"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love of a gossip was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. Drawing near to the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair forward for herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: "It was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite mad." "What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?" The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, you mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to call it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in the evening he went away as usual--well, and then he did not come back again." "And how--how was he?" The mother could only get the words out in jerks, she could no longer speak connectedly, a sudden terror had overwhelmed her, almost paralysing her tongue. "Did he--seem strange?" As in a vision his livid face and the place in the sand near Schildhorn, where the wind was always blowing, appeared before her many a mother's son, many a mother's son--O God, O God, if he had made away with himself! She trembled as the leaves do in a storm, and broke down altogether. The landlady guessed the mother's thoughts instinctively, and she assured her in a calm good-natured voice: "No, don't imagine that for a moment. He wasn't sad--and not exactly happy either--well, like--like--well, just in the right mood." "And--oh, could you not give me a--a hint of--where--where he might be?" The woman shook her head doubtfully. "Who could know that? You see, ma'am, there are so many temptations. But wait a moment." She shut her eyes tightly and pondered. "Some time ago such a pretty girl used to come here, she used to fetch him to go to the theatre, she said--well, it may have been true. She often came, very often--once a week at least. She was fair, really a pretty girl." "Fair--quite light-coloured hair--a good deal of it and waved over the ears?" "Yes, yes, it was done like that, combed over the ears, a large knot behind you could not help noticing it, it was so fair. And they were on very friendly terms with each other." Fair hair--extremely fair. Ah, she had known it at once when she saw him at Schildhorn with that fair-haired girl. Everything seemed to be clear to her now. "You--do not know, I suppose--oh, do you happen to know her name?" "He called her Frida." "Frida?" "Yes, Frida. I know that for certain. But she does not come here any more now. But perhaps he's got a letter from her. I'll look, just you wait." And the woman bent down, drew out the paper-basket from under the writing-table and began to rummage in it. "He throws everything into the paper-basket, you see," she said in an explanatory tone of voice.