"Just one word more, old boy," he said, "before we part. I have to make an open confession to you concerning a certain matter, and to ask your pardon. You will find in your books the constant occurrence of a sum of money which you will not be able to explain. Interest--called in by--then follows my name." Leo was all attention. "The sum comes altogether to sixty-six thousand and a few hundred marks. You know you had no ready money. It fell to my share to save the sinking ship. So I gave what was necessary out of my own means to set it afloat again.... Forgive the deception, and don't thank me! No. I won't be thanked," he repeated, as Leo stood up and seemed as if he were going to rush and embrace him. "Anything I have is always at your service. That, of course, is an understood thing. And now good luck and good-bye." He was making quickly for the door, but at the last moment he was seized with one of those attacks which Leo with dread had seen coming on for several minutes. He fell across the sofa, growing deadly pale. His eyes were fixed, his pulse stood still, and he lost consciousness. Leo had known these symptoms from earliest youth, and also knew the remedy. As he fell, he had caught Ulrich's head in his arms, and began massaging his scalp vigorously with his finger-tips. After a few seconds the eyes recovered their ordinary expression, a gentle flow of blood mounted to his temples, and he came to himself again. "Thank you, dear old boy," he said, standing up with a sad smile. "Once more I have lived to experience your skill in casting out the little white mice." And he seized his hat. Leo begged him to wait till he had quite recovered, but Ulrich refused. "No loitering," he said; "it will only excite us again, and prolong the agony." The carriage had driven round to the door. For a moment he let his thin, delicate hand rest tremblingly in Leo's hard palm, then he wrenched himself away. "Remember me to your people," he said, covering himself with the carriage-rug. The horses started, and the carriage rolled away with subdued crunching of wheels unto the purple evening dusk. Leo, half blinded by his rising tears, staggered back unto his study. "Be sensible ... no whining ... don't be an old woman," he cried, preaching courage to himself, for it was right that this should be. Only thus could all be made straight again. VIII