He drank out his mug of beer and stood up. The portly host of the "Lamb" attended them to the front-door, and once more, in woe-begone manner, begged that his most humble respects be presented to Herr Dernburg, with the assurance that he, for his part, was firmly devoted to the party of law and order, but that, as the father of a family and under these distressing circumstances----
"I shall tell him that you are once more the victim of your calling," exclaimed Hagenbach, breaking short his wail. "You just keep on trembling in quiet and pocket the jingling cash all the same. Your beer is excellent, and no doubt the gentlemen will know how to appreciate it. It will dispose them to be more humane and save the 'Golden Lamb' from destruction, if it comes to the worst."
Herr Willmann shook his head gently and reproachfully at this waggish aspect of the case, and took leave of his guests with a reverential bow, who, on their part, now repaired to the railroad station, where the train was already in waiting. While Hagenbach was crossing the platform with his nephew, he gave him one more impressive lecture, by way of farewell. "I would like to be certain of one thing, namely, that you will set yourself to studying steadily in Berlin, and not turn aside to the follies that played the wild with that fellow Runeck's prospects in life," said he with emphasis. "He had always been very sensible until he went among those Socialists. I tell you, my boy, if you let yourself be taken in by people of that sort----"
He put on such a ferocious look that the pale-faced Dagobert shrank back in affright and laid his hand upon his breast in protestation of his innocent intentions. "I am not going among radicals, dear uncle, certainly not," asserted he, with touching candor.
"They would not make much of a haul when they caught you," opined the doctor contemptuously. "But they take all that they can get, and you, alas! are ripe for any kind of folly. I only hope that your cursed poem 'To Leonie' was your first and will be your last. At all events I made clear enough to you, I trust, the undesirableness of writing such trash.--But the signal for the cars to start has already been given! Have you got your satchel in hand? Get in, then, and a pleasant trip to you!"
He shut the coach-door and stepped back. Dagobert really did not breathe freely until he saw himself separated from his uncle by the solid wall of the coach, for, upon his heart, in his vest-pocket rested a long, touching farewell poem "To Leonie." After the miscarriage of his first attempt, it is true that the young poet had not ventured to place in the hands of his inamorata this effusion of his sentiments, but he had made up his mind to send it in a letter, from Berlin, with the assurance that his love would be eternal, however cruelly the rude world might come in between himself and the object of his ardent affections.
This "rude world," in the shape of the doctor, stood upon the platform, waving another farewell greeting as the train now began to move. Then Hagenbach sought the station-master and inquired whether the fast-train from Berlin was behind time.
"No, indeed, Doctor, that train will be here punctually in ten minutes," answered that official. "Are you expecting any one?"
"Yes, young Count Eckardstein will arrive today."
The station-master's face expressed surprise. "What! Count Victor coming? It was said that an irreparable breach was made between his brother and himself, that time when he came here in the spring, and went away all of a sudden. So, the case at Eckardstein is a desperate one?"