But he woke early, as an elderly man is apt to do after broken slumbers, and left his wife still sleeping.

He was not so eager for the poetic interests of the town as he had been the night before; he even deferred his curiosity for Heine's birth-house to the instructive conference which he had with his waiter at breakfast.

After all, was not it more important to know something of the actual life of a simple common class of men than to indulge a faded fancy for the memory of a genius, which no amount of associations could feed again to its former bloom?
The waiter said he was a Nuremberger, and had learned English in London where he had served a year for nothing.

Afterwards, when he could speak three languages he got a pound a week, which seemed low for so many, though not so low as the one mark a day which he now received in Dusseldorf; in Berlin he paid the hotel two marks a day.

March confided to him his secret trouble as to tips, and they tried vainly to enlighten each other as to what a just tip was.
He went to his banker's, and when he came back he found his wife with her breakfast eaten, and so eager for the exploration of Heine's birthplace that she heard with indifference of his failure to get any letters.