universally recognized
names that no one thought strange. But "Tonio" was something foreign
and uncommon. Yes, there was something uncommon about him in every
respect, whether he would or no, and he was alone and excluded from
regular and ordinary folks, although he was no gipsy in a green wagon,
but a son of Consul Kroeger, of the Kroeger family ... But why did Hans
call him Tonio so long as they were alone, if he began to be ashamed of
him when a third person came up? At times Hans was close to him, even
won over, it seemed. "How does he betray him, Tonio?" he had asked,
and taken his arm. But then when Immerthal came, Hans sighed with
relief just the same, forsook him, and found no difficulty in
reproaching him with his foreign name. How it hurt to have to see
through all this!... At bottom, Hans Hansen liked him a little when
they were alone together, he knew that. But when a third person came,
Hans was ashamed of it and sacrificed him. And he was alone again. He
thought of King Philip. The king had wept ...

"For heaven's sake," said Erwin Immerthal, "now I really must be off
into town. Good-by, fellows, and thanks for the candy." With that he
jumped upon a bench that stood beside the street, ran along it with his
crooked legs, and trotted off.

"I like Immerthal," said Hans emphatically. Hans had a spoiled and
self-conscious way of making known his likes and antipathies, of
distributing them with royal favor, as it were ... And then he went on
to speak of the riding lessons, for he was now in that vein. Besides,
it was now not far to the Hansens' house; the walk over the ramparts
did not take very long. They held their caps tightly, and bowed their
heads before the strong damp wind that creaked and groaned in the bare
branches of the trees. And Hans Hansen talked, while Tonio interjected
no more than a mechanical "Oh" or "Oh yes" from time to time, nor felt
any joy that Hans had taken his arm again in the ardor of speech; for
that was only a seeming advance, without significance.

Then they forsook the park strip along the ramparts not far from the
station, watched a train puff by with clumsy haste, counted the cars to
pass the time, and waved to the man who sat perched high on the last
car, muffled in furs. And then they came to a stop on the square with
the lindens in front of the villa of Hansen the wholesaler, and Hans
showed in detail what fun it was to stand on the bottom of the garden
gate and swing back