But how did Herr Carovius feel? His spittle had a bitter taste, his body pained him. When Andreas Döderlein turned to the audience and bowed, Carovius laughed a laugh of tremendous contempt. And Jason Philip Schimmelweis? He would have felt much more comfortable if the hand-clapping had been so much ear-boxing, and Daniel Nothafft, the culprit, had been the objective. The boy who had been cast out had become the leader of men! Jason Philip put his hand to his forehead, shook his head, and was on the point of exclaiming, “Oh, ye deceivers and deceived! Listen, listen! I know the boy; I know the man who has made fools of you here this evening!” He waited to see whether the misunderstanding, the colossal swindle, would not be cleared up automatically. He did not wait in vain. At the close of the “Serenade,” Jordan was struck by Gertrude’s feverish paleness. He asked her whether she felt ill, but received no reply. During the performance of the second piece she kept putting her hands to her bosom, as if she were suffering from repressed convulsions. Her eyes were now lifeless, now glowing with an uncanny fire. As soon as the piece was finished, she turned to her father and asked him to take her home. Jordan was frightened. Those sitting next to him looked at the girl’s pale face, sympathised with her, and made conventional remarks. Eleanore wanted to go home too, but Gertrude whispered to her in her imperious way and told her to stay. Familiar as she was with Gertrude’s disposition, she thought that it was simply a passing attack of some kind, and regained her composure. Daniel was standing at the door, talking to Benda and Wurzelmann. He was very much excited; his two companions were trying to appease his embitterment against Andreas Döderlein. “Ah, the man doesn’t know a thing about his profession,” he exclaimed, and scorned all attempts to effect a reconciliation between him and the leader of the orchestra. “What is left of my compositions is debris only. He drags the time, never even tries to make a _legatura_, scorns a _piano_ every time he comes to one, pays no attention to _crescendos_, never retards—it is terrible! My works cannot be played in public like that!” Gertrude and her father passed by quickly and without greeting. Daniel was stupefied. The lifeless expression in Gertrude’s face unnerved him. He felt as if he had been struck by a hammer, as if his own fate were inseparably connected with that of the girl. Her step, her eyes, her mouth were, he felt, a part of his own being. And the fact that she passed by without even speaking to him, cold, reserved, hostile, filled him with such intense anger that from then on he was not accountable for what he did.