Just　before　daybreak　he　slipped　out　with　a　knapsack；　taking　the　road
  towards　Meran。
  He　had　not　quite　passed　through　Gries　when　he　overtook　a　man　walking
  in　the　middle　of　the　road　and　leaving　a　trail　of　cigar　smoke　behind
  him。
  〃Ah！　my　friend；〃　the　smoker　said；　〃you　walk　early；　are　you　going　my
  way？〃
  It　was　Count　Sarelli。　　The　raw　light　had　imparted　a　grey　tinge　to　his
  pale　face；　the　growth　of　his　beard　showed　black　already　beneath　the
  skin；　his　thumbs　were　hooked　in　the　pockets　of　a　closely　buttoned
  coat；　he　gesticulated　with　his　fingers。
  〃You　are　making　a　journey？〃　he　said；　nodding　at　the　knapsack。　　〃You
  are　earlyI　am　late；　our　friend　has　admirable　kummelI　have　drunk
  too　much。　　You　have　not　been　to　bed；　I　think？　　If　there　is　no　sleep
  in　one's　bed　it　is　no　good　going　to　look　for　it。　　You　find　that？　　It
  is　better　to　drink　kummel。。。！　　Pardon！　　You　are　doing　the　right
  thing：　get　away！　　Get　away　as　fast　as　possible！　　Don't　wait；　and　let
  it　catch　you！〃
  Harz　stared　at　him　amazed。
  〃Pardon！〃　Sarelli　said　again；　raising　his　hat；　〃that　girlthe　white
  girlI　saw。　　You　do　well　to　get　away！〃　he　swayed　a　little　as　he
  walked。　　〃That　old　fellowwhat　is　his　name…Trrreffr…ry！　　What　ideas
  of　honour！〃　　He　mumbled：　〃Honour　is　an　abstraction！　　If　a　man　is　not
  true　to　an　abstraction；　he　is　a　low　type；　but　wait　a　minute！〃
  He　put　his　hand　to　his　side　as　though　in　pain。
  The　hedges　were　brightening　with　a　faint　pinky　glow；　there　was　no
  sound　on　the　long；　deserted　road；　but　that　of　their　footsteps；
  suddenly　a　bird　commenced　to　chirp；　another　answeredthe　world
  seemed　full　of　these　little　voices。
  Sarelli　stopped。
  〃That　white　girl；〃　he　said；　speaking　with　rapidity。　　〃Yes！　You　do
  well！　get　away！　　Don't　let　it　catch　you！　　I　waited；　it　caught　me
  what　happened？　　Everything　horribleand　nowkummel！〃　　Laughing　a
  thick　laugh；　he　gave　a　twirl　to　his　moustache；　and　swaggered　on。
  〃I　was　a　fine　fellownothing　too　big　for　Mario　Sarelli；　the　regiment
  looked　to　me。　　Then　she　camewith　her　eyes　and　her　white　dress；
  always　white；　like　this　one；　the　little　mole　on　her　chin；　her　hands
  for　ever　movingtheir　touch　as　warm　as　sunbeams。　　Then；　no　longer
  Sarelli　this；　and　that！　　The　little　house　close　to　the　ramparts！　　Two
  arms；　two　eyes；　and　nothing　here；〃　he　tapped　his　breast；　〃but　flames
  that　made　ashes　quicklyin　her；　like　this　ash！〃　he　flicked　the
  white　flake　off　his　cigar。　　〃It's　droll！　　You　agree；　hein？　　Some　day
  I　shall　go　back　and　kill　her。　　In　the　meantimekummel！〃
  He　stopped　at　a　house　close　to　the　road；　and　stood　still；　his　teeth
  bared　in　a　grin。
  〃But　I　bore　you；〃　he　said。　　His　cigar；　flung　down；　sputtered　forth
  its　sparks　on　the　road　in　front　of　Harz。　　〃I　live　heregood…morning！
  You　are　a　man　for　workyour　honour　is　your　Art！　　I　know；　and　you　are
  young！　　The　man　who　loves　flesh　better　than　his　honour　is　a　low　type…
  …I　am　a　low　type。　　I！　Mario　Sarelli；　a　low　type！　I　love　flesh　better
  than　my　honour！〃
  He　remained　swaying　at　the　gate　with　the　grin　fixed　on　his　face；　then
  staggered　up　the　steps；　and　banged　the　door。　　But　before　Harz　had
  walked　on；　he　again　appeared；　beckoning；　in　the　doorway。　　Obeying　an
  impulse；　Harz　went　in。
  〃We　will　make　a　night　of　it；〃　said　SareIIi；　〃wine；　brandy；　kummel？　　I
  am　virtuouskummel　it　must　be　for　me！〃
  He　sat　down　at　a　piano；　and　began　to　touch　the　keys。　　Harz　poured　out
  some　wine。　　Sarelli　nodded。
  〃You　begin　with　that？　　Allegropiupresto！
  Winebrandykummel！〃　he　quickened　the　time　of　the　tune：　〃it　is　not
  too　long　a　passage；　and　this〃he　took　his　hands　off　the　keys〃comes
  after。〃
  Harz　smiled。
  〃Some　men　do　not　kill　themselves；〃　he　said。
  Sarelli；　who　was　bending　and　swaying　to　the　music　of　a　tarantella；
  broke　off；　and　letting　his　eyes　rest　on　the　painter；　began　playing
  Schumann's　Kinderscenen。　　Harz　leaped　to　his　feet。
  〃Stop　that！〃　he　cried。
  〃It　pricks　you？〃　said　Sarelli　suavely；　〃what　do　you　think　of　this？〃
  he　played　again；　crouching　over　the　piano；　and　making　the　notes　sound
  like　the　crying　of　a　wounded　animal。
  〃For　me！〃　he　said；　swinging　round；　and　rising。
  〃Your　health！　　And　so　you　don't　believe　in　suicide；　but　in　murder？
  The　custom　is　the　other　way；　but　you　don't　believe　in　customs？
  Customs　are　only　for　Society？〃　　He　drank　a　glass　of　kummel。　　〃You　do
  not　love　Society？〃
  Harz　looked　at　him　intently；　he　did　not　want　to　quarrel。
  〃I　am　not　too　fond　of　other　people's　thoughts；〃　he　said　at　last；　〃I
  prefer　to　think　my　own。
  〃And　is　Society　never　right？　　That　poor　Society！〃
  〃Society！　　What　is　Societya　few　men　in　good　coats？　　What　has　it
  done　for　me？〃
  Sarelli　bit　the　end　off　a　cigar。
  〃Ah！〃　he　said；　〃now　we　are　coming　to　it。　　It　is　good　to　be　an　artist；
  a　fine　bantam　of　an　artist；　where　other　men　have　their　dis…ci…pline；
  he　has　his；　what　shall　we　sayhis　mound　of　roses？〃
  The　painter　started　to　his　feet。
  〃Yes；〃　said　Sarelli；　with　a　hiccough；　〃you　are　a　fine　fellow！〃
  〃And　you　are　drunk！〃　cried　Harz。
  〃A　little　drunknot　much；　not　enough　to　matter！〃
  Harz　broke　into　laughter。　　It　was　crazy　to　stay　there　listening　to
  this　mad　fellow。　　What　had　brought　him　in？　　He　moved　towards　the
  door。
  〃Ah！〃　said　Sarelli；　〃but　it　is　no　good　going　to　bedlet　us　talk。　　I
  have　a　lot　to　sayit　is　pleasant　to　talk　to　anarchists　at　times。〃
  Full　daylight　was　already　coming　through　the　chinks　of　the　shutters。
  〃You　are　all　anarchists；　you　painters；　you　writing　fellows。　　You　live
  by　playing　ball　with　facts。　　Imagesnothing　solid…　hein？　　You're　all
  for　new　things　too；　to　tickle　your　nerves。　　No　discipline！　　True
  anarchists；　every　one　of　you！〃
  Harz　poured　out　another　glass　of　wine　and　drank　it　off。　　The　man's
  feverish　excitement　was　catching。
  〃Only　fools；〃　he　replied；　〃take　things　for　granted。　　As　for
  discipline；　what　do　you　aristocrats；　or　bourgeois　know　of　discipline？
  Have　you　ever　been　hungry？　　Have　you　ever　had　your　soul　down　on　its
  back？〃
  〃Soul　on　its　back？　　That　is　good！〃
  〃A　man's　no　use；〃　cried　Harz；　〃if　he's　always　thinking　of　what　others
  think；　he　must　stand　on　his　own　legs。〃
  〃He　must　not　then　consider　other　people？〃
  〃Not　from　cowardice　anyway。〃
  Sarelli　drank。
  〃What　would　you　do；〃　he　said；　striking　his　chest；　〃if　you　had　a
  devil…here？　　Would　you　go　to　bed？〃
  A　sort　of　pity　seized　on　Harz。　　He　wanted　to　say　something　that　would
  be　consoling　but　could　find　no　words；　and　suddenly　he　felt　disgusted。
  What　link　was　there　between　him　and　this　man；　between　his　love　and
  this　man's　love？
  〃Harz！〃　muttered　Sarelli；　〃Harz　means　'tar；'　hein？　　Your　family　is
  not　an　old　one？〃
  Harz　glared；　and　said：　〃My　father　is　a　peasant。〃
  Sarelli　lifted　the　kummel　bottle　and　emptied　it　into　his　glass；　with
  a　steady　hand。
  〃You're　honestand　we　both　have　devils。　　I　forgot；　I　brought　you　in
  to　see　a　picture！〃
  He　threw　wide　the　shutters；　the　windows　were　already　open；　and　a　rush
  of　air　came　in。
  〃Ah！〃　he　said；　sniffing；　〃smells　of　the　earth；　nicht　wahr；　Herr
  Artist？　　You　should　knowit　belongs　to　your　father。。。。　　Come；　here's
  my　picture；　a　Correggio！　　What　do　you　think　of　it？〃
  〃It　is　a　copy。〃
  〃You　think？〃
  〃I　know。〃
  〃Then　you　have　given　me　the　lie；　Signor；〃　and　drawing　out　his
  handkerchief　SareIIi　flicked　it　in　the　painter's　face。
  Harz　turned　white。
  〃Duelling　is　a　good　custom！〃　said　Sarelli。　　〃I　shall　have　the　honour
  to　teach　you　just　this　one；　unless　you　are　afraid。　　Here　are　pistols…
  …this　room　is　twenty　feet　across　at　least；　twenty　feet　is　no　bad
  distance。〃
  And　pulling　out　a　drawer　he　took　two　pistols　from　a　case；　and　put
  them　on　the　table。
  〃The　light　is　goodbut　perhaps　you　are　afraid。〃
  〃Give　me　one！〃　shouted　the　infuriated　painter；　〃and　go　to　the　devil
  for　a　fool〃
  〃One　moment！〃　Sarelli　murmured：　〃I　will　load　them；　they　are　more
  useful　loaded。〃
  Harz　leaned　out　of　the　window；　his　head　was　in　a　whirl。　　'What　on
  earth　is　happening？'　he　thought。　　'He's　mador　I　am！　　Confound　him！
  I'm　not　going　to　be　killed！'　　He　turned　and　went　towards　the　table。
  Sarelli's　head　was　sunk　on　his　arms；　he　was　asleep。　　Harz
  methodically　took　up　the　pistols；　and　put　them　back　into　the　drawer。
  A　sound　made　him　turn　his　head；　there　stood　a　tall；　strong　young
  woman　in　a　loose　gown　caught　together　on　her　chest。　　Her　grey　eyes
  glanced　from　the　painter　to　the　bottles；　from　the　bottles　to　the
  pistol…case。　　A　simple　reasoning；　which　struck　Harz　as　comic。
  〃It　is　often　like　this；〃　she　said　in　the　country　patois；　〃der　Herr
  must　not　be　frightened。〃
  Lifting　the　motionless　Sarelli　as　if　he　were　a　baby；　she　laid　him　on
  a　couch。
  〃Ah！〃　she　said；　sitting　down　and　resting　her　elbow　on　the　table；　〃he
  will　not　wake！〃
  Harz　bowed　to　her；　her　patient　figure；　in　spite　of　its　youth　and
  strength；　seemed　to　him　pathetic。　　Taking　up　his　kn