quiringly at her husband. Had they not once spent
some perfectly delightful days on the coast near Spezia? There, near
the blue sea, where the large stone pines are greener and give more
shade than the palms further south, where there is something crisp and
refreshing in the air in spite of its mildness, where there is
nothing relaxing in the climate but everything is vivifying.

He smiled; of course they could go there. He was so pleased that his
wife's enthusiasm was not quite a thing of the past.

Wolfgang rummaged about in his room for a long time on the afternoon
before their departure. Kate, who feared he might exert himself too
much whilst packing, had sent Friedrich to assist him. But the latter
soon came downstairs again: "The young gentleman wishes to do it
alone."

When Wolfgang had put the last things into his trunk he looked round
his room thoughtfully. He had grown up there, he had so often looked
upon the room as a cage, would he ever return to it?

_Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come._

The text he had received at his confirmation hung on the wall
opposite him in a beautiful frame. He had not read it for a long time.
Now he read it again, smiling slightly, a little scornfully and a
little sadly. Yes, he would flutter back into it. He had got used to
the cage.

And now he resolved to do something more as the very last thing--to
go to Frida.

Frau Laemke was speechless with astonishment, almost frightened, when
she saw young Heir Schlieben step into her room about the time her
Frida generally came home. She stammered with embarrassment: "No, Frida
isn't at home yet--and Artur isn't either--and father is up in the
lodge--but if you will put up with my company until--until--they
come"--she pushed him a chair with a good deal of noise.

He drew his chair close to the table at which she had been sewing.
Now he was sitting where he used to sit. And he remembered his first
invitation to the Laemkes' quite distinctly--it had been
Frida's tenth birthday--he had sat there with the children, and the
coffee and the cakes had tasted so excellent.

And a host of other memories came back to him--nothing but pleasant
memories--but still he and Frau Laemke did not seem able to start a
proper conversation. Did he feel oppressed at the thought of meeting
Frida again? Or what made him so restless there? Yes, that was it, he
did not feel at home there now.

There was something sad in his voi