Lenz was silent for a time, and then he related where he had found Proebler, and concluded by saying: "I have still another request to make, Herr Doctor. I cannot speak to my uncle. You are the first man in this country, and he who could refuse you anything can have no heart or feeling. Herr Doctor, do speak to my uncle, and beg him to help me. I scarcely think--the more I reflect on the matter--that my wife will allow me to enter the manufactory, and you said yourself that we must respect her proper pride." "Certainly, I will go to your uncle forthwith; will you wait for me here, or go with me into the village?" "I will go with you." They all wished Lenz cordially good night; shaking hands kindly with him, and the old grandmother laid her left hand on his head as if blessing him, when she gave him her right hand. Lenz went along with the Doctor; as they passed Pilgrim's house they heard him whistling, and playing on his guitar. This faithful friend felt deep sympathy at heart for Lenz's misfortunes, but to sympathise with any one, is after all a very different thing from being involved yourself in difficulty; a man's own life claims its rights. Where the path went up the hill, Lenz left the Doctor, who only said: "Wait at home, I will come to you later. How wonderfully close it is this evening! I am sure we are going to have a rapid thaw." "I sought aid far away, and after all it seems I am to find it at home. There are still good men in the world, far better than yourself," said Lenz to himself, as he went up the hill towards home. CHAPTER XXX. THE THAW EXTENDS EVEN TO PETROWITSCH, BUT HE FREEZES AGAIN. "I know why you are come," said Petrowitsch, when the Doctor entered; "but sit down." He drew in a chair for him near the stove, where in front there was a bright fire blazing, and behind a well heated stove. "Now, what do I want, prophet?" said the Doctor, summoning up all his wits. "Money! you want money for my nephew!" "You are only half a prophet, for I want a kindly heart also." "Money, money, is the chief object. I will, however, at once say, I am not one of those who charitably lift up a drunken man lying on the road, and if he has broken his leg tell him he has only himself to blame. I say this to you, because you are one of the few people whom I respect in the world." "Thank you for your good opinion; but a skilful physician must try to heal injuries, whether deserved or undeserved." "You are a doctor, and yet you have the same malady as the whole country, indeed every one of our race." The Doctor expressed his surprise at seeing him under so novel an aspect. He had always, hitherto, thought that his misanthropy proceeded from mere love of ease and indolence, but now he saw it was grounded on a system. "Will you sit an hour with me? This is my seventieth birthday." "I wish you joy!" "Thank you."