"I retract not a syllable!"
"Then you know the consequences. You shall hear from me as soon as I get to town."
Therewith he turned coolly away from him and went towards the village. Clement stood for a time rooted to the spot. "Miserable wretch!" burst from his lips. His bosom laboured violently--a bitter agony nested within it. He threw himself upon the ground amongst the corn, and lay long, recalling a thousand times over each word which had so terribly moved him.
When he returned to the house late in the evening, he found, contrary to his expectation, that the family were still together.
Wolf was not there. The old man paced with firm steps through the chamber; his mother and Mary sate with their work in their laps, contrary to the custom of the house at so late an hour. When Clement entered, his father paused in his walk, and turned his head gravely towards him.
"What had passed between you and your friend? He departed whilst we were in the fields, and has left but a scanty greeting behind him; when we returned home we found a messenger removing his luggage. Have you quarrelled? Why else should he have left this house so hastily?"
"We had a dispute. I am happy not to find him under this roof."
"And what did you quarrel about?"
"I cannot tell you, father. I would willingly have avoided it; but there are things which an honest man cannot hear spoken. I long knew that he was wild, and spared neither himself nor others; but I never saw him before as he was to-day."
The father looked steadily at his son, and asked in a low voice--