BOOK ONE: YESTERDAY 11 printed paragraph: giving them a real horne in Germany. Young Gustav had known his grandfather quite weIl. He used to go three times a week to his house in Alte Jacobstrasse in the very centre of Berlin. The sight of the rather stout gen- tleman sitting at his ease in his black wing-chair, his little cap on his head, a book in his hand or on his lap, and often a gl ass of wine at his side, had made a deep impression on the boy, in- spiring hirn with respeet and, at the same time, with confi- denee. In his grandfather's house he felt himself to be both on his best behaviour and yet at perfeet ease. He was allowed to rummage freely in the gigantic library: here he had learnecl to love books. His grandfather did not mi nd explaining to hirn what the lad did not understand, blinking slyly and enigmat- ieally at hirn out of his sleepy eyes, so that one never knew whether he was joking or in earnest. Gustav never, in later life, understood as clearly just what these books meant: that statements might be lies and still appear more real than facts. When he asked his grandfather questions, he reeeived answers whieh seemed to be about something entirely different. But in the end they proved themselves to be the answers, in fact the only right and proper ones. Gustav Oppermann, as he stood before the pieture, did not think of all this. But he saw it all in the portrait. In the painted eyes there was so much of the good-humoured, ealm wisdom of the old fellow that Gustav felt himself small but secure be- fore them. Perhaps it was not advantageous for the other picture, for the one in the library, the portrait of Sybil Rauch, to be con- fronted by such a neighbour. There was no question but that Andre Greid, the painter of that portrait, was worth ten times as much, artistically and technically, as simple old Alexander Joels. There was a great deal of white in his picture. He had known that the portrait was to hang on a light wall and had visualized the entire wall as a background for it. From that