Solitary Island, Chapters IV-V [pp. 358-379]

1884.] SOLITARY JsLAKD. 367
visit the distant garret; he remembered to have seen a queer
specimen of childhood often climbing the stairs to the garret and
inquii~ing solely for Herr Paul; and he had faint glimpses of
Paul and beggars appearing and disappearing in poor quarters
of the city. This was a different man from his first conception,
and it required Mme. Lynch and Peter Carter to give him a true
insight into the poet's genius and disposition. He was talented,
which formerly he doubted, and his charity shone out so strongly
after Peter's revelations that all the good Florian had ever done
for the city poor grew wan as the moon in the full light of day.
In the fifth story the poet was sleeping in his cold, bare room.
It was with a feeling of self-contempt that Florian sank into the
folds of his own luxurious bed.
It required a stern retirement of two days and frequent visits
to the streets of the poor before Paul could thoroughly recover
from his first draught of popularity, and at the end of that time,
having thrown off the intoxication, he was able to receive with
proper coolness the visits and the propositions of a theatrical
manager, whose card the servant presented one afternoon as he
sat reading in Florian's rooms, with the Fraulein playing on the
floor. Mr. Aubrey had heard of the young gentleman's ability
in play-writing, the whole city was speaking of his late comedy,
and would it please him to write a play suitable for production
at his theatre during the next season. Paul hesitated and considered. He hardly understood the extent of his good fortune,
and it confused him so much that he hid his nervousness under
a show of experienced deliberation. Mr. Aubrey meanwhile
poured forth his reasons and persuasions. Finally the poet con.
sented to write a melodrama in his best style, and Aubrey
agreed to pay him five hundred dollars for it, and allow him a
fair percentage of the receipts.
"0 Fraulein!" said he, when the great personage had gone,
"do you guess what good luck has befallen me? The mother
shall go down to the sea this summer, and all sorts of things shall
find their way from St. Nicholas' hands this coming Christmas.
We are getting rich, Fraulein."
"Herr Paul feels goot," said the Fra~ulein, who could not
understand much of what he said. That day he resumed his old
place at madame's table, and his looks of gratitude towards her
were so fervent and marked as to inspire her with distrust of the
young man who could look so emphatically at a woman old
enough to be his mother. Deeper into the retirement of the
attic plunged the poet, his whole soul wrapped up in this new