So she groped her way down the dark steps to the cellar where the Lämkes lived, knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for an answer.
Frau Lämke was just washing the floor, the brush fell from her hand and she quickly let down the dress that she had turned up: Frau Schlieben? What did she want at her house? The pale woman with the innocent-looking face that had grown so thin gazed at the lady with the utmost astonishment.
"How do you do, Frau Lämke," said Käte, in quite a friendly voice. "Is your daughter Frida at home? I want to speak to her."
"No, Frida isn't at home." The woman looked still more perturbed: what did the lady want with Frida? She had never troubled about her before. "Frida is at business."
"Is she? Do you know that for certain?"
There was something offensive in her way of questioning, but Frau Lämke did not notice anything in her innocence. "Frida is never back from business at this time of day, but she is due in less than half an hour. She has two hours off at dinner-time; in the evening she does not come in until about ten, as they only close at nine. But if you would like her to come to you after her dinner"--Frau Lämke was very curious, what could she want with Frida?--"she'll be pleased to do so."
"She'll be here in half an hour, you say?"
"Yes, certainly. She's always in a hurry to come home to her mother--and she's always hungry too."
"I will wait for her if I may," said Käte.
"Please sit down." Frau Lämke hastily wiped a chair with her apron: after all, it was an honour that Wolfgang's mother came to see Frida in the cellar. And in a voice full of cordial sympathy she said: "How is the young gentleman? if I may ask. Is he quite well?"