at pulled and smoothed now
here, now there.

She did not know how long she had been engaged with him; a knock at
the door brought her thoughts back to the present.

"Who is there?"

"I, Friedrich."

"What do you want?"

"The master wishes to know if you will come down to dinner,
ma'am."

"To dinner--the master?" She pressed her hands to her head. Was it
possible? Paul back already--dinner-time? It could not be. "What time
is it?" she cried in a shrill voice. She never thought of
looking herself at the watch that lay on the table beside the bed; and
it would not have been any use--the expensive gold watch, the gift he
had received at his confirmation, had stopped. It had not been wound
up.

"It's half past two, ma'am," said Friedrich outside. And then the
man, who had been there for years, ventured to inquire respectfully:
"Is the young master not well, as he has not got up? Could I perhaps be
of some use, ma'am?"

She hesitated for a moment. Should she let him into the secret? It
would be easier for her then. But the shame of it made her call out:
"There's nothing to be done, you had better go. The young master has a
headache, he will remain in bed for another hour. I'll come
directly."

She rushed across to her room. There was no time to change her
dress, but she would at any rate have to fasten up her hair that had
fallen down, smooth it and put a little cap on trimmed with dainty
ribbons.

"Still in your morning-gown?" said her husband in a tone of
surprise, as she came into the dining-room. There was also a little
reproach in his voice as he asked the question; he did not like people
not to dress for dinner.

"You came exceptionally early to-day," she said in excuse. She did
not dare to look up frankly, she felt so exceedingly humiliated. She
could not eat, an intolerable memory rendered every drink, every
mouthful loathsome.

"Where is Wolfgang?"

There was the question for which she really ought to have been
prepared and which crushed her nevertheless. She had no means of
warding it off. What was she to answer? Should she say he was ill? Then
his father would go up and see him. Should she say he was
drunk and sleeping? Oh no, no, and still it could not remain a secret.
She turned red and white, her lips quivered and not a word crossed
them.

"Ha ha!" All at once her husband gave a loud laugh--a laugh partly
good-natured and partly mocking--and then he stretched his hand to her
across the ta