This darling hope lay at the bottom of all his scheming and contriving, as he had not failed to notice how an industrious and abstemious man could not fail to flourish in Seldwyla. He, to be sure, was such a man, one who went his own quiet way and who was bound to profit from the carelessness of the people thereabouts without falling into the same errors as these. And once master and owner of the establishment, it would not be difficult for him to acquire citizenship and then, he calculated, he would spend the remainder of his life more sensibly and economically than any previous citizen of Seldwyla had ever done, not bothering the slightest about anything which was not likely to increase his wealth, not spending a penny, but accumulating more and more money, watching all the time his chances among the spendthrifts of the town. This plan was indeed as simple as it was sensible and well-considered, especially as he had begun to realize it, in his own slow but sure way, for a number of years past. For he had already saved up quite a neat little sum; this he had hidden away securely, and with things going on as they had hitherto, it was but a question of time when his scheme would attain full fruition. But there was one point about his plan which seemed to brand it as almost inhuman. That was the fact that Jobst had conceived it at all, that is, in Seldwyla, for nothing in his heart really inclined him to Seldwyla, and nothing compelled him to remain there. He cared not a fig really either for the town or its inhabitants, either for the political condition of the country or its manners and customs. All this was as indifferent to him as was his own native land, and which latter he did not even care to ever see again. In a hundred other places of the world he might have equally well succeeded with his diligence and his habits. However, he had discarded all sense of free choice, and with his grossly grasping senses he had seized upon the first tendril of hope that offered, in order to keep hold and suck himself through it full of wealth and vigor. The saying, it is true, is: "Where I fare well, there is my home," and this may be true enough in the case of those who can really show some good and sufficient reasons why they love their new country and who of their free and conscious will went out into the wide world in order to achieve success and to return as men of weight, or of those who escape unfortunate conditions at home and, obeying a strong tendency, join the modern migration across the seas; or of those who somewhere have found better and truer friends than at home, or who discovered conditions abroad that suited their ideals and secret hopes better or who became bound by stronger ties abroad. And this new home in any case, this second home where they found things more to their taste and where they succeeded well, they necessarily must care for, so long as there they are treated humanely and fairly. Jobst, however,