Botho threw himself back in the cab and buried his face in his hands, while an endlessly sweet, sad feeling swept over him. But the sadness outweighed the sweetness and he could not shake it off until he had left the town behind and saw the Mueggelberg on the distant horizon in the blue midday haze. Finally they drew up before the new Jacob's graveyard. "Shall I wait?" said the driver. "Yes. But not here. Down by the Rollkrug. And if you see those musicians again ... here, this is for the poor woman." CHAPTER XXII Botho entrusted himself to the guidance of an old man who was busy near the entrance gate and found Frau Nimptsch's grave well cared for: ivy vines had been planted, a pot of geraniums stood between them and a wreath of immortelles was already hanging on a little iron stand. "Ah, Lena," said Botho to himself. "Always the same.... I have come too late." And then he turned to the old man who was standing near and asked: "Was it a very small funeral?" "Yes, it was very small indeed." "Three or four?" "Exactly four. And of course our old superintendent. He only made a prayer and the big middle-aged woman, about forty or so, who was here, cried all the time. And a young woman was here too. She comes once a week and last Sunday she brought the geranium. And she means to get a stone too, the kind that are fashionable now: a green polished one with the name and date on it." And herewith the old man drew back with the politeness common to all who are employed about a cemetery, while Botho hung his wreath of immortelles together with Lena's, but the wreath of evergreens and white roses he laid around the pot of geraniums. And then he walked back to the entrance of the cemetery, after looking a little longer at the modest grave and thinking lovingly of good old Fran Nimptsch. The old man, who had meanwhile returned to the care of his vines, took off his cap and looked after him, and puzzled over the question, what could have brought such a fine gentleman (for after that last handshake of his, he had had no doubts as to the quality of the visitor) to the grave of an old woman. "There must be some reason for it. And he did not have the cab wait." However he could come to no conclusion, and at least to show his gratitude as best he could, he took a watering pot and filled it and then went to Frau Nimptsch's grave and watered the ivy, which had grown rather dry in the hot sun. Meanwhile Botho had gone back to the cab, which was waiting by the Rollkrug, got in and an hour later had once more reached the Landgrafenstrasse. The driver jumped down civilly and opened the door. "Here," said Botho "... and this is extra. It was half an excursion ..." "One might as well call it a whole one." "I see," laughed Rienaecker. "Then I must give you a bit more?" "It wouldn't do any harm ... Thank you, Herr Baron." "But now feed your horse a little better, for my sake. He is a pitiful sight."