with deep emotion: oh, he was
so good, so good. And her heart sent up burning hopes and desires to
heaven.

The sky was bright, so blue, there was not a cloud on it.

They took a carriage so as to drive home, as both parents felt they
could not be crowded together in the train with so many indifferent,
chattering people; they wanted to be alone with their son. Wolfgang was
silent. He sat opposite his mother and allowed his hand to remain in
hers, which she kept on her lap, but his fingers did not return her
tender, warm pressure. He sat as quiet as though his thoughts were not
there at all.

They drove past the house again in which Laemke was porter; Frida
sprang to the window on hearing the noise the carriage made on the
hard, sun-baked road, and smiled and nodded once more. But there was
nothing to be seen of Frau Laemke now, and Wolfgang missed her. Well,
that afternoon as soon as he could get free he would go to the
Laemkes.

Some guests were already waiting for them at the villa. They did not
wish to invite a lot of outsiders in honour of the confirmation, but
still the good old doctor, his wife, and the two partners had to be
asked--all elderly people. Wolfgang sat between them without saying
much more than "yes" and "no," when questions were put to him. But he
ate and drank a good deal; the food was always good, but still you did
not get caviar and plovers' eggs every day. His face grew redder and
redder, and then his head began to swim. At last his health was drunk
in champagne, and Braumueller, the oldest partner, a very
jovial man, had amused himself by filling the boy's glass again and
again.

"Well, Wolfgang, that will be grand when you come to the office.
Your health, my boy."

It was almost five o'clock when they got up from table. The ladies
sat down in the drawing-room to have a cup of coffee, the gentlemen
went to the smoking-room. Wolfgang stole away, he felt such a longing
for the Laemkes. First of all he wanted to show them the gold watch, and
then he wanted to ask what text Frida had got at her confirmation, and
then, then--what would Frau Laemke say to him?

_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come_; that was
really a stupid text. And still he could not get it out of his head. He
thought of it the whole time whilst sauntering slowly along through the
soft silvery air of spring, that is so full of presages. No, the text
was not so stupid, after all. He knit his brows thoughtf