he feel after a month
of it?

The problem faced him in the dark, like an unsolved equation, staring
out black and white before his eyes, or like an unfinished game of chess
when one goes to bed after five or six hours' play. Something he must
decide, because it was his nature to decide always, before he left a
subject, on some course of thought. Meanwhile he had been so little
disturbed by the whole business that, in spite of his uncle's death, and
a million and a half of money, he was hungry and thirsty. So he struck a
match and lit his study-lamp, and found his coat and hat and stick. Then
he paused. He did not want to meet Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst that
evening; he would fetch himself something to eat and drink, and be
quiet. So he slung a heavy stone jug on his arm, and, turning his lamp
down to save the oil, trudged down the stairs and out into the street.
He made for the little inn at the corner, and while the fat old landlord
filled his jug with the best Markgraefler, he himself picked out a couple
of smoked sausages from the great pile on the counter, and wrapping them
up with half a dozen pretzels, transferred the package to his capacious
pocket. Then he took the jug from the innkeeper, and having paid half a
gulden for the whole supply of eatables and wine, he departed to consume
them in solitude. It was his usual supper. He had done the same thing
for ten years, off and on, whenever he was not inclined for company.

"But I suppose it is incongruous," he soliloquised, "that, being a
millionaire, I should fetch my own supper." Once more he laughed aloud
in the crowded street, for it was warm and the people were sitting in
front of their houses, Simpelmayer the shoemaker, and Blech the tinman,
and all the rest, each with his children and his pot of beer. As the
Doctor laughed, the little boys laughed too, and Blech remarked to
Simpelmayer that the Herr Doctor must have won the great prize in the
Hamburg lottery, for he had not heard him laugh like that in three
years.

"Freilich," returned the crooked shoemaker, "but he was used to laugh
loud enough ten years ago. I can remember when he first moved in there,
and his corps-fellows locked him in his room for a jest, and stood
mocking in the street. And he climbed right down the woodwork and
stepped on the signboard of the baker and jumped into the street,
laughing all the while, though they were holding in their breath for
fear he should break his neck. Ja, he w