Furthermore, you are a cowardly sneak I don’t suppose I have to give the evidence for that either. What I have come to say to you is that you are a tomfool-which you probably know already. But that is your affair, it’s no business of mine. It looks clear enough at first, but when you come to study it, it is full of shakes and quavers. “You write a villainous hand, sir you would not get a position in my office, let me tell you. “Indelible, unspeakable,” responded Herr Klöterjahn, referring to the text. This was the only moment at which he displayed a little self-respect. “I wrote ‘indelible vision,’ ” said Herr Spinell, drawing himself up. I am a man of action, I have other things to do than to think about your unspeakable visions.” “And I should not demean myself to answer this scrawl to tell the truth, I should have thrown it away at once if I had not found in it the explanation of certain changes-however, that is no affair of yours, and has nothing to do with the thing anyhow. “Idiotic!” repeated Herr Klöterjahn, nodding violently in token of the soundness of his position. “Well, idiotic …” Herr Spinell said, with his apologetic smile. “Then permit me to give you an answer in person it strikes me as idiotic to write pages of letter to a person when you can speak to him any hour of the day.” But unfortunately he so much enjoyed the figure he cut that he rather overshot the mark, and the rest of the scene hardly lived up to this preliminary pantomime. He dug his chin into his chest, elevated his brows, stretched his arms, and indulged in various other antics by way of getting down to business after his introductory question.
“Ah? Indeed! Very good!” said Herr Klöterjahn. So much we must say in extenuation of the utterly silly figure he cut in the interview which followed. And the spring air made him limp and good-for-nothing. The fact was, he had given in to his natural man today and slept nearly up to midday, with the result that he was suffering from a bad conscience and a heavy head, was nervous and incapable of putting up a fight. “Ah!-yes, quite right, I took the liberty-” He put his hand to his head as though trying to recollect himself, and said:
Herr Spinell, curiously enough, smiled he smiled engagingly, with a rather confused, apologetic air. Then he stuffed that hand into the pocket of his easy-fitting trousers, put his head on one side, and opened his mouth, in a way some people have, to listen.
But may I ask if you wrote this?” He held up in his left hand the sheet inscribed with fine clear characters and struck it with the back of his right and made it crackle.
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