ied his hatred of the man who by his laconic and deeply
ordered life deprived him of one freedom after another, until it became
an unendurable torture. He had lost his heart to Spiele's charm over
which the enemy had unlimited mastery. Now his self-will, too, was
being shattered and pushed under the feet of the marching multitude.
Something had to happen to give the world breathing-space. A master
shot should explode that whole damnable scheme in which his life was
about to be sunk and buried.

A week after that incident in the short nine o'clock pause Hoeflinger
remarked casually, that Spiele would no longer bring them their lunch,
and they would have to ride home. He gave no reason for this decision,
and, when Victor glanced at him, did not look as if he were inclined to
be questioned. Victor said it was all right, and stared dismally before
him. Suddenly he took his cup and angrily spilled the coffee on the
floor. He was convinced that Hoeflinger had learned of the incidents of
the first noon and the second night of his absence, and that the change
was due to them. So he was again to be punished. Hoeflinger had raised
his brows in surprise: "Why do you spill that coffee?" "Because I don't
like it--d--it!" Victor got up breathing fast and stepped aside.
Beside him glistened the cold disk of the saw; he looked wrathfully at
the claw which had stopped about to grab a bar. What a tyrant the long
one was! He found out everything; he got out everything from that
helpless woman. He surely found it annoying to ride home every noon,
but he wanted Victor to feel his power. He wanted to punish and torture
him for his devotion to Spiele. And such a fellow was in the executive
committee and was esteemed by the mass!

Suddenly Victor started, trembled and his eyes shudderingly turned away
from the monster's claw. Whoever came within its grasp was lost, even
if his name was Hoeflinger and he was in the committee. Then he would
cease to tyrannize over his handsome wife and to lead about by the
nose, the ill-advised proletariat. A big humbug would end, and the air
would be so much purer than before. Pratteler sighed, gritted his teeth
and rapidly measured the idol with a look of distrust and hatred. After
that, this beast should be disposed of--what a relief that would be!
Two scoundrels silenced. A giddiness came over him. For an instant he
had to hold on to the lever, but the next moment found him once more
standing firm and tense