As best I could, I explained the circumstances of the purchase of those ill-omened boots. But his face and voice made so deep impression that during the next few minutes I ordered many pairs. Nemesis fell! They lasted more terribly than ever. And I was not able conscientiously to go to him for nearly two years. When at last I went I was surprised to find that outside one of the two little windows of his shop another name was painted, also that of a bootmaker-making, of course, for the Royal Family. The old familiar boots, no longer in dignified isolation, were huddled in the single window. Inside, the now contracted well of the one little shop was more scented and darker than ever. And it was longer than usual, too, before a face peered down, and the tip-tap of the bast slippers began. At last he stood before me, and, gazing through those rusty iron spectacles, said: "Mr.-----, isn'd it?" "Ah! Mr. Gessler," I stammered, "but your boots are really too good, you know! See, these are quite decent still!" And I stretched out to him my foot. He looked at it. "Yes," he said, "beople do nod wand good hoods, id seems." To get away from his reproachful eyes and voice I hastily remarked: "What have you done to your shop?" He answered quietly: "Id was too exbensif. Do you wand some boods?" I ordered three pairs, though I had only wanted two, and quickly left. I had, I do not know quite what feeling of being part, in his mind, of a conspiracy against him; or not perhaps so much against him as against his idea of boot. One does not, I suppose, care to feel like that; for it was again many months before my next visit to his shop, paid, I remember, with the feeling: "Oh! well, I can't leave the old boy--so here goes! Perhaps it'll be his elder brother!" For his elder brother, I knew, had not character enough to reproach me, even dumbly. And, to my relief, in the shop there did appear to be his elder brother, handling a piece of leather. "Well, Mr. Gessler," I said, "how are you?" He came close, and peered at me. "I am breddy well," he said slowly "but my elder brudder is dead." And I saw that it was indeed himself--but how aged and wan! And never before had I heard him mention his brother. Much shocked; I murmured: "Oh! I am sorry!" "Yes," he answered, "he was a good man, he made a good bood; but he is dead." And he touched the top of his head, where the hair had suddenly gone as thin as it had been on that of his poor brother, to indicate, I suppose, the cause of death. "He could nod ged over losing de oder shop. Do you wand any hoods?" And he held up the leather in his hand: "Id's a beaudiful biece." I ordered several pairs. It was very long before they came--but they were better than ever. One simply could not wear them out. And soon after that I went abroad.