"And ought I to leave her there?" exclaimed Gotthold. "Woe betide me for having done so until now, for not having risked everything to take her away with me, her and her child, for it was only the child that detained her, and he would have sold the child too if I had had head and heart enough to offer him the right price. Now I can offer nothing except a mortal struggle; but I am sure, and he knows very well, that I shall not be conquered this time. Forgive me, my dear friend, for using so many words where acts would beseem me better, and--farewell." Ottilie burst into tears. "And you," she exclaimed, "my dear, dear friend. Ah! yes, you must go, you must risk all if you love Cecilia, and that you did love her--I knew long ago, and my good Emil knew it, and--and--Emil would not act otherwise in your place, believe me, whatever he may have said before, and may say after! He knows what passionate love is, nay, he would make no objections if he were eight and twenty, and in your place! But I can't help it if I am not as beautiful and intellectual as your dear dead mother was; and besides, I was not even in existence thirty years ago, and there are much more unhappy married couples than we, and, and--may you and your Cecilia be as happy!" She embraced and kissed Gotthold very warmly, and then stood at the open window letting the rain drip upon her tear-stained face as she waved her handkerchief while his carriage jolted over the rough pavement. In spite of all the delays, it was still nearly an hour before sunset when Gotthold left Prora, and the horses stepped out bravely; he must surely reach Dollan before dark. He repeated this to himself several times in the course of the next hour, and then reflected why he constantly recurred to this calculation over and over again, and what difference it made whether he reached Dollan before or after dark. He could find no answer, and even as he sought for one, said to himself once more: "Thank God, I shall get there before dark!" Were his thoughts beginning to get confused? That would be bad; his head would probably have much to bear to-day, then his anxious eyes wandered to the heavy clouds, wet stubble, and black fields, and he murmured: "It will grow dark earlier than I expected," and as if the obstinacy of the idea required a corresponding idea, even if it were a mild one, he added: "I shall not find her." And now he could not shake off the new idea: he would not find her. As if she would hide herself from him, and he would be obliged to seek her in vain because it was too dark.