topped a little while before Kurt. Hearing him moaning in his
sleep, she thought he was ill.
"Kurt," she said quietly, "does something hurt you?"
He woke up. "Oh, mother," he said, seizing her hand, "is it you? I
thought the ghost of Wildenstein was stretching out his enormous arm
towards me!
"You were dreaming; don't think about such things in daytime," the mother
said kindly. "Have you forgotten your evening prayer after the
excitements of the day?"
"Yes, I had so much to think about that I forgot it," Kurt admitted.
"Say it now, then you will fall asleep more quietly," said the mother.
"But please, Kurt, never forget that God hears our prayers and comforts
and calms us only when we open our hearts entirely to him. You know,
Kurt, don't you, that we must hide nothing from him?"
Kurt moaned "Yes" in a very low voice.
After giving him a good-night kiss the mother withdrew.
CHAPTER V
OPPRESSIVE AIR
It seemed as if for several days a heavy atmosphere was weighing down the
limbs of all Mrs. Maxa's household, so that its wonted cheerfulness was
entirely absent. Even the mother went about more silently than usual,
for the worry about Bruno's future weighed heavily on her heart. She had
written to her brother to come to her as soon as possible, so that they
could talk the matter over and come to a united decision. He had
answered her that urgent business was forcing him to a journey to South
Germany, and that it would be time enough to settle the matter after his
return. Bruno, having heard about the situation, was already wrought up
by the mere possibility of his being obliged to live with the two boys.
Secretly he was already making the wildest plans in order to escape such
an intolerable situation. Why shouldn't he simply disappear and go to
Spain like the young Baron of Wallerstaetten? Probably the young gentleman
had had some money to dispose of, while he had none. He might hire
himself out as a sailor, however, and travel to China or Australia. He
might study the inhabitants and peculiarities of these countries and
write famous books about them. In that way he could make a good
livelihood. Might he not join a band of wandering singers? His mother
had already told him how well his voice sounded and that she wanted him
to develop it later on. With wrinkled brows Bruno sat about whole
evenings, not saying one word but meditating on his schemes. He found it
extremely hard to tell which one of them
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