Nevertheless he had seemed to notice before that the song of the idol was growing weaker, and now he became fully conscious of it. Even Victor in his God-forsaken mood became aware of it. He struggled a while against this knowledge and continued to fight, but he was startled by it and his attacks seemed to be aimed distractedly. The disk whistled and started to ring the bells. As if struck in his heart, Victor's hands dropped from Höflinger, and he turned around at the idol. He looked about and about and was sobered. Behind the halls another explosion was heard. The gearings dragged and cracked. Then the machinery stopped. Victor collected his thoughts. It was far from closing-hour, only the middle of the afternoon. His eyes sought Höflinger as if to question him, but strayed aside bewildered and turned to the sunbeams and their glaring torture. The siren cried. It howled. It blew a triumphant blast. It played tricks like the sirens of a merry-go-round or shoot-the-chutes. Finally it stopped on one note which it repeated with full force, half a minute at the time, again and again and always at the same pitch. The disk shone and shook treacherously. Behind all the machines the forms of workingmen rose. Victor was amazed at the number of men that these halls had held. Again he looked at the long one, who contemplated him half pitifully, half angrily. He braved that look for a second; then he east his eyes down before the long feet of Höflinger and awaited his judgment. His heart was beating in brief, timid beats. He could have been directly led to his death without uttering a word or a plea.
Höflinger cleared his throat. "What is the matter with you, Pratteler? Is that the way a union member treats a comrade?" His voice trembled with suppressed emotion. Victor listened. His false repose was not equal to this note. At mention of the organization a multitude of possibilities overwhelmed him. He thought that Höflinger knew everything, and when he saw him retain his composure he dropped his last claim and looked up to this specimen of human greatness that had grown out of greater depths and had been formed by higher laws than he suspected.
Victor sighed deeply and raised his dim eyes to Höflinger. "Forgive me, I was crazy," said he shaking his head. "I understand nothing of all this. If you can prevent it, don't have me expelled from the organization. Do you hear? If you want, I will immediately take my leave."
Höflinger looked at him astonished. "Do you care at all for the union?" he asked. "I don't understand you. Why should you be expelled? Besides, even if I wanted it, I should not have the power to do it."
Victor's head dropped; suddenly he gave himself up. "It was I who damaged the machine the first time. But not after that. Now you will have to tell on me, Höflinger. Did you not know it? Why am I to leave your house?"
Höflinger opened his eyes wide, as if he could not take in enough knowledge of this peculiar fellow. "Because my wife is about to become a mother and wants to be alone with--it, and with me," he replied with tension. "Why did you ask?"
"Oh, I thought it was from revenge--or something." Victor passed his trembling hands over his brow and his hair. "It is all humbug," he added with bitterness.
Slowly Höflinger began to comprehend. "The individual is a humbug, Pratteler," he added with precision and knowingly nodded at him.
"And yet you want to be a father," remarked Victor. "Your child will be nothing better."
Höflinger grabbed his coat; he saw that all were getting ready and collecting in groups. "A man like me becomes not a father, but a brother, when his wife gives birth to children," he remarked as if to change the subject. "But why did you want to attack me? Did I offend you without knowing?"