"Ah! If he were here! How he would eat! How he would drink! How he would sing!"
Their praises of him were inexhaustible.
"If only Christophe could see him!… But perhaps he would be able to. Perhaps Pottpetschmidt would return in the evening, on that night at latest…."
"Oh! I shall be gone to-night," said Christophe.
A shadow passed over Schulz's beaming face.
"What! Gone!" he said in a trembling voice. "But you are not going."
"Oh, yes," said Christophe gaily. "I must catch the train to-night."
Schulz was in despair. He had counted on Christophe spending the night, perhaps several nights, in his house. He murmured:
"No, no. You can't go!…"
Kunz repeated: