and continual expectation here; and he
soon came to the conclusion that his admission to the house, which he
had procured by many stratagems, was not, as he had thought, his
master-stroke but a stupid mistake with troublesome and lasting
consequences.

If these views led Finkenbein to a somewhat different end from the
manufacturer's, it was because he was in everything of an opposite
temperament. Above all, he did not hang his head, nor did he let his
thoughts travel ceaselessly over the same empty field of mourning
and dissatisfaction, but kept them fresh and lively. He paid little
heed to the future, and danced lightly from one day into the next. He
captivated the weaver, the simpleton, the sailmaker Heller, the fat
sparrow, the whole system on their humorous side, and had retained from
his old life the comfortable artist's habit of never making plans or
throwing out anchors for wishes or hopes beyond the situation of the
moment. So it proved successful for him now too, since he was assured
and provided for the rest of his days, to lead the life of the birds
and the flies; and it was a blessing not only to him but to the whole
house, whose daily life acquired through his presence a touch of
freedom and of elegant hilarity. This was distinctly needed--for
Sauberle and Heller had, of their own resources, hardly more than the
good-natured simpleton Holdria to contribute to the cheering and
adornment of the monotonous existence.

So the days and weeks flowed along quite tolerably, and if it was not
always jolly, at least there were no more quarrels or discords. The
manager worked and worried himself thin and weary; the sailmaker
greedily enjoyed his cheap comfort; Finkenbein shut one eye and lived
on the surface of things; Holdria positively bloomed in eternal peace
of mind, and increased daily in amiability, in appetite, and in weight.
It would have been an idyllic state of things--but the haggard ghost of
the dead manufacturer was hovering about. The hole was destined to grow
larger.

And so it came to pass that on a Wednesday in February Lukas Heller had
some work to do in the woodshed in the morning; and since he was still
unable to work in any other way than by fits and starts and with long
pauses, he came and sat down under the archway in a perspiration and
developed a cough and a headache. At midday he ate hardly half his
usual amount; in the afternoon he stayed by the stove shivering,
coughing, and swearing;