r by really eating, he pleaded his old
fashioned custom of dining at noon. In reality, his feelings rebelled
against being so luxuriously entertained in the fairy castle, after
having merely been a spectator at the scanty meal in the "tun."
Besides, he was now separated from Balder so often and so long, that he
wished at any cost to keep their cosy dinner hour, where jesting with
Reginchen roused him a short time from his reveries. Yet it happened
more and more frequently, that his evenings were not spent at home.
True, his fair friend always dismissed him just before she went to the
theatre, and neither invited him to accompany her nor gave him any hope
of seeing her afterwards. But the hour spent in talking with her,
during which he played the part of the calm, clever thinker, her "wise
friend," as she jestingly called him, left his soul in a state of
agitation, a fever of doubt, longing, gloom, and happiness, which he
was forced to calm by long, lonely walks, before he could associate
with others again.

He knew also that Balder was rarely alone at these times, Mohr came
almost every evening to chat, to play chess with him, or to sit at the
open window and listen to Christiane's piano. He declared that this
music and Balder's golden mane were the only domestic medicines that
afforded him any relief, when he had a particularly violent attack of
his chronic self-contempt. He often brought some of his verses with him
or a scene of his famous comedy: "I am I, and rely on myself," to get
the youth's opinion, but could never make up his mind to read them
aloud. Now and then Franzelius also appeared, but soon went away again
if he met Mohr. To be sure the latter, at Balder's request, made the
most earnest efforts to curb his mocking tongue and to spare the fiery
tribune of the people, who was so helpless when in a small company. But
his mere presence annoyed the irritable fellow, especially as he
imagined that since Mohr's return some secret barrier had arisen
between himself and Balder. He loved the youth more than any other
human being, and knew that no one understood him better. Now he was
jealous of every smile that Mohr's quaint manner won from his darling,
and in his stupidity and dullness, felt doubly at a disadvantage in the
presence of the cynical jester, who nevertheless was an object of scorn
to him, as a drone among the working bees.

Balder, with his delicate sensibility, would probably have been even
more ca