“I intend to accompany you.”

“You intend to accompany me?”

“Yes; perhaps you will need a witness; I must be with you.  I thought you would have counted on me.”

“How could I suppose that Lupinus, the learned student, who will receive his diploma at the end of a few weeks, would tear himself from the arms of his beloved Science, to go with a comedian before the king, and bear witness for the hated and despised actors?”

“Ah, Fredersdorf,” said Lupinus; “if you consider Science my beloved, I fear you will soon have occasion to call me a faithless lover.”

“What can you mean?  How! you also—­”

“Let us be off, my friend.  We will discuss that in the carriage.”

CHAPTER IV.

The friends.

Four days after the unfortunate occurrences in the theatre, Fredersdorf and his friend Lupinus returned from their secret journey, the object of which was unknown even to Eckhof.  No sooner had they alighted from their travelling carriage, than they proceeded arm-in-arm to Eckhof’s lodging.  They found him at home and alone, and Fredersdorf saw from his pale countenance and lustreless eyes that his sensitive, easily excited nature had been deeply wounded by the late events.

“I bring you a new pupil, my master,” said Fredersdorf, drawing Lupinus forward, who stood deeply blushing before Eckhof.

Eckhof smiled sadly.  “A pupil who desires that I should lead him through all the classes and degrees of the school of suffering and humiliation?”

“A young student, Eckhof, who up to this time has been the pride and delight of the university; who, however, now wishes to relinquish this honor, and become one of your followers.  In one word, this is Lupinus, who desires to waive his right to the prospective dignity of the title of doctor of medicine, and to become your pupil, and eventually an actor.”

“You are kind and tender-hearted as ever, Joseph,” said Eckhof, gently.  “You know that I bear a wound in my heart, and you seek to heal it with the balm of your friendship, and this kind jest.”

“This is no jest, but a reality.  Truly, you resemble a pair of lovers, who have not the courage to believe in their own happiness.  Eckhof will not believe that the learned student Lupinus wishes to become his follower and pupil, and Lupinus stands there like a young girl who has received a declaration and does not dare say yes.  Speak, Lupinus, and tell this doubter that you have come voluntarily; that I have not pressed you into the service as Frederick William impressed soldiers.  Truly, I had trouble enough in divining from your broken words and repressed sighs, your blushes, and your deep admiration for Eckhof, this secret which lay in your bosom.  But now that it has been discovered, take courage, my friend, and raise the veil which conceals your desires.”