That was Konrad; it must be Konrad. But, when she flew to the lobby door to throw herself into his arms with a cry of joy and relief, she found that she was standing face to face with his uncle, who stood twirling his hat in his horrid fingers, and looked at her with a significant smile that she did not like at all.
"Is it to come all over again--the probation," she thought, "or is it now only coming off for the first time?"
"How do you do?" died in her throat. She let him in without speaking. A sensation of faintness came over her, as if she were going to fall backwards through the wall into her room.
It was the old man who opened the door and walked in, with the air of an acquaintance who knew his way about.
"Where is Konrad?"
"Konrad?" he repeated, and scratched the silk band of his wig with his little finger. "I've something to say about Konrad."
He drew out his glittering watch, with its massive chain, and studied the hands.
"I make it just ten minutes past twelve. By now he will be on his way to the station--most probably he has started."
"Is he ... going away?" she stammered, while her breath began to fail her.
"Yes, yes. He is going away.... We settled that last night.... He needs a change."