gratitude" by an adversary whom he had knocked down: according to
Harald's version of the story, he had compelled the fellow to
swallow the piece on the spot.

He was fond of caressing the stump, and it often served as an
introduction to the history of his exploits, which became greater
and greater as he grew older and quieter.

His small sharp eyes were deep set and looked at one with great
intensity. There was power in his individuality, and, besides
shrewd sense, he possessed a considerable gift for mechanics. His
boundless self-esteem was not devoid of greatness, and the
emphasis with which both body and soul proclaimed themselves made
him one of the originals of the country.

Why was he nothing more?

He lived on his estate, Hellebergene, whose large woods skirted
the coast, while numerous leasehold farms lay along the course of
the river. At one time this estate had belonged to the Kurt
family, and had now come back to them, in so far as that Harald's
father, as every one knew, was not a Kaas at all, but a Kurt; it
was he who had got the estate together again; a book might be
written about the ways and means that he had employed.

The house looked out over a bay studded with islands; farther out
were more islands and the open sea. An immensely long building,
raised on an old and massive foundation, its eastern wing barely
half furnished, the western inhabited by Harald Kaas, who lived
his curious life here.