"But we are no bear, and won't drink a drop ourselves, will we?"
Klaus stared in astonishment when he saw the dreaded keeper turned into so obliging an attendant.
I closed the door again, and then fell on the good fellow's neck. The tears stood in my eyes.
"Dear, good Klaus," I cried, "you and Christel are the kindest hearts in the world, but I cannot accept your generous offer. I would not have accepted it under any circumstances; and as it is, it is not to be thought of. I could go away from here at an moment, but I will not, Klaus, I will not."
Here I embraced Klaus again, and gave free course to the tears which I had been repressing. I felt as if now for the first time I knew what a prisoner was, since I had declared that I wished to be one, and thus made myself one of my own choice. Klaus, who naturally had no conception of what was passing within me, constantly endeavored, while casting uneasy glances at the door, to persuade me to let him take my place; he would wager his head that he would be out in twenty-four hours.
"Klaus, Klaus!" I cried, clapping him on the plump cheeks, "you want to deceive me. Confess now, you have no expectation of getting out so soon."
"Well, anyhow," he answered, very shame-facedly, "my wife thought----"
"Your wife, Klaus! your wife!"
"We have been married these two months."
I thrust Klaus into the easy-chair, sat down before him, and begged him to tell me everything. It would be the greatest kindness he could do me, I said, if he could tell me that all was going well with him; that I was by no means in so evil a straight as he imagined in his true heart of friendship; and I gave him in brief words a sketch of my adventures in the prison, my attempt to escape, my illness, and my friendly relations with the superintendent and his family.