"Did he carry her off?"
Cilli, from whom Ferdinanda had long had no secrets, mentioned Bertalda's name and residence.
"So even this time it was not himself!" murmured Uncle Ernst with a bitter smile. "Thank you, my dear child, thank you for your honesty. I have always thought highly of you, I see that I did not think nearly highly enough. And now let me call my sister to take you back and see you into bed; I am sure you ought to be there."
"She is sitting at my father's bedside," said Cilli; "she has been there these two hours. I can go very well alone."
"Then I will take you."
"If you are really grateful to me, if I am not to think that I have been here in vain, you have something else to do now; pray let me go alone."
She rose from her chair and folded her hands again upon her bosom.
"Go alone then, if you really wish it."
She moved slowly to the door, there stood still, and turning round raised both hands with an imploring gesture to him, as he gazed sadly and gloomily after her, then felt for the handle. The door opened from the outside. Grollmann, as before, stretched out his arm without crossing the threshold, received Cilli's groping hand in his, and shut the door behind her.
"They are all leagued together against me for good or evil," murmured Uncle Ernst; "Reinhold, Rike, that old man, all, all! And she, good child, who is probably worth more than all of us, she brings me this with her pure innocent hands--this!"