Adolf was silent for a time. We stared out into the dusk without speaking, and gazed at the shadowy outlines of the vast plain of Western Galicia.
It was not until the silence had lasted a long time that I asked, "Did you go to Hirsch Welt?"
"Yes," he answered.
"And were you successful?"
"He turned me out of the house," returned Adolf calmly; "but what of that? Rachel shall be my wife. 'Where there's a will, there's a way!...'"
Fifteen months passed away after our conversation in the railway-carriage without any event worthy of record taking place. When we returned to Vienna we took up our abode in different parts of the town, and in consequence met but seldom. I only knew that Adolf was working very hard, and that he had good accounts of Rachel.
Early one morning in December, before the sun was well up, I heard a violent knocking at my door, and ere I could call out "Come in," the door opened, and my friend entered hurriedly, his face deadly pale and anxious-looking.
"What! it's you, Adolf!" I exclaimed. "But what's the matter?... Is anything wrong?"
He passed his hand across his forehead, and pushed back his hair to which a few snow-flakes were sticking. "I don't know what has happened," he said, "that is the reason I am so uneasy.... Don't question me, but get up and come with me...."