Leo thought of this, and felt a slight repugnance when Ulrich asked him to sit down there.
The room from floor to ceiling seemed haunted with shameful pictures of what had been.
"The winter crops are thriving," began Ulrich.
Leo hesitated before answering. In this very natural remark of a landowner who has returned home after a long absence, he traced an evasion.
"Yes, they are all right," he said, constrained.
"And you have looked after Uhlenfelde's interests; accept my warmest thanks, old boy."
"Don't mention it," replied Leo, refusing the hand held out to him. "Your work-people are used to managing for themselves."
"Certainly. That's true," said Ulrich. "But, nevertheless, it is well that they should feel the hand of a master over them."
"I wonder what he means," thought Leo, still at a loss and perplexed by the immovable, solemn face opposite him. Their friendship, their old, exuberant, grand friendship; what had become of it?
A dim desire awoke in Leo to play the fool to put an end to this constraint. He felt as if he could stand on his head, dance and whoop, or throw himself at his feet, kiss his hands, and cry, "Forgive, forgive."