es from the roofs
of the houses and from the upland slopes were so constant, that it soon
became impossible to step out of doors. The evening came, but no Lenz.
The servant-maid told of her having met Petrovitsch on his way to the
Morgenhalde, not far from the house. He had asked whose the child was,
and on her replying it was Lenz's William, had given him a little bit
of sugar,--not a whole lump, for he broke off half of it first and put
it into his own mouth.

"Is it possible? can Petrovitsch really have been softened? Who can
read the hearts of men?"

Petrovitsch, after giving full scope to his exultation at this double
triumph over the doctor and Pilgrim, felt very tranquil in his mind. He
sat at his window watching the groups of church-goers, till at last all
were gone by except a single woman and a single man, who came hurrying
along to take their seats before the service should begin.
Petrovitsch's custom was to go to church himself; in fact, so regular
was his attendance that it was reported he meant to leave a handsome
sum in his will towards erecting a new building. To day, however, he
stayed at home, being busy with his own thoughts. One idea in
particular occupied his mind: The fellow has good friends in his time
of need. Pooh! would they be quite so good if they were rich? Pilgrim's
friendship perhaps is sincere; it almost looked so. He was very near
letting his passion break out at one time; but he kept it down and let
me say what I would, rather than injure his friend's cause.--It was all
a trick likely enough,--and yet there is such a thing as friendship.

He heard the rumbling of the organ from the distant church, the singing
of the congregation, and then came a silence which implied that the
minister had begun his sermon. A voice seemed to be preaching to
Petrovitsch as he sat with folded hands in his chair. Suddenly he rose
saying half aloud: "It is very well to show men their master, but it is
pleasant too to be thought well off.--No, no; that is not worth while;
that is not what I mean; but to make men rub their eyes and cry:
'Thunder and lightning, who would have thought it?' there is some fun
in that."

Petrovitsch had not for many years dressed himself so quickly as he did
to-day. Generally he took his dressing easily and comfortably, like
most things that he did, spending at least an hour over it; but to-day
he was soon ready, even to the putting on of his costly fur coat which
he had broug