"Gone down to the harbor; it's just possible he may have gone on board the ship to look about him a little."
Gotthold shook his head. "That is extremely improbable, after, as he knows, everything is arranged."
"What shall we do, Herr Gotthold?"
"Run to Herr Wollnow and tell him what has happened, and that I have gone out to the races; and follow me as fast as you can."
Jochen looked amazed. "Yes, to be sure, Herr Gotthold, that's possible; he talked of nothing but the races all last evening."
Gotthold had already taken several steps, when Jochen followed him.
"You're not angry with me and my brother Clas, Herr Gotthold?"
"You good, stupid fellows!"
Jochen looked very much moved, and doubtless wished to say more; but Gotthold pressed his hard, honest hand, and hurried down the street to the gate, beyond which, at no very great distance from the city, was the race-course.
He knew the way only from description; but it could not be missed to-day. The nearer he approached the gate, the more numerous became the people, who were all moving in the same direction; the suburban street through which they were obliged to pass had assumed a holiday garb. The modest little villas, half concealed behind the trees in their garden, were to-day adorned with garlands and tapestry; here and there, under the shade of the boughs, stood an old gentleman, or a gardener, or a nurse with a baby in her arms, looking pityingly or mischievously over the dusty hedges at the throng hurrying by in the summer heat. Often one of the long Holstein wagons, furnished with five or six seats placed one behind the other, rattled by, empty if going towards the city, crowded with people if driving away from it; and it rarely happened that the usual jokes failed to be exchanged between the lucky occupants and the dust-covered foot-passengers.