Laura looked at him tenderly, but then immediately drew back and ensconced herself in a corner of the carriage. Fritz was quite different to-day from usual; he looked confident and bold. In the house he had always been modest, while Laura had more than once thought of this relation, and had written in her book: "When two human beings are united in soul they ought to let each other know it." Now he used little ceremony. He looked boldly out of the carriage, and when they met travelers did not retreat as she had done after meeting the milkwoman, but looked as if challenging notice, and greeting people first.
"I must begin about the Hindus," she said to herself, "in order to turn his thoughts to other subjects."
She asked him about the contents of the Veda.
"I cannot think of it to-day," exclaimed Fritz, gaily. "I am too happy to think of the old books. I have only one thought in my heart: 'Laura, the dear girl, will become mine.' I could dance in the carriage for joy."
He jumped up from his seat like a little boy.
Fritz was fearfully changed; she did not know him again; she withheld her hand from him, and looked at him, suspiciously, askance.
"The heavens are covered with clouds," she said, sadly.
"But the sun shines above them," replied Fritz; "it will come out again in a few minutes. I propose that we examine the great leather bag which my mother gave us; I hope there will be something good in it."
Thus did the prose of the Hahn family betray itself, and Laura observed with secret regret how eagerly the Doctor rummaged the bag. She had, however, in her excitement thought little of her breakfast, so when Fritz offered her some of its contents she extended her little hand for it, and both ate heartily.
Something darkened the seat next the coachman; a misshapen head showed itself at the window, and a discordant snarl was heard in the carriage. Laura pointed terrified at the apparition.