Uncle Ernst pointed to the dismissed workmen, who were crossing the court, in larger and smaller parties, towards the lower building, from the door of which Cilli's father had issued before, and were gesticulating wildly and talking together. "Will they be paid off without any disturbance?" asked Reinhold. "The police-station is too near," answered Uncle Ernst, with a bitter smile. "They are still afraid of the police; you need be under no anxiety. And, before I forget it, thank you, my boy." "What for, uncle?" "There was no necessity for it, but I saw that you were ready to stand up for me at need." "Had you doubted it?" "No, in spite of your enthusiasm for Bismarck. And now go to Ferdinanda. You are going to the Exhibition?" "I heard something of it; but, to tell you the truth, I have lost all inclination for it." "Oh, nonsense!" said Uncle Ernst. "Ferdinanda would be inconsolable, and--I do not like to have my business arrangements interfering with the family affairs." Uncle Ernst pressed Reinhold's hand heartily, and walked into the house, passing through the workmen, who drew back timidly on either side. Reinhold left the place with a hesitating step. He would have liked to remain with his uncle, at any rate; and he was more than doubtful that Ferdinanda would be inconsolable if he did not come. CHAPTER VIII. The youth in the shirt-sleeves who had answered Reinhold with such scant courtesy, slammed to the door, and shaking his fist muttered a big oath in his native language between his sharp white teeth. Then he went back into the room and walked with light steps up to a door which divided his studio from the next one. He put his ear against the door and listened for a minute or two. A smile of satisfaction lighted up his dark face, he drew a deep breath as he stood erect, then stealthily as a cat he ran up the winding iron staircase which led to his own room, whence he had come on hearing Reinhold's knock. In a few minutes he came downstairs again, this time without attempting not to make a noise; indeed, rather stepping more heavily than was necessary and whistling a tune. He had coat and waistcoat on now, and instead of the slippers which he had worn before, had varnished boots on his small feet, at which he glanced with much satisfaction as he walked downstairs. Arrived at the bottom, he went immediately up to a large and handsome Venetian looking-glass and examined his whole figure with the greatest care, arranged his blue tie, fastened one of the gold studs more securely into his shirt-front, and passed a comb through his shining raven-black hair. He whistled more and more softly, and finally left off altogether. Then coming away from the looking-glass, he moved rather noisily first one and then another obstacle as they came in his way, till there was nothing between him and the door against which he had just now listened.