al, and
that the funeral was a large one? These were Bruno's angry and
ill-natured thoughts. "Then they go off," thought he, "the young and
the old, in uniform and in citizen's dress, twisting their mustaches
and stroking their chins, with a self-complacent air, while they say to
themselves: 'You've done a good deed; you are a man of politeness and
feeling--' and when they get home they tell their wives and daughters:
'The king's aid-de-camp is thus and so--' and then they eat and drink
and drive out, and when they reach the house they say: 'We ought to
feel satisfied when everything goes well with us, and our family
escapes misfortune.' They use the misfortunes of others as they would a
platform, from which to get a better view of their own prosperity."
Bruno's fingers moved yet more quickly than before--death, grief,
sickness were intended for the lower orders, and not for the higher
classes. The world is miserably arranged after all, since there is no
preservative against such ills, and since one cannot purchase immunity
from them.

His excellency Von Schnabelsdorf also came. Bruno hated him at heart,
for it was he who had invented the sobriquet of "Miss Mother-in-law"
for Baroness Steigeneck, the whilom dancer. Bruno, however, felt
obliged to act as if he knew nothing of it, to take his hand in the
most polite and grateful manner, and to receive a kiss from the lips
which had put a stigma upon his family; for Von Schnabelsdorf stood
highest at court, and Bruno could not do without his friendship, which
was doubly necessary, now that his main support, his sister, had been
taken from him.

Thus Bruno felt annoyed at the visits of condolence he received, as
well as at those which were withheld. The world was considerate enough
to refrain from alluding to anything more than Irma's sudden and
unfortunate death; how she was thrown from her horse and fell into the
lake. The vice-master of the horse maintained that Pluto had never
properly been broken in. Bruno, himself, behaved as if he really
believed that Irma had met with her death by accident.

But it seemed as if he delighted to picture to himself the scene of the
suicide, and to think of Irma at the bottom of the lake, held fast to
the rocks by her long hair. He could not banish the awful picture, and
at last threw open the window, so that he might divert himself with
external objects.

Bruno did not care to eat or drink anything; the intendant could only
induc