he alone? He moved carefully to the other side. Now he could see the curtained windows and, in front of them, the family in a semi-circle. Judith Lauer was sitting motionless, nearest the bed, then Wolfgang, with an expression on his face which nobody would have expected. Between the windows was huddled the herd of five daughters and their bankrupt father, who no longer even preserved outward appearances; further off stood the countrified son and his dull-looking wife, and finally Lauer, who had sat down. With good reason they all kept so quiet, at that moment they were losing their last prospect of ever having a say in anything again! They had been very uppish and very sure of themselves, so long as the old man held out. He had fallen and they with him; he was disappearing and so were all of them. He had always built upon quicksands, for he had not relied upon Power! The spirit was useless, for it left behind it but decay. The delusion of every ambition which had no fists nor money in those fists!
Why did Wolfgang look like that? It did not look like grief, although tears were falling from his yearning eyes; it looked like envy, bitter envy. What was wrong with the others? Judith Lauer, whose brows frowned darkly; her husband who was sighing aloud—even the eldest son's wife had folded in front of her face her working-woman's hands. Diederich stepped into the centre of the doorway in a determined attitude. It was dark in the passage and they could see nothing even if they wanted to; but what of the old man? His face was turned exactly in that direction, and where his eyes were fixed one divined more than was actually there, visions which nobody could obstruct. As they reappeared before his astonished eyes he opened out his arms on the pillows, tried to lift them, and did so, moving them in a gesture of welcome. Who was it? How many were there to whom he made these prolonged signs of welcome? A whole nation, apparently, but of what character, that its coming
