While Georg was pacing up and down the room, Adrian gathered his books together, saying: "B-r-r-r, Junker, how you look to-day! One might be afraid of you. Mother is in there already. The tinder-box is rattling; she is probably lighting the lamp."
"Are you busy?" asked Georg. "I've finished."
"Then run over to Wilhelm Corneliussohn and tell him it is settled: we'll meet at nine, punctually at nine."
"At Aquarius's tavern?" asked the boy.
"No, no, he knows; make haste, my lad."
Adrian was going, but Georg beckoned to him, and said in a low tone:
"Can you be silent?"
"As a fried sole."
"I shall slip out of the city to-day, and perhaps may never return."
"You, Junker? To-day?" asked the boy.
"Yes, dear lad. Come here, give me a farewell kiss. You must keep this little ring to remember me." The boy submitted to the kiss, put the ring on his finger, and said with tearful eyes: "Are you in earnest? Yes, the famine! God knows I'd run after you, if it were not for Bessie and mother. When will you come back again?"