"They say there that Lenz has been working all day at home, and they abuse him and declare he is miserly. Lenz miserly! it is enough to make a man go distracted."
"Don't allow yourself to be annoyed; you and I, and many others besides, know that Lenz is an excellent man. Was Petrowitsch with Lenz to-day?"
"No; I thought he was, and therefore I did not go to him. Herr Doctor, if you have time to-morrow, may I beg of you to come to see me in passing? I want to show you something that I have made."
"Very well. I will come."
"Good night, all!"
"Good night, Pilgrim! a good night's rest to you."
The pedestrian went on his way.
"Send me my songs back to-morrow," called out Bertha to him.
"I won't fail to send them," answered Pilgrim, and soon he was heard in the distance whistling with sweetness and skill.
"There you have a strange enough person," said the Doctor to the Techniker. "He is a painter, and is Lenz's best friend, whose mother was interred today. This Pilgrim has talents, which have, however, never borne fruit. The history of his life is remarkable."