was to have made such a change in the journalistic literature of the capital. Nobody seemed to have heard anything about it, and only later I learned that Rass had received a license to publish a weekly, had collected money for advertisements and had disappeared, leaving behind him a heap of manuscripts among which was one entitled "Gay Thoughts Upon Sad Matters."
This event was the last straw. For two days I ate nothing, spent all the time in the parks, thinking about nothing, dreaming about nothing; and, if I was conscious of a thought, I would hear myself repeating:
"Now I understand you! Now I understand!"
It was clear that my thoughts swung continuously back to the prison and were picturing those whom life, in merciless disregard, had pushed to the final fall, when their thoughts and wishes were dominated by hunger, hate and revenge.
At the close of these involuntary fast days I went back to the Professor's house late in the evening after he was asleep. On the third day I rose as usual and went to the park, where I sat on a bench and looked straight ahead of me without purpose or feeling. Carts, carriages and motors rolled by; crowds of people streamed along in front of me; laughter, gay conversation, church bells and the warble of birds mingled with thousands of others to make up the world of meaningless sounds. I understood clearly that all this was not for me, that I must look upon it as out of another world. The shadow of Drujenin passed before my eyes and, in spite of myself, I envied him for having broken the chain that bound him to the galling ball of life.
Near me on the bench was a young man, light-hearted and laughing, and with him a girl with happy, sparkling eyes. I again had the distinct impression of being in
