“Well, what?”
“At what hour shall I be ready?”
“You promise not to make a row?”
“You needn't be afraid.”
“And to conduct yourself exactly as though you were an ordinary guest?”
“I generally conduct myself as a gentleman, don't I?”
“Well, then, I mean to leave here at a quarter before eight.”
“All right,” said the rabbi; “and now it is a quarter after four. Since you refuse to let me in, I'll go and sit in my own bedroom. I might catch cold, standing here in the hall. Call me if any thing should happen.”
For the sake of killing time, Elias dawdled as long as he could over his toilet. When, at length, it was completed, he picked up a book, and, seating himself at the window, tried to read. But it was no use. His mind wandered. The thought of his wedding was the only thought that he could keep fast hold of. He was very much excited and very impatient. He wished heartily that it was over and done with, and thus all room for doubt or accident excluded. He wondered how he would manage to survive the remaining hours. What a pity that he had not left something till the last moment to be attended to. Then he would have had an occupation. But, unfortunately, every arrangement was complete. He had packed all his trunks, and sent them off to the steamer. A shawl-strap and a hand-satchel were the only luggage not thus disposed of; and these, also, were packed and locked. Well, he must busy himself with something; and so by and by he proceeded slowly to unpack the hand-satchel, and thereupon forthwith to pack it over again. He had about finished, when the dinner-bell rang. That meant half-past six.
The dinner-bell sounded musically in Elias's ears, partly because he thought that he was hungry, chiefly because the process of dining would consume a certain quantity of time.