"Ah, dear Doctor, you're our neighbor! I heard, only a minute ago, that you were living here, and it's scarcely four hours' walk from our farm. Yes, that's the way people live hereabouts: alone and away from each other, just as if one were dead."
She offered her hand to Gunther, but he was busily engaged in gathering up some papers, and inquired:
"Does your mother still live?"
"Alas! no. Oh, if she had only lived to see Doctor Gunther once more! Who knows whether she wouldn't be living yet, if we could have called you when she was sick."
Walpurga wept at the remembrance of her mother. Gunther seated himself and asked:
"What is it you want?"
"How? What?" asked Walpurga, quickly, drying her tears. "And you never once ask how it fares with me?"
"You're prosperous and have changed but little."
"May I sit down?" asked Walpurga, in an anxious voice. This cold reception from one who had always been so kind to her, affected her so deeply that she could scarcely stand. She looked about her as if bewildered, and at last said:
"And is there nothing more you want to ask me? Where I live and how my husband and children are?"