As he had often laughingly boasted of his punctilious fulfilment of any commission from a lady, Gabrielle, before he left for Prague, had entrusted to him, to have repaired, a gold clasp of Hungarian workmanship set with rare, coloured stones.
When at the table she asked him, "How about my clasp--did you bring it with you, or is the jeweller to send it?" he started, saying, "Forgive me, I forgot all about it."
Gabrielle stared--"Forgot--my commission?"
"Good Heavens! I am not the only man who ever forgot anything!" exclaimed Oswald irritably.
It was the first unkind word he had ever uttered to his betrothed. Astonished and grieved she cast down her eyes. But Truyn, who, as long as Oswald was well and merry, was continually finding fault with him, being now seriously concerned about the young man's health took his part.
"Have a little patience with him, comrade," said he to his daughter, "he is not well,--look at him, a man who looks as he does must not be scolded. When he is himself again we will both scold him roundly."
"Forgive me, Ella," entreated Oswald humbly, holding out his hand to her. "I have an intolerable headache, uncle. Please have the carriage brought round, I must go home."
CHAPTER VIII.
The road from Rautschin castle to Tornow goes directly through the village, across the market-place, and past the inn, 'The Rose.'
Involuntarily Oswald glanced towards the unpretending front of the tavern. Conceited and bedizened, with a dirty coat, and with bare feet thrust into morocco slippers down at the heel, the same waiter is standing in the doorway, just as he stood there on that rainy afternoon in spring, when Oswald took refuge in the inn-parlour.