An infernal concert of wild jubilations arose about me. I sat upon my box in a state of wretched helplessness, and, to make matters worse, the travelling merchant put his head out of the cab.
“How long is it going to take you to get started?” he called out, following up his words with a perfect volley of oaths. “Did anybody ever see the like of this?”
One of my colleagues of the box was moved with brotherly pity, seized the malicious steed by the head, and put him in motion.
The other drivers sat on their boxes taking a nap, and there was no opportunity of entering into conversation with them. I was very much depressed, took off my mantle, for it was growing warm, climbed up into my seat, and drove away to try my luck elsewhere.
As we were jolting slowly across the Schlossplatz, there came straight across the square from the red Schloss a figure, the sight of which made my blood run cold—it was my friend Otto.
Supposing he should recognise me,—I dared not think the thought, I felt myself blush and then turn pale under my beard. I turned my head to the other side, toward the Schloss, but as I involuntarily looked at him askance, it seemed to me that he was standing still. In fact so he was,—he stood there beckoning to me! I was seized with horror! “Beckon away as hard as you please,” I said to myself, driving on. Now I heard his voice: “Hello there, cabman!” I pretended not to hear, and still drove on.
Then he came rushing with tremendous strides across the square.
“Confound you!” he cried. “Don’t you hear me?”
There was no further possibility of escape; I must needs pull up.
Like a criminal over whom sentence of death has just been passed, I hung my head; with the corner of my left eye I saw that my friend Otto had on his best suit, and was carrying his summer overcoat over his arm.