I like it well enough. But I think I
will always feel out of place here.
BOLLAND. Can't get used to it?
DOBLER. Everything is so different. It seems to me at times as
though I had suddenly entered a beautiful house while outdoors my
old comrade was awaiting me patiently--the open road.
FRAU BOLLAND. Isn't that won--derful? So very re-a-lis-tic-ally
put! I can just picture it. Oh Herr Dobler ... I must tell you:
your novel--my husband and I talk about it all day long.
BOLLAND. Tell me though--did you yourself experience the life of
that young man you describe?
DOBLER. It's the story of my youth.
BOLLAND. But it's somewhat colored by poetic imagination?
DOBLER. N---o.
BOLLAND. For instance, you have never actually starved?
DOBLER. Oh, yes. There's no imagination in that.
BOLLAND. Just the way you describe it--so that everything turned
red?
DOBLER. Everything had a pink color. On one occasion I did not eat
anything for four and one-half days.
FRAU BEERMANN [compassionately]. You poor thing!
FRAU BOLLAND. That's exceedingly interesting!
BOLLAND. Do tell us all about it! Then you saw dancing fires?
DOBLER. Yes. Everything danced before my eyes, and I saw it all
through a hazy veil, and towards the end my hearing was affected.
BOLLAND. You don't say so? Your hearing also?
DOBLER. When any one spoke to me it sounded as if he stood a great
distance off--a great distance.
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