"Good evening, my son, what is it you want, and what are you doing here in the Burmeister's room?"
"Herr Amtshauptmann, what are my wife and children doing?"
"What do I know of your wife and children, my lad?--You're young to have a wife and children."
"A thousand devils!" cried my father; "don't you know me then? Why I'm the Burmeister."
"What say you, eh?" cried the old Herr; "that's quite another thing. That's a very strange thing!--Consul Stavenhageniensis in a boy's jacket! But what says Horace? Nil admirari--above all in these times, my friend."
"My wife, Herr Amtshauptmann?"
"She knows you are free and will be delighted to see you back."
"But?"----
"Well, it won't do her any harm if she does see you in a short jacket. Come along!"
All sudden surprises, even pleasant ones, are painful. When joy sounds in our ears, as if, all at once two dozen trumpets had been blown close behind us, we feel as if our head and heart were split, and the most beautiful music becomes mere pain. No! I love joy when it comes like a singing bird in a cool wood, coming nearer and nearer from twig to twig, till at last it sings its song full in my ears from the nearest bush.