Klaus Heinrich received a visit at the “Hermitage” from Raoul Ueberbein the afternoon before his birthday this year. The Doctor came to wish him many happy returns, as he expected to be prevented by his work from doing so on the morrow. They strolled round the gravel path at the back of the park, the tutor in his frock-coat and white tie, Klaus Heinrich in his summer coat. The grass stood ready for cutting under the perpendicular rays of the midday sun, and the limes were in flower. In one corner, close by the hedge which divided the park from the unlovely suburbs, stood a little rustic temple.
Klaus Heinrich was telling of his visits to “Delphinenort,” as this topic lay nearest his heart. He spoke quite clearly about them, but did not tell the doctor any actual news, for the latter showed that he knew all about them. How was that? Oh, from various sources. Ueberbein had never started the subject. So people in the town concern themselves about it?
“Heaven forbid, Klaus Heinrich, that anybody should give a thought to it, either to the rides, or to the teas, or to the motor drive. You don't suppose that that sort of thing is expected to set tongues wagging!”
“But we're so careful!”
“‘We’ is rich, Klaus Heinrich, and so is the carefulness. All the same, his Excellency von Knobelsdorff keeps himself accurately posted in all your goings-on.”
“Knobelsdorff?”
“Knobelsdorff.”
Klaus Heinrich was silent; then asked: “And what is Baron Knobelsdorff's attitude towards what he learns?”
“Well, the old gentleman hasn't yet had a chance of interfering in the developments.”
“But the public opinion?—the people?”