"There, you see," said Lenette, much delighted, in a low voice to her husband, "how can a learned gentleman possibly hear his wife when she's at her washing and scrubbing?" Stiefel, unmoved, went on with the thread of his argument: "Now, a fire of this description can only be kindled in absolute and uninterrupted calm. And this is the reason why all the great artists and men of letters in Paris live nowhere but in the Rue Ste. Victoire; the other streets are all too noisy. And it is hence that no smiths, tinkers, or tinmen, are allowed to work in the street where a professor lives." "No TINMEN especially," added Siebenkæs, very gravely. "It should always be remembered that the mind cannot entertain more than half-a-dozen of ideas at a time; so that if the idea of noise should make its appearance as a wicked seventh, of course some one or other of the previous ideas, which might otherwise have been followed up or written down, takes its departure from the head altogether." Indeed Stiefel made Lenette give him her hand as a pledge that she would always stand still, like Joshua's sun, while Firmian was smiting the foe with pen and scourge. "Haven't I often asked the bookbinder myself," she said, "not to hammer so hard upon his books, because my husband would hear him when he was making _his_." However, she gave the Schulrath her hand, and he went away contented with their contentment, leaving them quite hopeful of quieter times. But, ye dear souls, of how little use to you is this state of peace, seeing ye are on half-pay and starving in this cold, empty, orphan hospital of an earth--how little will it help you in these dim labyrinthian wanderings of your destiny, of which even the Ariadne clue-threads all turn to nets and snares? How long will the poor's advocate manage to live on the produce of the pawned pewter, and on the price of the two reviews which he is going to write? Only, we are all like the Adam of the epic, and take our first night to be the day of judgment, and the setting of the sun for the end of the world. We sorrow for our friends, just as if there were no brighter future YONDER, and we sorrow for ourselves as if there were no brighter future HERE. For all our passions are born Atheists and unbelievers. CHAPTER VI. MATRIMONIAL JARS--EXTRA LEAFLET ON THE LOQUACITY OF WOMEN--MORE PLEDGING--THE MORTAR AND THE SNUFF-MILL--A SCHOLAR'S KISS--ON THE CONSOLATIONS OF HUMANITY--CONTINUATION OF THE SIXTH CHAPTER.