Brunnow seemed to attach no importance to the matter. He waved them a hasty farewell, and went up to his writing-table again, while the two young men strode through the garden, and, Max having opened the iron gate, struck into the footpath which ran close to the border of the lake. They went on some time in silence. George seemed grave and thoughtful, and the young surgeon was evidently in a very ill-humour, to which the recent conversation with his father and the approaching departure of his friend may have conduced in equal shares.
"So this is the last day you are to spend here!" he began at length; "and what good can I have of it--what good have I had indeed of your visit at all? Half the time you have passed with my father, declaiming against the condition of our beloved country in general, and the dictatorship of Baron von Raven in particular. When, after unheard-of efforts, I have been so lucky as to withdraw you from the political ground, you have abused my friendship in the most shameful manner, making me stand sentry in the noonday glare, at a temperature of 86° Fahrenheit. A most agreeable post, I must say!"
"What a way of speaking!" said George, impatiently. "I merely asked you----"
"To keep watch that you should not be disturbed in your meetings--quite accidental meetings, of course--with Fräulein von Harder. That is what we, in plain English, call 'standing sentry!' How many such chance encounters may you, with or without my co-operation as walking gentleman, have enacted on this stage? Take care the mamma does not get to hear of these sociable little rambles."
"You know that my leave is out, and that I must start to-morrow," was the rather curt reply.
Max heaved a little sigh.
"Ah, the interview is likely to last a tremendous time to-day, I see. Don't be offended, old fellow. It may be very interesting to you to swear eternal fidelity by the sun, moon, and stars, but, for an outsider, the business is excessively tedious, particularly with such a temperature as we have to-day. I may safely say it is the warmest proof of friendship I ever gave a man in my life."
Talking thus, they had reached the "wood," really nothing more than a group of chestnut trees shading a stretch of meadow-land on the border of the lake. It was a favourite and much frequented resort of the townsfolk, for from thence might be had a splendid panoramic view of the lovely sheet of water and the grand surrounding mountains. Now, at noonday, the spot was quite solitary and deserted. George who had hurried on before, stood still and gazed around expectantly, but in vain. Max sauntered up slowly after him, and in his turn took a general survey, but with no better result. Failing to discover a figure in the distance, he sat down beneath one of the mightiest chestnut-trees, on a grassy bank which formed a natural resting-place, and whence the finest prospect might be enjoyed. Leaning back in the most comfortable posture, he watched his friend with a mixture of raillery and compassion, as the latter paced up and down, betraying in every look and action his feverish uneasiness.
"I say, George, what is to be the end of this love affair, this romance of yours?" he began again, after a protracted silence.
The other frowned.