"Herr Dr. Eyuhardt!"
"What! Is it you or your ghost? Well, I must say—" cried Paul, overjoyed, receiving him with open arms.
The first tempestuous greetings over, he pressed him, down upon the sofa, seated himself beside him, and rained down a torrent of questions upon him—Where had he come from? How had he fared all this time? What were his plans? And, above all things, where was his luggage?
"At the hotel," Wilhelm answered, a little nervously.
"At the hotel? Are you in your right senses? There is only one hotel for you in Hamburg, and that is the hotel Haber. Were you so uncomfortable there before that you have withdrawn your custom from it?"
"Don't try to persuade me, my good Paul. Believe me, it is best so. Your hospitality oppresses me."
"Is that the remark of a friend?" grumbled Paul.
"It is a fault in me, I know, but I do beg of you to let me have my own way."
"Just wait till I send Malvine to you—you will have to lay down your arms before her."
"No, Paul, I really cannot live in your house again. I will come and see you—so often that you will get tired of me—"