"Your excellency ought to have made him eat a good slice of ham with brown bread, and a glass of brandy." Berger began to stir. He opened his eyes and looked wonderingly at the by-standers, like somebody who is awaking from a heavy dream. Then he rose fully, with Oswald's assistance, and said in a low voice: "I thank you, my friends. I have given you much trouble. We are dependent one on the other in this life. I hope I shall soon meet you again; perhaps I may be able then to reciprocate your kindness. Come, Oswald, let us go." "Do you feel strong enough? Had we not better send for a carriage?" "Oh no! Horses and carriages are not for people like me." He went to the door. Suddenly he stopped again. "Pay the people what we owe them, Oswald; we must not remain in anybody's debt on this earth." Oswald paid the landlord his bill, including in it, to Mr. Schmenckel's evident satisfaction, all that the ropedancers had consumed. A few moments afterward he and Berger had left the house and were walking slowly through the silent streets of Fichtenau, back to Doctor Birkenhain's asylum. Berger observed a silence which Oswald dared not break. The young man reproached himself in secret to have been so imprudent as to have left Berger so long in such company. He ascribed his exaltation mainly to the heat and the drinking of the strong beer, to which he was not accustomed. He had no suspicion of the close connection between Berger's history and the grotesque adventures of the circus-director, whose story he had scarcely heard. He only thought of Dr. Birkenhain, and how little he had attended to his suggestions. He was reflecting whether his presence was not perhaps rather injurious than useful for Berger, and thought of leaving Fichtenau as soon as possible, for his own benefit as well as for Berger's. Thus they had reached in silence the road which led past the mill to the gateway of Doctor Birkenhain's asylum, when Berger suddenly said: "You must leave us to-night, Oswald!" "To-night?" "Rather to-day than to-morrow. You have to go out into the desert once more; I cannot spare you the trial. And I, myself--I have to learn much yet, and you cannot assist me. It is better for us, therefore, to part. You go your way, and I shall go my way--it is the same road and although I am a little ahead of you, you learn quickly and will soon overtake me. Until then, Oswald farewell!" Berger embraced Oswald and kissed him. Oswald was deeply moved. "Let me stay with you," he said, his voice half-drowned in tears; "let me stay with you and never leave you again. I hate the world, I despise the world, as much as you do." "I know that," said Berger, "but to despise the world is but the first stage of the three on the road to the Great Mystery." "And which is the second stage? Mention it, so that I may reach it at once!" "To despise one's self." "And--the third?" They were standing before the gateway. Berger rang the bell; the door sprang open.