Oswald returned into the house. The company was quite small now, and among the few who were still there, waiting for their carriages and wrapped up in cloaks and shawls, there was no one of those with whom Oswald had come in contact during the day. Langen had been the first to leave, after repeatedly asking his new friend to be sure and pay him soon a visit. Oswald had inquired of the servants if the Grenwitz carriage had come back for him, but they had seen nothing of it. The smaller the company grew, the more embarrassing became his situation. He saw himself already, in imagination, the very last of all the guests, and had resolved rather to return on foot than to have to claim the hospitality of Baron Barnewitz. Just then, however, Oldenburg came from an adjoining room, and seemed to look for somebody. As soon as he saw Oswald, he came up to him and said:
"What do you say, doctor, I think we had better go."
"I should have been gone long ago," replied Oswald, "but just now I am without horses and carriage; I suppose the baron's coachman, who was to come back for me, has fallen asleep on the way."
"I take special pleasure in offering you a seat in my carriage," said the baron. "For the little détour which I shall have to make, in order to set you down at Grenwitz, I shall be amply compensated by the pleasure of your company."
"I accept your kind offer very thankfully."
"Eh bien, partons!"
In the hall they met their host, who was evidently scarcely able any longer to perform his duties as such. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice had become most unpleasantly rough and hoarse. He talked of all sorts of things incoherently, while he made an effort to dismiss every one of his guests with a civil little speech, as he saw them to their carriage. "Want to go already--well, stay at home well--John, your carriage for your mistress--My respects to your husband! Ah! Poggendorf! old boy! Had not seen you here at all! Don't let that wife of yours go home alone! Glass champagne? Eh?--Oldenburg, doctor, not already? Nonsense! Glad to make your acquaintance--shoot devilish well--all right that you put down that Cloten--all right--famous fellow, doctor (tender embrace)--you are my bosom friend (sobbing)--my best friend (another embrace)--you ought to have killed him--the blackguard."
"Come, Barnewitz, I have to tell you something," said Oldenburg, slapping his host vigorously on the shoulder, and leading him a few steps aside from the carriage; "Excuse me a moment, doctor; Charles! make room, so the other carriages can come up!"
The two men walked up and down for some time in eager conversation, now disappearing in the dark part of the courtyard, and now visible again in the illuminated semicircle before the door. Oswald could readily imagine the subject of their conversation. Several times Barnewitz raised his voice, but he lowered it instantly upon a 'St! or a Hush! as a wild beast in a menagerie breaks out in a howl or a growl, and is instantly hushed by the look or the whip of the keeper. "That man has a magic power over others," said Oswald to himself, as he watched the tall, grim form of the baron walking alongside of Barnewitz, who was a head shorter, like Conscience in person by the side of a poor sinner. "I feel something of his dominion myself. There is a demon in that man, a demon which one must either love or hate, or rather love and hate at once; for I feel disposed to hate that man and I cannot do it. And what is he to me after all? If he still loves Melitta, as I think he does, I am more of an enemy to him than he to me. But why did Melitta never tell me how she stands with regard to that long ghost there? I would not have offended her to-day. Poor Melitta! How she looked at me--and what would she say if she had witnessed the scene in the window? Oh, that sweet, charming girl! And her eyes, too, were full of tears, as she sat in the carriage and looked at me so fixedly! Oh! who can be cruel enough to refuse the love of such a heart? And yet
'All this blending of heart with heart
Brings but pain to us from the start.'