“But what of social order, I hear you say? Let us discuss it.

  “You are a staunch advocate of social order, I should imagine; you are one of its favoured ones. But I! I am a Jew, I am a bastard, I am poor; three stigmas independent of my will, and yet because of which your society spurns me, and for which it punishes me as for three crimes. You will allow me not to feel overwhelmed with gratitude to her on that account. So much the worse for those who ill-treat their dog instead of giving him a drink, and who feed him with blows. The dog goes mad and bites them.

  “To whom then am I under any obligation? to you perhaps? Let us see.

  “There exists at Frankfort a narrow street, dark and dirty, paved with sharp pebbles, and compressed between two rows of tottering houses, the fronts of which incline towards the houses opposite, as if they were drunk; a street whose empty shops open on to backyards filled with old iron and broken pots and pans; a street which at night is barred and bolted and double-locked, like a lazar-house; this is the street of the Jews.

  “Never has the sun deigned to descend into this foul darkness. Well! you have been less disdainful than the sun. One day, some twenty years ago, “I lived thus until the age of twelve, not knowing who my father was and not knowing who you were. At this age, I was sitting one morning, reading, on the same threshold where thirteen years before you had seen my mother at her needle, when suddenly, on looking up, I saw a grave man looking fixedly at me. It was you. You came into the shop. My grandfather, on your questioning him, humbly explained that I was not lacking either in intelligence or perseverance; that I learnt without difficulty; that I already knew all the French and Hebrew he was able to teach me; that I devoured every book I came across; but that he was poor, and could ill-afford to educate me.

  “Then you were so extremely kind as to take me into your laboratory, partly as a pupil, partly as a servant. But I kept my ears open and studied hard. During seven years, thanks to my iron constitution, which enabled me to work by night as well as by day; thanks to my energy, which aroused in me a perfect passion for study, I penetrated, one by one, all the secrets of your learning, and, at nineteen, I was your equal in knowledge.

  “I had learnt Latin and Greek, into the bargain, only by being present at Julius’ lessons.

  “You had become fond of me to a certain extent, I took so keen an interest in your experiments. And, as with set purpose, I was taciturn and reserved, you had no suspicion of what lay behind. But this could not last. It did not take you long to discover that I, on my side, walked alone and in advance of you. You became irritated and this irritated me. An explanation took place between us.

  “I asked to what end all your knowledge tended; your reply was: ‘To knowledge.’ Eh! knowledge is not an end, it is a means. My aim was to apply it to life.

  “What! we held within our hands, secrets and terrible powers; we were able, thanks to our analyses and to our discoveries, to produce death, love, madness, to quicken or quench intelligence, and, by allowing one single drop to fall on a fruit, to kill, if we so wished, a Napoleon! And this marvellous potency, the result of our toil and labour, we made no use of it! This superhuman force, this weapon of power, this principle of sovereignty, we allowed it to lie dormant. We did nothing with it. We were content to hide it in a corner, like the foolish miser who buries those millions that would make him master of the world. Thereupon you grew indignant and honoured me so far as to consider me a dangerous man. You deemed it prudent to close your laboratory against me, and you deprived me of your lessons, which I no longer needed. You refused to lead me any farther, when already I was in advance of you. And so, two years ago, you sent me to this University of Heidelberg, which, to be perfectly frank, is the very thing I longed for most, being anxious to acquire a knowledge of the legislations and philosophies of the world.

  “But, another offence! Julius is here with me, and naturally, I have the influence over him, which a mind like mine must always exercise over a nature like his. Consequently, paternal jealousy and uneasiness. That son is dear to you, I readily understand; you idolise in him the heir to your fortune, to your fame, and to the twelve letters of your name. So, to take him out of my clutches, you attempted to separate us, a fortnight ago, by sending him to Jena. He chose to follow me, almost despite myself. Is it my fault?

  “To sum up. What do I owe you? I owe you life. Do not be alarmed; I do not mean to say that I am your son; you have always treated me as a stranger; I accept the position that you have assigned me. I mean to say that I owe you the fact of being alive — I owe you knowledge, education, the life of the mind. I owe you, also, the allowance which for the last two years you have made me. Is that all?

  “Well! I return to the starting point of my letter. I am strong, and I wish to be free. I wish to be a man, the expression of God. I shall be twenty-one tomorrow. My grandfather died a fortnight ago. I lost my mother long since. I have no father. There are no ties to restrain me. I attach value to nothing but my own self-esteem, my pride, if you will. I want nothing from anyone, and I want to be beholden to no one.

  “Old Samuel Gelb has left me about ten thousand florins. I begin by sending you back the amount of the allowance you have made me. That settles the money question. As to my moral debt, an opportunity is, I believe, now at hand, in which to requite my obligation, and, at the same time, prove to you that I am capable of everything, even of good.

  “Your son, your only son, Julius, is, at the present moment, in peril of death. By a combination of circumstances, which it would be superfluous to explain to you, his life depends on a paper which is there in his Bible. If he finds it, he is lost. Well! listen to what I am going to do when I have signed this letter of farewell. I shall take from my pocket a paper similar to the one that Julius chose, place it in his Bible, and take his, and with it, the danger. By this means I readjust the workings of Providence in favour of your son; in a word; I save his life. Are we quits?

  “After that, my knowledge is my own, and I shall do with it as I will.

  “Farewell and oblivion.

  “SAMUEL GELB.”

  Samuel rose, opened the Bible, took from it the ticket, and replaced it by the one from in his pocket. He was sealing his letter and it was broad daylight when Julius awoke.

  “Have you had any sleep?” said Samuel.

  Julius rubbed his eyes, and began to collect his thoughts. In answer to his first impulse, he opened his Bible and took from it the ticket which had fallen to him.

  He read “Franz Ritter.”

  “Well! I have the man I wanted,” Samuel said quietly. “He! he! this kind Providence is decidedly more intelligent than I supposed, and it may be that it really knows whether we shall see the setting of this sun which is now rising. Only, it ought to tell us so.”

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE “PET FOX”.

  WHILST Julius finished his letter and sealed it, Samuel lighted his pipe.

  “Now, then,” said he, puffing out a whiff, “we have no reason to suppose that Dormagen and Ritter may not have had the same idea as ourselves, and have each chosen his adversary. It is therefore wise to forestall them. We must furnish them with such an opportunity to quarrel, as they will be unable to avoid.”

  “Let us look up the questions of honour,” said Julius, “as stated in the Code.”

  “Oh!” Samuel rejoined, “it is important that we should not fight for a students’ quarrel, but for some insult as between man and man, in order that we may have the right to inflict a serious wound upon these gentlemen. Let me see, has Ritter still his same mistress?”

  “Yes, little Lolotte.”

  “She rather favours you, if I remember rightly. Very well, that is fortunate for us. We are going to walk past his house. It is a fine morning. She will be, as usual, sewing at her window. You will say a few polite nothings to her as we pass and we will await the result.”

  “No,” said Julius, with an embarrassed air, “I prefer some other means.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not know, but I refuse to have it said that I fought a duel for the sake of a girl.”

  The colour mounted to his cheeks, and Samuel laughed.

  “What charming candour! He has not forgotten how to blush.”

  “What nonsense! I”

  “Come! you are thinking of Christiane, admit it; and you do not wish to be even seemingly unfaithful to your thought of her.”

  “Are you mad!” said Julius, who experienced an inexplicable sense of uneasiness whenever Samuel spoke of Christiane.

  “If I am mad, you are absurd in not wishing to say even one word to Lolotte. It would not compromise you in any way, and it is impossible for us to find a more simple or more certain pretext. Unless, of course, you have made up your mind to speak to no one but Christiane, to look at no one but Christiane, to meet no one but....”

  “Enough said! I consent,” said Julius, with an effort.

  “That’s right. As for myself, against what flint can I strike, to set alight a quarrel between Dormagen and me? Deuce take me, if I can tell. Has he a mistress, too, I wonder? But should both of us employ the same means, that would show great paucity of imagination, and then, for me to fight for a woman, the thing would look improbable, on the face of it.”

  He reflected for a few moments.

  “Ah! I have it,” he exclaimed suddenly.

  He rang the bell. A waiter appeared in reply to his summons.

  “You know my ‘pet fox,’ Ludwig Trichter?”

  “Yes, Herr Samuel.”

  “Go as quickly as you can to the ‘Raven,’ where he is staying, and tell him from me, that I want to see him at once.”

  The waiter left the room.

  “Whilst waiting,” said Samuel, “suppose we have a wash?”

  Ten minutes later, Ludwig Trichter burst into the room, breathless, and his eyes still heavy with sleep.

  Ludwig Trichter, on whom we have only bestowed a cursory glance, was the type of a student in his twentieth year. He was really at least thirty. This venerable personage had already seen four generations of students succeed each other. His beard flowed over his breast. Fierce moustaches turning upwards like the points of a crescent, eyes bleared through long-standing dissipation, lent to the face of this Nestor of taverns a singular expression of fatherly provocation.

  In his dress, he affected to copy Samuel, but, as a matter of fact, Ludwig Trichter, like all imitators, aped Samuel’s eccentricities, by exaggerating them.

  Trichter’s age and experience rendered him invaluable in many ways. He was conversant with every precedent which could affect the relations between students and Philistines, and between students among themselves. He was, as it were, the living tradition of the University. That is why Samuel had chosen him for his “pet fox.”

  Trichter was puffed up with pride at this honour, and the humble and servile attitude which he affected towards Samuel, made it easy to guess how insolent and haughty he must be with others.

  When he entered, he held his pipe in his hand, not having allowed himself time to light it.

  Samuel deigned to notice this extraordinary proof of precipitation.

  “Light your pipe,” said he. “Have you not yet breakfasted?”

  “No, although it is seven o’clock,” Trichter replied, shamefacedly, “The fact is, my dear senior, I did not return from the Fuchsencommerz before the small hours of the morning, and had only just fallen asleep when your gracious message awoke me with a start.”

  “Good, it happens fortunately that you have taken nothing. Now tell me: as Dormagen is one of our oldest ‘Mossy Heads,’ he, too, I suppose, has his own ‘pet fox.’”

  “Yes, Fresswanst.”

  “Is he a hard drinker, this Fresswanst?”

  “Colossal; he drinks harder than anyone of us.”

  Samuel frowned:

  “What!” said he angrily, “I have a fox, and that fox does not surpass all others in everything?”

  “Oh! oh!” said Trichter, humiliated and pulling himself together, “we have never been seriously pitted against each other; but should an opportunity arise, I am quite capable of holding my own.”

  “Then make an opportunity this very morning, if you value my good opinion. Alas! the great school is disappearing. The traditions are being lost. There has been no liquid duel at the University for three months. There must be one this very day, do you understand? Challenge Fresswanst. I command you to drink him down.”

  “Enough, senior,” said Trichter proudly. “But one word more. Am I to challenge him for simple beer or for wine?”

  “For wine, Trichter, wine! we leave pistols and beer for the Philistines. The sword and wine are the weapons for students and gentlemen.”

  “Your wishes will be attended to. I am going from here to the ‘Great Tun,’ where Fresswanst has breakfast.”

  “Go, and tell everybody that Julius and I will join you, after Thibault’s lecture, at half-past nine punctually. I will be your second.”

  “Thanks. I, on my part, will try to be worthy of you, noble sir!”

  CHAPTER XIII

  LOLOTTE.

  WHEN Trichter had gone, Samuel turned to Julius.

  “Here is our programme and the course we must follow; first to the street where Lolotte lives, then to the lecture on law, so as not to alter our usual habits, then to the ‘Great Tun.’”

  They went out, and on reaching the foot of the staircase, a servant handed Samuel a letter.

  “The deuce! can it be one of our opponents already?” said he.

  But the letter was from the professor of chemistry, Zacchâus, inviting Samuel to breakfast.

  “Tell your master that I have a previous engagement, and that I cannot go to him before to-morrow.”

  The servant departed. “Poor man! “Samuel resumed. “He Is puzzled over some point. Without me, how would he get through his lessons?”

  They left the tavern and reached the Brod Strasse.

  Seated at an open window on the ground-floor of one of the houses, sat Lolotte, sewing. She was dark, lively, well-proportioned, with glossy hair shading her brow, and a cap pushed jauntily at the back of her head.

  “There are three foxes talking to each other ten yards off,” said Samuel. “Ritter will hear of it. Speak to the child.”

  “But what shall I tell her?”

  “What you like. It is enough for you to speak to her.”

  Julius approached reluctantly. “Up already and at work, Lolotte!” said he to the young girl. “I can see that you were not at the “Foxes’ Commerz “last night!”

  Lolotte blushed with delight on hearing Julius speak to her. She got up and stood at the window, work in hand.

  “Oh! no, Monsieur Julius, I never go to a dance; Franz is so jealous! Good morning, Monsieur Samuel. But I do not believe that you noticed my absence, Monsieur Julius.’’

  “I dare not say yes, Franz is so jealous!”

  “Nonsense!” said she with a saucy pout of defiance.

  “What are you making, Lolotte?” asked Julius.

  “Some scented sachets in satin.”

  “How pretty they are. Will you give me one?”

  “What an idea! what would you do with it?”

  “Keep it in memory of you, of course,” said Samuel. “Oh, the bold fellow, spite of his timid looks!”

  “This is the prettiest,” Lolotte rejoined bravely, after some slight hesitation. “Will you fasten it on with a ribbon?”

  “How infatuated he is! “Samuel exclaimed comically. “It looks serious.”

  “There Thanks, my dear, sweet Lolotte.”

  Julius drew off a ring from his little finger.

  “Take this in exchange, Lolotte.”

  “I do not think I ought....”

  “Nonsense!” said Julius in his turn. Lolotte took the ring.

  “Now we must say good-bye,” Julius resumed. “It is time for the lecture, and we are already late. I will see you as we return.”

  “Well! you are going away without even shaking hands; decidedly you are afraid of Franz.”

  “Make haste,” said Samuel in a low tone, “here are the foxes coming towards us.”

  In fact the three “foxes “were passing in front of Lolotte’s house, and saw Julius kiss the young girl’s hand.

  “Good-bye,” said Julius. And he passed on with Samuel.

  When they reached the lecture hall, the lesson was already well begun. A course of lectures in Heidelberg is much the same as one in Paris. The audience already showed signs of weariness. A small number took notes. About twenty others listened without writing. The rest talked, idled away the time, and yawned. Several were remarkable for the strange attitudes which they assumed. One ‘branded fox,’ at the extreme end of a bench, was lying on his back, with his legs in perpendicular fashion, against the wall. Another, lying on his stomach, his elbows on the seat, and his head supported in his hands, amused himself, during the lecture, with the perusal of patriotic songs. We do not doubt that the professor’s words did not always penetrate the minds of the students, but it is very certain that often they went in by one ear and out by the other.

  Neither Franz nor Otto attended Thibault’s lecture.

  The discussion over, Samuel and Julius went out with the crowd, and the clock was striking half-past nine as they entered the tavern known as the Great Sun, where the dual action, bacchic and tragic, was about to take place.

  The principal hall into which Samuel and Julius entered was crowded with students. Their arrival caused a sensation.

  “There is Samuel! Trichter, there is your ‘senior,’ “said the students.

  They were evidently expected.

  But the attention which had at first been directed to Samuel, became riveted on Julius, when Franz Ritter, deadly pale, was seen to leave the crowd and walk straight up to him.

  Samuel, on seeing him advance, had only time to whisper to Julius:

  “Be very careful. It is advisable for us to act in such a manner as to make the blame rest on our adversaries, so that, should anything serious result, the witnesses may be able to attest that we were provoked.”

 

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