Paul stood behind the bench and did not know what to do. For the first time since he was grown up he happened to find himself in strange society.
His glance met Elsbeth’s, who, resting her head on her hand, looked round at him.
“I suppose you won’t say ‘How do you do’ to me at all?” she added, mischievously.
The familiar “Du” gave him courage. He stretched his hand out to her, and asked how she had fared during all this long time.
A shade of sadness flitted across her face. “Not well,” she said, softly; “but more of that later on when we are alone.”
She made room at her side, and said, “Come.” And as he sat down near her his elbow touched her neck. Then a thrill went through his body, such as he had never felt in all his life.
Leo Heller shook hands with him across the table, and said, laughing, “To our good friendship, you pattern boy, you!”
“I am, unfortunately, not worthy to be taken for a pattern boy,” he answered, innocently.
“Then be glad; I am not one, either. Nothing is more disgusting to me than such a pattern boy.”
“Why, then, did you call me so?”