ills through my blood; my
nerves vibrate in responsive echo. A moment later, and I fall back on
the seat, whimpering and crooning in time to it.

Oh, what strange freaks one's thoughts are guilty of when one is
starving. I feel myself lifted up by these notes, dissolved in tones,
and I float out, I feel so clearly. How I float out, soaring high above
the mountains, dancing through zones of light!...

"A halfpenny," whines the little organ-girl, reaching forth her little
tin plate; "only a halfpenny."

"Yes," I said, unthinkingly, and I sprang to my feet and ransacked all
my pockets. But the child thinks I only want to make fun of her, and
she goes away at once without saying a word.

This dumb forbearance was too much for me. If she had abused me, it
would have been more endurable. I was stung with pain, and recalled her.

"I don't possess a farthing; but I will remember you later on, maybe
tomorrow. What is your name? Yes, that is a pretty name; I won't forget
it. Till tomorrow, then...."

But I understood quite well that she did not believe me, although she
never said one word; and I cried with despair because this little
street wench would not believe in me.

Once again I called her back, tore open my coat, and was about to give
her my waistcoat. "I will make up to you for it," said I; "wait only a
moment" ... and lo! I had no waistcoat.

What in the world made me look for it? Weeks had gone by since it was
in my possession. What was the matter with me, anyway? The astonished
child waited no longer, but withdrew fearsomely, and I was compelled to
let her go. People throng round me, laugh aloud; a policeman thrusts
his way through to me, and wants to know what is the row.

"Nothing!" I reply, "nothing at all; I only wanted to give the little
girl over there my waistcoat ... for her father ... you needn't stand
there and laugh at that ... I have only to go home and put on another."

"No disturbance in the street," says the constable; "so, march," and he
gives me a shove on.

"Is them your papers?" he calls after me.

"Yes, by Jove! my newspaper leader; many important papers! However
could I be so careless?" I snatch up my manuscript, convince myself
that it is lying in order and go, without stopping a second or looking
about me, towards the editor's office.

It was now four by the clock of Our Saviour's Church. The office is
shut. I stead noiselessly down the stairs, frightened as a thief, and
stand irr