"Yes! and so you did--so you did! Hoerger Toni, your cousin, who is now in America, often said before us, that a greater hypocrite than you did not exist, and that he was called in a thousand times to make up your quarrels with your mother." "You say that simply because you would like to see me in a rage again, but you shall not succeed; it does not distress me in the least. Why do you quote a person in America? Why not some one here? But you only wish to sting me--good night!" He went to Pilgrim, who was now convalescent, and stayed all night with him. As Pilgrim was getting better, he was naturally in good spirits, and Lenz was unwilling to destroy his cheerfulness; on the contrary, he listened patiently when Pilgrim related to him:--"During my illness, I learned to comprehend how it is that a bird all his life long only twitters a couple of notes. In the half life of a dreamy state, even one tone is sufficient. During four long weeks, my soul was haunted by this solitary notion. Man has no wings, but he has got lungs, and even with one lung left, I may still live to eat potatoes for seventy seven years, and if I had been a bird I would have incessantly whistled, like a silly bird, 'one lung, two lungs, two lungs, one lung,' just like a grasshopper." The words that haunted Lenz were also few but sad. No one should hear them. "A reference to the Bible," continued Pilgrim cheerfully, "quite confirmed my fixed resolution to remain a bachelor and alone, for it is clearly written there, that man was at first alone in the world,--the woman never was alone,--and that it is good that man _can_ live alone. Only I change one little word, and say it is good that man _should_ be alone." Lenz smiled, but he felt the application. Next morning Lenz, having sat up all night, went home weary and as pale as death to his work, and when he saw his children, he said:-- "I scarcely knew that I had children." "No doubt you forget them utterly," said Annele. Lenz again felt a stab in his heart, but he did not feel it so acutely as formerly, and when he looked up at his mother's picture, he exclaimed:-- "Mother! mother! She has slandered you too! can you not speak? Do not punish her, intercede with God not to visit her with a judgment for her sin. If he punishes her, my poor children and I must suffer also. Help me, dear mother, and influence her no longer to crush my heart. You know me--you alone--beloved mother!" "I can't listen to such mummery," said Annele, and went with the two children to the kitchen. The stress on the mainspring was severe. CHAPTER XXVI. THE AXE IS PUT TO THE ROOT OF LIFE, AND TEARS ARE SHED.