He began to bore me, and I was horrified at myself, because his obvious need and despair made no deep impression on me.
My only sentiment was: I can’t help you. "Then you know nothing that would help me?" he asked at last, exhausted and sad.
"Nothing at all? There must be some way! How do you manage?"
"I cannot tell you anything, Knauer. People can’t help one another in this case.
No one has helped me, either. You must think of something yourself, and you must obey the prompting which really comes from your own nature.
There is nothing else. If you cannot find yourself, you won’t find any spirits, either."
Disappointed, and suddenly become dumb, the little fellow looked at me.
Then his look suddenly glowed with hate, he made a grimace at me and cried with rage: "Ah, you’re a nice sort of saint!
You have your vice as well, I know! You pretend to wisdom, and secretly you stick in the same filth as I and all of us!
You’re swine, swine, like myself. We are all swine!"
I went away and left him standing there. He made two, three steps in my direction, then he stopped, turned round and ran away.
I felt sick from a feeling of pity and horror. I could not get rid of the feeling until I got home to my little room,
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