for ten years, off and on, whenever he was not inclined for company.

"But I suppose it is incongruous," he soliloquised, "that, being a
millionaire, I should fetch my own supper." Once more he laughed aloud
in the crowded street, for it was warm and the people were sitting in
front of their houses, Simpelmayer the shoemaker, and Blech the tinman,
and all the rest, each with his children and his pot of beer. As the
Doctor laughed, the little boys laughed too, and Blech remarked to
Simpelmayer that the Herr Doctor must have won the great prize in the
Hamburg lottery, for he had not heard him laugh like that in three
years.

"Freilich," returned the crooked shoemaker, "but he was used to laugh
loud enough ten years ago. I can remember when he first moved in there,
and his corps-fellows locked him in his room for a jest, and stood
mocking in the street. And he climbed right down the woodwork and
stepped on the signboard of the baker and jumped into the street,
laughing all the while, though they were holding in their breath for
fear he should break his neck. Ja, he was a right student; but he is
changed now--the much reading, lieber Blech, the much reading." And the
old fellow looked after Claudius as he disappeared into the dark
doorway.

The Doctor mounted his three flights with even tread, and, turning up
his light, proceeded leisurely to eat his twisted rolls and sausages.
When he had done that, he took the great stone jug in his hand, as if it
had been a wine-glass, and set it to his lips and drank a long draught.

The result of his cogitations, assisted by the soothing influence of
supper, was to be foreseen. In the first place, he reflected that the