h! you incomparable villain!" screamed old Berklinger, pushing him
on before him, "so that was your love for art? Do you mean to murder
me?" And therewith he hurled him out at the door, whilst a knife
glittered in his hand. Traugott flew downstairs and hurried back home
stupefied; nay, half crazy with mingled delight and terror.

He tossed restlessly on his couch, unable to sleep. "Felicia! Felicia!"
he exclaimed time after time, distracted with pain and the pangs of
love. "You are there, you are there, and I may not see you, may not
clasp you in my arms! You love me, oh yes! that I know. From the pain
which pierces my breast so savagely I feel that you love me."

The morning sun shone brightly into Traugott's chamber; then he got up,
and determined, let the cost be what it might, that he would solve the
mystery of Berklinger's house. He hurried off to the old man's, but his
feelings may not be described when he saw all the windows wide open and
the maid-servants busy sweeping out the rooms. He was struck with a
presentiment of what had happened. Berklinger had left the house late
on the night before along with his son, and was gone nobody knew where.
A carriage drawn by two horses had fetched away the box of paintings
and the two little trunks which contained all Berklinger's scanty
property. He and his son had followed half an hour later. All inquiries
as to where they had gone remained fruitless: no livery-stable keeper
had let out horses and carriage to persons such as Traugott described,
and even at the town gates he could learn nothing for certain;--in
short, Berklinger had disappeared as if he had flown away on the
mantle[9] of Mephistopheles.

Traugott went back home prostrated by despair. "She is gone! She is
gone! The beloved of my soul! All--all is lost!" Thus he cried as he
rushed past Herr Elias Roos (for he happened to be just at that moment
in the entrance hall) towards his own room. "God bless my soul!" cried
Herr Elias, pulling and tugging at his wig. "Christina! Christina!" he
shouted, till the whole house echoed. "Christina! You disgraceful girl!
My good-for-nothing daughter!" The clerks and others in the office
rushed out with terrified faces; the book-keeper asked amazed, "But
Herr Roos?" Herr Roos, however, continued to scream without stopping,
"Christina! Christina!" At this point Miss Christina stepped in through
the house-door, and raising her broad-brimmed straw-hat just a little
and smiling,