"Thanks for the compliment. It is a sad pity that I can't hang it round my neck as an order of merit, like the Choral Society." The good humoured, merry Pilgrim stood before the old man, looking as foolish as a swordsman whose blade is made to fly out of his hand at each attack. Petrowitsch feasted on this spectacle, and crammed a large piece of sugar into his mouth. Then he said, smacking his lips, "My brother's son followed his own devices, and it would not be fair on my part, were I to deprive him of the harvest he so richly deserves. He has squandered his life and his money, and I have no power to restore either." "Indeed you have, Herr Lenz! His life, and that of his family, can yet be saved. All discord in the house will cease when they are once more at ease, and free from care and anxiety. The proverb says, 'Horses quarrel over an empty manger.' Money is not happiness in itself, but it can bring happiness." "A very remarkable fact how free and easy young people are with other people's money! but they object to earning it themselves! Once for all, however, I am resolved to do nothing for the husband of Annele of the 'Lion,' whose affection is only to be bought with money." "And if your nephew dies?" "Then he will, probably, be buried." "And what is to become of the children?" "No one can tell what becomes of children." "Did your nephew ever offend you in any way?" "I don't know why he should." "What can you, then, do better with your money than--" "When I find that I require a guardian, I will apply to Herr Pilgrim." "Herr Lenz, you are a vast deal too clever for me." "You do me much honour," said Petrowitsch, kicking off his slippers. "I have done all I could, at all events," rejoined Pilgrim. "And at a cheap rate; words cost little--how much a bushel? for I should like to buy some." "This is the first and last time I ask you anything." "And this is the first and last time I refuse you anything." "Good morning, Herr Lenz." "The same to you, Herr Pilgrim." Pilgrim turned round once more at the door. His face was red, and his eyes flashed, as he said, "Herr Lenz, do you know what you are doing?" "I have hitherto always known pretty well what I was doing." "You are, in fact, turning me out of your house." "Really!" said Petrowitsch, with a sneer. He, however, cast down his eyes when he saw the expression of Pilgrim's face--half rage, half sorrow.