"We have as yet spoken with no one. Proebler we shall offer some subordinate position to,--not so high a place as yours, of course. He is ingenious, and his ingenuity may, perhaps, be turned to practical account. The poor devil ought to be put in the way of laying up something for his old age. He has been almost out of his senses since his grand secret was sold at auction." After some hesitation Lenz told of the condition in which he had found Proebler, and said, in conclusion: "I have one more favor to ask, doctor. I cannot myself speak with my uncle; will you intercede with him for me? You are the foremost man in our district, and one to whom nobody, with a heart in his body, can refuse a request. I do not think, the more I consider the matter, that my wife will consent to my entering the factory, and, as you yourself say, her pride is to be respected." "I will go at once. Shall I leave you here, or will you go with me to the town?" "I will go with you." He shook hands all round, each one wishing him a cordial good-night, and the old mayoress taking his hand in both of hers with peculiar tenderness. They heard Pilgrim playing on his guitar and singing, as they passed his house. The faithful fellow felt a hearty sympathy for his friend, but sympathizing with another's grief is a different thing from bearing it. One's own life asserts the first claim. Where the path began to ascend the hill, Lenz and the doctor parted. "Wait at home till I come," the latter said. "What a singular softness there is in the air this evening! We shall certainly have a thaw." Here have I been seeking help abroad, while it was waiting for me at my own door. There are good people still in the world; better than I ever was, Lenz said to himself, as he went homewards up the hill. CHAPTER XXX. PETROVITSCH THAWS AND FREEZES AGAIN. "I know what you have come for," said Petrovitsch to the doctor as he entered. "Take a seat." He drew a chair up to the well-heated stove, in front of which a bright open fire was burning. "Well, what have I come for, Sir Prophet?" asked the doctor, summoning all his good-humor to his aid. "Money; money for my nephew." "You are but half a prophet; I want a kind heart too." "But money, money is the main point. Let me tell you at the start that I am not one of those who spend their tenderness over a drunkard by the roadside. On the contrary, if the fellow has a broken leg, he has no one but himself to thank for it. I speak thus freely to you because you are one of the few men whom I respect." "Thank you for the compliment. An honest physician, however, must heal the diseases that are of a man's own making as well as those he could not prevent." "You are a physician, and you are sick too, like our whole district,--like our whole race in these days."