The painter started, stared, rubbed
his eyes, thought it was another spectral illusion, and was on the point
of yielding to his terror, when Karl rose, and approached him with a
smile. The healthy, sunshiny countenance of Karl, let him be ghost or
goblin, could not fail to produce somewhat of a tranquilizing effect on
Teufelsbuerst. He took his offered hand mechanically, his countenance
utterly vacant with idiotic bewilderment. Karl said:
"'I was not well, and thought it better to pay a visit to a friend for a
few days; but I shall soon make up for lost time, for I am all right now.'
"He sat down at once, taking no notice of his master's behaviour, and went
on with his drawing. Teufelsbuerst stood staring at him for some minutes
without moving, then suddenly turned and left the room. Karl heard him
hurrying down the cellar stairs. In a few moments he came up again. Karl
stole a glance at him. There he stood in the same spot, no doubt more full
of bewilderment than ever, but it was not possible that his face should
express more.
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