yet could act as if there had never been anything of the kind. And so,
in succession, the good name of everybody was torn into shreds.

Pranken let Sonnenkamp expend his violence and rage, not saying a word
even when Clodwig was attacked. What was the use! It is the delight of
one suffering under mortification, above all one who is suffering
through his own fault, to bring down others to his own level. Roland
was deeply, troubled, and his heart grew cold at the thought of being
able to hold his own position only by being made thoroughly acquainted
with, and keeping constantly before his eyes, the darker side of all
human beings.

Tenderly and cautiously, Pranken began to bring into notice the idea
that a firm religious belief was the only adequate support, and he
openly inveighed against those who would withdraw this support, the
only real one, and the highest, from one who relied upon it. Roland
knew that Eric was intended, but he did not let it be seen. Pranken
went farther, and said that Eric's father, whom mother and son decked
out as a demi-god, was a man who at the university had no scholars, and
at whom all the learned men had shrugged their shoulders.

Gloomy thoughts, like cloudy forms, thronging in succession, overcast
the soul of the youth. One thought prevailed over all others, and
allowed him no rest:--Yesterday, honor was everything; to-day, it has
no existence. What is honor? It is the seasoning in each particle of
life's food, and without it existence is tasteless. This thought
startled Roland as if he had seen some terrific vision. He saw the
clouds actually before him, in the shape of dense volumes of smoke from
Sonnenkamp's cigar. A voice cried out, in mock-merriment, from the
midst of the cloud: The people in the whole region round ought to give
him a special vote of thanks, for now they were, in comparison with
him, snow-white angels, and all that they needed was a pair of wings.
All the little men and little woman could say: Lord, I thank thee that
I am not like this Sonnenkamp here. "I am truly a godsend to you; thank
me, O world!"

This humor pleased Pranken, and he said, laughing, that no one, a year
hence, after one had become accustomed to it, would think anything of
the present troubles; and he would urgently entreat that not a word
should be said about selling the villa and moving away.

Sonnenkamp gave Pranken a nudge, but he had no idea that this
communication, although it gave Roland