“He cannot possibly reach home before September,” answered the banker. The traveller stepped for a moment into the luggage-room. The gentlemen then drove away to the Palais Greifmann. During the ride, the conversation was not very animated. Conrad's curt, grave manner and keen look, indicative of a mind always hard at work, imposed reserve, and rapidly dampened his son's ingenuous burst of joy. Seraphin cast a searching glance upon that severe countenance, saw no change from its stern look of authority, and his heart sank before the appalling alternative of either sacrificing the happiness of his life to his father's favorite project, or of opposing his will and braving the consequences of such daring. Yet he wavered but an instant in the resolution to which he had been driven by necessity, and which, it was plain from the lines of his countenance, he had manhood enough to abide by.
Mr. Conrad maintained his reserve, and asked but few questions. Even Carl, habitually profuse, studied brevity in his answers, as he knew from experience that Gerlach, Senior, was singularly averse to the use of many words.
“How is business?”
“Very dull, sir; the times are hard.”
“Did you sustain any losses through the failures that have recently taken place in town?”
“Not a farthing. We had several thousands with Wendel, but fortunately drew them out before he failed.”
“Very prudent. Has your father entered into any new connections in the course of his travels?”
“Several, that promise fairly.”
“Is Louise well?”
“Her health is as good as could be wished.”