"Not a doubt of it; and he often told me that the Crusaders, when they first saw Jerusalem, could not have felt more piety and enthusiasm than he did, when he gazed for the first time at Athens. He rubbed his eyes, and could scarcely believe that he really saw Athens, where marble statues were to welcome and greet him. He went along the streets sounding his clocks, but he did not succeed in selling a single clock in Athens. He suffered great privations, and was at last only too glad when he got employment. But what employment it was! For fourteen long days, under the blue Grecian sky, he was engaged in painting the railing of a public-garden green, within sight of the Acropolis!"
"What is the Acropolis?" asked Bertha.
"Explain the word to her, Herr Starr," said the Doctor.
The Techniker described, in a lively manner, the former glories of this grand Athenian citadel, and the few fragments that still remain. He promised on his return, to bring a sketch of it with him, and then begged the Doctor to go on with his story.
"I have not much more to tell," resumed the Doctor. "Pilgrim contrived to realize sufficient, by the sale of the clocks, to prevent his being a burden on the parish. It required no little courage to return home even poorer than he went, and to be the derision of his neighbours; but as his artistic nature feels the most thorough contempt for purse-pride, as he calls it, he always seems quite contented and at his ease, and pays no attention to the jeers and gibes of his companions. He arrived naturally, first of all, at the Morgenhalde. The family there were all seated at dinner, and were in the act of saying grace, when Lenz uttered such a cry, that his mother often said if she were to hear it again it would be her death. The two friends embraced eagerly. Pilgrim was soon as merry as ever, and said that he had best luck at home, for he had arrived just as dinner was ready, and no one would make him so welcome as the parents and their son at the Morgenhalde. Old Lenz wished Pilgrim to live in his house altogether, but he is unusually jealous of his independence. He erected a neat workshop near us, at Don Bastian's. At first he took great trouble to introduce new patterns of clock dials. He has a very good idea of colour, but his drawing is sadly defective: his chief mistake, however, was endeavouring to alter the original form of our Black Forest dials—a square with an arch above. When he discovered that he made no progress with his novelties, he resumed making the old fashioned timepieces to order, and is now always cheerful and good humoured. You must know that different countries have peculiar tastes in the dials of clocks. France likes bright colours, and the dial painted all over; North Germany, Scandinavia, and England prefer more simple lines, something architectural, triangular figures, columns, or at most a wreath; America likes no ornamental painting, nothing but a wooden clock case with more or less carving, and the weights resting on pulleys at the sides of the clock—these are called American clocks; Hungary and Russia approve of painted fronts or a landscape. The style of decoration that art would sanction as beautiful has seldom good sale; on the contrary, spirals and flourishes are generally most admired. If you could combine that style with the embellishment of our native clocks, you would find Pilgrim quick at executing a design; and you might, perhaps, thus give a fresh impulse to his life."
"I beg you will make me acquainted with the man."
"Certainly—you may accompany me tomorrow—you heard him invite me; but you must come quite early, and then you can cross the hills with me. I will show you some beautiful points of view, and many good honest men."
The Techniker wished them a cordial good night, and the Doctor went into the house with his family.
The moon shone bright in the sky—the flowers emitted their fragrance for themselves alone—and the stars gazed down on them. All was still around, save here and there, when, in passing a house, a clock was heard to strike.