THE THINKER

again and again his articles were returned, often unread; and again and again he had to try new ways of placing them. By degrees he managed to make firm contacts with a few magazines, even to receive regular commissions, and slowly the circle widened and the pathetically low fees became a little higher. After a few months, during which he had tirelessly heaped page upon page which he carried to the post each evening, he was able to tell himself that his venture had not been too daring and that he would be able to satisfy his modest needs in this way. He was even able, proudly and happily, to repay the first part of his debt to his old friend.
   He realized that what he was doing was merely the most menial labour in the service of human understanding. He wanted no more than that, and that was the limit of his ambition. He was learning from his work, and he realized that it was better to work like this than to degrade himself and others with the first immature attempts at so-called literature while, at the same time, toiling through badly paid hours as a crammer, or begging for grants or free meals. This he could not have done.
   He worked harder than he would have had to work elsewhere, but at least he was his own master.

   He did not look back. He had no time for that. The past was far behind him . . .
   His possessions were sent on to him. At the same time the one whom he had called his friend at school wrote to him, tried to excuse his behaviour and told how they still spoke of "Foerster's feat" and how, after that, many things had changed, including the headmaster . . .
   This friend received no reply. He, too, had been one of those who — — but Ernst did not want to think of these things again. Something in him had been hurt and would never heal; a belief had been destroyed which could never return.
   That hour had planted in his young soul the first seeds of his great and lifelong contempt for anything associated with the masses, with their instincts and power, their fickleness and impotence. With this was born the belief which was to become his doctrine — belief in the power and might of the Individual, his majesty and its invulnerability — belief in Himself!
   In that hour, he had been the victor and the others the vanquished.
   — He heard no more from his father, who did not have him fetched back by the police for the simple reason that he was afraid of the scandal, which could have harmed his position. He had let him go and he had withdrawn his support, and Ernst told himself that he was right to do so. Up to now his