Kitabı oku: «Vivian Grey», sayfa 30
“My good lady, I am hungry, very hungry, indeed; and if your master, I mean Mr. von, that is Mr. Beckendorff, has such a bad appetite that he can satisfy himself with picking, once a day, the breast of a pheasant; why, if he expect his friends to be willing or even able to live on such fare, the least that I can say is, that he is much mistaken; and so, therefore, my good friend Grey, I think we had better order our horses and be off.”
“No occasion for that, I hope,” said Mrs. Clara, rather alarmed at the Prince’s passion; “no want, I trust, ever here, sir; and I make no doubt you will have dinner as soon as possible; and so, sir, I hope you will not be hasty.”
“Hasty! I have no wish to be hasty; but as for disarranging the whole economy of the house, and getting up an extemporaneous meal for me, I cannot think of it. Mr. Beckendorff may live as he likes, and if I stay here I am contented to live as he does. I do not wish him to change his habits for me, and I shall take care that, after today, there will be no necessity for his doing so. However, absolute hunger can make no compliments; and therefore I will thank you, my good madam, to let me and my friend have the remains of that cold game, if they be still in existence, on which we lunched, or, as you term it, took our noon meal, this morning; and which, if it were your own cooking, Mrs. Clara, I assure you, as I observed to my friend at the time, did you infinite credit.”
The Prince, although his gentlemanlike feelings had, in spite of his hunger, dictated a deprecation of Mrs. Clara’s making a dinner merely for himself, still thought that a seasonable and deserved compliment to the lady might assist in bringing about a result which, notwithstanding his politeness, he much desired; and that was the production of another specimen of her culinary accomplishments. Having behaved, as he considered, with moderation and dignified civility, he was, it must be confessed, rather astounded when Mrs. Clara, duly acknowledging his compliment by her curtsey, was sorry to inform him that she dared give no refreshment in this house without Mr. Beckendorff’s special order.
“Special order! Why! surely your master will not grudge me the cold leg of a pheasant?”
“Mr. Beckendorff is not in the habit of grudging anything,” answered the housekeeper, with offended majesty.
“Then why should he object?” asked the Prince.
“Mr. Beckendorff is the best judge, sir, of the propriety of his own regulations.”
“Well, well!” said Vivian, more interested for his friend than himself, “there is no difficulty in asking Mr. Beckendorff?”
“None in the least, sir,” answered the housekeeper, “when he is awake.”
“Awake!” said the Prince, “why! is he asleep now?”
“Yes, sir, in the library.”
“And how long will he be asleep?” asked the Prince, with eagerness.
“It is uncertain; he may be asleep for hours, he may wake in five minutes; all I can do is to watch.”
“But, surely in a case like the present, you can wake your master?”
“I could not wake Mr. Beckendorff, sir, if the house were on fire. No one can enter the room when he is asleep.”
“Then how can you possibly know when he is awake?”
“I shall hear his violin immediately, sir.”
“Well, well! I suppose it must be so. I wish we were in Turriparva; that is all I know. Men of my station have no business to be paying visits to the sons of the Lord knows who! peasants, shopkeepers, and pedagogues!”
As a fire was blazing in the dining-room, which Mrs. Clara informed them Mr. Beckendorff never omitted having every night in the year, the Prince and his friend imagined that they were to remain there, and they consequently did not attempt to disturb the slumbers of their host. Resting his feet on the hobs, his Highness, for the fiftieth time, declared that he wished he had never left Turriparva; and just when Vivian was on the point of giving up in despair the hope of consoling him, Mrs. Clara entered and proceeded to lay the cloth.
“Your master is awake, then?” asked the Prince, very quickly.
“Mr. Beckendorff has been long awake, sir! and dinner will be ready immediately.”
His Highness’ countenance brightened; and in a short time the supper appearing, the Prince, again fascinated by Mrs. Clara’s cookery and Mr. Beckendorff’s wine, forgot his chagrin, and regained his temper.
In about a couple of hours Mr. Beckendorff entered.
“I hope that Clara has given you wine you like, Mr. von Philipson?”
“The same bin, I will answer for that.”
Mr. Beckendorff had his violin in his hand, but his dress was much changed. His great boots being pulled off, exhibited the white silk stockings which he invariably wore. His coat had given place to the easier covering of a brocade dressing-gown. He drew a chair round the fire, between the Prince and Vivian. It was a late hour, and the room was only lighted by the glimmering coals, for the flames had long died away. Mr. Beckendorff sat for some time without speaking, gazing earnestly on the decaying embers. Indeed, before many minutes had elapsed, complete silence prevailed; for both the endeavours of the Prince and of Vivian to promote conversation had been unsuccessful. At length the master of the house turned round to the Prince, and pointing to a particular mass of coal, said, “I think, Mr. von Philipson, that is the completest elephant I ever saw. We will ring the bell for some coals, and then have a game of whist.”
The Prince was so surprised by Mr. Beckendorff’s remark that he was not sufficiently struck by the strangeness of his proposition, and it was only when he heard Vivian professing his ignorance of the game that it occurred to him that to play at whist was hardly the object for which he had travelled from Turriparva.
“An Englishman not know whist!” said Mr. Beckendorff:
“Ridiculous! You do know it. Let us play! Mr. von Philipson, I know, has no objection.”
“But, my good sir,” said the Prince, “although previous to conversation I may have no objection to join in a little amusement, still it appears to me that it has escaped your memory that whist is a game which requires the co-operation of four persons.”
“Not at all! I take dummy! I am not sure it is not the finest way of playing the game.”
The table was arranged, the lights brought, the cards produced, and the Prince of Little Lilliput, greatly to his surprise, found himself playing whist with Mr. Beckendorff. Nothing could be more dull. The Minister would neither bet nor stake, and the immense interest which he took in every card that was played ludicrously contrasted with the rather sullen looks of the Prince and the very sleepy ones of Vivian. Whenever Mr. Beckendorff played for dummy he always looked with the most searching eye into the next adversary’s face, as if he would read his cards in his features. The first rubber lasted an hour and a half, three long games, which Mr. Beckendorff, to his triumph, hardly won. In the first game of the second rubber Vivian blundered; in the second he revoked; and in the third, having neglected to play, and being loudly called upon, and rated both by his partner and Mr. Beckendorff, he was found to be asleep. Beckendorff threw down his hand with a loud dash, which roused Vivian from his slumber. He apologised for his drowsiness; but said that he was so sleepy that he must retire. The Prince, who longed to be with Beckendorff alone, winked approbation of his intention.
“Well!” said Beckendorff, “you spoiled the rubber. I shall ring for Clara. Why you all are so fond of going to bed I cannot understand. I have not been to bed these thirty years.”
Vivian made his escape; and Beckendorff, pitying his degeneracy, proposed to the Prince, in a tone which seemed to anticipate that the offer would meet with instantaneous acceptation, double dummy. This, however, was too much.
“No more cards, sir, I thank you,” said the Prince; “if, however, you have a mind for an hour’s conversation, I am quite at your service.”
“I am obliged to you; I never talk. Good night, Mr. von Philipson.”
Mr. Beckendorff left the room. His Highness could contain himself no longer. He rang the bell.
“Pray, Mrs. Clara,” said he, “where are my horses?”
“Mr. Beckendorff will have no quadrupeds within a mile of the house, except Owlface.”
“How do you mean? Let me see the man-servant.”
“The household consists only of myself, sir.”
“Why! where is my luggage, then?”
“That has been brought up, sir; it is in your room.”
“I tell you I must have my horses.”
“It is quite impossible to-night, sir. I think, sir, you had better retire. Mr. Beckendorff may not be home again these six hours.”
“What! is your master gone out?”
“Yes, sir, he is just gone out to take his ride.”
“Why! where is his horse kept, then?”
“It is Owlface, sir.”
“Owlface, indeed! What! is your master in the habit of riding out at night?”
“Mr. Beckendorff rides out, sir, just when it happens to suit him.”
“It is very odd I cannot ride out when it happens to suit me! However, I will be off to-morrow; and so, if you please, show me my bed-room at once.”
“Your room is the library, sir.”
“The library! Why, there is no bed in the library.”
“We have no beds, sir; but the sofa is made up.”
“No beds! Well! it is only for one night. You are all mad, and I am as mad as you for coming here.”
CHAPTER VII
The morning sun peeping through the window of the little summer-house roused its inmate at an early hour; and finding no signs of Mr. Beckendorff and his guest having yet risen from their slumbers, Vivian took the opportunity of strolling about the gardens and the grounds. Directing his way along the margin of the river, he soon left the lawn and entered some beautiful meadows, whose dewy verdure glistened in the brightening beams of the early sun. Crossing these, and passing through a gate, he found himself in a rural road, whose lofty hedge-rows, rich with all the varieties of wild fruit and flower, and animated with the cheering presence of the busy birds chirping from every bough and spray, altogether presented a scene which reminded him of the soft beauties of his own country. With some men, to remember is to be sad; and unfortunately for Vivian Grey, there were few objects which with him did not give rise to associations of a painful nature. The strange occurrences of the last few days had recalled, if not revived, the feelings of his boyhood. His early career flitted across his mind. He would have stifled the remembrance with a sigh, but man Is the slave of Memory. For a moment he mused over Power; but then he, shuddering, shrank from the wearing anxiety, the consuming care, the eternal vigilance, the constant contrivance, the agonising suspense, the distracting vicissitudes of his past career. Alas! it is our nature to sicken, from our birth, after some object of unattainable felicity, to struggle through the freshest years of our life in an insane pursuit after some indefinite good, which does not even exist! But sure and quick is the dark hour which cools our doting frenzy in the frigid waves of the ocean of oblivion! We dream of immortality until we die. Ambition! at thy proud and fatal altar we whisper the secrets of our mighty thoughts, and breathe the aspirations of our inexpressible desires. A clouded flame licks up the offering of our ruined souls, and the sacrifice vanishes in the sable smoke of Death.
But where are his thoughts wandering? Had he forgotten that day of darkest despair? There had that happened to him which had happened to no other man. He was roused from his reverie by the sound of a trotting horse. He looked up, but the winding road prevented him at first from seeing the steed which evidently was approaching. The sound came nearer and nearer; and at length, turning a corner, Mr. Beckendorff came in sight. He was mounted on a strong-built, rough, and ugly pony, with an obstinate mane, which, defying the exertion’s of the groom, fell in equal divisions on both sides of its bottle neck, and a large white face, which, combined with its blinking vision, had earned for it the euphonious title of Owlface. Both master and steed must have travelled hard and far, for both were covered with dust and mud from top to toe, from mane to hoof. Mr. Beckendorff seemed surprised at meeting Vivian, and pulled up his pony as he reached him.
“An early riser, I see, sir. Where is Mr. von Philipson?”
“I have not yet seen him, and imagined that both he and yourself had not yet risen.”
“Hum! how many hours is it to noon?” asked Mr. Beckendorff, who always spoke astronomically.
“More than four, I imagine.”
“Pray do you prefer the country about here to Turriparva?”
“Both, I think, are beautiful.”
“You live at Turriparva?” asked Mr. Beckendorff.
“As a guest,” answered Vivian.
“Has it been a fine summer at Turriparva?”
“I believe everywhere.”
“I am afraid Mr. von Philipson finds it rather dull here?”
“I am not aware of it.”
“He seems a ve-ry—?” said Beckendorff, looking keenly in his companion’s face. But Vivian did not supply the desired phrase; and so the Minister was forced to finish the sentence himself, “a very gentlemanlike sort of man?” A low bow was the only response.
“I trust, sir, I may indulge the hope,” continued Mr. Beckendorff, “that you will honour me with your company another day.”
“You are exceedingly obliging!”
“Mr. von Philipson is fond, I think, of a country life?” said Beckendorff.
“Most men are.”
“I suppose he has no innate objection to live occasionally in a city?”
“Few have.”
“You probably have known him long?”
“Not long enough to wish our acquaintance at an end.”
“Hum!”
They proceeded in silence for some moments, and then Beckendorff again turned round, and this time with a direct question.
“I wonder if Mr. Von Philipson can make it convenient to honour me with his company another day. Can you tell me?”
“I think the best person to inform you of that would be his Highness himself,” said Vivian, using his friend’s title purposely to show Mr. Beckendorff how ridiculous he considered his present use of the incognito.
“You think so, sir, do you?” answered Beckendorff, sarcastically.
They had now arrived at the gate by which Vivian had reached the road.
“Your course, sir,” said Mr. Beckendorff, “lies that way. I see, like myself, you are no great talker. We shall meet at breakfast.” So saying, the Minister set spurs to his pony, and was soon out of sight.
When Vivian reached the house, he found the bow window of the library thrown open, and as he approached he saw Mr. Beckendorff enter the room and bow to the prince. His Highness had passed a good night in spite of not sleeping in a bed, and he was at this moment commencing a delicious breakfast. His ill-humour had consequently vanished. He had made up his mind that Beckendorff was mad; and although he had given up all the secret and flattering hopes which he had dared to entertain when the interview was first arranged, he nevertheless did not regret his visit, which on the whole had been amusing, and had made him acquainted with the person and habits, and, as he believed, the intellectual powers of a man with whom, most probably, he should soon be engaged in open hostility. Vivian took his seat at the breakfast, table, and Beckendorff stood conversing with them with his back to the fireplace, and occasionally, during the pauses of conversation, pulling the strings of his violin with his fingers. It did not escape Vivian’s observation that the Minister was particularly courteous and even attentive to the Prince; and that he endeavoured by his quick and more communicative answers, and occasionally by a stray observation, to encourage the good humour visible on the cheerful countenance of his guest.
“Have you been long up, Mr. Beckendorff?” asked the Prince; for his host had resumed his dressing-gown and slippers.
“I generally see the sun rise.”
“And yet you retire late! out riding last night, I understand?”
“I never go to bed.”
“Indeed!” said the Prince. “Well, for my part, without my regular rest I am nothing. Have you breakfasted, Mr. Beckendorff?”
“Clara will bring my breakfast immediately.”
The dame accordingly soon appeared, bearing a tray with a basin of boiling water and one large thick biscuit. This Mr. Beckendorff, having well soaked in the hot fluid, eagerly devoured; and then taking up his violin, amused himself until his guests had finished their breakfast.
When Vivian had ended his meal he left the Prince and Beckendorff alone, determined that his presence should not be the occasion of the Minister any longer retarding the commencement of business. The Prince, who by a private glance had been prepared for his departure, immediately took the opportunity of asking Mr. Beckendorff, in a decisive tone, whether he might flatter himself that he could command his present attention to a subject of importance. Mr. Beckendorff said that he was always at Mr. von Philipson’s service; and drawing a chair opposite him, the Prince and Mr. Beckendorff now sat on each side of the fireplace.
“Hem!” said the Prince, clearing his throat; and he looked at Mr. Beckendorff, who sat with his heels close together, his toes out square, his hands resting on his knees, which, as well as his elbows, were turned out, his shoulders bent, his head reclined, and his eyes glancing.
“Hem!” said the Prince of Little Lilliput. “In compliance, Mr. Beckendorff, with your wish, developed in the communication received by me on the—inst., I assented in my answer to the arrangement then proposed; the object of which was, to use your own words, to facilitate the occurrence of an oral interchange of the sentiments of various parties interested in certain proceedings, by which interchange it was anticipated that the mutual interests might be respectively considered and finally arranged. Prior, Mr. Beckendorff, to either of us going into any detail upon those points of probable discussion, which will, in all likelihood, form the fundamental features of this interview, I wish to recall your attention to the paper which I had the honour of presenting to his Royal Highness, and which is alluded to in your communication of the—last. The principal heads of that document I have brought with me, abridged in this paper.”
Here the Prince handed to Mr. Beckendorff a MS. pamphlet, consisting of several sheets closely written. The Minister bowed very graciously as he took it from his Highness’ hand, and then, without even looking at it, laid it on the table.
“You, sir, I perceive,” continued the Prince, “are acquainted with its contents; and it will therefore be unnecessary for me at present to expatiate upon their individual expediency, or to argue for their particular adoption. And, sir, when we observe the progress of the human mind, when we take into consideration the quick march of intellect, and the wide expansion of enlightened views and liberal principles; when we take a bird’s-eye view of the history of man from the earliest ages to the present moment, I feel that it would be folly in me to conceive for an instant that the measures developed and recommended in that paper will not finally receive the approbation of his Royal Highness. As to the exact origin of slavery, Mr. Beckendorff, I confess that I am not, at this moment, prepared distinctly to speak. That the Divine Author of our religion was its decided enemy, I am informed, is clear. That the slavery of ancient times was the origin of the feudal service of a more modern period, is a point on which men of learning have not precisely made up their minds. With regard to the exact state of the ancient German people, Tacitus affords us a great deal of most interesting information. Whether or not, certain passages which I have brought with me marked in the Germania are incontestable evidences that our ancestors enjoyed or understood the practice of a wise and well-regulated representative system, is a point on which I shall be happy to receive the opinion of so distinguished a statesman as Mr. Beckendorff. In stepping forward, as I have felt it my duty to do, as the advocate of popular rights and national privileges, I am desirous to prove that I have not become the votary of innovation and the professor of revolutionary doctrines. The passages of the Roman author in question, and an ancient charter of the Emperor Charlemagne, are, I consider, decisive and sufficient precedents for the measures which I have thought proper to sanction by my approval, and to support by my influence. A minister, Mr. Beckendorff, must take care that in the great race of politics the minds of his countrymen do not leave his own behind them. We must never forget the powers and capabilities of man. On this very spot, perhaps, some centuries ago, savages clothed in skins were committing cannibalism in a forest. We must not forget, I repeat, that it is the business to those to whom Providence has allotted the responsible possession of power and influence (that it is their duty, our duty, Mr. Beckendorff), to become guardians of our weaker fellow-creatures; that all power is a trust; that we are accountable for its exercise; that from the people, and for the people, all springs, and all must exist; and that, unless we conduct ourselves with the requisite wisdom, prudence, and propriety, the whole system of society will be disorganised; and this country, in particular, will fall a victim to that system of corruption and misgovernment which has already occasioned the destruction of the great kingdoms mentioned in the Bible, and many other states besides, Greece, Rome, Carthage, &c.”
Thus ended the peroration of an harangue consisting of an incoherent arrangement of imperfectly-remembered facts and misunderstood principles; all gleaned by his Highness from the enlightening articles of the Reisenburg journals. Like Brutus, the Prince of Little Lilliput paused for a reply.
“Mr. von Philipson,” said his companion, when his Highness had finished, “you speak like a man of sense.” Having given this answer, Mr. Beckendorff rose from his seat and walked straight out of the room.
The Prince at first took the answer for a compliment; but Mr. Beckendorff not returning, he began to have a faint idea that he was neglected. In this uncertainty he rang the bell for his friend Clara.
“Mrs. Clara! where is your master?”
“Just gone out, sir.”
“How do you mean?”
“He has gone out with his gun, sir.”
“You are quite sure he has—gone out?”
“Quite sure, sir. I took him his coat and boots myself.”
“I am to understand, then, that your master has gone out?”
“Yes, sir; Mr. Beckendorff has gone out. He will be home for his noon meal.”
“That is enough! Grey!’ called out the indignant Prince, darting into the garden.
“Well, my dear Prince,” said Vivian, “what can possibly be the matter?”
“The matter! Insanity can be the only excuse; insanity can alone account for his preposterous conduct. We have seen enough of him. The repetition of absurdity is only wearisome. Pray assist me in getting our horses immediately.”
“Certainly, if you wish it; but remember you brought me here as your friend and counsellor. As I have accepted the trust, I cannot help being sensible of the responsibility. Before, therefore, you finally resolve upon departure, pray let me be fully acquainted with the circumstances which have impelled you to this sudden resolution.”
“Willingly, my good friend, could I only command my temper; and yet to fall into a passion with a madman is almost a mark of madness. But his manner and his conduct are so provoking and so puzzling, that I cannot altogether repress my irritability. And that ridiculous incognito! Why I sometimes begin to think that I really am Mr. von Philipson! An incognito forsooth! for what? to deceive whom? His household apparently only consists of two persons, one of whom has visited me in my own castle; and the other is a cross old hag, who would not be able to comprehend my rank if she were aware of it. But to the point! When you left the room I was determined to be trifled with no longer, and I asked him, in a firm voice and very marked manner, whether I might command his immediate attention to important business. He professed to be at my service. I opened the affair by taking a cursory, yet definite, review of the principles in which my political conduct had originated, and on which it was founded. I flattered myself that I had produced an impression. Sometimes we are in a better cue for these expositions than at others, and to-day I was really unusually felicitous. My memory never deserted. I was at the same time luminous and profound; and while I was guided by the philosophical spirit of the present day, I showed, by my various reading, that I respected the experience of antiquity. In short, I was satisfied with myself; and with the exception of one single point about the origin of slavery, which unfortunately got entangled with the feudal system, I could not have got on better had Sievers himself been at my side. Nor did I spare Mr. Beckendorff; but, on the contrary, I said a few things which, had he been in his senses, must, I imagine, have gone home. Do you know I finished by drawing his own character, and showing the inevitable effects of his ruinous policy: and what do you think he did?”
“Left you in a passion?”
“Not at all. He seemed much struck by what I had said, and apparently understood it. I have heard that in some species of insanity the patient is perfectly able to comprehend everything addressed to him, though at that point his sanity ceases, and he is unable to answer or to act. This must be Beckendorff’s case; for no sooner had I finished than he rose up immediately, and, saying that I spoke like a man of sense, abruptly quitted the room. The housekeeper says he will not be at home again till that infernal ceremony takes place called the noon meal. Now, do you not advise me to be off as soon as possible?”
“It will require some deliberation. Pray did you not speak to him last night?”
“Ah! I forgot that I had not been able to speak to you since then. Well! last night, what do you think he did? When you were gone, he had the insolence to congratulate me on the opportunity then afforded of playing double dummy; and when I declined his proposition, but said that if he wished to have an hour’s conversation I was at his service, he coolly told me that he never talked, and bade me good night! Did you ever know such a madman? He never goes to bed. I only had a sofa. How the deuce did you sleep?”
“Well and safely, considering that I was in a summer-house without lock or bolt.”
“Well! I need not ask you now as to your opinion of our immediately getting off. We shall have, however, some trouble about our horses, for he will not allow a quadruped near the house, except some monster of an animal that he rides himself; and, by St. Hubert! I cannot find out where our steeds are. What shall we do?” But Vivian did not answer. “What are you thinking of?” continued his Highness. “Why don’t you answer?”
“Your Highness must not go,” said Vivian, shaking his head.
“Not go! Why so?”
“Depend upon it you are wrong about Beckendorff. That he is a humorist there is no doubt; but it appears to me to be equally clear that his queer habits and singular mode of life are not of late adoption. What he is now he must have been these ten, perhaps these twenty years, perhaps more; of this there are a thousand proofs about us. As to the overpowering cause which has made him the character he appears at present, it is needless for us to inquire; probably some incident in his private life in all likelihood connected with the mysterious picture. Let us be satisfied with the effect. If the case be as I state it in his private life and habits, Beckendorff must have been equally incomprehensible and equally singular at the very time that, in his public capacity, he was producing such brilliant results as at the present moment. Now then, can we believe him to be insane? I anticipate your objections. I know you will enlarge upon the evident absurdity of his inviting his political opponent to his house for a grave consultation on the most important affairs, and then treating him as he has done you, when it must be clear to him that you cannot be again duped, and when he must feel that, were he to amuse you for as many weeks as he has days, your plans and your position would not be injuriously affected. Be it so; probably a humorist like Beckendorff cannot, even in the most critical moment, altogether restrain the bent of his capricious inclinations. However, my dear Prince, I will lay no stress upon this point. My opinion, indeed my conviction, is that Beckendorff acts from design. I have considered his conduct well, and I have observed all that you have seen, and more than you have seen, and keenly; depend upon it that since you assented to the interview Beckendorff has been obliged to shift his intended position for negotiation; some of the machinery has gone wrong. Fearful, if he had postponed your visit, you should imagine that he was only again amusing you, and consequently would listen to no future overtures, he has allowed you to attend a conference for which he is not prepared. That he is making desperate exertions to bring the business to a point is my firm opinion; and you would perhaps agree with me were you as convinced as I am that, since we parted last night, our host has been to Reisenburg and back again.”
“To Reisenburg and back again!”
“Ay! I rose this morning at an early hour, and imagining that both you and Beckendorff had not yet made your appearance, I escaped from the grounds, intending to explore part of the surrounding country. In my stroll I came to a narrow winding road, which I am convinced lies in the direction towards Reisenburg; there, for some reason or other, I loitered more than an hour, and very probably should have been too late for breakfast had not I been recalled to myself by the approach of a horseman. It was Beckendorff, covered with dust and mud; his horse had been evidently hard ridden. I did not think much of it at the time, because I supposed he might have been out for three or four hours and hard worked, but I nevertheless was struck by his appearance; and when you mentioned that he went out riding at a late hour last night, it immediately occurred to me that had he come home at one or two o’clock it was not very probable that he would have gone out again at four or five. I have no doubt that my conjecture is correct; Beckendorff has been to Reisenburg.”
