"Herr Frank, will you allow your coachman to drive me to the university? I must be at my post in ten minutes. I cannot go on foot in that time."
"With pleasure, Herr Professor."
"Richard," said the other friend, "shall we meet at the opera to-night?"
"Scarcely. I must to-day enter upon my usual business."
"Come, if possible. The evening promises great amusement, for the celebrated Santinilli dances."
The accustomed routine of business began for Richard. He sat in the counting-room and worked with his habitual punctuality. Nevertheless invidious spirits lured him toward Salingen, so that the figures danced before his eyes, words had no meaning, and he was often lost in day-dreams. The watchful father had observed this, and was perplexed.
Richard's plan of studies also underwent a change. He left the house regularly at half-past five and returned at half-past six. The father, desiring to know what this meant, set the faithful Jacob on the watch.
"Herr Richard," reported the spy, "hears mass at the Capuchins."
Frank drummed a march on his knees.
"So, so!" he hummed. "The ultramontanes understand proselytizing. They have turned the head of my son. If I live long enough, I may yet see him turn Capuchin, build a cloister, and go about begging."