e picture, owing to lack of ability; but he had become acquainted with
Baron Eberhard, and years later, having met him quite accidentally, took
him to the Paradise, where the infamous brethren were then in the habit
of gathering.

Eberhard's appearance at the Paradise was short-lived; he disappeared in
fact as quickly as he had appeared. But this brief space was sufficient
for Herr Carovius to become intimately acquainted with him.

The first time he sat at the same table with him he was noticeably
excited. His face shone with a mild spiritual glow. His voice was sweet
and gentle, his remarks of an unusually agreeable moderation.

He turned the conversation to a discussion of the superiorities of
birth, and lauded the distinction of the hereditary classes. He said it
was from them only that the people could acquire civic virtue. The
brethren scorned his point of view. Herr Carovius came back at them with
an annihilating jest.

During the rendition of this hallelujah-solo in praise of the nobility,
Eberhard von Auffenberg intrenched himself behind a sullen silence. And
though Carovius used every available opportunity from then on to flatter
the young nobleman in his cunning, crafty way, he failed. The most he
could do was to inspire Eberhard to lift his thrush-bearded chin in the
air and make some sarcastic remark. Fawn as he might, Carovius was
stumped at every turn.

One night, however, the two enjoyed each other's company on the way
home. That is, Carovius never left Eberhard's side. Annoyed at the
failure of his former tactics, he thought he would try his luck in
another way: he ridiculed the arrogance of a certain caste which
affected to attach less importance to a man like himself than to some
jackanapes whose handkerchief was adorned with an embroidered crown.

"What are you, any way, what is your vocation?" asked Eberhard von
Auffenberg.

"I don't do anything," replied Carovius.

"Nothing at all? That is quite agreeable."

"Oh, I do work a little at music," added Herr Carovius, entirely pleased
at the curiosity of the Baron.

"Now, you see, that is after all something," said the Baron. "I for my
part am as unmusical as a shot-gun. And if you do not do anything but
interest yourself in music, you must have a great deal of money."

Herr Carovius turned away. The positive dread of being taken for a rich
man wrestled with the vain desire to make the young Baron feel that he
really was somebody. "I have a