put out her hand.

"I used to borrow apronsful of coals from other students who were as
poor--but I never went to the rich students."

The flush had died out of his face.

"That sort of thing makes you hate the world! You work till you stagger;
you're cold and hungry; you see rich people in their carriages, wrapped
in furs, and all the time you want to do something great. You pray for a
chance, any chance; nothing comes to the poor! It makes you hate the
world."

Christian's eyes filled with tears. He went on:

"But I wasn't the only one in that condition; we used to meet. Garin, a
Russian with a brown beard and patches of cheek showing through, and
yellow teeth, who always looked hungry. Paunitz, who came from sympathy!
He had fat cheeks and little eyes, and a big gold chain--the swine! And
little Misek. It was in his room we met, with the paper peeling off the
walls, and two doors with cracks in them, so that there was always a
draught. We used to sit on his bed, and pull the dirty blankets over us
for warmth; and smoke--tobacco was the last thing we ever went without.
Over the bed was a Virgin and Child--Misek was a very devout Catholic;
but one day when he had had no dinner and a dealer had kept his picture
without paying him, he took the image and threw it on the floor before
our eyes; it broke, and he trampled on the bits. Lendorf was another, a
heavy fellow who was always puffing out his white cheeks and smiting
himself, and saying: 'Cursed society!' And Schonborn, an aristocrat who
had quarrelled with his family. He was the poorest of us all; but only
he and I would ever have dared to do anything--they all knew that!"

Christian listened with awe. "Do you mean?" she said, "do you mean, that
you--?"

"You see! you're afraid of me at once. It's impossible even for you to
understand. It only makes you afraid. A hungry man living on charity,
sick with rage and shame, is a wolf even to you!"

Christian looked straight into his eyes.

"That's not true. If I can't understand, I can feel. Would you be the
same now if it were to come again?"

"Yes, it drives me mad even now to think of people fatted with
prosperity, sneering and holding up their hands at poor devils who have
suffered ten times more than the most those soft animals could bear. I'm
older; I've lived--I know things can't be put right by violence--nothing
will put things right, but that doesn't stop my feeling."

"Did you do an