The Professor begged the tutor not to disturb himself, and the journey recommenced through the bedroom of the boys, and of the tutor, and again through the store-rooms, the ironing and wardrobe rooms. The Doctor had long since put his memorandum-book in his pocket. They returned to the main hall, where Ilse pointed out the stone slab on the step. Once more the Doctor knelt down, tried it, and said despondingly, "Hollow again." Ilse ascended the staircase. "Up here the girls and I live." "Here, then, our curiosity comes to an end," replied the Professor, considerately; "you see even my friend abandons the search." "But there is a fine view above; this, at least, you must see," said their guide. She opened a door. "This is my room." The friends stood on the threshold. "Come in," said Ilse, unembarrassed. "From this window you see the road by which you came to us." With hesitation the men approached. This also was an unpretentious room; there was not even a sofa in it. The walls were painted blue; at the window was a work-table and some flowers; in a corner was the bed concealed by white curtains. The friends walked immediately to the window, and looking out saw the little churchyard and the tops of the oaks, the small town in the valley, and the rows of trees behind, which ran in curved lines up the height where the view terminated. The Professor fixed his eyes on the old wooden church. How much in a few hours had his tone of mind altered! Glad expectation was followed by the seeming frustration of their hopes, and yet this disappointment was succeeded by a pleasing repose. "That is our road into the outer world," indicated Ilse; "we often look in that direction when father has been on a journey and we are expecting him, or when we hope for some good news by the postman. And when frequently our brother Franz tells how he will go into the world when a man, away from his father and family, he thinks that the roads there will always look like our footpath bordered with its willow-trees." "Is Franz the pet?" asked the Professor. "He is my baby-brother; we lost our good mother while he was still a mere infant. The poor child never knew his mother; and once when he dreamt of her, the other children maintained that he had changed her into me, for she wore my dress and my straw hat. This is the cupboard in the wall," she said, sorrowfully, pointing to a wooden door. The friends followed in silence, without looking at the cupboard. She stopped before the adjoining room, and opened the door: "This was my mother's room, it is unaltered, just as she left it; our father generally spends some time here on Sundays." "We cannot allow you to lead us any further," said the Professor. "I cannot tell you how painful I feel our position in regard to you to be. Forgive us this indelicate intrusion upon your privacy."