He went into the entry and found, not his wife, but Adrian, who had just returned home, told the boy to give his most loving remembrances to his mother, and say that he was obliged to seek the Prince on important business.
Old Trautchen had already washed and undressed little Elizabeth, and now brought him the child wrapped in a coverlet. He kissed the dear little face, which smiled at him out of its queer disguise, pressed his lips to Adrian’s forehead, again told him to give his love to his mother, and then rode down Marendorpstrasse.
Two women, coming from the Rheinsburger gate, met him just as he reached St. Stephen’s cloister. He did not notice them, but the younger one pushed the kerchief back from her head, hastily grasped her companion’s wrist, and exclaimed in a low tone:
“That was Peter!”
Barbara raised her head higher.
“It’s lucky I’m not timid. Let go of my arm. Do you mean the horseman trotting past St. Ursula alley?”
“Yes, it is Peter.”
“Nonsense, child! The bay has shorter legs than that tall camel; and Peter never rides out at this hour.”
“But it was he.”
“God forbid! At night a linden looks like a beechtree. It would be a pretty piece of business, if he didn’t come home to-day.”