The next morning Richard was out with the early larks, and returned after a few hours in a peculiar frame of mind. As he was entering his room, he saw through the open door his father standing in the saloon. Herr Frank was carefully examining the arrangements, as the servants were carrying books into the adjoining room and placing them in a bookcase. Richard, as he passed, greeted his father briefly, contrary to his usual custom. At other times he used to exchange a few words with his father when he bid him good-morning, and he let no occasion pass of giving his opinion on any matter in which he knew his father took an interest.
The young man walked to the open window of his room, and gazed into the distance. He remained motionless for a time. He ran his fingers through his hair, and with a jerk of the head threw the brown locks back from his forehead. He walked restlessly back and forth, and acted like a man who tries in vain to escape from thoughts that force themselves upon him. At length he went to the piano, and beat an impetuous impromptu on the keys.
"Ei, Richard!" cried Herr Frank, whom the wild music had brought to his side. "Why, you rave! How possessed! One would think you had discovered a roaring cataract in the mountains, and wished to imitate its violence."
Richard glanced quickly at his father, and finished with a tender, plaintive melody.
"Come over here and look at the rooms."
Richard followed his father and examined carelessly the elegant rooms, and spoke a few cold words of commendation.
"And what do you say to this flora?" said Herr Frank pointing to a stepped framework on which bloomed the most beautiful and rare flowers.
"All very beautiful, father. The doctor will be much pleased, as he always is here."
"I wish and hope so. I have had the peacocks and turkeys sent away, because Klingenberg cannot endure their noise. The library here will always be his favorite object, and care has been taken with it. Here are the best books on all subjects, even theology and astronomy."
"Frankenhöhe is indeed cheerful as the heart of youth and quiet as a cloister," said Richard. "Your friend would indeed be ungrateful if this attention did not gratify him."