We carried that secret around without any trouble, but the other one, the big one, the splendid one, burned the very vitals of us, it was so hot to get out and we so hot to let it out and astonish people with it.  But we had to keep it in; in fact, it kept itself in.  Satan said it would, and it did.  We went off every day and got to ourselves in the woods so that we could talk about Satan, and really that was the only subject we thought of or cared anything about; and day and night we watched for him and hoped he would come, and we got more and more impatient all the time.  We hadn’t any interest in the other boys any more, and wouldn’t take part in their games and enterprises.  They seemed so tame, after Satan; and their doings so trifling and commonplace after his adventures in antiquity and the constellations, and his miracles and meltings and explosions, and all that.

During the first day we were in a state of anxiety on account of one thing, and we kept going to Father Peter’s house on one pretext or another to keep track of it.  That was the gold coin; we were afraid it would crumble and turn to dust, like fairy money.  If it did—­But it didn’t.  At the end of the day no complaint had been made about it, so after that we were satisfied that it was real gold, and dropped the anxiety out of our minds.

There was a question which we wanted to ask Father Peter, and finally we went there the second evening, a little diffidently, after drawing straws, and I asked it as casually as I could, though it did not sound as casual as I wanted, because I didn’t know how: 

“What is the Moral Sense, sir?”

He looked down, surprised, over his great spectacles, and said, “Why, it is the faculty which enables us to distinguish good from evil.”

It threw some light, but not a glare, and I was a little disappointed, also to some degree embarrassed.  He was waiting for me to go on, so, in default of anything else to say, I asked, “Is it valuable?”

“Valuable?  Heavens! lad, it is the one thing that lifts man above the beasts that perish and makes him heir to immortality!”

This did not remind me of anything further to say, so I got out, with the other boys, and we went away with that indefinite sense you have often had of being filled but not fatted.  They wanted me to explain, but I was tired.

We passed out through the parlor, and there was Marget at the spinnet teaching Marie Lueger.  So one of the deserting pupils was back; and an influential one, too; the others would follow.  Marget jumped up and ran and thanked us again, with tears in her eyes—­this was the third time —­for saving her and her uncle from being turned into the street, and we told her again we hadn’t done it; but that was her way, she never could be grateful enough for anything a person did for her; so we let her have her say.  And as we passed through the garden, there was Wilhelm Meidling sitting there waiting,