No sooner had the door slammed, than Donovan rose all at once, with a face of terror, as if he had heard Death sharpening his scythe. A long howl, quite distinct from all others rose from the laboratory. The madman pointed in that direction, and replied to Nell with a long-drawn bestial cry, the horror of which made us all turn pale. We awaited the end of it, as if for a deliverance. Lerne, with his imperious eye, and harsh speech, gave orders, “Vorwärts, Karl, vorwärts,” and without any consideration, he thrust down his pupil, with a blow, on the seat. The carriage moved off. The madman, sitting close to his brother, looked at him wildly, as if he were the victim of some misfortune he could not understand. The dreadful mystery was on me again. It was around me, coming nearer and nearer. This time I had felt the touch of its wings. Far away, the howlings were redoubled, then the elder Macbeth exclaimed, “Nell, where is Nell?” And my uncle replied, “Alas, Nell is dead.” “Poor Nell!” said Mr. Macbeth. Duffer as I was, I knew enough English to translate this school-book dialogue. Lerne’s lie made me indignant. To think of his daring to say that Nell was dead, and that that was not her voice! What a piece of villainy! Ah! why did I not shout out to this phlegmatic couple, “Stop, you are being fooled! There is something strange and terrible here!” Yes, but I did not know what it was, and the Macbeths would have taken me for another madman. Meanwhile, the hired horse trotted along towards the gate, where Barbe stood ready to shut it. Donovan had sat down again, in front of them. The Macbeths, father and son, maintained their stiff dignity, but as the carriage turned at the gate, I saw the father’s back suddenly bend and quiver more than could have been explained by the jolting over the stones. Then the old cracking halves of the gate closed again. I am sure that the brother Macbeth broke into sobs not much later. * * * * * Johann and Wilhelm departed. Were they going to relieve me of their company? I tracked them along the park as far as the laboratory. Nell was continuing her lamentations. They probably wanted to silence her, and, in fact, her howls ceased as soon as the assistants got into the yard. But my fears were groundless. Instead of going up to the _château_ to lock me in, the black-guards, having lighted cigars coolly sat down for an obvious _siesta_. Through an open window of their block, I could see them in their shirt sleeves, smoking like chimneys, and rocking in their rocking-chairs. When I had assured myself of their intentions, without asking myself whether they were acting thus against Lerne’s orders, or with his consent, and a thousand miles from thinking that, as they puffed away at the open window, they were carrying out his instructions point by point, I betook myself to the tool-house. Soon I was digging at the ground round the old shoe. I may now say, “round the _foot_.”