So for days, weeks, and months I worked without the slightest result. A
pupil, sent to me by Elkinson, stayed away after a few weeks without
paying me - perhaps because he may have heard something about my
illegitimate marriage. Some journalists who had known me in former days
received me with superficial friendliness and promised to do something
for me. But they did nothing - speedily absorbed again in their own
interests. Of Elkinson, I heard that he had been brought into
consideration for the presidential candidacy; sufficient reason for him
to forget hundreds of conversations with a Muralto, shipwrecked through
his own folly.
Just as prosperity again begets prosperity, so also does misery grow
like a snowball rolling down hill. The great, tremendous, busy world
about me rushed restlessly onward in the fog - striving, seeking,
building up and demolishing, urged on by uncomprehended impulses - and
considered we no more than any of the thousand lost creatures that are
crushed under its blind and heavy tread, cruel as the machine that
catches the careless worker in its wheels.
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