ind but his brother Peter, and that
he would gladly be friends with him."

"So, so?" said Petrovitsch, pressing one hand to his eyes, while the
other closed convulsively over that grooved handle which his brother's
hand had worn.

For a while nothing was heard but the ticking of the clocks, till Lenz
asked again why his uncle had refused to recognize him, during the
first year after his return home, when his heart was yearning towards
his father's only brother, and he had longed, whenever he met him in
the street, to run to him and grasp his hand.

"I knew how you felt," replied Petrovitsch, "but I was angry with both
you and your mother. I was told she petted you to death, and praised
you half a dozen times a day for being the best son, and the wisest,
cleverest man in all the world. That is a bad plan. Men are like birds.
There are certain fly-catchers who must always have something in their
crops. You are just such a bird, always crying out for a pat of the
hand or a kind word."

"He is right, Annele,--is he not?" said Lenz with a bitter smile.

"Perhaps so," answered Annele.

"You need not talk!" cried Petrovitsch. "You are a bird yourself, or at
least have been; and do you know what kind of a one? A bird of prey,
who can go for days without food, but when he does eat, devours all he
can seize hold of, innocent singing-birds or little kittens, swallowing
bones, skin, hair and all."

"Alas! he is right there, too," said Annele. "I never was so happy as
when I had some one to worry and tear to pieces. I was not conscious of
it till our first drive together, when you asked me how I could take
pleasure in exulting over Ernestine as I did. The words dwelt in my
heart, and I determined to become as good as you. It seemed to me I
should be much happier so. When on the way home you wanted to give old
Proebler a seat in the carriage, I could have pitched you out for being
such a simpleton; but afterwards, when you gave up the idea, excusing
yourself to God and your conscience for not giving a poor old fellow a
lift on the road, and seeming so happy, I could gladly have kissed your
hands for love of your goodness, if my pride had permitted. I resolved
to be like you, yet still I kept on in my old way, putting off from day
to day beginning on my new life, till the old devil took possession of
me again. I first grew ashamed of my good resolutions, and finally
ceased to entertain them. I was Annele of the Lion, whom all