Laura left the room. Mr. Hummel sat alone for a long time by his desk, holding his head with both hands. At last he began to whistle in a low tone the old Dessauer--a sign to the book-keeper, who was entering, that soft feelings had the upper hand with him.
"Go across to the Doctor, and beg him to take the trouble of coming over to me immediately."
The Doctor entered the office. Mr. Hummel rummaged in his desk and brought out a little paper.
"Here, I return you the present that you once made me."
The Doctor opened it, and two little gloves lay within.
"You may give these gloves to my daughter on the day on which you are married to her, and you can tell her they come from her father, from whom she has run away."
He turned away, approached the window, and thrummed on the pane.
"I have already told you before, Mr. Hummel, that I will not take back these gloves. Least of all will I do it for this purpose. If the happy day is ever to come to me when I can take Laura to my home, it will only be when you put your daughter's hand in mine. I beg you, dear Mr. Hummel, to keep these gloves until that day."
"Much obliged," replied Hummel; "you are a miserable Don Juan. I am in duty bound," he continued, in his usual tone, "to communicate to you what is of fitting importance to you. My daughter Laura wishes to elope with you."
"What now disturbs Laura," answered the Doctor, "and has given her these wild thoughts, is no secret to you. She feels herself oppressed by the unpleasant relations which subsist between us. I hope this excitement will pass away."