day, than he could otherwise have hoped
for."

Whereupon he put spurs to his horse, and, in spite of the interest with
which his friend's fate inspired him, relapsed into his own thoughts.
He had been with Irene for a few hours that morning. The feeling that
he brought away with him from those happy hours, the certainty that
henceforth his way was clear before him, took complete possession of
him, and made him unsusceptible to all the dreariness of this strange
ride. In addition to this he was filled with joy at being able to help
his friend at such a moment, as well as at being a witness of the
favorable change which he believed was about to take place in Jansen's
lot. Absorbed in these thoughts, he caught himself whistling a merry
tune, and beating time to it with his riding-whip; but, seeing that
Jansen suddenly spurred on his horse and rode past him, he broke off,
urged his own animal to greater speed, and, after overtaking his friend
again, rode along at a sharp trot by the side of his brooding
companion.

Upon reaching the next village--where, notwithstanding the early hour,
everybody seemed to have gone to bed--they drew up before the tavern,
and made inquiries concerning a traveling-carriage that they thought
must have passed by the place. The few peasants who were in the guests'
room, playing cards with the landlord, came out to the door, and gave
it as their opinion that, at this time of year, no other carriage than
the doctor's or the priest's one-horse chaise would show itself in
those parts. They stood shaking their heads, and looking after the
retiring horsemen, as they again dashed forward.

"We shall overtake them in Grossheselohe, at the railway bridge," said
Felix. "They can't cross there with the carriage, and will wait for the
express train, so as to go on early to-morrow morning. They _must_ have
passed, unless Rosenbusch was dreaming. These people in the tavern are
so befogged with beer and schnapps, that it is very probable they
didn't hear the wheels."

They reached the village of Grossheselohe as one of the church clocks
was striking six. A rather lively company was assembled in the village
ale-house. The waiter-girl, who stepped to the door upon hearing the
approaching sound of horses' hoofs, knew nothing of any carriage
bringing strangers from the city. But a drunken hostler, who came
staggering out of one of the stalls, muttered some unintelligible words
and pointed to the road leading i