of mystic relationship. … But there might still be a denial, he might be hurled back, into his own obscurity! Diederich passed a night of anxiety, and the next morning he rushed for the "Lokal-Anzeiger." The anecdotes. The unveiling of a monument. The speech. "From Netzig." There was the report of the recognition bestowed upon Lance-Corporal Emil Pacholke for his bravery in the face of the domestic enemy. All the officers, led by the colonel, had shaken his hand. He had received presents of money. "It is well known that yesterday the Emperor telegraphed, promoting the brave soldier to the rank of lance-corporal." There! not a denial but a confirmation! He had adopted Diederich's own words and had taken action in the sense Diederich had indicated! … Diederich spread out the newspaper, and gazed into its mirrored reflection of himself draped in royal ermine.
Unfortunately no word could reveal this victory and Diederich's dizzy promotion, but his own bearing sufficed, his inflexible mien and speech, his commanding glance. His family and his workmen were cowed into respectful silence. Even Sötbier had to admit that a creative breath had put new vigour into the business. The more clearly Diederich's dominating figure emerged the more ape-like seemed the manner in which Napoleon Fischer crept about, with his arms hanging in front of him, his eyes averted and his teeth gleaming above his scraggy black beard. He was the spirit of suppressed revolt. … Now was the time to make a move in the direction of Guste Daimchen. Diederich paid her a visit.
At first Frau Daimchen received him alone, seated on the old plush-covered sofa, but attired in a brown silk dress, much beribboned. She folded her hands, which were red and swollen like those of a washerwoman, across her stomach in such a way that her new rings could not escape the visitor's gaze. Put of sheer embarrassment he began to admire them, where upon Frau Daimchen was only too glad to explain that now
