I was disconcerted, and, if I must tell the whole truth, I was
ashamed.

"Grauben, we will see whether you will say the same thing tomorrow."

"To-morrow, dear Axel, I will say what I say to-day."

Grauben and I, hand in hand, but in silence, pursued our way. The
emotions of that day were breaking my heart.

After all, I thought, the kalends of July are a long way off, and
between this and then many things may take place which will cure my
uncle of his desire to travel underground.

It was night when we arrived at the house in Konigstrasse. I expected
to find all quiet there, my uncle in bed as was his custom, and
Martha giving her last touches with the feather brush.

But I had not taken into account the Professor's impatience. I found
him shouting--and working himself up amidst a crowd of porters and
messengers who were all depositing various loads in the passage. Our
old servant was at her wits' end.

"Come, Axel, come, you miserable wretch," my uncle cried from as far
off as he could see me. "Your boxes are not packed, and my papers are
not arranged; where's the key of my carpet bag? and what have you
done with my gaiters?"

I stood thunderstruck. My voice failed. Scarcely could my lips utter
the words: