f it. There's something gnawing at him from inside--and at his age a
fellow can't stand that long. We shall see." After this the minister
sat now and then with Huerlin in his room, near Holdria's green
bird-cage, and talked to him of life and death, and tried to bring some
light into his darkness--but in vain. Huerlin listened or not as his
mood was, nodded or hummed, but spoke no word and grew constantly
stranger. Once in a while one of Finkenbein's jokes would appeal to
him, and he would give a dry laugh or beat on the table and nod
approvingly; but immediately afterward he would sink into himself again
to listen to the confused voices that claimed his attention and
tormented him without his being able to understand them.

Outwardly he only seemed quieter and more plaintive, and all treated
him much as before. The imbecile alone, even if he had not been himself
so feeble-minded, was capable of understanding Huerlin's condition and
his gradual decline and feeling a certain horror at the sight; for this
friendly and peaceful soul had become the manufacturer's constant
companion and friend. They sat together by the wooden cage, put their
fingers in between the bars for the fat sparrow to peck at, lounged of
a morning, now that winter was coming on, by the half warm stove, and
looked at each other with as much comprehension as if they had been two
sages instead of a pair of poor hopeless fools. You can see at times
two wild beasts locked in together looking at each other in just the
same way; according to the mood of the observer, their gaze will seem
dull, amusing, or terribly moving.

What troubled Huerlin most was the humiliation he had experienced at the
"Star" through Heller's instigation. At the very table where he had
long sat almost daily, where he had spent his last penny, where he had
been a good customer, a friend of the house and a leader in debate,
there landlord and guests alike had looked on and laughed when he was
kicked out. He had been forced to feel in his own bones that he
belonged there no longer, that he did not count, that he had been
forgotten and struck off the list and had no longer any shadow of
rights.

For any other scurvy trick he would have avenged himself on Heller at
the first opportunity. But now he did not even bring out the accustomed
words of abuse that sat so easily on his tongue. What could he say to
him? He had been entirely right. If he were still the same man as of
old, still w