te-headed, quiet, solitary man, bore
another name, and lived like a hermit--never going out during the day,
unless, perhaps, to visit the studio of one of the younger artists who
had settled here since my day. It has sometimes happened that I have
found myself in a beer-garden seated next to some boon companion of the
days of my prosperity, who had no idea who the silent old man was who
was eating and drinking at the same table with him.

"And this is the way I have gone on for six or seven years, counting
myself always among the departed spirits, and sometimes startled at the
sight of my own face if I chanced to catch a glimpse of it in the
mirror. It is incredible, my dear friend, how tough the thread of life
is sometimes. For really had it not been for my interest in art, and in
some good young friends who have shown me confidence and respect, the
whole world would have been a blank to me. Besides, when photography
came into such general use, it seemed to me that my graver was a very
superfluous sort of thing, of little further use except to multiply
copies of business cards, labels on wine-bottles, and other things of
that sort.

"So I continued to grow more idle, more contemplative, and, if you
like, wiser; except that I myself felt little respect, and sometimes
even disgust and loathing, for any wisdom that could haunt such a
useless wreck of a man."

The old man spoke these last words in such a mournful voice, and hung
his head so low upon his breast, that Schnetz could not help feeling
the warmest pity for him. At the same time he asked himself with
amazement how it could have been possible for them all to have
associated with this terribly-tried man for so many long years without
having taken the trouble to find out anything about his history.

He now bluntly said as much, inveighing in his bitter way against the
wretched state of society in which they lived.

"A fine Paradise!" he growled out, half to himself. "We have a great
idea of how necessary we are to one another, and yet the few fellow-men
who are worth troubling ourselves about stand in no nearer relation to
us than the wild animals did to our first parents. Though, to be sure,
in your case we ought not to bear the chief blame. Why did you yourself
never feel a desire to break the ice between us? It would have been a
healthier thing for you, if you had long ago formed an intimacy with
one of us."

The old man raised his head again, but still ke