One day Frau Kirschner wrote to Daniel telling him that she did not wish to have anything more to do with him; she demanded in the same letter that he pay back the money she had advanced him. He could not raise it: the City Theatre had already made him a loan, he had no friends, and M. Rivière, the only person on earth who might have been able to come to his rescue, had gone back to France. Matters took their usual course: A lawyer notified Daniel, giving him so many days grace; when these had elapsed and no payment had been made, a summons was served on him; the sheriff came in, and in default of any other object of value he pawned the piano. Daniel’s objections were quite ineffectual: a few days more and the piano would be put up at auction. One gloomy morning in January Philippina entered his room. “Say, Daniel,” she began, “would you like to have some money from me?” Daniel turned his head slowly and looked at her in amazement. “I have lots of it,” she continued with her hoarse voice, her glassy eyes glittering underneath her bangs. “I have been saving it a pfennig at a time ever since I was a child. I can give you the money you owe the Councillor’s wife. Sling it at her, the old hag! Say to me: ‘Please Philippina, give me the money,’ and you’ll find it on the table.” “Are you crazy?” asked Daniel, “get out of here just as quickly as your feet can carry you!” He felt distinctly creepy in her presence. Philippina, beside herself with rage, seized his hand. Before he could do a thing she bit him just below the little finger. The wound was quite deep. He groaned, shook her off, and pushed her back. She looked at him triumphantly, but her face had turned yellow. “Listen, Daniel,” she said in a begging, beseeching tone, “don’t be so ugly! Don’t be so mean toward me! Don’t be so jealous!” The wench’s infamous smile, her hair hanging down over her eyes, her big red hands, the snow-flakes on her short cloak, the border on her fiery red dress below her cloak, and the poison green ribbon on her hat—this ensemble of ugliness filled Daniel with the loathing he might have experienced had he stood face to face with the most detestable picture he had ever seen from the world of human beings. But as he turned his head, a feeling of sympathy came over him; he suspected that the girl was bound to him by bonds that did not reach him until after they had taken their course through the dark channels of some subterranean labyrinth. What she had done filled him with dismay; but as a revelation of character it surprised him and set him to thinking. He went over to the washing table to put his bleeding hand in the water. Philippina took a fresh handkerchief from the cabinet, and handed it to him as a bandage. He looked at her with piercing eyes, and said: “What kind of a person are you? What sort of a devil is in you, anyway? Be careful, Jason Philip’s daughter, be careful!”