In Uli something new had awakened and was filling his whole frame, without his rightly knowing it as yet.  As time went on he had to think more and more of the master’s words, and more and more he began to believe that the master was right.  It was grateful to him to think that he was not created to remain a poor despised lad, but might yet become a man.  He saw that wild ways would not bring him to that, and that the more he persisted in them the more ground he would lose.  He was strangely affected by what the master had said about habits, and about the good name that one could get in addition to his pay, and so keep on earning more and more the more faithfully he worked; and how one could not look better to his own interest than by being very faithful in the service of his master.

He found himself less and less ready to deny that it was so.  More and more examples kept occurring to him of bad servants who had become unhappy and remained poor, and on the other hand he remembered how he had heard others praised by their old employers, who told how they had had a good man or maid, and how these had done well and were now Well off.

Only one thing he could not understand—­how he, Uli, should ever come to money, to wealth; that seemed absolutely impossible to him.  His pay was thirty crowns in cash, that is, seventy-five francs; also two shirts and a pair of shoes.  Now he still had debts of almost four crowns and had already drawn much pay.  Heretofore he had never been able to keep within his income; and now he was to pay debts and save, and that seemed impossible to him, for in the natural course of things he was prepared to see his debts increase each year.  Of the thirty crowns he needed at least ten for clothes, and even then he could not dress very elegantly; for stockings, shoes, shirts, of which he had only three good and four poor ones, washing, etc., at least eight crowns would go; a packet of tobacco every week (and he generally used more) made two crowns more; that left ten crowns.  Now there were fifty Saturday nights, fifty Sunday afternoons, six of which were dance-Sundays at that; nobody knew how many market-days; then there was a review, perhaps even a quartering of soldiers, not counting all the chance occasions for a lark, such as weddings, shooting, bowling, the newly fashionable masquerades, and evening parties, the most dangerous of all evil customs.  Independence Day, which degenerates into a perfect orgy of debauchery, was not then in vogue.  Now if he figured only two pence a week for brandy or wine, that made four crowns again.  If he skipped three dance-Sundays, still he needed at least a crown if he was to pay the fiddler, have a girl, and, as was customary, go home full; and often he needed a thirty-fiver for each of the other three Sundays.  Now for the market-days, reviews, and other sprees he had only three crowns left.  With this, he thought, it was really humanly impossible to get along; two markets and the review alone would use up more than that; so he had nothing at all for the rest.  He figured it over and over, tried to cut down on clothes, on other expenses; but it couldn’t be done.  He had to be clothed and have washing done; nor could he run barefoot.  And so, let him figure as he would, he always came to the sad result that, instead of putting by, he would be falling behind.