"Good gracious, Fräulein Cilli! How came you here? And how ill you look! Dear me! you ought to go to bed at once!"
"I have no time for that, dear Grollmann, but I do feel very weak; will you help me up the stairs?"
"Why, where do you want to go?"
"To him--to Herr Schmidt."
Grollmann shook his head.
"Dear Fräulein Cilli, you know that I would do anything in the world to please you, and particularly to-day, when you are in such trouble about your good father; but you really cannot possibly go to Herr Schmidt. If you want anything for your good father--and he has been asking after him already, although he has so many things on his mind--I will take an opportunity of saying it--"
"It is not about my father," said Cilli, "nor about myself, but I have such difficulty in speaking, dear Grollmann."
The old servant was awestruck as she raised her blind eyes to him. He did not venture another word of reply, not even to ask her what was that paper which she had slipped inside her dress, and led her silently and carefully up the remaining steps to the master's door.
"Shall I announce you, Fräulein?" he whispered.
"Only open the door, dear Grollmann."