e along, cursing my unlucky
stars the whole way. Not one real untroubled hour in seven or eight
months, not the common food necessary to hold body and soul together
for the space of one short week, before want stared me in the face
again. Here I had, into the bargain, gone and kept straight and
honourable all through my misery--Ha! ha! straight and honourable to
the heart's core. God preserve me, what a fool I had been! And I
commenced to tell myself how I had even gone about conscience-stricken
because I had once brought Hans Pauli's blanket to the pawn-broker's. I
laughed sarcastically at my delicate rectitude, spat contemptuously in
the street, and could not find words half strong enough to mock myself
for my stupidity. Let it only happen now! Were I to find at this moment
a schoolgirl's savings or a poor widow's only penny, I would snatch it
up and pocket it; steal it deliberately, and sleep the whole night
through like a top. I had not suffered so unspeakably much for
nothing--my patience was gone--I was prepared to do anything.

I walked round the palace three, perhaps four, times, then came to the
conclusion that I would go home, took yet one little turn in the park
and went back down Carl Johann. It was now about eleven. The streets
were fairly dark, and the people roamed about in all directions, quiet
pairs and noisy groups mixed with one another. The great hour had
commenced, the pairing time when the mystic traffic is in full
swing--and the hour of merry adventures sets in. Rustling petticoats,
one or two still short, sensual laughter, heaving bosoms, passionate,
panting breaths, and far down near the Grand Hotel, a voice calling
"Emma!" The whole street was a swamp, from which hot vapours exuded.

I feel involuntarily in my pockets for a few shillings. The passion
that thrills through the movements of every one of the passers-by, the
dim light of the gas lamps, the quiet pregnant night, all commence to
affect me--this air, that is laden with whispers, embraces, trembling
admissions, concessions, half-uttered words and suppressed cries. A
number of cats are declaring their love with loud yells in Blomquist's
doorway. And I did not possess even a florin! It was a misery, a
wretchedness without parallel to be so impoverished. What humiliation,
too; what disgrace! I began again to think about the poor widow's last
mite, that I would have stolen a schoolboy's cap or handkerchief, or a
beggar's wallet, that I wou