"'Because then I would be less afraid of the honor of becoming better known to you.'
"A smile played around the lips of the professor, passed up the cheek, and was lost in the corner of the right eye.
"'You are a candidate for honors?'
"'Yes; but with little hope.'
"The smile came down again from the eye to the lips.
"'And therefore you are frightened at seeing me, as Hamlet was before his father's ghost?'
"'At least I do not see you very clearly.'
"'Well, then, you see yourself that we must become better acquainted with each other. Will you come to-morrow evening, or some other evening, when you have time and inclination, and drink a glass of punch with me?'
"Of course I did not refuse.
"And this was the beginning of my acquaintance with this strange man, whom I now may call my friend. We have ever since that day met daily, as long as I remained in Grunwald, and I value the deep insight into one of the most remarkable characters which was thus afforded me by the intimate intercourse with him, far more highly than the practical advantages which I derived from my friendship with so great a scholar. I am almost afraid there must exist some affinity between him and myself, or we would not so quickly have discovered what was sympathetic in each of us; nor would we have learnt so soon to speak with such unreserved candor, and to understand each other by a mere word or a hint. I say I am afraid, because Berger is a most unhappy man. The bright lights of his brilliant wit play upon a dark background full of storms. He is standing alone in the world, misjudged by everybody, feared by many, loved by none. Why that is so, I dare not tell even you, for friendship is a temple to which no third person can be admitted. But I shudder whenever I think of the dark night that must break down upon him as soon as old age dims the light of the bright torch which now alone illumines the terrible waste of his miserable heart. Perhaps, however--who knows?--that may prove fortunate for him. Perhaps the words which he now often quotes, half in bitter irony and half in melancholy conviction: 'Blessed are the poor in spirit!' may yet become a truth for him.