On the following morning, Sara came into the room where Falkenberg was standing alone, waiting for the rest of the company who were going to Lahnburg. In her hand she carried a small canvas.
‘Here, Herr Falkenberg, is the sketch you wished to see. I remembered it, and brought it downstairs with me.’
Falkenberg thanked her, took the sketch, and looked at it in silence, until Sara said:
‘It is as I expected. You are racking your brains to find out how to say “Atrocious” so that it shall sound like something else.’
‘If I had to say “Atrocious,” I’m afraid I should say it, much though I might dislike having to do so,’ he answered, smiling. ‘As it is, I wish to say nothing of the kind.’
‘Oh, what a relief!’
‘There are the carriages coming round,’ he added composedly, ‘to take us to the Ems railway station. May I take the sketch to my own room? There is no time to look at it now.’
‘Certainly, if you care to do so.’
‘Thank you,’ said he, taking it up, and leaving the room with it.
Sara sat down at the piano, and played tunes, until at last Frau von Trockenau came whirling into the room with a pair of long gloves in her hand.