ve to divine their secret import. Some
of them were repeated from time to time, which always seemed to me
wonderful and strange. I was particularly perturbed by one dream. It
seems to me that I am walking along a narrow, badly-paved street in an
ancient town, between many-storied houses of stone, with sharp-pointed
roofs. I am seeking my father who is not dead, but is, for some reason,
hiding from us, and is living in one of those houses. And so I enter a
low, dark gate, traverse a long courtyard encumbered with beams and
planks, and finally make my way into a small chamber with two circular
windows. In the middle of the room stands my father, clad in a
dressing-gown and smoking a pipe. He does not in the least resemble my
real father: he is tall, thin, black-haired, he has a hooked nose,
surly, piercing eyes; in appearance he is about forty years of age. He
is displeased because I have hunted him up; and I also am not in the
least delighted at the meeting--and I stand still, in perplexity. He
turns away slightly, begins to mutter something and to pace to and fro
with short steps.... Then he retreats a little, without ceasing to
mutter, and keeps constantly casting glances behind him, over his
shoulder; the room widens out and vanishes in a fog.... I suddenly grow
terrified at the thought that I am losing my father again. I rush after
him--but I no longer see him, and can only hear his angry, bear-like
growl.... My heart sinks within me. I wake up, and for a long time
cannot get to sleep again.... All the following day I think about that
dream and, of course, am unable to arrive at any conclusion.

IV

The month of June had come. The town in which my mother and I lived
became remarkably animated at that season. A multitude of vessels
arrived at the wharves, a multitude of new faces presented themselves on
the streets. I loved at such times to stroll along the quay, past the
coffee-houses and inns, to scan the varied faces of the sailors and
other people who sat under the canvas awnings, at little white tables
with pewter tankards filled with beer.

One day, as I was passing in front of a coffee-house, I caught sight of
a man who immediately engrossed my entire attention. Clad in a long
black coat of peasant cut, with a straw hat pulled down over his eyes,
he was sitting motionless, with his arms folded on his chest. Thin
rings of black hair descended to his very nose; his thin lips gripped
the stem of a short