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now they could go to hell, the oafs, the fatheads. He despised them so thoroughly he stopped whistling for a moment just to contort his mouth in disgust. Then he wound in his line and had to laugh, for there was not a trace of bait on the hook. He freed the remaining grasshoppers and they crawled shakily into the short grass. In the nearby tannery the workers were having their lunchbreak; it was time for him to go eat, too.
    Hardly a word was said at table.
    â€œDid you catch anything?” asked his father.
    â€œFive of them.”
    â€œReally? Just you make sure you don’t catch the old one, or there won’t be any young ones later on.”
    With this the conversation lapsed. It was so warm out. It was a shame you couldn’t go swimming right after a meal. Why was that? It was supposed to be harmful. Nonsense! Hans knew better than that. Though it was forbidden, he’d done it often enough. But he wouldn’t do it again now, he was too mature for such pranks. At the examination they had even addressed him as “Mister.”
    Then again, it was not bad to lie for an hour in the garden, under the spruce. It was cool in the shadows and you could read a book or observe the butterflies. So he lay there until two o’clock and nearly fell asleep. But now to the swimming hole! Only a few small boys were in the meadow. The bigger ones were still in school and Hans didn’t begrudge them their fate. He undressed slowly and then slid into the water. He knew how to make the best of coolness and of warmth. Alternately he would swim, dive and splash about, then lie face down on the river bank and feel the sun dry his skin. The little boys kept their distance. Indeed, he had become a celebrity, and besides, he looked so different from the rest. His handsome head sat on a thin tanned neck, and there was an intelligent and superior look to his face. Also he was quite skinny, with thin limbs and a fragile, delicate build. You could count his ribs both in front and back.
    He divided the afternoon almost evenly between sunbathing and going for brief swims. Then at about four most of his classmates came running noisily and in a great rush.
    â€œHey, Giebenrath, leading the easy life, are you?”
    He stretched out comfortably. “No complaints, no complaints.”
    â€œWhen are you leaving for the academy?”
    â€œNot until September. I’m on vacation until then.”
    He let them envy him. He wasn’t bothered in the least when he heard them joking about him in the background. Someone intoned a mocking verse:
    â€œIf I just had it like her,
    Like Schulze’s Elizabeth,
    Who spends all day in bed—
    But I don’t.”
    He merely laughed. Meantime the boys undressed. One of them jumped straight into the water; others, more cautious, cooled off first; some even lay down in the grass to rest. A boy who was about to chicken out altogether was pushed into the water from behind. They chased each other, running and swimming and splashing those taking sun baths. The splashing and shrieking was terrific. The whole breadth of the river glistened with white shining bodies.
    Hans left after another hour had passed. The warm hours of the afternoon when the fish bite were drawing near. Until supper he fished from the bridge and caught next to nothing. The fish were made for his hook; every few seconds the bait had been devoured but they avoided the barb. He had baited it with cherries. Evidently they were too large and soft and so he decided to give it another try later on.
    At supper he heard that many relatives had stopped by to congratulate him. He was also given the local weekly. Under the heading Official Notice he could read the following text:
    â€œThis year our town sent only one candidate to the state examination for the theological academy, Hans Giebenrath. To our gratification we have just been informed that Hans Giebenrath passed the examination and came in second.”
    He