius's home, and went away with an unforgettable,
unextinguishable picture of her in his soul.

XIII

Daniel's approaching fortieth birthday seemed like a sombre portal
leading to the realm of spent ambition. "Seize what remains to be
seized," a voice within him cried. "Grass is growing on the graves."

His senses were at war with his intellect and his heart. He had never
looked on women as he was looking on them now.

One day he went out to Siegmundshof. Eberhard was not at home. Sylvia's
face showed traces of subdued sadness. She had three children, each one
more beautiful than the other, but when her eyes rested on them her
heart was filled with grief. Women whose married life is unhappy have
dull, lifeless features; their hands are transparent and yellow.

Daniel took leave more quickly than he had wished or intended. He felt
an egoistic aversion to the joyless sons of man.

He went to see Herr Carovius. The laughing one whom he sought was not at
home.

Herr Carovius looked at him at times distrustfully. The face of his
former foe set him to thinking. It was furrowed like a field under
cultivation and burnt like a hearthstone. It was the face of a criminal,
crabbed, enervated, tense, and breathed upon, it seemed, by threatening
clouds. Herr Carovius was a connoisseur of faces.

In order to avoid the discomfort of fatuous conversation, Daniel played
a number of old motetts for Herr Carovius. Herr Carovius was so pleased
that he ran into his pantry, and got