Below, in the street, Ivan Michailovitch said to Christian: “That you kneeled down before her--that was it, and that alone! The gift--there was something fateful in it to me and something bitter! But that you kneeled down beside her--ah, that was it!” And with a sudden gesture he lifted himself on his toes, and took Christian’s head between his hands, and kissed him with a kiss that was a breath upon the forehead. Then he murmured a word of farewell, and hurried down the street without looking at the waiting car. Christian ordered the chauffeur to drive out to Christian’s Rest. Two hours later he was there, in deep quietude, the quietude that he needed. He telephoned his family that unforeseen events had prevented him from staying to the end of the evening’s festivities, but that he would be present at the ceremony of Judith’s marriage without fail. Then he retired to the farthest room of his house, and held vigil all night. XXII Letitia married six weeks after Judith. At Stephen Gunderam’s desire, however, the wedding was a quiet one. There was a simple meal in a hotel at Heidelberg, and those present were Frau von Febronius, the countess, their two nephews Ottomar and Reinhold, and an Argentinian friend of Stephen’s--a raw-boned giant who had been sent to Germany for a year to acquire polish. Ottomar recited an original poem in praise of his pretty cousin, and Reinhold had composed an address in the style of Luther’s table-talk. Stephen Gunderam showed small appreciation of the literary culture of his new kinsman. Frau von Febronius was silent even at the moment of farewell. The countess wept very copiously. She provided Letitia with all manner of rules and admonitions, but the most difficult of all she had delayed, out of sheer cowardice to the very last. She drew Letitia into her own room and, blushing and paling by turns, attempted to give the girl some notion of the physiology of marriage. But her courage failed her even now, and whenever she approached the real crux of her subject, she began to stammer and grow confused. It amused Letitia immensely. Stephen Gunderam wanted to depart in haste, like some one anxious to secure his booty. Frau von Febronius said to her sister: “I have evil presentiments in regard to this marriage, even though the child seems quite happy. It is only her own nature that protects her against unhappiness. It is her only dowry, but a wonderful one.” Then the countess folded her hands, and shed tears, and said: “If I have sinned, I pray God to forgive me.”