The man stammered an excuse, and went away hastily.
"When I came to the house I was aware that all was not right here. I asked after you at the castle and received no satisfactory answer. I asked a man at the back of the castle who was wandering about, which was your house. He looked at me like a crossbill. You were travelling, he declared, and he tried to discover my secret. Thereupon there was a short conversation, in which cross-bill showed his spite because I in ignorance called him by his proper title of spy. The sentinel came up at this, and I saw that these jovial comrades had a great mind to arrest me. Then a young gentleman appeared, who asked the other the cause of the disturbance, and said he knew that you were at home. He accompanied me up to this house, asked my name politely, told me also his own, Lieutenant Treeclimber, and advised me not to be frightened away, that the servants were insolent, but that you would be rejoiced to see an old friend. He must be known to you."
The lackey laid the table. Whenever he offered Mr. Hummel a dish, the latter gave him a withering look, and did not endeavor to make his office easy to him. While the servant was removing the things, Mr. Hummel began:
"Now permit me to talk of our affairs, it will be a long account; have you patience for it?"
The evening had set in, darkness lay over the dismal house, the storm came on, the windows rattled, and the rain poured down. Ilse sat as in a dream. In the midst of the stormy scenes of the past day and the uneasy expectation of a wild night, the comfortable prose of the Park Street rose before her, where, fearless and secure, she was at peace with herself and the world,--so far as the world was not vexatious. But she felt how beneficial this contrast was; she even forgot her own position, and listened with deep sympathy to the account of the father.
"I am speaking to a daughter," said Mr. Hummel, "who is going back to her father, and I tell her what I have said to no one else: how hard it is to bear my child's wish to leave me."
He spoke about the child whom they both loved, and it was pleasant intercourse between them. Thus several hours passed.
The lackey came again, and asked respectfully whether Mrs. Werner had sent Gabriel away.
"He has gone upon a commission for me," grumbled Mr. Hummel, to the inquirer; "he is looking after some money matters with which I did not choose to burden your honesty. If any one inquires from the city for me, I must beg, Mrs. Werner, to request this man to say that I am at home."
He again looked at his watch.