-DAY

I

The spectacle of wellnigh complete degeneracy offered by the
roister-doistering slough brethren of the Vale of Tears gave Herr
Carovius a new lease on life. He had a really affable tendency to
associate with men who were standing just on the brink of human
existence. He always drank a great deal of liqueur. The brand he
preferred above all others was what is known as Knickebein. Once he had
enjoyed his liberal potion, he became jovial, friendly, companionable.
In these moods he would venture the hardiest of assertions, not merely
in the field of eroticism, but against the government and divine
providence as well.

And yet, when he trippled home with mincing steps, there was in his face
an expression of cowardly, petty smirking. It was the sign of his inner
return to virtuous living; for his night was not as his day. The one
belied the other.

He had a quite respectable income; the house in which he lived was his
own private property. It was pointed out to strangers as one of the
sights of the town; it was certainly one of the oldest and gloomiest
buildings in that part of the country. An especially attractive feature
of it was the smart and graceful bay-window. Above the beautifully
arched outer door there was a patrician coat-of-arms, consisting of two
crossed spears with a helmet above. This was chiselled into the stone.
In the narrow court was a draw-well literally set in a frame of moss.
Each floor of the house had its own gallery, richly supplied with the
most artistic of carvings. The stairway was spacious; the tread of the
steps was broad, the elevation slight; there were four landings. It
symbolised in truth the leisurely, comfortable tarrying of centuries
gone before and now a matter of easy memory only.

Often in the nighttime, Herr Carovius recognised in the distance the
massive figure of his brother-in-law, Andreas Doederlein, the professor
of music. Not wishing to meet him, Herr Carovius would stand at the
street corner, until the light from Doederlein's study assured him that
the professor was at home. On other occasions he would come in contact
with the occupant of the second floor, Dr. Friedrich Benda. When these
two came together, there was invariably a competitive tipping of hats
and passing of compliments. Each wished to outdo the other in matters of
courtesy. Neither was willing to take precedence over the other. The
polished civility of the young m