“It’s true,” the count agreed; “you never know where you are with him.”
XXIII
Christian had given his valet orders to prepare for his journey. Then he had gone to the green-houses to interview the gardeners. In the meantime twilight had set in. It had rained all day, and the trees were still dripping. But now the fresh greenery gleamed against the afterglow, and the windows of the beautiful house were dipped in gold.
“Herr Voss is in the library,” an old footman announced.
Christian had begged Amadeus Voss to use the library quite freely, whether he himself was at home or not. The servants had been instructed. Voss had offered to catalogue the library, but as yet he had made no beginning. He merely passed from book to book, and if one interested him he read it and forgot the passage of time.
The afterglow fell into the library too. Voss had taken fifty or sixty volumes from the shelves, and he was now arranging them in stacks on a large oak table.
“Why do you do that, Amadeus?” Christian asked carelessly.
“If you give me your permission, I’d like to burn these,” Amadeus Voss answered.
Christian was surprised. “Why?” he asked.