wrong, that she knew him too briefly. He had, after all, inner worth.
Then he spoke in praise of his friend, the worthy Mechenmal; but he
did not disguise the man's lack of a refined inner feeling about life.
Miss Leipke looked at him with beguiling eyes. He turned the
conversation to art. Then he turned the conversation to her legs;
she said frankly that she too liked her legs. She had lifted her
morning-coat somewhat. With his shy hands, Kuno Kohn carefully
lifted it higher-That evening Kuno Kohn sat dreamily in his room. He
looked out through the hole made by the open window. In front of him
the gray inner wall of the house dropped a short distance. With many
quiet windows. There was no sky, only shimmering evening air. And a
gentle, occasional breeze, which could scarcely be felt. The wall
with the windows was like a lovely, sad picture. Kuno Kohn was
surprised that it was not boring. He stared steadily and deeply into
the wall. It seemed kind. Friendly. Full of loneliness. Secretly
he thought: the wind against the wall is doing this. He sang
inwardly: Come, be... loved--a bell startled him.

The postman brought him a letter from the Clou Club. The Clou Club
requested Mr. Kohn to read from his works on a certain evening.



IV


Eight days before the appointed evening a placard went up on the
city's pillar for notices. On it was written: