Again Fate interfered with the course of this story; for on my way to school that sunny Saturday morning I met Clara’s mother, and at sight of her the wish merged into a resolve.  I followed her into the shop she entered and explained my plan.  She thought it would be delightful, and promised to wait for me at a certain place outside of the city.

The plan was carried out.  I found them at the appointed spot, my darling as fresh as a rose.  If love and joy had any substantial weight, the horses would have found it a hard matter to drag the vehicle swiftly on.

But at the first toll-house, while the toll-keeper was changing some money, I experienced the envy of the gods which hitherto I had known only in Schiller’s ballad.  A pedestrian passed—­the teacher whom I had offended by playing all sorts of pranks during his French lesson.  Not one of the others disliked me.

He spoke to me, but I pretended not to understand, hastily took the change from the toll-keeper, and, raising my hat, shouted, “Drive on!”

This highly virtuous gentleman scorned the young actress, and as, on account of my companions, he had not returned my greeting, Clara flashed into comical wrath, which stifled in its germ my thought of leaving the carriage and going on foot to Komptendorf, where Dr. Boltze believed me to be.

Clara rewarded my courageous persistence by special gaiety, and when we had reached Guben, taken supper with some other members of the company, and spent the evening in merriment, danger and all the ills which the future might bring were forgotten.

The next morning I breakfasted with Clara and her mother, and in bidding them good-bye added “Till we meet again,” for the way to Berlin was through Guben, where the railroad began.

The carriage which had brought us there took me back to Kottbus.  Several members of the company entered it and went part of the way, returning on foot.  When they left me twilight was gathering, but the happiness I had just enjoyed shone radiantly around me, and I lived over for the second time all the delights I had experienced.

But the nearer I approached Kottbus the more frequently arose the fear that the French teacher might make our meeting the cause of an accusation.  He had already complained of me for very trivial delinquencies and would hardly let this pass.  And yet he might.

Was it a crime to drive with a young girl of stainless reputation under her mother’s oversight?  No.  I had done nothing wrong, except to say that I was going to Komptendorf—­and that offence concerned only Dr. Boltze, to whom I had made the false statement.

At last I fell asleep, until the wheels rattled on the pavement of the city streets.  Was my dream concerning the swan to be fulfilled?

I entered the house early.  Dr. Boltze was waiting for me, and his wife’s troubled face betrayed what had happened even more plainly than her husband’s frown.