inches. Old Proebler knows more than other men; he knows
everything. Pour wine on the worm in your heart; wine or brandy.
Whatever drowns it is good. Then we shall have no more clocks, no more
hours, no day and no night, no more time, but all eternity."

The old man fell into the most frenzied ravings. At times a spark of
intelligence shone through his wild utterances, and then again all was
delirium. It was impossible to tell whether it was a fact, or only his
fancy, that the landlord's failure had robbed him of all provision for
his old age, or whether it was the sale of his mysterious work that had
reduced him to this state of despair. The burden of his cry was ever
"Lenz, drink your life out while you are young, and don't be so long
killing yourself as I have been." Lenz turned sick with horror at this
living proof of what a man may come to who has lost his self-respect,
and whose only refuge is self-forgetfulness.

"Your mother had a good saying," began Proebler again; "did I tell you
that was Lenz of the Morgenhalde? Yes, your mother. 'Better go barefoot
than in ragged boots,' she used to say. Do you know what she meant? I
have a better proverb: 'Tear off the nag's shoes before you take her to
market.' Landlord! here is another horseshoe for you. Wine, wine!" He
threw down a dollar.

The mention of his mother's name, though in such an unworthy
connection, acted as a warning to Lenz as effectually as if her eye
were suddenly and sternly fixed upon him. He rose from his seat, in
spite of all Proebler's efforts to detain him. Gladly would he have
taken the old man with him, but it was impossible to stir him from the
spot. All he could do was to charge the landlord to keep him where he
was till morning, and on no account to give him anything more to drink.
"There is my last pinch gone," cried Proebler, throwing his snuff-box
after him as he closed the door.

Drawing his breath hard, as if escaping from a close and burning hell,
Lenz staggered out into the free air of heaven.

The night was coming on. The ice-bird twittered by the frozen brook,
and the ravens sought the cover of the forest. A buck came out to the
edge of the wood, stood with his great eyes fixed on Lenz till he came
close up to him, then with a bound vanished again into the thicket,
marking his course by the fresh snow he shook from the tender firs as
he passed.

Lenz often stopped, thinking he heard himself called. Perhaps Proebler
was followin