"What is it then?"
Gotthold hesitated; but there was no time for deliberation.
"It is this," said he; "I cannot accept your invitation, kindly as it is expressed and honestly as, I wish to believe, it is meant."
"For Heaven's sake, why not?"
"Because in so doing I should wrong myself, and, in a certain sense, you also. Myself: because I could not stay in Dollan, in your house, without being at every step, at every moment, a prey to the most painful memories; and who would not willingly spare himself such a trial, if he could avoid it? You: because--it must be said, Brandow! I have always considered you my enemy, and my sentiments towards you have been no friendly ones, even up to this very day, this very hour. Who would invite a man who is not well disposed towards him to his house!"
"Is it possible?" cried Brandow. "Then that straw head of a Plüggen and the Parson may have been right when they said: 'He won't come!' 'He will come,' said I, 'if only to prove that he is still the generous fellow he always was!' No, Gotthold, you must not give me the lie, if only on account of those silly fellows, and people like them, who would then have another fine opportunity to make merry over Carl Brandow, who always aims very high and then comes out at the little end of the horn. Well, unhappily there is something in it: I am no longer what I was once, but a poor devil who must learn to be modest; but this time I won't be, just this time. And now your hand, old enemy! there, that's right! I knew you better than you knew yourself."
They began to descend the hill, Brandow, who insisted upon carrying Gotthold's luggage, still talking eagerly in his hasty, often incoherent manner, Gotthold silent and vainly trying to shake off the bewilderment that clouded his brain and oppressed his heart; he had tried to be frank, perfectly frank; but he had not been so: he had not said the last thing because he could not, because he must appear like a fool, a coxcomb, if he did, and like a rude unmannerly boor if he did not, and simply answered: I will not. But would not even that have been better than for them to meet again?
Gotthold stood still, and threw back his coat and vest; he felt as if he were stifling.
"It's terribly sultry here in the wood," said Carl Brandow. "It would have been much nearer if we had gone down the other side, and then crossed the fields; but we were obliged to make this circuit to get my horse. There stands the rascal, stamping his shoes off in his impatience. Now then, en avant!"
Brandow threw the bridle over his arm and Gotthold took a portion of his luggage, so they walked quickly through the woods by a cross path, which soon brought them out into the fields. At a short distance, only separated from them by a few meadows and a broad field of rye, stood the manor-house, already partly in the shadow which the hill on the left-hand side of the moor cast far into the valley, while the tops of the taller trees in the garden and the crests of the huge poplars, which enclosed the grounds on the three other sides, still glowed in the light of the setting sun. The little window of the gable-room glittered and flashed back his rays. Gotthold could scarcely turn his eyes away; he fancied every moment that it must open and Cecilia appear and wave her white hand towards him with a gesture of warning: no nearer, for God's sake, no nearer! And then it seemed to him as if he were once more back in the old days, when he used to come out with Curt to spend a precious Saturday afternoon and delightful Sunday, and in their impatience to reach their goal they ran the last part of the way at full speed. At every step his agitation increased; he scarcely heard what his companion was saying to him.