.
"There goes the carriage!" they said. Doctor Sixtus saw the ladies and
saluted them. The notary sat by his side, and Baum sat opposite. He was
too tired to sit up on the box. "It is scarcely a year since we made
this same journey together," said Sixtus to Baum.
Baum was not in a talkative mood; he was too tired. After great
preparations, he had that day passed his examination, and could say to
himself that he had not come off without honors. Although he was not
accustomed to find himself inside of the carriage, he yet thought he
might take it for granted that this would henceforth be his place. He
was about to become a different, a more exalted personage. He had,
indeed, become such already--all that was needed was the outward token.
He would have been willing to remain a simple lackey. Perhaps the king
desired to have it so, lest he might betray himself. He was willing to
let him have his own way, even in this. He and the king knew how they
stood toward each other. He smiled to himself, and felt like a girl
whose lover has declared his affection for her; the formal wooing can
take place at any time.
When Doctor Sixtus helped himself to a cigar, Baum was at once ready
with a light. That, however, was, for the present, his last act of
service. Nature was not to be overcome, and Baum was impolite enough to
fall asleep in the presence of the gentlemen. But he was so well
schooled that, even while asleep, he sat upright and ready at any
moment to obey their commands.
It was not until they halted that Baum awoke. The notary's searching
questions greatly disturbed his comfort. What matters the death of a
countess, thought he, if one can rise by means of it. He was greatly
annoyed that his family--his mother, his brother and his sister--were
mixed up in the affair; and hadn't Thomas said something about the
death of Esther, or was it merely a dream? Events had succeeded each
other so rapidly that they quite bewildered him.
Doctor Sixtus apologized to the notary for Baum's disconnected
narrative.
Baum looked at him in amazement. Did he already know that Baum was
about to be advanced, and did he mean to curry favor with him? He was
cunning enough to think of such a thing.
Baum resolved, for the present, only to show the spot where he had
found the hat and shoes, and to leave his mother and brother entirely
out of the affair. At all events, he would not drag them into it, and
suggested that they should take the
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