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And he nodded down at her who stood beside him, apparently unconcerned except for her wifely joy. A few friendly words were exchanged. Further speech was really superfluous, since the man's unassailable innocence demanded no caution. But Stueckrath was too much pleased with him to let him feel his insignificance by an immediate departure.
If one of his acquaintances happened to be accompanied by a lady, he bowed deeply and respectfully, but without giving the ladies in question a single glance. People looked after him and mentioned his name: Baron von Stueckrath. Ah, that fellow ... And they looked around once more.
Dreaming, estranged, Stueckrath made his way through the crowd, and hurriedly sought a lonely footpath that disappeared in the darkness of the foliage. Again for a moment the thought seared him: "Take her and rebuild the structure of your life." But when he sought to hold the thought and the accompanying emotion, it was gone.
Like the strains of a beautifully perishing harmony the sound of the world's distant strife floated into this solitude. Attentively Stueckrath observed the little point of glowing fire in his hand, from which eddied upward a wreath of fragrant smoke. "Thank God," he said, "that at least remains one's cigarette." Then he arose and wandered thoughtfully onward.
Stueckrath realized that toward so simple a nature craft would have been out of place, and simply declared that he had desired to renew an acquaintance which he had always remembered with much pleasure. "I don't want to speak of myself, Baron," the man replied, "but you probably scarcely realise what pleasure you are giving my wife."
The busy servant of the state and father of a family was scarcely to be found in those circles were the daily work consists in riding and betting and gambling. Stueckrath sat down on a bench and gazed after the group. The little red frocks gleamed through the bushes, and Papa's admonishing and restraining voice was to be heard above the noise of the boy who made a trumpet of his hollow hand.
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