“I will make amends--amends,” he murmured often to himself; and when his scythe hissed through the corn, he said, keeping time with it, “make amends--make amends.” But how to do so was totally vague to him; he did not even know if Douglas had been seriously hurt by the dog’s bite. Once when he was roving about at twilight on the other side of the wood he saw Michel Raudszus coming from Helenenthal. He carried a spade over his shoulder, on which hung a bundle. Paul looked at him fixedly; he expected to be attacked by him, but the servant only gave him a shy side-glance and a wide berth. “That fellow looks as if he were brooding over some evil,” he thought, looking after him. Douglas had taken the expelled workman into his service, so one of the laborers said, and when his father heard this he laughed, and said, “That’s just like the hypocrite--he will brew something nice for me.” He was firmly convinced that Douglas had given his case into the hands of the law; indeed, he found a certain satisfaction in the thought that he would be judged “unjustly,” of course, and as from one day to the other the summons never came, he explained, scornfully, “The noble lord is fond of respites.” But Douglas seemed willing totally to ignore the ignominy he had suffered; he did not even demand the capital lent on mortgage. Paul’s soul was overflowing with gratitude, and the less he found means to show it the deeper he felt the shame--the more his unrest haunted him. So one night he again stood motionless at the garden fence of Helenenthal. Early autumn mists lay on the ground, and the withering grass quivered lightly. The White House disappeared in the shadows of the night, and only from one of the windows there shone a dull, dark-red light. “There she is, watching near her sick mother,” Paul thought. And as he found no other means to call her he began to whistle. Twice, three times, he stopped to listen. Nobody came, and anxiety rose within him. With groping hand he searched for the gap in the fence which Elsbeth had shown him once, and when he had found it he penetrated to the inner garden. The branches tore his clothes as, in a sort of wilderness, he crept along the ground to find a path. At last he came to an open place. The white gravel threw out a dim light which shone brighter than the little lamp in the sick-room. He seated himself on a bench and looked thither. He thought he saw a shadow moving behind the curtains. Then suddenly all around grew light; the rose-trees were visible in the night; the gravel sparkled, and the gables of the dwelling-house, which had just before stood out in a dark mass, now showed in dark reddish tints, as if the light of dawn had fallen upon it.