But with this scene his invention had fled.  The spell was broken.  It never did more than flutter before him, tempting him to pursue it once more; but he turned away from the whole subject and began to work for money again.  Something offered itself just at that moment which Angelika had hunted up.

Back to the unending toil again.  Now at last it became an irritation to him:  he chafed as the war horse chafes at being made a beast of burden.

This made the scenes at home still worse.  Since that episode their quarrels knew no bounds.  Words were no longer necessary to bring them about:  a gesture, a look, a remark of his unanswered, was enough to arouse the most violent scenes.  Hitherto they had been restrained by the presence of others, but now it was the same whether they were alone or not.  Very soon, as far as brutality of expression or the triviality of the question was concerned, he was as bad or worse than she.

His idle fancy and creative genius found no other vent, but overthrew and trampled underfoot many of life’s most beautiful gifts.  Thus he squandered much of the happiness which such talents can duly give.  Sometimes his daily regrets and sufferings, sometimes his passionate nature, were in the ascendant, but the cause of his despair was always the same—­that this could have happened to him.  Should he leave her?  He would not thus escape.  The state of the case had touched his conscience at first, later he had become fond of the children, and his mother’s example said to him, “Hold out, hold out!”

The unanimous prediction that this marriage would be dissolved as quickly as it had been made he would prove to be untrue.  Besides, he knew Angelika too well now not to know that he would never obtain a separation from her until, with the law at her back, she had flayed him alive.  He could not get free.

From the first it had been a question of honour and duty; honour and duty on account of the child which was to come—­and which did not come.  Here he had a serious grievance against her; but yet, in the midst of the tragedy, he could not but be amused at the skill with which she turned his own gallantries against him.  At last he dared not mention the subject, for he only heard in return about his gay bachelor life.

The longer this state of things lasted and the more it became known, the more incomprehensible it became to most people that they did not separate—­to himself, too, at times, during sleepless nights.  But it is sometimes the case that he, who makes a thousand small revolts, cannot brace himself to one great one.  The endless strife itself strengthens the bonds, in that it saps the strength.

He deteriorated.  This married life, wearing in every way, together with the hard work, resulted in his not being equal to more than just the necessities of the day.  His initiative and will became proportionately deadened.

A strange stagnation developed itself:  he had hallucinations, visions; he saw himself in them—­his father! his mother! all the pictures were of a menacing description.