He heard his name being called from the path, but he pressed himself the closer into his hiding place. Here at least he was sheltered from mockery. An oppressive sultriness was in the air, sleepy buzzing drones were creeping about on the ground. A thunder storm seemed at hand.
“It’s all the same to me,” thought Paul, “I have nothing to lose and--the winter rye is in.”
It had grown quiet outside--from the distance the clatter of glasses, glass plates, and teaspoons could be heard, and from time to time it was intermingled with a suppressed laugh.
Paul drew in his breath. The longer he remained in his hiding place the more dejected he felt, at last he appeared to himself like a school boy who hides to escape his master’s punishment. The smell of the weeds became more intense and more unbearable, an unpleasant moisture came up from the damp ground, like a pale fog it rose before his eyes Steel blue clouds rolled up in the sky, the thunder began to resound afar.
“That’s what they call pleasure,” thought Paul.
There was a rustling in the branches. Heavy drops came splashing down on the leaves, then Paul crept out of his hiding place like a criminal.
Shouts of laughter--welcomed him from the veranda.
“There comes August” one of the gentlemen called out, softly. He had been in Berlin and had seen the circus there, and the others joined him.
“My honored guests,’ cried Leo, climbing on a chair,” this pattern boy, called Paul Meyerhofer, has in the most inconsiderate manner withdrawn from the verdict of the assembly. As he foresaw, in his feeling of unworthiness, that most of the refusals would be gathered upon his undignified head, he has in most reprehensible cowardice--”
“I don’t know why you speak so badly of me,” said Paul, hurt, for he took everything seriously.
“I make the proposition to confer the nightcap on him as a punishment for his crime, and to form a jury for this purpose.”
“If you please, I’ll take the cap without that,” Paul answered, irritated. By this time he had only to open his mouth to call forth fresh mirth.
Solemnly he was crowned with the nightcap.
“I must look very funny, after all,’ he thought, for they were all dying with laughter. Only his sisters did not laugh, blushing deeply, they looked down in their laps, and Elsbeth looked it him with embarrassment, as if she wanted to ask his pardon.
