“What business is that of his?” Albert shouted. “Tell the impudent fool I won’t see him—”
The landlady laughed blandly. She knew her lodger, and there was but a step between his uncontrollable wrath and overflowing tenderness.
His features softened. Hegel’s lectures came punctually at two and he did not want to miss that. It was not so much that he wished to hear what the philosopher had to say—Hegel had been repeating the same thing in the past ten lectures—but he loved to watch the Professor’s grotesque movements and the peculiar contortions of his wrinkled face. A classmate next to him was making interesting caricatures of the Professor while he was lecturing.
“Who is this fellow?” Albert asked in a modulated voice. “Has he no name at all?”
“He said he was a genius and was sure you’d appreciate him—and he looks like a genius.”
“You have probably misunderstood him,” laughed Albert. “He must have said he wanted to see the genius. Alright, let him come in.”
The landlady shrugged her shoulders and closed the door.
He was about to throw himself back on his bed when she reappeared, followed by the stranger.
“Look at the damn thing!” the intruder burst out, without a word of introduction. “No publisher would have it. I showed it to the editor of the “Gesellschafter” but he only shook his head and said ‘Show it to Albert Zorn.’ So here it is!”
With that he flung a packet of papers on the bed.