ll go to Herr von Lohm and see if I can have an
interview."

Klutz got up with a great show of determination, put the paper in his
pocket, and buttoned his coat over it for greater security. Then he
hesitated.

"It _is_ a shameful thing, isn't it?" he said, his eyes on Dellwig's
face.

"Shameful? It's downright cruel."

"Shameful?" began his wife.

"Silence, I tell thee! Young ladies' jokes are sometimes cruel, you see.
I believe it was a joke, but a very heartless one, and one that has made
you look more foolish even than half-fledged pastors of your age
generally do look. It is only fair in return to spoil her game for her.
Take another glass of brandy, and go and do it."

Klutz stared hard for a moment at Dellwig. Then he seized the brandy,
gulped it down, snatched up his hat, and taking no farewell notice of
either husband or wife, hurried out of the room. They saw him pass
beneath the window, his hat over his eyes, his face white, his ears
aflame.

"There goes a fool," said Dellwig, rubbing his hands, "and as useful a
one as ever I saw. But here's another fool," he added, turning sharply
to his wife, "and I don't want them in my own house."

And he proceeded to tell her, in the vigorous and convincing language of
a justly irritated husband, what he thought of her.

CHAPTER XXIII

Klutz sped, as fast as his shaking limbs allowed, to Lohm. When he
passed Anna's house he flung it a look of burning contempt, which he
hoped she saw and felt from behind some curtain; and then, trying to put
her from his mind, he made desperate efforts to arrange his thoughts a
little for the coming interview. He supposed that it must be the brandy
that made it so difficult for him to discern exactly why he was to go to
Herr von Lohm instead of to the person principally concerned, the person
who had treated him so scandalously; but Herr Dellwig knew best, of
course, and judged the matter quite dispassionately. Certainly Herr von
Lohm, as an insolently happy rival, ought in mere justice to be annoyed
a little; and if the annoyance reached such a pitch of effectiveness as
to make him break off the engagement, why then--there was no
knowing--perhaps after all----? The ordinary Christian was bound to
forgive his erring brother; how much more, then, was it incumbent on a
pastor to forgive his erring sister? But Klutz did wish that someone
else could have done the annoying for him, leaving him to deal solely
with Anna, a w