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 turning up. I waited long, but not in vain. Zychlinski really came. The terrible burden fell from my soul. I had to restrain myself not to cry out for delight. I told him my story, and we laughed heartily about it, but with all this I did not feel at ease. Zychlinski lent me the needed money, but when I got up to leave and asked the dame du comptoir how much I owed for the broken cup, she replied with a gracious condescending smile that in this café no payment was ever accepted for accidentally broken crockery. My anguish had therefore been altogether superfluous. When I returned to my quarters I found a letter from Becker containing the delayed check.

This little adventure has in later life frequently come to my mind again. As a result of my ruminations I give to those who read this story the serious advice not to follow my example under similar circumstances and never to add to one obligation an unnecessary new one, trusting to a happy chance for payment. It was a cause of that false pride which has led so many men, originally honest, down the inclined plane of mischief. Many a man has gone to destruction for not having the moral courage to face embarrassing situations or on occasion frankly to confess: “I have not money enough to do that which others do.”

While I was in Paris the trial of the participants in the Siegburg affair took place in Cologne. At an early hour on the 10th day of April, Kinkel left the penitentiary at Naugard accompanied by three police officers and arrived in Cologne on the 13th. On the journey, which was made in great secrecy, he was permitted to wear an ordinary overcoat and a little black hat, but as soon as he arrived in the penitentiary in Cologne he had to don the penitentiary garb again. A few days later Frau Kinkel was permitted to see her husband in