and made audible remarks. There were people who had never had to deal with him, but who were, nevertheless, very respectful as long as he enjoyed general esteem. Instead of the old friends whom he never encountered on his daily walk, new and strange friends appeared. They met him as he was returning home, when twilight was coming on; sometimes it was a small tradesman with haggard eyes, threatened with bankruptcy; at others a furtive drunkard or some shadowy figure slinking along by the walls of the houses. They would slow up and look at him with shy or bold confidence. They lifted their hats, no doubt reluctantly, and then old Buck would nod to them, shaking the hand extended towards him, no matter whose it might be.
As time went on people even ceased to hate him. Those who had purposely cut him now passed him indifferently, and sometimes he would salute again out of old habit. Fathers with their young sons looked serious, and when they had passed him, they would explain to their children: "Did you see that old gentleman creeping all alone and looking at nobody? Remember all your life what disgrace can do to a man." Hence forward at the sight of old Buck the children were seized with a mysterious thrill of horror, just as the older generation, when it was young, had a feeling of instinctive pride on seeing him. There were, it is true, young people who did not follow the prevailing opinion. Sometimes, as the old man left the house, school was just over. The rising generation would trot off in droves, stepping respectfully aside to make room for their teachers; and Kühnchen, now a thorough-going patriot, or Pastor Zillich, more moral than ever since Käthchen's misfortune, would hurry on, without even a glance at the man in disgrace. Then these few youngsters would stop on the road, each for himself, and apparently of his own initiative. Their brows were not so smooth as most; they had expression in their eyes when they turned their backs on Kühnchen and Zillich and took off their caps to old Buck. Involuntarily he