And then when all around grows dark, when we feel utterly alone, when all men right and left pass us by and know us not, a forgotten feeling rises in the breast.  We know not what it is, for it is neither love nor friendship.  You feel like crying to him who passes you so cold and strange:  “Dost thou not know me?” Then one realizes that man is nearer to man than brother to brother, father to son, or friend to friend.  How an old, holy saying rings through our souls, that strangers are nearest to us.  Why must we pass them in silence?  We know not, but must resign ourselves to it.  When two trains are rushing by upon the iron rails and thou seest a well-known eye that would recognize thee, stretch out thy hand and try to grasp the hand of a friend, and perhaps thou wilt understand why man passes man in silence here below.

An old sage says:  “I saw the fragments of a wrecked boat floating on the sea.  Only a few meet and hold together a long time.  Then comes a storm and drives them east and west, and here below they will never meet again.  So it is with mankind.  Yet no one has seen the great shipwreck.”

THIRD MEMORY.

The clouds in the sky of childhood do not last long, and disappear after a short, warm tear-rain.  I was shortly again at the castle, and the Princess gave me her hand to kiss and then brought her children, the young princes and princesses, and we played together, as if we had known each other for years.  Those were happy days when, after school—­for I was now attending school—­I could go to the castle and play.  We had everything the heart could wish.  I found playthings there which my mother had shown me in the shop-windows, and which were so dear, she told me, that poor people could live a whole week on what they cost.  When I begged the Princess’ permission to take them home and show them to my mother, she was perfectly willing.  I could turn over and over and look for hours at a time at beautiful picture books, which I had seen in the book stores with my father, but which were made only for very good children.  Everything which belonged to the young princes belonged also to me—­so I thought, at least.  Furthermore, I was not only allowed to carry away what I wished, but I often gave away the playthings to other children.  In short, I was a young Communist, in the full sense of the term.  I remember at one time the Princess had a golden snake which coiled itself around her arm as if it were alive, and she gave it to us for a plaything.  As I was going home I put the snake on my arm and thought I would give my mother a real fright with it.  On the way, however, I met a woman who noticed the snake and begged me to show it to her; and then she said if she could only keep the golden snake, she could release her husband from prison with it.  Naturally I did not stop to think for a minute, but ran away and left the woman alone with the golden serpent-bracelet.  The next day there was much excitement.  The poor woman was brought to the castle and the people said she had stolen it.  Thereupon I grew very angry and explained with holy zeal that I had given her the bracelet and that I would not take it back again.  What further occurred I know not, but I remember that after that time, I showed the Princess everything I took home with me.