"Well--haven't I kept my word?" he asked, laughing, as they walked down Chatham-street towards the Post-office; "am I not a conjuror? Yes, my dear Mr. Werner, take hold of the weak points of the Americans and you may do what you like with them, but, unless you do that, they're as tough as hickory."
"Doctor, I shall never make use of this letter of introduction; for I consider----"
"Pooh, pooh, my good friend!" exclaimed the doctor, laughing; "wait till you've been a year or two in America, and all that will come round; then you'll become what the Americans call 'smart.' Take notice of that word; in those five letters is comprised a whole dictionary."
Werner was going to reply rather bitterly, but suddenly bethinking himself of another course, he bade the other "Good morning," and leaving the doctor, who stepped into a shop near Astor House, turned back, and walked to the right, up Broadway.
There he sought Helldorf, to whom he related the whole proceeding; but Helldorf only laughed, and replied, that it was just what he had expected; that the doctor was a thoroughbred sharper, and, as he feared, was not content with what he had already squeezed out of the society.
"He has other views," he continued, talking half to himself, "otherwise he would have disappeared immediately after the success of his plan--the sale of the land--but we'll observe him, and Heaven have mercy upon him if he gives us a hold upon him."
The next day was fixed for the departure of the society as well as of Werner; but the latter had soon completed what little arrangements he had to make, and determined to seek the Hehrmanns once more, and to pass the last few hours in New York, at all events, with them; he was, however, by no means agreeably surprised to find the doctor already there again, and to hear that the latter had determined to make the journey as far as Cincinnati (where he gave out that he had business) with them. Werner, it is true, soon forgot all lesser cares in the absorbing pain of a parting from his beloved, for it was in vain to try to conceal from himself with what earnestness his heart clung to the Pastor's little daughter; and he only pressed Helldorf's hand in silence, when the latter asked him, in a whisper, if he did not also think "that the air of Tennessee would agree particularly well with him?"