He was at once arrested by a policeman. He was taken to the station where he had an instructive conversation with the police commissioner. "You know that begging is strictly prohibited," exclaimed the latter. "I know it is so, but I can not understand the reason," said Hans, "I was in nobody's way, troubled no one, I merely held out my hand silently." "That is idle talk, I can not waste my time listening to it. You must go to jail for eight days." "And what shall I do, when I am set at liberty again?" "That is none of my business. You must attend to that." "I am old and am not able to work. I have nothing. I am sickly." "If you are sickly, go to the hospital!" exclaimed the commissioner impatiently, but then added: "No, you can not go to the hospital if you are only ailing. You must have a serious disease to get in there." "I understand," says Hans, "such a disease as a man either dies of soon, or if he does not, recovers from in a short time." "You are right," replied the official and turned to the next comer. Hans served out his term of imprisonment, and then was so fortunate as to be admitted into a poor-house. Here he had food and shelter, but the former was bad, and the latter rendered insupportable by the fact that he was treated like a criminal and a prisoner. He was obliged to wear a sort of uniform which attracted attention and ridicule on the street. He once met a man whom he had known in better days. He bowed, but the latter did not reply to his greeting. Hans walked straight up to him and asked: "Why this contempt?" "Because you did not understand how to follow the example of respectable people who have become rich," replied the man and passed on quickly, an expression of disgust upon his features.
Hans grew more and more melancholy. All sorts of dark thoughts swarmed in his brain. One bright morning
