“He must have forgotten it.”
“Forgotten! Forgotten that I was coming to see him. That’s a likely story, indeed!”
“Well, sir,” said Christian, “you can go over there if you choose. You will find neither supper nor company.”
“Well, then, I must give it up. But it’s the most extraordinary thing. That poor Goefle must have gone crazy!”
Turning about, M. Stangstadius walked along by the side of Christian, who continued on towards the chateau; but in a few seconds the philosopher, on reflection, changed his purpose, and, talking aloud to himself after his fashion, said:
“So, Goefle has gone off! Well, he’s a scatter-brained, extravagant fellow. But there’s that nephew of his—for he has a nephew—a charming young man and a capital talker. He must have told him that I was coming, and he no doubt is waiting for me. I must go over; certainly I must!”
Stopping abruptly, he turned to Christian:
“See here, friend,” he cried, “I have made up my mind to go to Stollborg after all, and as I have been walking a great deal to-day in the snow, I am extremely tired. Lend me your pony, will you?”
“It would give me great pleasure to do so, monsieur; but if you are proposing to go there after M. Goefle’s nephew—”
“Certainly, yes; Christian Goefle, that’s his name. Did you see him? You are one of the servants at Stollborg, I suppose. Very well, go back there with me. Give me the beast, walk on ahead, and tell them to prepare supper. That’s a good idea.”