tottered off at a quick pace toward the "Star," where they were soon
sitting on a bench against the wall, each with a glass in front of him.
Huerlin, who had not seen the interior of a tavern for weeks and months,
was full of joyous excitement. He breathed in the atmosphere of the
place in long draughts, and absorbed his liquor in short, economical,
timid sips. Like a man awakening from an evil dream, he felt that he
had been restored to life again, and welcomed home by the familiar
surroundings. He brought out once more all the half-forgotten free
gestures of his old sporting days, banged thunderously on the table,
snapped his fingers, spat at ease on the floor and scraped noisily over
it with his foot. Even his manner of talking showed a sudden change,
and the full-toned words of power that recalled the days when he was a
commanding figure rang out from his blue lips with something of the old
brutal security.

While the manufacturer thus renewed his youth and sunned himself in the
afterglow of his old accomplishments and his bygone happiness, Lukas
Heller blinked thoughtfully at his glass and felt that the time had
come to repay the proud fellow for all his insults, and especially for
the dishonoring blow with the tin wash-basin on that memorable night.
He kept quite still and waited watchfully for the right moment.

Meantime Huerlin, as had always been his custom, began with the
second glass to listen to the conversation of his neighbors at the next
table, to take part in it with nods and grunts and play of expression,
and finally to interject an occasional "Oh yes," or "Really?" He felt
himself quite restored to the beautiful past; and as the conversation
at the adjoining table grew more animated, he turned more and more to
face the speakers and, as his old habit was, soon plunged with fire
into the clash of conflicting opinions. At first the other men paid no
attention to him, but presently one of them, a driver, suddenly cried
out, "Lord, it's the manufacturer! What's the matter with you, you old
rascal? Be good enough to hold your tongue, or I shall have to tell you
something!"

Huerlin turned away, cast down; but the sailmaker gave him a dig in the
ribs and murmured eagerly to him, "Don't let that fellow shut you up!
You tell _him_ something, the smarty!"

This encouragement at once inflamed the sensitiveness of the
manufacturer to new self-consciousness. He banged on the table
defiantly, moved a little near