ins to see the world as it is, and to call things by their
right names; sensitive natures call that cynicism, and find it
unpleasant. But you shall see it is not so bad, and here in Paradise I
try to forget, as far as possible, that we pick sour apples from the
tree of knowledge. However, I ought, like a true amphibian, to conduct
you, after so dry an introduction, into a moist element."

He set his long, Don-Quixote legs in motion toward the cask, filled two
bumpers and brought them back to Felix.

"We have become converted to wine," he said, growling it out in a half
ironical, half bitter tone; "although, strictly speaking, it is an
anachronism, as it is well known that wine was given to mankind as a
compensation for a lost Paradise. Beer, on the other hand, is entirely
an invention of the darker middle ages, to make men mere idle slaves to
the priests, and it has never yet occurred to any one to seek truth
anywhere but in wine. So, then, here's to your health, and hoping that
you may succeed better than I have in becoming one of these primitive
men!"

Felix knocked glasses with his queer new friend, and then proceeded to
observe the unknown persons who had in the mean while strolled in.
Schnetz gave him their names. Most of them had passed their first
youth. Only one boyish face, of a foreign cast, gazed dreamily with
big, black eyes into the cloud of smoke that circled up from his
cigarette. It was, Schnetz told his neighbor, that of a young Greek
painter, twenty-two years old, who was, in spite of his delicate,
almost girl-like appearance, a dangerous lady-killer. He was not really
intimately acquainted with any of them, and only Rossel's intercession
in his favor and his talent, which was by no means slight, had procured
him the entrance into this circle.

A little, bent old man, with delicate features and snow-white hair, was
the last to enter. He hung his hat and cloak on a nail, and took his
seat in the only unoccupied chair at the upper end of the table near
Jansen, who gave him a kindly welcome.

Felix was surprised at the presence of an old man amid this rising
generation. To be sure, Schnetz, too, was no longer a youth--he might
well be over forty. But in every muscle of his sinewy figure throbbed a
suppressed energy, while it was evident that the quiet, white-haired
old man, who sat at the upper end of the table, had long since left
behind him the storms and struggles of life.

"I see that you are p