row lighter under Pilgrim's influence. They waited till the rain
was over, and then set out together for the hotel; but did not enter at
the same time, as Pilgrim was unwilling to be seen by Petrovitsch in
Lenz's company. A wagon stood before the door, and a young man was
taking leave of the landlord, who accompanied him a few steps, and
offered him his two fingers, pushing his little cap on the back of his
head as he did so. After a parting salutation to the landlady and her
daughter, the stranger ordered the coachman to drive on, and wait for
him at the doctor's.

He raised his cap in greeting to the two friends as he passed them.

"Do you know him?" asked Pilgrim.

"No."

"Nor I either," said Pilgrim. "That is odd! Who is the stranger?" he
asked of the landlord.

"The brother of my son-in-law."

"Oho!" whispered Pilgrim in Lenz's ear; "now I remember; some one told
me he was a suitor of Annele's."

He did not see the change these words wrought in his friend's
countenance; for Lenz turned hastily away and ran up the steps before
him.

CHAPTER X.

LENZ DINES WITH PETROVITSCH, AND IS KEPT WAITING
FOR THE SWEETS.

Petrovitsch had not yet come. As Lenz sat at his table waiting for him,
Pilgrim and he fell into conversation with the hosts. Annele was
strangely reserved to-day. She would not even shake hands with Lenz
when he entered, but pretended to be busy with some household work. Her
hand is promised, he thought; she can give it to no one now, even in
greeting. At last his uncle arrived, or rather his forerunner in the
shape of a mongrel cur, half terrier and half rat-catcher.

"Good day, Lenz!" said the surly voice of Petrovitsch, who followed
behind the dog. "I expected you yesterday. Did you forget I had invited
you?"

"I confess I did entirely."

"I will excuse you under the circumstances; but generally a business
man ought not to forget. I never forgot even a pocket-handkerchief in
my whole life, and never lost so much as a pin. A man should always
keep his seven senses about him. Now let us have dinner."

Annele brought the soup. The uncle helped himself, put some into
another plate, and told Lenz he might have what was left. Then he drew
from his pocket the paper, which he took daily from the post, cut it
open while his soup was cooling, laid his tobacco-pouch and meerschaum
upon it, and finally began his dinner.