old associations, and admitting a
guest to share them. The idea of having given way to the wretched
weakness of desiring to appear well before a fellow-man angered him.
How could he meet the doctor again in the full light of day? There was
an end to his proud boast of caring nothing for the opinion of the
world. Pilgrim was an excellent object on which to wreak his ill-humor;
he would put a stop to the fellow's playing and singing for one day at
least.

"Good morning, Mr. Lenz!" said Pilgrim, entering.

"The same to you, Mr. Pilgrim."

"Mr. Lenz, I have come to see you instead of going to church."

"I did not know I was considered such a saint."

"I do not come hoping for any great results from my visit, but only
that I may feel I have done my duty."

"If every one did his duty it would be a fine world to live in."

"Your Lenz, as you know--"

"I have no Lenz but that one," interrupted Petrovitsch, pointing to the
reflection of his carefully shaven face in the glass.

"You know that your brother's son is in great trouble."

"No; the trouble is in him. It all comes from a man's priding himself
on his kind heart, and having friends who pet him till he thinks all
other views than his are the whimsies of a crabbed old croaker."

"You may be right; but talking won't mend the matter. Your Lenz's
difficulties are greater than you think."

"I never measured them."

"He is even in danger of taking his own life."

"He did that long ago, when he married as he did."

"I can say no more. I thought I was prepared for everything, but this I
had not expected. You are much more,--you are a different man from what
I took you for."

"Thanks for the compliment. I only regret I cannot wear it as a medal
about my neck, as you singers wear your badges."

The gay, open-hearted Pilgrim stood before the old man as disconcerted
as a fencer who at every sally finds his weapon struck from his hand.

Petrovitsch hugged himself on his success, and putting an unusually
large lump of sugar into his mouth, said, as he smacked his lips: "The
son of my deceased brother has done according to his own will and
pleasure. It would be unjust in me to try to defraud him of the fruits
of his own choosing. He has squandered his life and money,--I cannot
restore them."

"Good Heavens, Mr. Lenz, you can. His life and that of his whole family
may yet be saved. The discord in his house will cease when plenty
returns and this wear of anxiety is