“And why is it that I am offended with him,--simply because he has discovered that I am Potts?” Now, these reflections were all the more bitter, since it was only twenty-four hours before that I had resolved to throw off delusion either of myself or others; that I would take my place in the ranks, and fight out my battle of life a mere soldier. For this it was that I made companionship with Vaterehen, walking the high road with that poor old man of motley, and actually speculating--in a sort of artistic way--whether I should not make love to Tintefleck! And if I were sincere in all this, how should I feel wounded by the honest candor of that plain-spoken fellow. He wanted a favor at my hands, he owned this; and yet, instead of approaching me with flattery, he at once assails the very stronghold of my self-esteem, and says, “No humbug, Potts; at least none with _me!_” He opens acquaintance with me on that masonic principle by which the brotherhood of Poverty is maintained throughout all lands and all peoples, and whose great maxim is, “He who lends to the poor man borrows from the ragged man.” “I 'll go after him at once,” said I, aloud. “I 'll have more talk with him. I 'm much mistaken if there's not good stuff in that rugged nature.” When I entered the little inn, I found Vaterehen fast asleep; he had finished off every flask on the table, and lay breathing stertorously, and giving a long-drawn whistle in his snore, that smacked almost of apoplexy. Tintefleck was singing to her guitar before a select audience of the inn servants, and Harpar was gone! I gave the girl a glance of rebuke and displeasure. I aroused the old man with a kick, and imperiously demanded my bill. “The bill has been paid by the other stranger,” said the landlord; “he has settled everything, and left a _trinkgeld_ for the servants, so that you have nothing to pay.” I could have almost cried with spite as I heard these words. It would have been a rare solace to my feelings if I could have put that man down for a rogue, and then been able to say to myself, how cleverly I had escaped the snares of a swindler. But to know now that he was not only honest but liberal, and to think, besides, that I had been his guest,--eaten of his salt,--it was more than I well could endure. “Which way did he take?” asked I. “Round the head of the lake for Lindao. I told him that the steamer would take him there to-morrow for a trifle, but he would not wait.” “Ah me!” sighed Vaterchen, but half awake, and with one eye still closed, “and we are going to St. Gallen.” “Who said so?” cried I, imperiously. “We are going to Lindao; at least, if I be the person who gives orders here. Follow!” And as I spoke I marched proudly on, while a slip-shod, shuffling noise of feet, and a low, half-smothered sob told me that they were coming after me. CHAPTER XXXIV. A SUMPTUOUS DINNER AND AN EMPTY POCKET