nights." My hunger was now tormenting me excruciatingly, and gave me no
rest. Again and again I swallowed saliva to try and satisfy myself a
little; I fancied it helped.

I had been pinched, too, for food for ever so many weeks before this last
period set in, and my strength had diminished considerably of late. When I
had been lucky enough to raise five shillings by some manoeuvre or another
they only lasted any time with difficulty; not long enough for me to be
restored to health before a new hunger period set in and reduced me again.
My back and shoulders caused me the worst trouble. I could stop the little
gnawing I had in my chest by coughing hard, or bending well forward as I
walked, but I had no remedy for back and shoulders. Whatever was the
reason that things would not brighten up for me? Was I not just as much
entitled to live as any one else? for example, as Bookseller Pascha or
Steam Agent Hennechen? Had I not two shoulders like a giant, and two
strong hands to work with? and had I not, in sooth, even applied for a
place as wood-chopper in Moellergaden in order to earn my daily bread? Was
I lazy? Had I not applied for situations, attended lectures, written
articles, and worked day and night like a man possessed? Had I not lived
like a miser, eaten bread and milk when I had plenty, bread alone when I
had little, and starved when I had nothing? Did I live in an hotel? Had I
a suite of rooms on the first floor? Why, I am living in a loft over a
tinker's workshop, a loft already forsaken by God and man last winter,
because the snow blew in. So I could not understand the whole thing; not a
bit of it.

I slouched on, and dwelt upon all this, and there was not as much as a
spark of bitterness or malice or envy in my mind.

I halted at a paint-shop and gazed into the window. I tried to read the