The landlady heard the reproach in her voice at once, although nothing further was said, and became still more annoyed. "Hm, if he doesn't come home at all, I can't give him a hot bottle at night or hot milk in the morning."
"What--does not come home at all?" Käte thought she could not have understood aright. She stared at the woman. "Does not come home at all?"
The woman nodded: "I can tell you, ma'am, it's no joke letting furnished rooms, you have to put up with a good deal. Such a young gentleman--oh my!" She laughed half-angrily, half-amused. "I once had one who remained away eight days--it was about the first of the month. I was terrified about my rent--I had to go to the police."
"Where was he then? Where was he then?" Käte's voice quivered.
The woman laughed. "Well, then he turned up again." She saw the mother's terror, and her good-nature gained the victory over her malice. "He'll be sure to come again, ma'am," she said consolingly. "They all come again. Don't fear. And Herr Schlieben has only been two days away as yet."
Two days away--two days? It was two days since he had written, in reply to her letter, that he had a cold and must remain at home. Käte gazed around her as though she had lost her senses, her eyes looked quite dazed. Where had he been the whole of those two days? Not there and not at home--oh, he had not been to see her for a whole week. But he must have been at the office or Paul would have mentioned it. But where was he all the rest of the time? That was only a couple of hours. And a day is long. And the nights, the nights! Good God, the nights, where was he during the nights?
Käte would have liked to have screamed aloud, but the landlady was watching her with such inquisitive eyes, that she pressed the nails of one hand into the palm of the other and controlled herself. But her voice was nothing but a whisper now: "Hasn't he been here at all for the last two days?"
"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love of a gossip was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. Drawing near to the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair forward for herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: "It was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite mad."
"What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?"
The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, you mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to call it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in the evening he went away as usual--well, and then he did not come back again."