"Has my son returned?" asked the General of the servant. "The Lieutenant has just returned from parade, and has gone to his room to dress." The General commissioned the ladies to inform Ottomar of his wishes with regard to the visit and the invitation, and to tell him that there was a letter for him on his writing-table; he had to attend a board, and was already a few minutes late: he begged them not to disturb themselves on his account. The General rose, made a stately bow to the ladies, and left the room. He had, contrary to his custom, eaten scarcely anything, and appeared absent and gloomy. This had not escaped Elsa; but she did not venture to ask any questions, any more than she ventured now to ask her aunt what she was thinking of, as she silently and with unwonted energy picked the last remnant of meat from an unlucky wing of chicken. She knew too well that it was not "the difficult chapter" in the "Court Etiquette." Fortunately Ottomar soon appeared; but neither did he bring cheerfulness: the Major had again been unbearable--the same evolution over and over again; he had blown up the officers after the parade as if they had been school-boys; it was unbearable, he was sick of the whole business; he had rather throw it all up at once. Elsa thought the opportunity a bad one for troubling her brother, while he was so put out, with the commission which lay so near her heart, and was glad that her aunt did not start the subject, as she had feared. But the letter which was awaiting him on his father's table could not be delayed. "Why was not the letter brought to my room?" said Ottomar to the servant, raising his eyebrows. "I know nothing about it, sir," answered August. Ottomar had already laid aside his napkin, and was rising, but now said: "I dare say it is not very important; will you hand me that dish, Elsa? I am as hungry as a wolf." All the same he hardly touched the food, but poured out successively several glasses of wine, which he drank down quickly. "I am too thirsty to eat," he said; "perhaps I shall have a better appetite an hour hence. Shall we leave the table?" He pushed back his chair, and went to the door leading to his father's study, but stopped a moment on the way and passed his hand over his forehead and eyes. "That confounded parade," he said; "it would make the strongest man nervous." He was gone; his behaviour had struck Elsa painfully. She could not believe that the parade was the sole cause of his bad spirits: he had borne the same wearisome duties easily enough before. But for some time past he had seemed changed: his cheerful spirits and good humour had vanished; in the last few days especially she had been struck by his gloomy, disturbed manner. She thought she knew what was the cause, and had determined more than once to speak to him about it. It was wrong not to have done so, and now it was perhaps too late.