"Well, Wolfgang, that will be grand when you come to the office. Your health, my boy." It was almost five o'clock when they got up from table. The ladies sat down in the drawing-room to have a cup of coffee, the gentlemen went to the smoking-room. Wolfgang stole away, he felt such a longing for the Laemkes. First of all he wanted to show them the gold watch, and then he wanted to ask what text Frida had got at her confirmation, and then, then--what would Frau Laemke say to him? _Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come_; that was really a stupid text. And still he could not get it out of his head. He thought of it the whole time whilst sauntering slowly along through the soft silvery air of spring, that is so full of presages. No, the text was not so stupid, after all. He knit his brows thoughtfully, looked up at the motionless tops of the pines and then around him--"Here have we no continuing city"--could not that also mean, here is not your home? But where then--where? A strange gleam came into his dark eyes, a look as if seeking for something. And then his face, which the wine had flushed, grew pale. If it were true what the two had said? Oh, and so many other things occurred to him all at once: there had been that Lisbeth, that horrid woman who had been with them before Cilia came--what was all that Lisbeth had always been babbling about when she was in a bad humour? "You've no right here"--"you're here on sufferance"--and so on, only he could not remember it all now. What a pity! At that time he had been too young and too innocent, but now--now? "Hang that woman!" He clenched his hand. But oh, if he only had her there now. He would not call her names, oh no, he would get it out of her quite gently and coaxingly, for he must, he must know it now. A violent longing, a burning curiosity had suddenly been roused in him, and would not be repressed any longer. There must be some truth in it, or how could they have taunted him like that? And he must know the truth; he had a right to know it now. His figure grew taller. Self-will and defiance engraved deep, firm lines round his mouth. And even if it were ever so terrible, he must know it. But was it terrible? The lines round his lips became softer. "Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come"--very well then, he would seek it. He gave up sauntering and began to stride along more quickly. What would Frau Laemke say? And if he should ask her now--she meant so well by him--if he should ask her in the way a man is asked when he has to swear to anything, if he asked her whether--yes, but what was it he really wanted to ask her? His heart throbbed. Oh, that stupid heart. It often behaved as if it were a wild bird that has been shut up in a small cage.