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Christophe could have no idea of what his Lieder had been to him. He himself had not felt them nearly so keenly when he had written them. His songs were to him only a few sparks thrown out from his inner fire. He had cast them forth and would cast forth others. But to old Schulz they were a whole world suddenly revealed to him a whole world to be loved. His life had been lit up by them.
When at length, Frau Schulz entered, in her bed-jacket, to say that it was long past ten o'clock, Krafft wakened as if out of a trance, and hid his eyes from the light. Frau Schulz, a robust person, disregarded his protests, and herself locked the piano and took the key. "She makes me promise to," she whispered to Maurice, pointing over her shoulder at an imaginary person.
He had an untuned voice and could never hear himself without disgust. However, intoxicated by his success, Pottpetschmidt began to "put expression" into Christophe's Lieder, that is to say he substituted his own for Christophe's. Naturally he did not think that the music gained by the change, and he grew gloomy. Schulz saw it.
"You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose that she was threatened?" Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand. "Wass I not right to warn her?" "Indeed, you were," Robin asserted with conviction. "She was spirited away and drugged." The German started.
This good natured, rather sleepy little man had never worried much about anything. For all that, the news brought by Schulz excited him; he waved his short arms and his lamp and asked: "What? Is it him? Is he really coming?" "To-morrow morning!" said Schulz, triumphantly waving the telegram. The two old friends went and sat on a seat in the arbor. Schulz took the lamp.
Lisel Liblichlein sat apprehensively in a corner. The reason for this had been: Mr Kohn had accompanied Miss Liblichlein from the acting school to her home several times. When Schulz learned about it, he became, without cause, jealous. He began to say terrible things about Kohn. Lisel Liblichlein, who saw through her cousin, defended the hunchback. This made Schulz even angrier.
Schulz was utterly stunned by the blow. He said, almost weeping, that she must have noticed that he loved her. Moreover, he was her cousin. She said that she didn't like someone opening her blouse. Besides, he had torn off a button. He said that he could no longer stand it. If one loved someone, one must yield to him. He would try to lose himself with other women. She did not know what to answer.
They used to write and thank him when they left the university. Some of them used to go on writing occasionally during the years following. And then old Schulz would hear nothing more of them except in the papers which kept him informed of their advancement, and he would be as glad of their success as though it was his own. He was never hurt by their silence. He found a thousand excuses for it.
Schulz was out of breath, but he called gladly: "Krafft Krafft is coming to-morrow...." Kunz did not understand; but he recognized the voice: "Schulz!... What! At this hour? What is it?" Schulz repeated: "To-morrow, he is coming to-morrow morning!... "What?" asked Kunz, still mystified. "Krafft!" cried Schulz.
Gradually his doubts increased, to the point where he had to believe in his own death and abandon his faith in God. When he started school, there began the fullness of suffering which some children find there. Lunatic asylum: Bryller, Lola. Drowning in the sea: Kohn, Maria. Suicide: Schulz, Paulus. Surviving: Spinoza Spass, Laaks, Mechenmal. I. Appearance in the schoolyard.
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