I was silent, for I did not know what to say.
"Yes, yes," pursued my companion; "but do not hurry so, nobody can keep up with you. You are in an ugly position."
"How so?" I asked.
"Don't you really know?"
"No."
Herr von Granow was so convinced of his superior acuteness, that it never occurred to him that my ignorance might be feigned in order to draw him out.
"Yes, yes," he said. "You are still young, and at your years one is often deaf and blind to things which we who know the world seize at the first glance. The old man and the young lady live together like cat and dog; but really, when one thinks of it, neither has such great cause to love the other. She leads a wretched life through his fault. He would gladly be rid of her, but who is going to take her off his hands? I have considered the matter from all sides; but it can't be managed--it really can't."
I was in doubt, when my companion began to talk in this way, whether I should strike him to the earth for his impudence, or burst into loud laughter. I took a side-look at him; the little man with his short trotting legs, his foolish face scarlet from his exertions, and his half-open mouth--I could not resist, but fairly shook with laughter.
"I do not see what you are laughing about," he said, rather surprised than offended. "The little comedy which she played for you and the rest of us this afternoon, can hardly have turned your brain, if I may so express myself. And it is just upon that subject that I would like to give you some information.
"What can you mean?" I asked.