The state of my affairs, which was getting ever worse and worse, was slightly improved by the settlement of this matter.  May and June had gone by, and during these months our troubles had grown steadily more serious.  The lovely season of the year, the stimulating country air, and the sensation of freedom following upon my deliverance from the wretchedly paid musical hack-work I had had to do all the winter, wrought their beneficial effects on me, and I was inspired to write a small story entitled Ein glucklicher Abend.  This was translated and published in French in the Gazette Musicale.  Soon, however, our lack of funds began to make itself felt with a severity that was very discouraging.  We felt this all the more keenly when my sister Cecilia and her husband, following our example, moved to a place quite close to us.  Though not wealthy, they were fairly well-to-do.  They came to see us every day, but we never thought it desirable to let them know how terribly hard-up we were.  One day it came to a climax.  Being absolutely without money, I started out, early one morning, to walk to Paris—­for I had not even enough to pay the railway fare thither—­and I resolved to wander about the whole day, trudging from street to street, even until late in the afternoon, in the hope of raising a five-franc piece; but my errand proved absolutely vain, and I had to walk all the way back to Meudon again, utterly penniless.

When I told Minna, who came to meet me, of my failure, she informed me in despair that Hermann Pfau, whom I have mentioned before, had also come to us in the most pitiful plight, and actually in want of food, and that she had had to give him the last of the bread delivered by the baker that morning.  The only hope that now remained was that, at any rate, my lodger Brix, who by a singular fate was now our companion in misfortune, would return with some success from the expedition to Paris which he also had made that morning.  At last he, too, returned bathed in perspiration and exhausted, driven home by the craving for a meal, which he had been unable to procure in the town, as he could not find any of the acquaintances he went to see.  He begged most piteously for a piece of bread.  This climax to the situation at last inspired my wife with heroic resolution; for she felt it her duty to exert herself to appease at least the hunger of her menfolk.  For the first time during her stay on French soil, she persuaded the baker, the butcher, and wine-merchant, by plausible arguments, to supply her with the necessaries of life without immediate cash payment, and Minna’s eyes beamed when, an hour later, she was able to put before us an excellent meal, during which, as it happened, we were surprised by the Avenarius family, who were evidently relieved at finding us so well provided for.