“If you need it,” he says, “you are welcome to draw a little in advance; you can write for it, you know.” Now, as he had just seen that I was not capable of writing, this offer humiliated me somewhat, and I answered: “No, thanks; I can pull through yet a while, thanking you very much, all the same. Good-day!” “Good-day!” replies the “commandor,” turning at the same time to his desk again. He had none the less treated me with undeserved kindness, and I was grateful to him for it--and I would know how to appreciate it too. I made a resolution not to return to him until I could take something with me, that satisfied me perfectly; something that would astonish the “commandor” a bit, and make him order me to be paid half-a-sovereign without a moment’s hesitation. I went home, and tackled my writing once more. During the following evenings, as soon as it got near eight o’clock and the gas was lit, the following thing happened regularly to me. As I come out of my room to take a walk in the streets after the labour and troubles of the day, a lady, dressed in black, stands under the lamp-post exactly opposite my door. She turns her face towards me and follows me with her eyes when I pass her by--I remark that she always has the same dress on, always the same thick veil that conceals her face and falls over her breast, and that she carries in her hand a small umbrella with an ivory ring in the handle. This was already the third evening I had seen her there, always in the same place. As soon as I have passed her by she turns slowly and goes down the street away from me. My nervous brain vibrated with curiosity, and I became at once possessed by the unreasonable feeling that I was the object of her visit. At last I was almost on the point of addressing her, of asking her if she was looking for any one, if she needed my assistance in any way, or if I might accompany her home. Badly dressed, as I unfortunately was, I might protect her through the dark streets; but I had an undefined fear that it perhaps might cost me something; a glass of wine, or a drive, and I had no money left at all. My distressingly empty pockets acted in a far too depressing way upon me, and I had not even the courage to scrutinize her sharply as I passed her by. Hunger had once more taken up its abode in my breast, and I had not tasted food since yesterday evening. This, ’tis true, was not a long period; I had often been able to hold out for a couple of days at a time, but latterly I had commenced to fall off seriously; I could not go hungry one quarter as well as I used to do. A single day made me feel dazed, and I suffered from perpetual retching the moment I tasted water. Added to this was the fact that I lay and shivered all night, lay fully dressed as I stood and walked in the daytime, lay blue with cold, lay and froze every night with fits of icy shivering, and grew stiff during my sleep. The old blanket could