a half dozen Boxdorf apples and put
them in Daniel's pockets. He bought these apples every autumn by the
peck, and cherished them as so many priceless treasures.

"At the sound of such music it would not be difficult to become a real
Christian," he said.

"There is spring in them," said Daniel, "they are art that is as
innocent as new seed in the soil. But your piano needs tuning."

"Symbolic, symbolic, my dear friend," cried Herr Carovius, and puffed
out his cheeks. "But you come back another time, and you will find it in
the pink of condition. Come frequently, please. You will reap the reward
of Heaven if you do."

Herr Carovius begging for company; it was touching. Daniel promised to
bring some of the manuscripts he had been collecting along with him.
When he returned a few days later, Dorothea was there; and from then on
she was always there. His visits became longer and longer. When Herr
Carovius noticed that Dorothea was coming to see him more frequently
now, he moved heaven and earth to persuade Daniel to come more
frequently. He rained reproach and abuse on him if he failed to come; if
he was late, he greeted him with a sour face and put indiscreet
questions to him. When he was alone of an afternoon, time stood still.
He was like a drinker tantalised by seeing his accustomed portion of
brandy on the table but just beyond his reach. The company of these two
people, Daniel and Dorothea, had become as indispensable to his
happiness as in former years the reading of the newspapers, the brethren
of the Vale of Tears, the troubles of Eberhard and the funerals were
indispensable if he were to feel at ease. It is the way of the small
citizen: each of his customs becomes a passion.

When Daniel played the old chorals, Dorothea listened quietly, though it
could not be said that she was perfect at concealing her tedium.

One time they began talking about Dorothea's violin playing. Herr
Carovius asked her to play something. She declined without the slightest
display of affectation. Daniel said nothing to encourage her; he found
that this modesty was becoming to her; he believed that he detected
wisdom and resignation in her behaviour; he smiled at her graciously.

"Tell us a story, Daniel," she said, "that would be better." It
eventually came out that that was what she had wanted all along.

"I am a poor raconteur," said Daniel. "I have a thick tongue."

She begged him, however, with stammering words and beseechin