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.

The French teacher had instantly informed my tutor where and with whom he had met me, and urged him to ascertain whether I had really gone to Komptendorf.  Then he went to Clara’s former residence, questioned the landlady and her servant, and finally interrogated the livery-stable keeper.

The mass of evidence thus gathered proved that I had paid the actress numerous visits, and always at dusk.  My dream seemed fulfilled, but after I had told Dr. Boltze and his wife the whole truth a quiet talk followed.  The former did not give up the cause as lost, though he did not spare reproaches, while his wife’s wrath was directed against the informer rather than the offence committed by her favourite.

After a restless night I went to Professor Tzschirner and told him everything, without palliation or concealment.  He censured my frivolity and lack of consideration for my position in life, but every word, every feature of his expressive face showed that he grieved for what had happened, and would have gladly punished it leniently.  In after years he told me so.  Promising to make every effort to save me from exclusion from the examination in the conference which he was to call at the close of the afternoon session, he dismissed me—­and he kept his word.