Then one day a rich uncle of Feldman, the vers libre poet, died and left to the nephew a considerable fortune: five thousand dollars. A hundred friends counseled Feldman how to spend his money usefully. Some urged a new paper, others a new café. Old friends urged him to become their publisher and some public men wanted him to donate at least part of it to charity. Horn arrogated to himself the right to counsel the poet because Feldman had married his former fiancée. Horn was continually at Feldman's elbows. Whatever proposition was brought to the poet Horn ridiculed or explained away. One day Feldman gave a banquet to all his friends. Among them were a few physicians, and one of them was an eye specialist. This man had once expressed an opinion that Horn's eyesight could be restored through an operation. When the gathering was at its merriest Feldman got up and pledged two thousand dollars to the physician who would restore to Horn his eyesight. The eye specialist accepted and named a great surgeon who would operate for the price. Every one congratulated the blind man and wished him good luck. I knew how much Feldman had always hated Horn. Horn also had a strong aversion for the formerly poor poet. After the banquet I called the host to a corner of the room and inquired what had prompted him to such a charitable act; to spend half of his fortune on that scoundrel! "Why, haven't you guessed? Man alive, it's now five years that I am burning with desire to punch Horn's face for a turn he has done me. But he was blind and therefore immune. I shall not be able to sleep until the operation is over. And if God is good to me I will wait for Horn at the door the first day he comes out from the hospital and punch him black and blue. You understand? I want to have the first privilege." End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dust of New York, by Konrad Bercovici