Sometimes, indeed, when he chanced to be very sure that they would
not come for him until evening, he would stroll through the town for an
hour, looking into the shop windows and making up his mind what he should
buy; and sometimes, on such occasions, he would visit the scene of his
late labours, as he called the tobacconist's shop on that day of the week,
and would exchange a few friendly words with his former companions. On
Thursday morning he invariably returned to his place without remark and
resumed his work, not seeming to understand any observations made about
his absence or strange conduct on the previous day.
So far the story he had told Vjera had always been the same. Now, however,
he had introduced a new incident in the tale, which filled poor Vjera with
dismay. He had never before spoken of his father and brother, except as
the causes of his disasters, explaining that the powerful influence of his
own friends, aided by the machinery of justice, had at last obliged them
to concede him a proportional part of the fortune. Fischelowitz was
accustomed to laugh at this statement, saying that if the Count were only
a younger son, the law would do nothing for him and that he must continue
to earn his livelihood as he could. In the course of a long time Vjera had
come to the conclusion, by comparing this remark with the Count's
statement when in his abnormal condition, that he was indeed the son of a
great noble who had turned him out of doors for some fancied misdeed, and
from whom he had in reality nothing to expect.
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