races; at first cautiously and almost in a
whisper, but afterward in a loud voice. They spoke of Baron
Wolfsbuchen's great loss.

"What happened to him?"

"Fatima, his splendid black mare, wouldn't obey him, and he struck her
over the mouth with his sword. He had forgotten that the blade was
sharp."

They spoke of the loss that he had incurred by forfeiting the stakes,
and of the damage done his horse; but no one found fault with his
cruelty.

At last his comrades left. As soon as they were out of doors, they
stretched themselves. "Well, well; that's over." A visit of condolence
is a sort of funeral parade, and one's words are like muffled drums.
Before they left the carpeted staircase, they began to whisper scandal,
and to tell that Bruno had forbidden his mother-in-law to come to the
capital, as their majesties had been gracious enough to stand as
sponsors to his young scion. The whole party concluded to lunch
together, and have some wine. There were merry goings on at the French
restaurant, and Bruno was often the topic of conversation.

"He will be enormously rich, for he inherits a double share."

"If he had known as much a year ago, who knows whether he would have
married Steigeneck. His debts were not so heavy but that he could have
held out for another year."

"He also inherits his sister's jewels, and they are of immense value."

As if he were two beings in one, the one here and the other there,
Bruno's thoughts followed the companions who had left him.

He surmised what they were saying, and once started as if he had heard
laughing behind him. It was nothing, however, but his sister's parrot,
which he had ordered to be brought into his anteroom. He had it taken
back to Irma's apartment, as he did not know whether it really belonged
to her, and its eternal "God keep you, Irma," annoyed him.

He walked about the room for a long while, with his thumbs stuck into
his closely buttoned coat, and his fingers playing a merry but
inaudible tune upon his breast. The visits of condolence really annoyed
him. It is so irksome to put on a sorrowful look, to listen to words of
consolation, to offer thanks for sympathy, while all is a lie or, at
most, an empty form-- It is simply one's duty to express sympathy with
the afflicted. Perhaps people regret that they cannot, in such cases,
send their empty carriages, as they do at funerals-- Is it not enough
to let the world know what that the grief was great and gener