Buck admitted this. "It would be a special satisfaction," he said significantly, "to a really big, modern man to raise a girl up to his own level, under such circumstances, and to take her part. Here, where there is also money, nobility of mind would doubtless end by carrying the day. Remember the ordeal in Lohengrin."
"How do you mean, Lohengrin?"
Buck returned no answer to this. As they had reached the Saxon Gate he became uneasy. "Will you come in with me?" he asked. "In where?"—"Just here, 77 Schweinichenstrasse. I must tell her. Perhaps you could …" Then Diederich gave a whistle.
"You are really … Have you said nothing to her yet? You tell it all round the town first. That's your affair, my dear fellow, but leave me out of it. I am not in the habit of breaking off the engagements of other men's fiancées."
"Make an exception," begged Buck. "I cannot stand scenes."
"I have principles," said Diederich. Buck turned into the street.
"You need not say anything. You need only play a silent part, as moral support."
"Moral?" Diederich queried.
"As the spokesman, so to speak, of the fatal rumour."
"What does that mean?"
"I am only joking. Come on. Here we are."
Feeling touched by Buck's last allusion, Diederich accompanied him without another word.
Frau Daimchen was out, and Guste sent word to them to wait. Buck went to find out what was keeping her. Finally she came, but she was alone. "Wasn't Wolfgang here, too?" she asked.
Buck had decamped!
"I don't understand this," said Diederich. "He had something very urgent to tell you."
