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DEBIT AND CREDIT. 

Translated from the German of Gustav Freytag, BY L. C. C. 

WITH A PREFACE, BY CHRISTIAN CHARLES JOSIAS BUNSEN, D. D. , D. C. L. , D. PH. 

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 

1858. 

LETTER FROM CHEVALIER BUNSEN. 

CHARLOTTENBERG, NEAR HEIDELBERG, _10th October, 1857. _

DEAR SIR, --It is now about five months since you expressed to me a wishthat I might be induced to imbody, in a few pages, my views on thepeculiar interest I attached--as you had been informed by a commonfriend--to the most popular German novel of the age, Gustav Freytag's_Soll und Haben_. I confess I was at first startled by your proposal. Itis true that, although I have not the honor of knowing the authorpersonally, his book inspired me with uncommon interest when I read itsoon after its appearance in 1855, and I did not hesitate to recommendtranslation into English, as I had, in London, recommended that of theLife of Perthes, since so successfully translated and edited under yourauspices. I also admit that I thought, and continue to think, theEnglish public at large would the better appreciate, not only themerits, but also the importance of the work, if they were informed ofthe bearing that it has upon the reality of things on the Continent;for, although _Soll und Haben_ is a work altogether of fiction, and notwhat is called a book of _tendency_, political or social, it exhibits, nevertheless, more strikingly than any other I know, some highlyimportant social facts, which are more generally felt than understood. It reveals a state of the relations of the higher and of the middleclasses of society, in the eastern provinces of Prussia and the adjacentGerman and Slavonic countries, which are evidently connected with ageneral social movement proceeding from irresistible realities, and, inthe main, independent of local circumstances and of political events. Afew explanatory words might certainly assist the English reader inappreciating the truth and impartiality of the picture of realityexhibited in this novel, and thus considerably enhance the enjoyment ofits poetical beauties, which speak for themselves. 

At the same time, I thought that many other persons might explain thismuch better than I, who am besides, and have been ever since I leftEngland, exclusively engaged in studies and compositions of a differentcharacter. As, however, you thought the English public would like toread what I might have to say on the subject, and that some observationson the book in general, and on the circumstances alluded to inparticular, would prove a good means of introducing the author and hiswork to your countrymen, I gladly engaged to employ a time of recreationin one of our German baths in writing a few pages on the subject, to beready by the 1st of August. I was the more encouraged to do so when, early in July, you communicated to me the proof-sheets of the firstvolume of a translation, which I found not only to be faithful in aneminent degree, but also to rival successfully the spirited tone andclassical style for which the German original is justly and universallyadmired. 

I began, accordingly, on the 15th July, to write the IntroductoryRemarks desired by you, when circumstances occurred over which I had nocontrol, and neither leisure nor strength could be found for a literarycomposition. 

Now that I have regained both, I have thought it advisable to let youhave the best I can offer you in the shortest time possible, andtherefore send you a short Memoir on the subject, written in German, placing it wholly at your disposal, and leaving it entirely to you togive it either in part or in its totality to the English public, as mayseem best adapted to the occasion. 

I shall be glad to hear of the success of your Translation, and remain, with sincere consideration, Dear sir, yours truly, BUNSEN. 

TO THOMAS CONSTABLE, ESQ. 

PREFACE BY CHEVALIER BUNSEN. 

THE HISTORY AND SPIRIT OF THE BOOK. 

Since our German literature attained maturity, no novel has achieved areputation so immediate, or one so likely to increase and to endure, as_Soll und Haben_, by Gustav Freytag. In the present, apparentlyapathetic tone and temper of our nation, a book must be of rareexcellence which, in spite of its relatively high price (15s. ), haspassed through six editions within two years; and which, notwithstandingthe carping criticism of a certain party in Church and State, has wonmost honorable recognition on every hand. To form a just conception ofthe hold the work has taken of the hearts of men in the educated middlerank, it needs but to be told that hundreds of fathers belonging to thehigher industrious classes have presented this novel to their sons atthe outset of their career, not less as a work of national interest thanas a testimony to the dignity and high importance they attribute to thesocial position they are called to occupy, and to their faith in thefuture that awaits it. 

The author, a man about fifty years of age, and by birth a Silesian, iseditor of the _Grenz-bote_ (Border Messenger), a highly-esteemedpolitical and literary journal, published in Leipsic. His residencealternates between that city and a small estate near Gotha. Growing upamid the influences of a highly cultivated family circle, and havingbecome an accomplished philologist under Lachmann, of Berlin, he earlyacquired valuable life-experience, and formed distinguished socialconnections. He also gained reputation as an author by skillfullyarranged and carefully elaborated dramatic compositions--the weak pointin the modern German school. 

The enthusiastic reception of his novel can not, however, be attributedto these earlier labors, nor to the personal influence of its author. The favor of the public has certainly been obtained in great measure bythe rare intrinsic merit of the composition, in which we find aptlychosen and melodious language, thoroughly artistic conception, life-likeportraiture, and highly cultivated literary taste. We see before us anational and classic writer, not one of those mere journalists who countnowadays in Germany for men of letters. 

The story, very unpretending in its opening, soon expands and becomesmore exciting, always increasing in significance as it proceeds. Thepattern of the web is soon disclosed after the various threads have beenarranged upon the loom; and yet the reader is occasionally surprised, now by the appearance on the stage of a clever Americanized German, nowby the unexpected introduction of threatening complications, and even ofimportant political events. Though confined within a seemingly narrowcircle, every incident, and especially the Polish struggle, is depictedgrandly and to the life. In all this the author proves himself to be aperfect artist and a true poet, not only in the treatment of separateevents, but in the far more rare and higher art of leading hisconception to a satisfactory development and _dénouement_. As thisrequirement does not seem to be generally apprehended either by thewriters or the critics of our modern novels, I shall take the liberty ofsomewhat more earnestly attempting its vindication. 

The romance of modern times, if at all deserving of the name it inheritsfrom its predecessors in the _romantic_ Middle Ages, represents thelatest _stadium_ of the epic. 

Every romance is intended, or ought to be, a new Iliad or Odyssey; inother words, a poetic representation of a course of events consistentwith the highest laws of moral government, whether it delineate thegeneral history of a people, or narrate the fortunes of a chosen hero. If we pass in review the romances of the last three centuries, we shallfind that those only have arrested the attention of more than one or twogenerations which have satisfied this requirement. Every other romance, let it moralize ever so loudly, is still immoral; let it offer ever somuch of so-called wisdom, is still irrational. The excellence of aromance, like that of an epic or a drama, lies in the apprehension andtruthful exhibition of the course of human things. 

_Candide_, which may appear to be an exception, owes its prolongedexistence to the charm of style and language; and, after all, how muchless it is now read than _Robinson Crusoe_, the work of the talented DeFoe; or than the _Vicar of Wakefield_, that simple narrative byVoltaire's English contemporary. Whether or not the cause can be clearlydefined is here of little consequence; but an unskillfully developedromance is like a musical composition that concludes with discordunresolved--without perhaps inquiring wherefore, it leaves an unpleasantimpression on the mind. 

If we carry our investigation deeper, we shall find that any such defectviolates our sense of artistic propriety, because it offends against ourhealthy human instinct of the fundamental natural laws; and the artisticmerit, as well of a romance as of an epic, rises in proportion as theplot is naturally developed, instead of being conducted to its solutionby a series of violent leaps and make-shifts, or even by a pretentioussham. We shall take occasion hereafter to illustrate these views bysuitable examples. 

That the work we are now considering fulfills, in a high degree, thisrequirement of refined artistic feeling and artistic treatment, will beat once apparent to all discriminating readers, though it can not bedenied that there are many of the higher and more delicate chords which_Soll und Haben_ never strikes. The characters to whom we are introducedappear to breathe a certain prosaic atmosphere, and the humorous andcomic scenes occasionally interwoven with the narrative bear nocomparison, in poetic delicacy of touch, with the creations ofCervantes, nor yet with the plastic power of those of Fielding. 

The author has given most evidence of poetic power in the delineation ofthose dark characters who intrude like ghosts and demons upon the fairand healthy current of the book, and vanish anon into the caverns andcellars whence they came. 

The great importance of the work, and the key to the almost unexampledfavor it has won, must be sought in a quite different direction--in theclose relation to the real and actual in our present social condition, maintained throughout its pages. Such a relation is manifested, in veryvarious ways, in every novel of distinguished excellence. The object ofall alike is the same--to exhibit and establish, by means of a narrativemore or less fictitious, the really true and enduring elements in thecomplicated or contradictory phenomena of a period or a character. Thepoetic truthfulness of the immortal _Don Quixote_ lies not so much inthe absurdities of an effete Spanish chivalry as in the portraiture thatlies beneath, of the insignificance and profligacy of the life of thehigher ranks, which had succeeded the more decorous manners of theMiddle Ages. Don Quixote is not the only hero of the book, but also theshattered Spanish people, among whom he moves with gipsies and smugglersfor companions, treading with all the freshness of imperishable youthupon the buried ruins of political and spiritual life, rejoicing in thegeniality of the climate and the tranquillity of the country, reposingproudly on his ancestral dignity. This conception--and not alone thepure and lofty nature of the crazy besieger of wind-mills, who, in spiteof all, stands forth as at once the worthiest, and fundamentally thewisest character in the book--constitutes the poetic background, and thetwilight glimmer amid the prevailing darkness in the life of the higherclasses. We feel that there is assuredly something deeply human and ofliving power in these elements, and this reality will one day obtain thevictory over all opponents. 

By what an entirely different atmosphere do we feel ourselves to besurrounded in _Gil Blas_, where the highest poetry, the cunningdexterity of the modern Spanish Figaro, is manifested in the midst of adepraved nobility, and a priesthood alive only to their own materialinterests. It is only the most perfect art that could have retained forthis novel readers in every quarter of the world. The _dénouement_ is asperfect as with such materials it can be; and we feel that, instead ofVoltaire's withering and satiric contempt of all humanity, an elementof unfeigned good-humor lies in the background of the picture. How farinferior is Swift! and how utterly horrible is the abandoned humor of adespair that leaves all in flames behind it, which breathes upon us fromthe pages of the unhappy _Rabelais_!

Fielding's novels, _Tom Jones_ in particular, bear the same resemblanceto the composition of Cervantes that the paintings of Murillo bear tothose of Rembrandt. The peculiarity of _Wilhelm Meister_ as a novel ismore difficult of apprehension, if one does not seek the novel where intruth it lies--in the story of Mignon and the Harper, and only sees inthe remainder the certainly somewhat diffuse but deeply-thought andclassically-delineated picture of the earnest striving after culture ofa German in the end of the eighteenth century. It would argue, however, as it appears to me, much prejudice, and an utterly unreasonable temper, not to recognize a perfect novel in the _Wahlverwandschaften_, howeverabsolutely one may deny the propriety of thus tampering with andendangering the holiest family relationships, or thus making them thesubjects of a work of fiction. Goethe, however, has here placed beforeus, and that with the most noble seriousness and the most artisticskill, a reality which lies deep in human nature and the period herepresents. The tragical complications and consequences resulting evenfrom errors which never took shape in evil deeds could not in thehighest tragedy be represented more purely and strikingly than here. Thestain of impurity rests upon the soul of him who thinks that he detectsit, not in the book itself. Ottilie is as pure and immortal a creationof genius as Mignon. 

As novel-literature has developed itself in Europe, an attempt has beenmade to employ it as a mirror of the past, into which mankind shall loveto look, and thereby ascertain whether civilization has advanced orretrograded with the lapse of time. This is a reaction against theeighteenth century, and it appears under two forms--theidealistic-sentimental and the strongly realistic-social. The earliestinstance in Germany of the romantic school, _Heinrich von Ofterdingen_, is the apotheosis of the art and literature of the Middle Ages. Thewritings of Walter Scott put an end to this sentimentalism, and this isindeed their highest merit. Those of his works will continue to maintainthe most prominent place, standing forth as true and livingrepresentations of character, which deal with the events of Scottishhistory in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Still more the workof genius, however, and of deeper worth, Hope's _Anastasius_ must beadmitted to be--that marvelous picture of life in the Levant, and in thewhole Turkish Empire, as far as Arabia, as it was about the end of thelast and the beginning of the present century. In this work truth andfiction are most happily blended; the episodes, especially that ofEuphrosyne, may be placed, without disparagement, beside the novels ofCervantes, and strike far deeper chords in the human heart than thecreations of Walter Scott. Kingsley's _Hypatia_, alone of modern works, is worthy to be named along with it. That, indeed, is a marvelous anddaring composition, with a still higher aim and still deepersoul-pictures. Both of them will live forever as examples of union ofthe idealistic and the realistic schools, poetic evocations of a by-gonereality, with all the truth and poetry of new creations. In readingeither of them we forget that the work is as instructive as it isimaginative. 

The most vehement longing of our times, however, is manifestly after afaithful mirror of the present; that is to say, after a life-picture ofthe social relations and the struggles to which the evils of the presentday have given rise. We feel that great events are being enacted; thatgreater still are in preparation; and we long for an epic, aworld-moulding epic, to imbody and depict them. The undertaking is adangerous one--many a lance is shivered in the first encounter. A meretendency-novel is in itself a monster. A picture of the age must be, inthe highest acceptation of the word, a poem. It must not represent realpersons or places--it must create such. It must not ingraft itself uponthe passing and the accidental, but be pervaded by a poetic intuition ofthe real. He that attempts it must look with a poet's eye at the realand enduring elements in the confusing contradictions of the time, andplace the result before us as an actual existence. It has been the highprivilege of the English realistic school, which we may call withouthesitation the school of Dickens, that it has been the first to strikethe key-note with a firm and skillful hand. Its excellence would standout with undimmed lustre had it not, as its gloomy background, theFrench school of Victor Hugo and Balzac, that opposite of "the poetry ofdespair, " as Goethe calls it. Here again, in this new English school, has the genius of Kingsley alighted. Most of his novels belong to it. And, besides himself and Dickens, there stand forth as its mostbrilliant members the distinguished authoress of _Mary Barton_, and thesorely-tried Charlotte Brontë, the gifted writer of _Jane Eyre_--toosoon, alas! removed from us. This school has portrayed, in colorsdoubtless somewhat strong, the sufferings and the virtues, the dangersand the hopes of the working-classes, especially in towns and factories. But, instead of enjoining hatred of the higher classes, and despair ofall improvement in the future for humanity, a healthy tone pervadestheir writings throughout, and an unwavering and cheering hope of betterthings to come shines through the gloomy clouds that surround the drearypresent. There are throes of anguish--but they tell of comingdeliverance; there are discords--but they resolve into harmony. Thespirit finds, pervading the entire composition, that satisfaction of thedesires of our higher nature which constitutes true artistic success. 

Dickens, too, has at length chosen the real life of the working-classesin their relations to those above them as a subject for his masterlypen. _Dombey and Son_ will not readily be forgotten. 

It was necessary to take a comprehensive view of novel literature, and--although in the merest outline--still to look at it in itshistorical connection, in order to find the suitable niche for a bookwhich claims an important place in its European development; for it isprecisely in the class last described--that which undertakes faithfully, and yet in a poetic spirit, to represent the real condition of our mostpeculiar and intimate social relations--that our author has chosen toenroll himself. With what a full appreciation of this high end, and withwhat patriotic enthusiasm he has entered on his task, the admirablededication of the work at once declares, which is addressed to atalented and liberal-minded prince, deservedly beloved and honoredthroughout Germany. In the work itself, besides, there occur repeatedpictures of these relations, which display at once a clear comprehensionof the social problem, and a poetic power which keeps pace with thepower of life-like description. To come more closely to the point, however, what is that reality which is exhibited in the story of ournovel? We should very inadequately describe it were we to say, thenobility of labor and the duties of property, particularly those of theproprietor of land. This is certainly the key-note of the wholeconservative-social, or Dickens school, to which the novel belongs. Itis not, however, the conflict between rich and poor, between labor andcapital in general, and between manufacturers and their people inparticular, whose natural course is here detailed. And this is a pointwhich an English reader must above all keep clearly in view. He willotherwise altogether fail to understand the author's purpose; for it isjust here that the entirely different blending of the social masses inEngland and in Germany is displayed. We have here the conflict betweenthe feudal system and that class of industrial and wealthy persons, together with the majority of the educated public functionaries, whoconstitute in Germany the citizen-class. Before the fall of the Prussianmonarchy in 1807, the noble families--for the most part hereditaryknights (Herrn _von_)--almost entirely monopolized the governmental andhigher municipal posts, and a considerable portion of the peasantry wereunder servitude to them as feudal superiors. The numbers of the lessernobility--in consequence of the right of every nobleman's son, ofwhatever grade, to bear his father's title--were so great, and since theintroduction by the great Elector, [A] and his royal successors, of thenew system of taxation, their revenues had become so small, that theyconsidered themselves entitled to the monopoly of all the higher officesof state, and regarded every citizen of culture, fortune, andconsideration with jealousy, as an upstart. The new monarchicconstitution of 1808-12, which has immortalized the names of FrederickWilliam III. , and of his ministers, Stein and Hardenberg, altered thissystem, and abolished the vassalage and feudal service of the peasantsin those provinces that lie to the east of the Elbe. The fruits of thiswise act of social reform were soon apparent, not only in the increaseof prosperity and of the population, but also in that steady andprogressive elevation of the national spirit which alone made itpossible in 1813-14 for the house of Hohenzollern to raise the monarchyto the first rank among the European powers. 

[Footnote A: The friend and brother-in-law of William III. ]

The further development in Prussia of political freedom unfortunatelydid not keep pace with these social changes; and so--to say no more--ithappened that the consequences of all half measures soon resulted. Evenbefore the struggles of 1848, down to which period the story of ournovel reaches, the classes of the more polished nobility and citizens, instead of fusing into one band of _gentry_, and thus forming the basisof a landed aristocracy, had assumed an unfriendly attitude, inconsequence of a stagnation in the growth of a national lower nobilityas the head of the wealthy and cultivated _bourgeoisie_, resulting froman unhappy reaction which then took place in Prussia. The feudalproprietor was meanwhile becoming continually poorer, because he livedbeyond his income. Falling into embarrassments of every sort, he hasrecourse for aid to the provincial banks. His habits of life, however, often prevent him from employing these loans on the improvement of hisproperty, and he seldom makes farming the steady occupation and businessof his life. But he allows himself readily to become involved in theestablishment of factories--whether for the manufacture of brandy or forthe production of beet-root sugar--which promise a larger and speedierreturn, besides the enhancement of the value of the land. But, in orderto succeed in such undertakings, he wants the requisite capital andexperience. He manifests even less prudence in the conduct of thesespeculations than in the cultivation of his ancestral acres, and theinevitable result ensues that an ever-increasing debt at lengthnecessitates the sale of his estate. Such estates are ever more and morefrequently becoming the property of the merchant or manufacturer fromthe town, or perhaps of the neighboring proprietor of the same inferiorrank, who has lately settled in the country, and become entitled to theexercise of equal rights with the hereditary owner. There is noessential difference in social culture between the two classes, butthere is a mighty difference between the habits of their lives. Themercantile class of citizens is in Germany more refined than in anyother country, and has more political ambition than the correspondingclass in England has yet exhibited. The families of public functionariesconstitute the other half of the cultivated citizen class; and as theformer have the superiority in point of wealth, so these bear the palmin respect of intellectual culture and administrative talent. Almost allauthors, since the days of Luther, have belonged to this class. Inschool and college learning, in information, and in the conduct ofpublic affairs, the citizen is thus, for the most part, as far superiorto the nobleman as in fashionable manners the latter is to him. Thewhole nation, however, enjoys alike the advantage of military education, and every man may become an officer who passes the necessaryexamination. Thus, in the manufacturing towns, the citizens occupy thehighest place, and the nobility in the garrison towns and those of royalresidence. This fact, however, must not be lost sight of--that Berlin, the most populous city of Germany, has also gradually become the chiefand the richest commercial one, while the great fortress of Magdeburghas also been becoming the seat of a wealthy and cultivated mercantilecommunity. 

Instead of desiring landed property, and perhaps a patent of nobilityfor his children, and an alliance with some noble country family, therich citizen rather sticks to his business, and prefers a young man inhis own rank, or perhaps a clergyman, or professor, or some municipalofficer as a suitor to his daughter, to the elegant officer or man ofnoble blood; for the richest and most refined citizen, though the wifeor daughter of a noble official, is not entitled to appear at court withher husband or her father. It is not, therefore, as in England orScotland, the aim of a man who has plied his industrious calling withsuccess to assume the rank and habits of a nobleman or country squire. The rich man remains in town among his equals. It is only when weunderstand this difference in the condition of the social relations inGermany and in England that the scope and intention of our novel can beapprehended. 

It would be a mistake to suppose that our remarks are only applicable tothe eastern provinces of Prussia. If, perhaps, they are less harshlymanifested in the western division of our kingdom, and indeed in WesternGermany, it is in consequence of noble families being fewer in number, and the conditions of property being more favorable to the citizenclass. The defective principle is the same, as also the national feelingin regard to it. It is easily understood, indeed, how this should havebecome much stronger since 1850, seeing that the greater and lessernobility have blindly united in endeavoring to bring about areaction--demanding all possible and impossible privileges andexemptions, or compensations, and are separating themselves more andmore widely from the body of the nation. 

In Silesia and Posen, however, the theatres on which our story isenacted, other and peculiar elements, though lying, perhaps, beneath thesurface, affect the social relations of the various classes. In bothprovinces, but especially in Posen, the great majority of noblemen arethe proprietors of land, and the enactment under Hardenberg and Stein in1808-10, in regard to peasant rights, had been very imperfectly carriedout in districts where vassalage, as in all countries of Slavonicorigin, was nearly universal. Many estates are of large extent, andsome, indeed, are strictly entailed. These circumstances naturally giveto a country life in Silesia or Posen quite a different character thanthat in the Rhine provinces. In Posen, besides, two foreignelements--found in Silesia also in a far lesser degree--exercise amighty influence on the social relations of the people. One is theJewish, the other the Polish element. In Posen, the Jews constitute inthe country the class of innkeepers and farmers; of course, they carryon some trade in addition. The large banking establishments are partly, the smaller ones almost exclusively, in their hands. They become, bythese means, occasionally the possessors of land; but they regard suchproperty almost always as a mere subject for speculation, and it is butrarely that the quondam innkeeper or peddler settles down as a tiller ofthe soil. In Silesia, their chief seat is in Breslau, where the generaltrade of the country, as well as the purchase and the sale of land, isfor the most part transacted. It is a pretty general feeling in Germanythat Freytag has not dealt altogether impartially with this class, byfailing to introduce in contrast to the abandoned men whom he selectsfor exhibition a single honest, upright Jew, a character not wantingamong that remarkable people. The inextinguishable higher element of ournature, and the fruits of German culture, are manifested, it is true, inthe Jewish hero of the tale, ignorant alike of the world and its ways, buried among his cherished books, and doomed to early death; but this isdone more as a poetic comfort to humanity than in honor of Judaism, fromwhich plainly in his inmost soul he had departed, that he might turn tothe Christianized spirit and to the poetry of the Gentiles. 

The Polish element, however, is of still far greater importance. Forming, as they once did, with the exception of a few Germansettlements, the entire population of the province, the Poles havebecome, in the course of the last century, and especially since theremoval of restrictions on the sale of land, less numerous year by year. In Posen proper they constitute, numerically, perhaps the half of thepopulation; but in point of prosperity and mental culture theirinfluence is scarcely as one fourth upon the whole. On the other hand, in some districts, as, for instance, in Gnesen, the Polish influencepredominates in the towns, and reigns undisputed in the country. Themiddle class is exclusively German or Jewish; where these elements arelacking, there is none. The Polish vassal, emancipated by the enactmentof 1810, is gradually ripening into an independent yeoman, and knowsfull well that he owes his freedom, not to his former Polish masters, but to Prussian legislation and administration. The exhibition of thesesocial relations, as they were manifested by the contending parties in1848, is, in all respects, one of the most admirable portions of ournovel. The events are all vividly depicted, and, in all essentialpoints, historically true. One feature here appears, little known inforeign lands, but deserving careful observation, not only on its ownaccount, but as a key to the meaning and intention of the attractivenarrative before us. 

The two national elements may be thus generally characterized: ThePrusso-German element is Protestant; the Polish element is Catholic. Possessing equal rights, the former is continually pressing onward withirresistible force, as in Ireland, in virtue of the principles ofindustry and frugality by which it is animated. This is true alike oflandlord and tenant, of merchant and official. 

The passionate and ill-regulated Polish element stands forth inopposition--the intellectual and peculiarly courteous and accomplishednobility, as well as the priesthood--but in vain. Seeing that the lawsecures perfect equality of rights, and is impartially administered;that, besides, the conduct of the German settlers is correct andinoffensive, the Poles can adduce no well-grounded causes of complainteither against their neighbors or the government. It is their innatewant of order that throws business, money, and, at length, the landitself, into the hands of Jews and Protestants. This fact is also hereworthy of notice, that the Jewish usurer is disappearing or withdrawingwherever the Protestant element is taking firmer ground. The Jew remainsin the country, but becomes a citizen, and sometimes even apeasant-proprietor. This phenomenon is manifesting itself also in otherplaces where there is a concurrence of the German and Slavonic elements. In Prussia, however, there is this peculiarity in addition, of whichFreytag has made the most effective use--I mean the education of thePrussian people, not alone in the national schools, but also in thescience of national defense, which this people of seventeen millions hasin common with Sparta and with Rome. 

It is well known that every Prussian not physically disqualified, ofwhatever rank he be, must become a soldier. The volunteer serves in theline for one year, and without pay; other persons serve for two orthree years. Thereafter, all beyond the age of twenty-five are yearlycalled out as militia, and drilled for several weeks after harvest. Thisenactment has been in force since 1813, and it is a well-known fact, brought prominently forward in the work before us, that, notwithstandingthe immense sacrifice it requires, it is enthusiastically cherished bythe nation as a school of manly discipline, and as exercising a mostbeneficial influence on all classes of society. This institution it iswhich gives that high standard of order, duty, and military honor, andthat mutual confidence between officers and men, which at the firstglance distinguishes the Prussian, not only from the Russian, but theAustrian soldier. This high feeling of confidence in the nationaldefenses is indeed peculiar to Prussia beyond the other German nations, and may be at once recognized in the manly and dignified bearing, evenof the lowest classes, alike in town and country. 

This spirit is depicted to the life in the striking episode of thetroubles in the year 1848. Even in the wildest months of that year, whenthe German minority were left entirely to their own resources, thisspirit of order and mutual confidence continued undisturbed. Ourpatriotic author has never needed to draw upon his imagination forfacts, though he has depicted with consummate skill the actual reality. We feel that it has been to him a labor of love to console himself andhis fellow-countrymen under so many disappointments and shattered hopes, to cherish and to strengthen that sense of independence, without whichno people can stand erect among the nations. 

The Prusso-German population feel it to be a mission in the cause ofcivilization to press forward in occupation of the Sarmatianterritory--a sacred duty, which, however, can only be fulfilled byhonest means, by privations and self-sacrificing exertions of everykind. In such a spirit must the work be carried forward; this is thesuggestive thought with which our author's narrative concludes. It isnot without a meaning, we believe, that the zealous German hero of thebook is furnished with the money necessary for carrying out his schemesby a fellow-countryman and friend, who had returned to his fatherlandwith a fortune acquired beyond the Atlantic. Our talented author hascertainly not lost sight of the fact that Germany, as a whole, has aslittle recovered from the devastation of the Thirty Years' War as theeastern districts of Prussia have recovered from the effects of the warwith France in the present century. Let the faults and failings of ournational German character be what they may (and we should like to knowwhat nation has endured and survived similar spoliation and partition), the greatest sin of Germany during the last two hundred years, especially in the less-favored north, has always been its poverty--thecondition of all classes, with few exceptions. National poverty, however, becomes indeed a political sin when a people, by itscultivation, has become constitutionally fit for freedom. 

In the background of the whole picture of the disordered and sicklycondition of our social circumstances here so vividly presented, theauthor has plainly discerned Dante's noble proverb--

"Di libertà indipendenza è primo grado. "

The existence of independent citizen-families qualified and ready forevery public service, though beyond the need of such employment--this isthe fundamental condition of a healthy development of political freedom, alike impregnable by revolution and reaction; this is the only sureground and basis on which a constitutional form of government can bereared and administered with advantage to every class, repressing alikesuccessfully absolutism and democracy. 

And now we have reached the point where we are enabled to gather up, andto express to the reader, without desiring to forestall his ownjudgment, or to load him with axioms and formulas beyond hiscomprehension, the beautiful fundamental idea of the book, clearly andsimply. 

We would express it thus: The future of all European states dependsmainly on three propositions, and the politics of every statesman of ourperiod are determined by the way in which he views them. 

These propositions are, 1st. The fusion of the educated classes, and the total abolition ofbureaucracy, and all social barriers between the ancient nobility andthe educated classes in the nation, especially the industrial andmercantile population. 

2d. The just and Christian bearing of this united body toward theworking-classes, especially in towns. 

3d. The recognition of the mighty fact that the educated middle classesof all nations, but especially of those of Germany, are perfectly awarethat even the present, but still more the near future, is their own, ifthey advance along the legal path to a perfect constitutional monarchy, resisting all temptations to the right hand or to the left, not withimbittered feelings, but in the cheerful temper of a moralself-confidence. 

 * * * * *

It is faith in truths such as these that has inspired our author in thecomposition of the work which is here offered to the English readingpublic. It is his highest praise, however, that he has imbodied thisfaith in a true work of art, which speaks for itself. He has therebyenkindled or strengthened a like faith in many thousand hearts, and thatwith a noble and conciliatory intention which the dedication wellexpresses. 

The admirable delineation of character, the richness of invention, theartistic arrangement, the lively descriptions of nature, will be evermore fully acknowledged by the sympathizing reader as he advances in theperusal of the attractive volumes. 

TO HIS HIGHNESS ERNEST II. , DUKE OF SAXE-COBURG-GOTHA. 

I visited Kallenberg one lovely evening in the month of May. The highground near the castle was steeped in perfume from the blossoms of thespring, and the leaves of the pink acacia cast their checkered shadowson the dewy grass. Beneath me, in the shady valley, deer boundedfearless from their covert in the wood, following greedily with theireyes the bright figure of that lady who greets with kind and hospitablewelcome all who enter the precincts of the castle--men, and all livingthings. The repose of evening lay on hill and dale; no sound was heardsave the occasional roll of thunder from afar above the bright andcheerful landscape. On this very evening, leaning against the wall ofthe ancient castle, your highness gazed with troubled aspect into thegloomy distance. What my noble prince then said about the conflicts ofthe last few years, the relaxed and utterly despondent temper of thenation, and the duty of authors, at such a time especially, to show thepeople, for their encouragement and elevation, as in a mirror, what theyare capable of doing--those were golden words, revealing a great graspof intellect and a warm heart, and their echo will not soon die away inthe heart of him who heard them. It was on that evening the desire awokewithin me to grace with your highness's name the work whose plan hadbeen already in my mind. 

Nearly two years have passed since then. A terrible war is raging, andGermans look with gloomy apprehension to the future of their fatherland. At such a time, when the strongest political feelings agitate the lifeof every individual, that spirit of cheerful tranquillity, so needful toan author for the artistic moulding of his creations, readily forsakeshis writing-table. It is long, alas! since the German author has enjoyedit. He has far too little interest in home and foreign life; he wantsthat composure and proud satisfaction which the writers of othercountries feel in dwelling on the past and present of their nation, while he has enough and to spare of humiliation on account of hiscountry, of wishes unfulfilled and passionate indignation. At such atime, in drawing an imaginative picture, not love alone, but hatred too, flows freely and readily from the pen--practical tendencies are apt tousurp the place of poetic fancy; and, instead of a genial tone andtemper, the reader is apt to find an unpleasing mixture of blunt realityand artificial sentiment. 

Surrounded by such dangers, it becomes twofold the duty of an authorcarefully to avoid distortion in the outline of his pictures, and tokeep his own soul free from unjust prepossession. To give the highestexpression to the beautiful in its noblest form is not the privilege ofevery time; but, in all times alike, it is the duty of the writer offiction to be true to his art and to his country. To seek for thistruth, and where found to exhibit it, I hold to be the duty of my ownlife. 

And now let me dedicate, with deepest reverence, my unimportant work toyou, my honored lord. I shall rejoice if this novel leaves on the mindof your highness the impression that its conception is in faithfulkeeping with the laws of life and of art, without ever being a slavishcopy of the accidental occurrences of the day. 

GUSTAV FREYTAG. 

LEIPSIC, _April_, 1855. 

DEBIT AND CREDIT. 

CHAPTER I. 

Ostrau is a small town near the Oder, celebrated even as far as Polandfor its gymnasium and its gingerbread. In this patriarchal spot haddwelt for many years the accountant-royal, Wohlfart, an enthusiasticallyloyal subject, and a hearty lover of his fellow-men--with one or twoexceptions. He married late in life, and his wife and he lived in asmall house, the garden of which he himself kept in order. For a longtime the happy pair were childless; but at length came a day when thegood woman, having smartened up her white bed-curtains with a broadfringe and heavy tassels, disappeared behind them amid the approbationof all her female friends. It was under the shade of those whitebed-curtains that the hero of our tale was born. 

Anton was a good child, who, according to his mother, displayedremarkable peculiarities from the very day of his birth. For instance, he had a great objection to going to bed at the proper hour; he wouldpore time untold over his picture-alphabet, and hold lengthyconversations with the red cock depicted upon its last page, imploringhim to exert himself in the cause of his young family, and not allow themaid-servant to carry them off and roast them. Lastly, he would oftenrun away from his playfellows, and sit lost in thought in a corner ofthe room. His greatest delight, however, was to perch himself on a chairopposite his father, cross his legs in the same way, and smoke a mimicpipe in emulation. Moreover, he was so seldom naughty, that all such ofthe female population of Ostrau as took a gloomy view of things ingeneral held it doubtful that he could live to grow up, till one dayAnton publicly thrashed the councilor's son, which in some degreemodified the opinions concerning him. In short, he was just the boy thatthe only child of warm-hearted parents might be expected to prove. Atschool he was an example of industry; and when the drawing-master beganto declare that he must be a painter, and the classical teacher todevote him to Philology, the boy might have been in some danger of beingdiverted from the serious pursuit of any one specific calling but for anaccident which determined his choice. 

Every Christmas evening the mail brought to the house of the paternalWohlfart a box containing a loaf of the finest sugar and a quantity ofthe best coffee. This sugar the good man himself broke into squares: thecoffee was roasted by his wife's own hands; and the complacency withwhich they sipped their first cup was pleasant to behold. These wereseasons when, to the childish soul of Anton, the whole house seemedpervaded with poetry, and his father was never weary of telling him thehistory of this periodical present. Many years ago, he had chanced tofind, in a dusty bundle of law-papers, a document of great importance toa well-known mercantile house in the capital. This document he had atonce forwarded, and, in consequence of it, the firm had been enabled togain a long-pending lawsuit, which had previously threatened to goagainst them; upon which the young head of the concern had written hisacknowledgments, and Wohlfart had refused to be thanked, having, hesaid, only done his duty. From that time forth the box we have describedmade its appearance every Christmas evening, accompanied by a fewcordial lines, to which Wohlfart responded in a masterpiece ofcaligraphy, expressing his surprise at the unexpected arrival, andwishing a happy new year to the firm. The old gentleman persisted, evento his wife, in treating this Christmas box as a mere accident, atrifle, a whim of some clerk in the house of T. O. Schröter, and yearlyprotested against the expectation of its arrival, by which the goodwoman's household purchases were more or less influenced. But itsarrival was, in reality, of the utmost importance in his eyes; and that, not for the sake of the actual coffee and sugar themselves, but of thepoetry of this connecting link between him and the life of a perfectstranger. He carefully tied up all the letters of the firm, togetherwith three love-letters from his wife. He became a connoisseur incolonial produce, an oracle in coffee, whose decision was much deferredto by the Ostrau shopkeepers. He began to interest himself in theaffairs of the great firm, and never failed to note the ups and downsreported in a certain corner of the newspapers, wholly mysterious to theuninitiated. Nay, he even indulged in fancy speculations and an idealpartnership, chafed when sugars fell, and chuckled at the rise ofcoffee. 

A strange, invisible, filmy thread it was, this which connectedWohlfart's quiet household with the activity of the great mercantileworld, and yet it was by this that little Anton's whole life was swayed;for when the old gentleman sat in his garden of an evening in his satincap, and pipe in his mouth, he would dilate upon the advantages oftrade, and ask his son whether he should like to be a merchant;whereupon a kind of kaleidoscope-picture suddenly shaped itself in thelittle fellow's mind, made up of sugar-loaves, raisins, and almonds, golden oranges, his father's smile, and the mysterious delight which thearrival of the box always occasioned him, and he replied at once, "Yes, father, _that_ I should!"

Let no one say that our life is poor in poetical influences; still doesthe enchantress sway us mortals as of old. Rather let each take heedwhat dreams he nurses in his heart's innermost fold, for when they arefull grown they may prove tyrants, ay, and cruel ones too. 

In this way the Wohlfart family lived on for many a year; and wheneverthe good woman privately entreated her husband to form some decision asto the boy's way of life, he would reply, "It is formed already; he isto be a merchant. " But in his own heart he was a little doubtful as tohow this dream of his could ever be realized. 

Meanwhile a dark day drew on, when the shutters of the house remainedlate unclosed, the servant-girl with red eyes, ran up and down thesteps, the doctor came and shook his head, the old gentleman stood inprayer near his wife's bed, and the boy knelt sobbing by, while hisdying mother's hand still tried to stroke his curls. Three days latercame the funeral, and father and son sat together alone. Both wept, butthe boy's red cheeks returned. Not so the old man's health and strength. Not that he complained; he still sat and smoked his pipe as before, andstill concerned himself about the price of sugars, but there was noheart in the smoking or the concern; and he would often look anxiouslyat his young companion, who wondered what his father could have on hismind. One evening, when he had for the hundredth time asked him whetherhe would really like to be a merchant, and received the unvaryinganswer, he rose from his seat with an air of decision, and told theservant-girl to order a conveyance to take him the next morning to thecapital, but he said nothing about the object of his expedition. 

Late on the following day he returned in a very different mood--happier, indeed, than he had ever been since his wife's death. He enchanted hisson by his account of the incredible charms of the extensive business, and the kindness of the great merchant toward himself. He had beeninvited to dinner, he had eaten peewits' eggs, and drunk Greek wine, compared to which the very best wine in Ostrau was mere vinegar; and, above all, he had received the promise of having his son taken intotheir office, and a few hints as to the future course of his education. The very next day saw Anton seated at a ledger, disposing arbitrarily ofhundreds of thousands, converting them into every existing currency, andputting them out at every possible rate of interest. 

Thus another year passed away. Anton was just eighteen, when again thewindows remained darkened, and the red-eyed servant-girl ran up anddown, and the doctor shook his head. This time it was the old gentlemanby whose bed Anton sat, holding both his hands. But there was no keepinghim back; and after repeatedly blessing his son, he died, and Anton wasleft alone in the silent dwelling, at the entrance of a new life. 

Old Wohlfart had not been an accountant for nothing; he left his housein the highest order; his affairs were balanced to a farthing, and hehad written a letter of introduction to the merchant only a few daysbefore his death. A month later, on a fine summer morning, Anton stoodupon the threshold of his home, placed the key in a friendly hand, madeover his luggage to the carrier, and, with his father's letter in hispocket, took his way to the great city. 

CHAPTER II. 

The new-mown grass was already fading in the sun when Anton shook thehand of the neighbor who had accompanied him as far as the neareststation to the capital, and then walked off merrily along the high road. The day was bright, the mower was heard whetting his scythe in themeadows close by, and the indefatigable lark sang high overhead. On allsides rose church-towers, central points of villages buried in woods, near many of which might be seen a stately baronial residence. 

Anton hurried on as if his feet were winged; the future lay before himsunny as the plain, a life of radiant dreams and evergreen hopes; hisheart beat high, his eyes beamed, he felt intoxicated by the beauty andthe fragrance around him. Whenever he saw a mower, he called out to himthat it was a lovely day, and got many a friendly greeting in return. The very birds seemed as though they congratulated him, and cheered himonward. 

He now took a footpath that led through a meadow, crossed a bridge, andfound himself in a plantation with neatly-graveled paths. As he went on, it more and more assumed the character of a garden; a sudden turn, andhe stood on a grass-plot, and saw a gentleman's seat, with two sidetowers and a balcony, rise before him. Vines and climbing roses ran upthe towers, and beneath the balcony was a vestibule well filled withflowers. In short, to our Anton, brought up as he had been in a smalltown, it all appeared beauteous and stately in the extreme. He sat downbehind a bushy lilac, and gave himself up to the contemplation of thescene. How happy the inhabitants must be! how noble! how refined! Acertain respect for every thing of acknowledged distinction andimportance was innate in the son of the accountant; and when, in themidst of the beauty around him, his thoughts reverted to himself, hefelt utterly insignificant, a species of social pigmy scarcely visibleto the naked eye. 

For some time he sat and looked in perfect stillness; at last thepicture shifted. A lovely lady came out on the balcony clad in lightsummer attire, with white lace sleeves, and stood there like a statue. When a gay paroquet flew out of the room and lighted on her hand, Anton's admiration went on increasing; but when a young girl followedthe bird, and wound her arms around the lovely lady's neck, and theparoquet kept wheeling about them, and perching now on the shoulder ofone, and then on that of the other, his feeling of veneration becamesuch that he blushed deeply, and drew back further into the lilac-tree'sshadow. 

Then, with his imagination filled by what he had seen, he went withelastic step along the broad walk, hoping to find a way of exit. 

Soon he heard a horse's feet behind him, and saw the younger of the twoladies come riding after him, mounted upon a black pony, and using herparasol as a whip. Now the ladies of Ostrau were not in the habit ofriding. He had, indeed, once upon a time, beheld a professionalequestrian with very red cheeks and flowing garments, and hadunspeakably admired her, but now the same feeling was far more intense. He stood still and bowed reverentially. The young girl acknowledged hishomage by a gracious nod, pulled up her horse, and asked whether hewished to speak to her father. 

"I crave your pardon, " replied Anton, with the deepest respect;"probably I am in a path not open to strangers. I came across themeadow, and saw no gate and no hedge. "

"The gate is on the bridge; it is open by day, " said the young lady, with great benignity, for reverence was not the sentiment her fourteenyears often inspired, and she was the more pleased therewith. "But, since you are in the garden, " continued she, "will you not look around?We shall be very glad if it give you pleasure. "

"I have already taken that liberty, " replied Anton, with another bow. "Ihave been on the lawn before the castle: it is magnificent. "

"Yes, " said the young lady, reining in her pony; "the gardener laid itout under mamma's own direction. "

"Then the lady who stood with you on the balcony was your mother?"timidly inquired Anton. 

"What! you have been watching us, then? Do you know that that waswrong?"

"Forgive me, " was the humble reply; "I retreated at once, but it wassuch a lovely sight--the two ladies, the roses in full blossom, theframework of vine leaves--I shall never forget it. "

"He is charming!" thought the young girl. "Since you have already seenthe garden, " said she, condescendingly, "you must go to the point fromwhich we have the best view. I am on my way thither now, if you like tofollow. "

Anton followed, lost in delight. The lady bade her horse walk slowly, and played the cicerone. At last she dismounted and led the pony, whereupon Anton ventured to stroke his neck--an attention which thelittle fellow took in good part, and returned by sniffing his coatpockets. "He trusts you, " said the young lady; "he is a sagaciousbeast. " She then tied the bridle round his neck, told him to go home, and turning to Anton, added, "We are going into the flower-garden, wherehe must not come; and so, you see, he trots back to his stable. "

"This pony is a perfect wonder, " cried Anton. 

"He is very fond of me; he does all I tell him, " was the reply. 

Anton thought that the most natural thing in the world. 

"I think you are of a good family, " said the little lady, decidedly, looking at Anton with a discriminating air. 

"No, " replied he, sadly. "My father died last month, my dear mother ayear ago; I am alone, and on my way to the capital. " His lips quiveredas he spoke. 

The lady looked at him with the utmost sympathy, and in someembarrassment. "Oh, poor, poor lad!" cried she. "But come quickly; Ihave something to show you. These are the beds of early strawberries;there are still a few. Do, pray, take them. No guest must leave myfather's house without partaking of the best each season brings. Pray, pray eat them. "

Anton looked at her with tearful eyes. 

"I am going to share with you, " said she, taking two strawberries. Uponthat, the youth obediently followed her example. 

"And now I will take you across the garden, " said she, leading him to alittle lake where old swans and young were swimming about. 

"They are coming hither, " cried Anton, in delight. 

"They know that I have something for them, " said his companion, loosening the while the chain of a small boat. "Now, sir, jump in, and Iwill row you across, for yonder lies your way. "

"I can not think of troubling you. "

"No opposition!" said she, imperatively, and they set off. 

Anton was entranced. Behind, the rich green trees; beneath, the clearwater rippling round the prow; opposite him, the slender figure of hiscompanion, and the swans, her snowy subjects, following in her train--itwas a dream such as is only granted to youth. 

The boat grounded; Anton leaped out, and involuntarily offered his hand, which the little lady touched with the tips of her fingers as she wishedhim good-by. He sprang up the hill and looked down. Through an openingin the wood he saw the castle with its flag floating, and its vines androses shining in the sun. 

"How noble! how magnificent!" said he, aloud. 

"If you were to count out to that baron a hundred thousand dollars, hewould not sell you the property he inherited from his father, " said asharp voice behind him. He angrily turned; the dream was gone; he stoodon the dusty highway, and saw a meanly-dressed youth, with a greatbundle under his arm, looking at him with cool familiarity. 

"Is it you, Veitel Itzig?" cried Anton, without showing much pleasure atthe meeting. Indeed, young Itzig was by no means a pleasant apparition, pale, haggard, red-haired, and shabbily clothed as he was. He came fromOstrau, and had been a schoolfellow of Anton's, who had once fought abattle on his behalf, and had stood between the young Jew and thegeneral ill-will of the other boys. But of late they had seldom met, just often enough to give Itzig an opportunity of keeping up in somemeasure their old schooldays' familiarity. 

"They say that you are going to the great city to learn business, " addedVeitel; "to be taught how to twist up paper bags and sell treacle to oldwomen. I am going there too, but _I_ mean to make my fortune. "

To this Anton replied, dryly enough, "Go, then, and make it, and do notlet me detain you. "

"There's no need to hurry, " said the other, carelessly; "I will walk onwith you, if you are not ashamed of my dress. " This appeal to our hero'shumanity was successful, and, casting a last look at the castle, he wenton his way, his unwelcome companion a foot or so behind him. At lengthhe turned, and inquired who the proprietor was. 

Itzig displayed wonderful familiarity with the subject. The baron, saidhe, had only two children, large flocks, and a clear estate. His son wasat a military school. Finally, observing Anton's interest, he remarked, "If you wish for his property, I will buy it for you. "

"Thanks, " was the cold reply. "You have just told me he was not disposedto sell. "

"When a man is not disposed to sell, he must be forced to do so. "

"You are the very person to force him, I suppose, " replied Anton, thoroughly out of patience. 

"Whether I am or not, does not signify; there is a receipt for makingany man sell. "

"What! can they be bewitched, or given some magic potion?" asked Anton, contemptuously. 

"A hundred thousand dollars is a potion that can work wonders; but apoor man must get hold of a secret to accomplish his ends. Now, I am onmy way to town to get at the knowledge of this secret. It is allcontained in certain papers, and I will search for those papers till Ifind them. "

Anton looked askance at his companion as at a lunatic, and at lengthreplied, "Poor Veitel, you never will find them. "

However, Itzig went on to say confidentially, "Never repeat what I tellyou. Those papers have been in our town; and a certain person, who isbecome a very great man now, got them from an old dying beggar-man, whogave them to him one night that he watched by his bedside. "

"And do you know this man?" inquired Anton, in a tone of curiosity. 

"Never mind whether I know him or not, " answered the other, slyly. "Ishall find out the receipt I spoke of. And if ever you wish to have thisbaron's property, horses, flocks, and his pretty daughter to boot, I'llbuy them for you, for the sake of our old friendship, and the thrashingyou once gave some of our schoolfellows on my account. "

"Take care, " said Anton, "that you don't turn out a thorough rascal; youseem to me to be in the fair way. "

So saying, he crossed over to the other side of the road in highdudgeon; but Itzig took his caution with the utmost equanimity, and everand anon, as they passed different country-seats, gave him an account ofthe names and rentals of their proprietors, so that Anton was perfectlystupefied with the extent of his statistical information. At length bothwalked on in silence. 

CHAPTER III. 

The Baron of Rothsattel was one of the few men whom not only the worldpronounced happy, but who believed himself to be so. The descendant ofan ancient and honorable house, he had married, out of sheer love, abeautiful young lady without any fortune. Like a sensible man, he hadretired with her into the country, lived for his family, and within hismeans. He was a thoroughly noble-hearted man, still handsome anddignified in appearance, an affectionate husband, a hospitable host; inshort, the very model of a landed proprietor. His means were not, indeed, very large, but he might have sold his property over and overagain for a far higher sum than the sagacious Itzig had surmised, had hefelt any inclination to do so. Two healthy, intelligent childrencompleted his domestic happiness; the boy was about to enter themilitary career, which had been that of all his ancestors; the girl wasto remain yet a while under her mother's wing. Like all men of olddescent, our baron was a good deal given to speculate upon the past andthe future of his family. We have said that his means were not large, and though he had always intended to lay by, the time for beginning todo so had never yet come. Either some improvement to house or groundswas wanted, or a trip to the baths--rendered necessary by his wife'sdelicate health--consumed the overplus income. Reflections of thisnature were occupying him just now, as he came galloping up the greatchestnut avenue. The cloud on his brow was, however, but a little one, and it soon vanished in sunshine when he saw the flutter of femininegarments, and found that his wife and daughter were coming to meet him. He leaped off his horse, kissed his favorite child on the brow, andcheerfully remarked to his wife, "We have capital weather for theharvest; the bailiff vows we never have had such a crop. "

"You are a fortunate man, Oscar, " said the baroness, tenderly. 

"Yes, ever since I brought you here, seventeen years ago, " replied he, with a politeness that came from the heart. 

"There are indeed seventeen years since then, " cried his wife, "and theyhave flown by like a summer day. We have been very happy, Oscar, " saidshe, bending over his arm, and looking gratefully in his face. 

"Been happy!" cried the baron; "why, so we still are, and I see not whywe should not continue so. "

"Hush!" implored she. "I often feel that so much sunshine can not lastforever. I desire, as it were, to fast and do penance, thus topropitiate the envy of fortune. "

"Come, come, " was the good-humored reply; "fortune has given us a fewrubs already: we have had our clouds, only this little hand has alwaysconjured them away. Why, have you not had plague enough with theservants, the pranks of the children, and sometimes with your tyranttoo, that you should be wishing for more?"

"You dear tyrant!" cried the wife, "I owe all my happiness to you; and, after seventeen years, I am as proud as ever of my husband and my home. When you brought me here, a poor maid of honor, with nothing but mytrinket-box, and that a gift, I first learned the blessedness of beingmistress in my own house, and obeying no other will than that of abeloved husband. "

"And yet you gave up much for me, " returned the baron; "I have had manya fear lest our country life should seem petty and dull to you, afavorite at court. "

"There I obeyed, here I rule, " said the baroness, laughing. "There I hadnothing besides my fine dresses that I could call my own; here, everything around is mine. You belong to me (she wound her arms around thebaron), and so do the children, the castle, and our silvercandlesticks. "

"The new ones are only plated, " suggested the baron. 

"Never mind; no one finds it out, " cried she, merrily. "When I look atour own dinner-service, and see your and my arms on the plates, twospoonfuls give me ten times more satisfaction than all the courses ofthe court dinner ever did. "

"You are a bright example of contentment, " said the baron; "and for yourand the children's sake, I wish this property were ten times larger, sothat I might keep a page and a couple of maids of honor for my ladywife. "

"For heaven's sake, no maids of honor; and as for a page, I need nonewith such an attentive knight as yourself. "

And so the pair walked on to the house, Lenore having taken possessionof the horse's bridle, affectionately exhorting him to raise as littledust as possible. 

"I see a carriage, " said the baron, as they drew near the door; "haveany visitors come?"

"It is only Ehrenthal, who wished to see you, " replied his wife, "andmeanwhile expended all his pretty speeches upon us. Lenore was soarrogant that it was high time I should carry her off--the droll man wasquite put out of countenance by the saucy girl. "

The baron smiled. "I like him the best of his class, " said he. "Hismanners are at least not repulsive, and I have always found himobliging. How do you do, Mr. Ehrenthal; what brings you here?"

Mr. Ehrenthal was a portly man in the prime of life, with a face tooyellow, fat, and cunning to be considered exactly handsome. He woregaiters, and a large diamond breast-pin, and advanced with a series oflow bows toward the baron. 

"Your servant, good sir, " said he, with a deferential smile; "althoughno business matters lead me here, I must sometimes crave permission tolook round your farm, it is such a treat and refreshment to me; all yourlive-stock is so sleek and well-fed, and the barns and stables in suchperfect order. The very sparrows look better off here than elsewhere. Toa man of business, who is often obliged to see things going to wrackand ruin, it is a delight, indeed, to contemplate an estate like yours. "

"You are so complimentary, Mr. Ehrenthal, that I can but believe youhave some weighty business on hand. Do you want to make a bargain withme?" asked the count, good-naturedly. 

With a virtuous shake of the head in refutation of the charge, Mr. Ehrenthal went on: "Not a word of business, baron, not a word. _Our_business, when we have any, admits of no compliments--good money andgood stock, that is our plan; and so, please God, it will be. I merelycame, in passing by"--here he waved his hand--"in passing by, to inquireabout one of the horses the baron has to sell; I promised a friend tomake inquiries. But I can settle the matter with the bailiff. "

"No, no; come along with me, Ehrenthal--I am going to take my horse tothe stable. "

With many bows to the ladies, Ehrenthal followed, and, arrived at thestable-door, respectfully insisted that the baron should enter it first. After the customary questions and answers, the baron took him to thecow-house, and he then fervently requested to see the calves, and thenthe sheep. Being an experienced man, his praise, although somewhatexaggerated, was in the main judicious, and the baron heard it withpleasure. 

After the inspection of the sheep, there was a pause, Ehrenthal beingquite overcome by the thickness and fineness of their fleece. He noddedand winked in ecstasy. "What wool!" said he; "what it will be nextspring! Do you know, baron, you are a most fortunate man? Have you goodaccounts of the young gentleman, your son?"

"Thank you, he wrote to us yesterday, and sent us his testimonials. "

"He will be like his father, a nobleman of the first order, and a richman too; the baron knows how to provide for his children. "

"I am not laying by, " was the careless reply. 

"Laying by, indeed!" said the tradesman, with the utmost contempt forany thing so plebeian; "and why should you? When old Ehrenthal is deadand gone, you will be able to leave the young gentleman thisproperty--with--between ourselves--a very large sum indeed, besides adowry to your daughter of--of--what shall I say? of fifty thousanddollars, at least. "

"You are mistaken, " said the baron, gravely; "I am not so rich. "

"Not so rich!" cried Ehrenthal, ready to resent the speech, if it hadnot been made by the baron himself. "Why, you may then be so any momentyou like; any one, with a property like yours, can double his capital inten years, without the slightest risk. Why not take joint-stockpromissory notes upon your estate?"

Ehrenthal alluded to a great joint-stock company of landed proprietorswhich lent money on a first mortgage on estates. This money took theform of promissory notes, made payable to the holder. The company itselfpaid interest to those who accepted the mortgages, and advanced money onthem, raising from its own debtors, in addition to the interest, a smallsum as commission, for the purpose of defraying expenses, and also forthe gradual extinction of the debt incurred. 

"I will have nothing to do with money transactions, " said the baron, proudly. But the string the tradesman had touched went on vibratingnotwithstanding. 

"Transactions such as those I speak of are carried on by every prince, "continued Mr. Ehrenthal, fervently. "If you were to do as I suggested, you might any day obtain fifty thousand dollars in good parchment. Forit you would pay to the company four per cent. ; and if you merely letthe mortgages lie in your cash-box, they would bring you in three and ahalf. So you would only have a half per cent. To pay, and by so doingyou would liquidate the capital. "

"That is to say, I am to run into debt in order to get rich, " said thebaron, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Excuse me, baron; if a nobleman like you has fifty thousand dollarslying by him, for which he only pays a half per cent. , he may buy uphalf the world. There are always opportunities of getting estates for amere nothing, or shares in mines, or something or other, if you onlyhave the money ready. Or you might establish some kind of works on yourproperty; as, for instance, for making beet-root sugar, like Herr vonBergue; or a brewery, like your neighbor, Count Horn. There is nopossible risk to be feared. Why, you would receive ten, twenty, ay, fifty per cent. For the capital borrowed at four per cent. "

The baron looked down thoughtfully. Ideas of the sort had often flittedacross his mind. It was just the time when numerous industrialspeculations had started up, and landed proprietors looked upon them asthe best way to increase their means. Mr. Ehrenthal perceived the effecthis words had taken, and concluded in the obsequious tone most naturalto him: "But what right have I to give any advice to a nobleman likeyou? Only, every capitalist will tell you that in our days this is thesurest method by which a man of rank can provide for his family; and, when the grass is growing over old Ehrenthal's grave, you will think ofme and say, 'Ehrenthal was but a plain man, but he gave me advice whichhas proved advantageous to my family. '"

The baron still looked thoughtfully down. His mind was made up, but hemerely replied, with affected indifference, "I will think the matterover. " Ehrenthal asked no more. 

It was a pity that the baron did not see the expression of thetradesman's face as he got into his conveyance and drove away. He toldthe coachman to go slowly through the grounds, and looked with delightat the flourishing crops on either side. "A fine property, " he went onmuttering to himself; "truly a fine property. "

Meanwhile the baroness sat in the shrubbery, and turned over the leavesof a new magazine, every now and then casting a look at her daughter, who was occupied in framing, with old newspapers and flowers, agrotesque decoration for the pony's head and neck, while he kept tearingaway all of it that he could reach. As soon as she caught her mother'sglance, she flew to her, and began to talk nonsense to the smart ladiesand gentlemen who displayed the fashions in the pages of the magazine. At first her mother laughed, but by-and-by she said, "Lenore, you arenow a great girl, and yet a mere child. We have been too careless aboutyour education; it is high time that you should begin and learn moresystematically, my poor darling. "

"I thought I was to have done with learning, " said Lenore, pouting. 

"Your French is still very imperfect, and your father wishes you topractice drawing, for which you have a talent. "

"I only care for drawing caricatures, " cried Lenore; "they are so easy. "

"You must leave off drawing these; they spoil your taste, and make yousatirical. " Lenore hung her head. "And who was the young man with whom Isaw you a short time ago?" continued the baroness, reprovingly. 

"Do not scold me, dear mother, " cried Lenore; "he was a stranger--ahandsome, modest youth, on his way to the capital. He has neither fathernor mother, and that made me so sorry for him. "

Her mother kissed her, and said, "You are my own dear, wild girl. Go andcall your father; his coffee will get cold. "

As soon as the baron appeared, his head still full of his conversationwith Ehrenthal, his wife laid her hand in his, and said, "Oscar, I amuneasy about Lenore!"

"Is she ill?" inquired her father, in alarm. 

"No, she is well and good-hearted, but she is more free andunconventional than she should be at her age. "

"She has been brought up in the country, and a fine, clever girl sheis, " replied the baron, soothingly. 

"Yes, but she is too frank in her manner toward strangers, " continuedhis wife; "I fear that she is in danger of becoming an original. "

"Well, and is that a very great misfortune?" asked the baron, laughing. 

"There can be no greater to a girl in our circle. Whatever is unusual insociety is ridiculous, and the merest shade of eccentricity might ruinher prospects. I am afraid she will never improve in the country. "

"What would the child do away from us, and growing up with strangers?"

"And yet, " said the baroness, earnestly, "it must come to this, though Igrieve to tell you so. She is rude to girls of her own age, disrespectful to ladies, and, on the other hand, much too forward togentlemen. "

"She will change, " suggested the baron, after a pause. 

"She will not change, " returned the baroness, gently, "so long as sheleaps over hedge and ditch with her father, and even accompanies him outhunting. "

"I can not make up my mind to part with both children, " said thekind-hearted father; "it would be hard upon us, indeed, and hardest uponyou, you rigid matron!"

"Perhaps so, " said the baroness, in a low voice, and her eyelidsmoistened; "but we must not think of ourselves, only of their futuregood. "

The baron drew her closer to him, and said in a firm voice, "Listen, Elizabeth; when in earlier days we looked forward to these, we had otherplans for Lenore's education. We resolved to spend the winter in town, to give the child some finishing lessons, and then to introduce her intothe world. We will go this very winter to the capital. "

The baroness looked up in amazement. "Dear, kind Oscar, " cried she;"but--forgive the question--will not this be a great sacrifice to you inother respects?"

"No, " was the cheerful reply; "I have plans which make it desirable forme to spend the winter in town. "

He told them, and the move was decided upon. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The sun was already low when the travelers reached the suburbs of thecapital. First came cottages, then villas, then the houses crowdedcloser, and the dust and noise made our hero's heart sink within him. Hewould soon have lost his way but for Veitel Itzig, who seemed to have apreference for by-streets and narrow flag-stones. At length they reachedone of the main streets, where large houses, with pillared porticoes, gay shops, and a well-dressed crowd, proclaimed the triumph of wealthover poverty. Here they stopped before a lofty house. Itzig pointed outthe door with a certain degree of deference, and said, "Here you are, and here you will soon get as proud as any of them; but, if you everwish to know where I am to be found, you can inquire at Ehrenthal's, inDyer Street. Good-night. "

Anton entered with a beating heart, and felt for his father's letter. Hehad become so diffident, and his head felt so confused, that he wouldgladly have sat down for a moment to rest and compose himself. But therewas no rest here. A great wagon stood at the door, and within, colossalbales and barrels; while broad-shouldered giants, with leathern apronsand short hooks in their belts, were carrying ladders, rattling chains, rolling casks, and tying thick ropes into artistic knots; while clerks, with pens behind their ears and papers in their hands, moved to and fro, and carriers in blue blouses received the different goods committed totheir care. Clearly there was no rest to be had here. Anton ran upagainst a bale, nearly fell over a ladder, and was with difficulty savedby the loud "Take care!" of two leathern-aproned sons of Anak from beingcrushed flat under an immense tun of oil. 

In the centre of all this movement--the sun around which porters, andclerks, and wagoners revolved--stood a young official, of decided airand few words, holding a large black pencil in his hand, with which hemade colossal hieroglyphics on the bales before he desired the portersto move them. To him Anton addressed himself in a nearly inaudiblevoice, and was directed by a wave of the pencil to the counting-house. Slowly he approached the door, which it cost him a mighty effort toopen, and as it gently yielded, and he saw the great room before him, his alarm was such that he could scarcely enter. His entrance, however, did not make much sensation. Half a dozen clerks were dashing in hasteover the blue folio paper before them, to save the post. Only one ofthem, who sat next the door, rose, and asked what Anton was pleased towant. 

Upon his replying that he wished to speak to Mr. Schröter, there emergedfrom an inner room a tall man, with a deeply-marked visage, standingshirt-collar, and thoroughly English aspect. Anton took a rapid surveyof his countenance, and felt his courage return. He at once discovereduprightness and kindness of heart, though the air and manner weresomewhat stern. He rapidly drew out his letter, gave his name, and, in abroken voice, mentioned his father's death. 

At this a friendly light beamed from the merchant's eyes; he opened theletter, read it attentively, and stretched out his hand, saying, "Youare welcome. " Then turning to one of the clerks, who wore a green coatand a gray over-sleeve on the right arm, he announced, "Mr. Wohlfartenters our office from this day. " For an instant the six pens weresilent, and the principal went on to say to Anton, "You must be tired;Mr. Jordan will show you your room: the rest to-morrow. " So saying, hewent back to his office, and the six pens began again with fearfulrapidity. 

The gentleman in the green coat rose, drew off his over-sleeve, carefully folded and locked it up, and invited Anton to follow him. Anton felt a different man to that he had done ten minutes before; hehad now a home, and belonged to the business. Accordingly, as he passed, he patted a great bale as though it had been the shoulder of a friend, at which his conductor turned and benevolently vouchsafed the word"cotton;" next he rapped a gigantic barrel, and received the information"currants. " He no longer fell over ladders--nay, he boldly pushed oneout of his way, bestowed a friendly greeting upon one of theleathern-aproned Anakims, and felt pleased to be politely thanked inreturn, especially when informed that this was the head porter. 

They crossed the court, mounted a well-worn staircase, and then Mr. Jordan opened the door of a room which he told Anton would most probablybe his, and had been formerly occupied by a friend of his own. It was aneat little room, with a beautiful stucco cat sitting on thewriting-table, which had been left by the former tenant for the benefitof his successor. 

Mr. Jordan hurried off to the office, where he had to be earliest andlatest of all; and Anton, with the help of a friendly servant, arrangedhis room and his dress. 

Soon the green coat reappeared, and said that Mr. Schröter was gone out, and not to be seen again that day. "Would the new-comer make theacquaintance of his colleagues? It was not necessary to dress. "

Anton followed him down stairs, and Mr. Jordan was just about to knockat the door of a certain room, when it was opened by a handsome, slenderyoung man, whose whole appearance made a great impression upon our hero. 

He wore a riding-dress, had on a jockey's cap, and a whip in his hand. "So you are trotting your colt round already?" said the stranger, laughing. Mr. Jordan looked solemn, and went on to introduce Mr. Wohlfart, the new apprentice, just arrived; Herr von Fink, son of thegreat Hamburg firm, Fink and Becker. 

"Heir of the greatest train-oil business in the world, and so forth, "broke in Fink, carelessly. "Jordan, give me ten dollars; I want to paythe groom; add them to the rest. " Then turning to Anton, he said, withsome degree of politeness, "If you were coming to call upon me, as Iguess from the festive air of your Mercury, I am sorry not to be athome, having to buy a new horse. I consider your visit paid, return youmy most ceremonious thanks, and give you my blessing on your entrance. "And, with a careless nod, he went rattling down the stairs. 

Anton was a good deal discomposed by this cool behavior, and Jordanthought it desirable to add a short commentary of his own. "Fink onlyhalf belongs to us, and has been here but a short time. He was broughtup in New York, and his father has sent him here to be made a rationalbeing. "

"Is he not rational, then?" inquired Anton, with some curiosity. 

"Why, he is too wild, too full of mischief--else, a pleasant fellowenough. And now come with me; I have invited all our gentlemen to tea, that they may make your acquaintance. "

Mr. Jordan's room was the largest of those appropriated to the clerks, and having a piano-forte and a few arm-chairs, it was occasionally usedas a drawing-room. 

Here, then, the gentlemen were sitting and standing, awaiting thenew-comer. Anton went through the ceremony of introduction with becominggravity, shaking each of them by the hand, and asking for theirgood-will and friendly assistance, as he had been but little in theworld, and was totally inexperienced as to business. This candorproduced a favorable impression. The conversation grew animated, and wasseasoned with many allusions and jests wholly unintelligible to thestranger, who held his peace, and devoted himself to observation. First, there was the book-keeper, Liebold, a little, elderly man, with a gentlevoice and a modest smile, that seemed to apologize to the world at largefor his having taken the liberty of existing in it. He said but little, and had a way of always retracting what he had advanced, as, forexample, "I admit this tea is too weak; though, to be sure, strong teais unwholesome, " and so on. Next came Mr. Pix, the despotic wielder ofthe black pencil, a decided kind of man, who seemed to look upon allsocial relations as mere business details, respectable but trivial. As achair was wanting, he sat astride on a small table. Near him was Mr. Specht, who spoke much, and dealt in assertions that every one elsedisputed. Then there was a Mr. Baumann, with short hair and thoughtfulaspect, very regular in his attendance at church, a contributor to everymissionary association, and, as his friends declared, much inclined tobe a missionary himself, but that the force of habit retained him inGermany and with the firm. Anton remarked with pleasure the courtesy andgood feeling that prevailed. Being tired, he soon made his retreat; andhaving contradicted no one, and been friendly to all, he left afavorable impression behind. 

Meanwhile, Veitel Itzig made his way through the narrow and crowdedstreets till he reached a large house, the lower windows of which weresecured by iron bars; while, on the drawing-room floor, the panes ofglass were large, and showed white curtains within; the attic windowsagain being dirty, dusty, and here and there broken; in short, the househad a disreputable air, reminding one of an old gipsy who has thrown anew and gayly-colored shawl over her rags. 

Into this house he entered, kissing his hand to a smart maid-servant, who resented the liberty. The dirty staircase led to a white door, onwhich the name "Hirsch Ehrenthal" was inscribed. He rang; and an oldwoman, with a torn cap, appeared, who, having heard his request, calledout to those within, "Here is one from Ostrau, Itzig Veitel by name, whowishes to speak to Mr. Ehrenthal. " A loud voice replied, "Let him wait;"and the clatter of plates showed that the man of business meant tofinish his supper before he gave the future _millionnaire_ a hearing. Accordingly, Veitel sat upon the steps admiring the brass plate and thewhite door, and wondering how the name of Itzig would look upon justsuch another. That led him to reflect how far he was from being as richas this Hirsch Ehrenthal; and, feeling the half dozen ducats his motherhad sewn into his waistcoat, he began to speculate how much he coulddaily add to them, provided the rich man took him into his service. Inthe midst of these reflections the door was flung open, and Mr. Ehrenthal stood before him, no longer the same man we saw in themorning; the deference, the kindness, all were gone. No Eastern despotso proud and lofty. Itzig felt his own insignificance, and stood humblybefore his master. 

"Here is a letter to Baruch Goldmann, in which Mr. Ehrenthal has sentfor me, " began Veitel. 

"I wrote Goldmann word to send you, that I might see whether you wouldsuit; nothing is yet settled, " was the dignified reply. 

"I came that you might see me, sir. "

"And why did you come so late, young Itzig? this is not the time forbusiness. "

"I wished to show myself to-night, in case, sir, you should have anycommission to give me for to-morrow. I thought I might be useful, as itis market-day; and I know most of the coachmen of the farmers who comein with rape-seed and other produce; and I know many of the brokerstoo. "

"Are your papers in good order, " was the reply, "so that I may have notrouble with the police?"

When Veitel had given satisfaction on this important subject, Ehrenthalvouchsafed to say, "If I take you into my house, you must turn your handto any thing that I, or Mrs. Ehrenthal, or my son, may chance to order;you must clean the boots and shoes, and run errands for the cook. "

"I will do any thing, Mr. Ehrenthal, to make you satisfied with me, " wasthe humble reply. 

"For this you will receive two dollars a month; and, if I make a goodbargain by your assistance, you will have your share. As for yoursleeping-quarters, they had better be with Löbel Pinkus, that I may knowwhere to find you when wanted. " So saying, Ehrenthal opened the door, and called, "Wife, Bernhard, Rosalie, come here. "

Mrs. Ehrenthal was a portly lady in black silk, with strongly-markedeyebrows and black ringlets, who laid herself out to please, and wasextremely successful, report averred. As for her daughter, she was, indeed, a perfect beauty, with magnificent eyes and complexion, and avery slightly aquiline nose. But how came Bernhard to be one of thefamily? Short, slight, with a pale, deeply-lined face, and bent figure, it was only his mouth and his clear eye that bespoke him young, and hewas more negligently attired, too, than might have been expected. Theyall looked at Veitel in silence, while Ehrenthal proceeded to say thathe had taken him into his service; and Veitel himself mentally resolvedto be very subservient to the mother, to fall in love with the daughter, to clean carelessly Bernhard's boots, and carefully to search his pocketin brushing his coat. On the whole, he was well pleased with thearrangement made, and smiled to himself as he went along to LöbelPinkus. 

This Löbel Pinkus was a householder who kept a spirit-shop on the groundfloor; but one thing was certain, no mere spirit-shop could haveenriched him as this did. However, he bore a good character. The policewillingly took a glass at his counter, for which he always declinedpayment. He paid his taxes regularly, and passed, indeed, for a friendof the executive. On the first floor he kept a lodging-house for beardedand beardless Jews. These gentlemen generally slipped in late and outearly. Besides such regular guests, others of every age, sex, and creedarrived at irregular intervals. These had strictly private dealings withthe host, and showed a great objection to having a lucifer match strucknear their faces. The other lodgers took their own views of thesepeculiarities, but judged it best to keep them to themselves. In thishouse it was that Itzig went up a dark stair, and, groping along a dirtywall, came to a heavy oaken door, with a massive bolt, and, after a goodpush, entered a waste-looking room that ran the whole length of thehouse. In the middle stood an old table with a wretched oil lamp, andopposite the door a great partition, with several smaller doors, some ofwhich were open, and showed that the whole consisted of narrowsubdivisions, with hooks for hanging clothes. The small windows hadfaded blinds, but on the opposite side of the room the twilight enteredthrough an open door that led to a wooden gallery running along theoutside of the house. 

Itzig threw down his bundle and went out on this gallery, which heviewed with much interest. Below him rolled a rapid stream of dirtywater, hemmed in on either side by dilapidated wooden houses, most ofwhich had similar galleries to every story. In olden times, the worthyguild of dyers had inhabited this street, but now they had changed theirquarters, and instead of sheep and goat skins, there hung over theworm-eaten railings only the clothes of the poor put out to dry. Theircolors contrasted strangely with the black woodwork; the light fell in aremarkable way upon the rude carvings, and the dark posts that startedhere and there out of the water. In short, it was a wretched place, savefor cats, painters, or poor devils. 

Young Itzig had already been here more than once, but never alone. Nowhe observed that a long, covered staircase led down from the gallery tothe water's edge, and that a similar one ran up to the next house, whence he concluded that it would be possible to go from one house toanother without doing more than wetting the feet; also, that when thewater was low, one could walk along at the base of the houses, and hewondered whether there were men who availed themselves of thesepossibilities. His fancy was so much excited by this train of thought, that he ran back, crept into the partition, and found out that the wallat the back of it was also of wood. As this was the wall dividing theneighboring house from the one in which he was, he considered it apleasant discovery, and was just going to see whether some chink in themain wall might not afford a further prospect, when he was disturbed bya hollow murmur, which showed him that he was not alone. So he settledhimself upon a bag of straw opposite his companion, who was too sleepyto talk much. By-and-by Pinkus came in, placed a jug of water on thetable, and locked the door outside. Itzig ate in the dark the dry breadhe had in his pocket, and at length fell asleep to the snoring of hiscompanion. 

At the same hour his fellow-traveler wrapped himself round in hiscomfortable bed, looked about him more asleep than awake, and fanciedthat he saw the stucco cat rise on his feet, stretch out his paws, andproceed to wash his face. Before he had time to marvel at this, he fellasleep. Both the youths had their dreams. Anton's was of sitting on agigantic bale, and flying on it through the air, while a certain lovelyyoung lady stretched her arms out toward him; and Itzig's was of havingbecome a baron, and being teased into flinging an alms to old Ehrenthal. 

The following morning each set to work. Anton sat at the desk and copiedletters, while Itzig, having brushed the collective boots and shoes ofthe Ehrenthal family, stationed himself as a spy at the door of theprincipal hotel, to watch a certain gentleman who was discontented withhis master, and suspected of applying to other moneyed men. 

The first idle hour he had, Anton drew from memory the castle, thebalcony, and the turrets, on the best paper the town could afford; thenext, he put the drawing in a gilt frame, and hung it over his sofa. 

CHAPTER V. 

Just at first Anton found some difficulty in adapting himself to the newworld in which he was placed. 

The business was one of a kind becoming rare nowadays, when rail-roadsand telegraphs unite remotest districts, and every merchant sends fromthe heart of the country to bid his agents purchase goods almost beforethey reach the shore. Yet there was a something about this old-fashionedhouse of a dignified, almost a princely character; and what was stillbetter, it was well calculated to inspire confidence. At the time ofwhich we speak, the sea was far off, facilities of communication wererare, so that the merchants' speculations were necessarily moreindependent, and involved greater hazard. The importance of such amercantile house as this depended upon the quantity of stores it boughtwith its own money and at its own risk. Of these, a great part lay inlong rows of warehouses along the river, some in the vaults of the oldhouse itself, and some in the warehouses and stores of those around. Most of the tradesmen of the province provided themselves with colonialproduce from the warehouses of the firm, whose agents were spread toeast and south, and carried on, even as far as the Turkish frontier, abusiness which, if less regular and secure than the home trade, wasoften more lucrative than any other. 

Thus it happened that the every-day routine afforded to the newapprentice a wide diversity of impressions and experiences. A variedprocession poured through the counting-house from morning to evening;men of different costumes, all offering samples of different articlesfor sale--Polish Jews, beggars, men of business, carriers, porters, servants, etc. Anton found it difficult to concentrate his thoughts amidthis endless going and coming, and to get through his work, simple as itwas. 

For instance, Mr. Braun, the agent of a friendly house in Hamburgh, hadjust come in and taken a sample of coffee out of his pocket. While itwas being submitted to the principal, the agent went on gesticulatingwith his gold-headed cane, and talking about a recent storm, and thedamage it had done. The door creaked, and a poorly-dressed womanentered. 

"What do you want?" asked Mr. Specht. 

Then came lamentable sounds, like the peeping of a sick hen, whichchanged, as soon as the merchant had put his hand into his pocket, intoa joyful chuckle. 

"Waves mountain-high, " cried the agent. 

"God reward you a thousand-fold, " chuckled the woman. 

"Comes to 550 merks, 10 shillings, " said Baumann to the principal. 

And now the door was vehemently pushed open, and a stoutly-built manentered, with a bag of money under his arm, which he triumphantlydeposited on the marble table, exclaiming, with the air of one doing agood action, "Here am I; and here is money!"

Mr. Jordan rose immediately, and said, in a friendly voice, "Good-morning, Mr. Stephen; how goes the world in Wolfsburg?"

"A dreadful hole!" groaned Mr. Braun. 

"Where?" inquired Fink. 

"Not such a bad place either, " said Mr. Stephen; "but little businessdoing. "

"Sixty-five sacks of Cuba, " returned the principal to a question of oneof the clerks. 

Meanwhile, the door opened again, and this time admitted a man-servantand a Jew from Brody. The servant gave the merchant a note of invitationto a dinner-party--the Jew crept to the corner where Fink sat. 

"What brings you again, Schmeie Tinkeles?" coldly asked Fink; "I havealready told you that we would have no dealings with you. "

"No dealings!" croaked the unlucky Tinkeles, in such execrable Germanthat Anton had difficulty in understanding him. "Such wool as I bringhas never been seen before in this country. "

"How much a hundred weight?" asked Fink, writing, without looking at theJew. 

"What I have already said. "

"You are a fool, " said Fink; "off with you!"

"Alas!" screamed he of the caftan, "what language is that? 'Off withyou!'--there's no dealing so. "

"What do you want for your wool?

"41-2/3, " said Tinkeles. 

"Get out!" suggested Fink. 

"Don't go on forever saying 'Get out!'" implored the Jew, in despair;"say what you will give. "

"If you ask such unreasonable prices, nothing at all, " replied Fink, beginning another sheet. 

"Only say what you will give. "

"Come, then, if you speak like a rational man, " answered Fink, lookingat the Jew. 

"I _am_ rational, " was the low reply; "what will you give?"

"Thirty-nine, " said Fink. 

At that Schmeie Tinkeles went distracted, shook his black greasy hair, and swore by all he held holy that he could not take it under 41, whereupon Fink signified that he should be put out by one of theservants if he made so much noise. The Jew, therefore, went off in highdudgeon; soon, however, putting his head in again, and asking, "Well, then, what will you give?"

"Thirty-nine, " said Fink, watching the excitement he thus raised much asan anatomist might the galvanic convulsions of a frog. The words"thirty-nine" occasioned a fresh explosion in the mind of the Jew; hecame forward, solemnly committed his soul to the deepest abyss, anddeclared himself the most unworthy wretch alive if he took less than 41. As he could not profit by Fink's repeated exhortations to quit, aservant was called. His appearance was so far composing, that Mr. Tinkeles now declared he could go alone, and would go alone; whereuponhe stood still, and said 40-1/2. The agent, the provincials, and thewhole counting-house watched the progress of the bargain with somecuriosity; while Fink, with a certain degree of cordiality, proceeded tocounsel the poor Jew to retire without further discussion, seeing thathe was an utter fool, and there really was no dealing with him. Oncemore the Jew went out, and Fink said to the principal, who was reading aletter the while, "He'll let us have the wool if I let him have anotherhalf dollar. "

"How much is there of it?" asked the merchant. 

"Six tons, " said Fink. 

"Take it, " said Mr. Schröter, reading on. 

Again the door opened and shut, the chattering went on, and Anton keptwondering how they could speak of a purchase when the seller had been sodecided in his refusal of their terms. Once more the door was gentlypushed open, and Tinkeles, creeping behind Fink, laid his hand on hisshoulder, and said, in a melancholy but confidential voice, "What willyou give, then?"

Fink turned round, and replied with a good-natured smile, "If you pleaseto take it, Tinkeles, 39-1/3; but only on the condition that you do notspeak another word, otherwise I retract the offer. "

"I am not speaking, " answered the Jew. "Say 40. "

Fink made a movement of impatience, and silently pointed to the door. The wool-dealer went out once more. 

"Now for it!" said Fink. 

In a moment or two Tinkeles returned, and, with more composure ofmanner, brought out "39-1/2, if you will take it at that. "

After some appearance of uncertainty, Fink carelessly replied, "So beit, then;" at which Schmeie Tinkeles underwent an utter transformation, behaving like an amiable friend of the firm, and politely inquiringafter the health of the principal. 

And so it went on; the door creaking, buyers and sellers coming andgoing, men talking, pens scratching, and money pouring ceaselessly in. 

The household of which Anton now formed part appeared to him to be mostimpressive and singular. The house itself was an irregular and ancientbuilding, with wings, court-yards, out-houses, short stairs, mysteriouspassages, and deep recesses. In the front part of it were handsomeapartments, occupied by the merchant's family. Mr. Schröter had onlybeen married for a very short time, his wife and child had died withinthe year, and his sister was now his only near relation. 

The merchant adhered rigidly to the old customs of the firm. All theunmarried clerks formed part of the household, and dined with himpunctually at one o'clock. On the day after Anton's arrival, a fewminutes before that hour, he was taken to be introduced to the lady ofthe house, and gazed with wonder at the elegance and magnificence of therooms through which he passed on his way to her presence. 

Sabine Schröter's pale, delicate face, crowned with hair of raven black, shone out very fair above her graceful summer attire. She seemed aboutAnton's own age, but she had the dignity of a matron. 

"My sister governs us all, " said the merchant, looking fondly at her. "If you have any wish, make it known to her; she is the good fairy whokeeps the house in order. "

Anton looked at the fairy, and modestly replied, "Hitherto I have foundevery thing exceed my wishes. "

"Your life will, in time, appear a monotonous one, " continued themerchant. "Ours is a rigidly regular house, where you have much work tolook forward to, and little recreation. My time is much engrossed; but, if you should ever need advice or assistance, I hope you will applydirectly to myself. "

This short audience over, he rose and led Anton to the dining-room, where all his colleagues were assembled; next, Sabine entered, accompanied by an elderly lady, a distant relation, who looked verygood-natured. The clerks made their obeisance, and Anton took the seatappointed to him at the end of a long table, among the younger of hisbrethren. Opposite him sat Sabine, beside her brother, then the elderlyrelative, and next to her, Fink. On the whole, it was a silent dinner. Anton's neighbors said little, and that under their breath; but Finkrattled away with thorough unconcern, told droll stories, mimickedvoices and manners, and was exaggerated in his attentions to thegood-natured relative. Anton was positively horrified at this freedom, and fancied that the principal did not like it much better. Theblack-coated domestics waited with the utmost propriety; and Anton rosewith the impression that this repast had been the most solemn andstately of which he had ever partaken, and that he should get on withall the household with the exception of "that Von Fink. "

One day that they accidentally met on the staircase, Fink, who had notfor some time appeared conscious of his existence, stopped and askedhim, "Well, Master Wohlfart, how does this house suit you?"

To which Anton replied, "Exceedingly well, indeed. I see and hear somuch that is new to me that I have hardly thought of myself as yet. "

"You'll soon get accustomed to it, " said Fink, laughing; "one day is thesame as the other all the year long. On Sunday, an extra good dinner, aglass of wine, and your best coat--that's all. You are one of the wheelsin the machine, and will be expected to grind regularly. "

"I am aware that I must be industrious in order to merit Mr. Schröter'sconfidence, " was the rather indignant reply. 

"Truly a virtuous remark; but you'll soon see, my poor lad, what a gulfis fixed between the head of the firm and those who write his letters. No prince on earth stands so far removed above his vassals as this samecoffee-lord above his clerks. But do not lay much stress on what I say, "added he, more good-naturedly; "the whole house will tell you that I amnot quite _compos_. However, I'll give you a piece of good advice. Getan English master, and make some progress before you got rusty. All theyteach you here will never make a clever man of you, if you happen towant to be one. Good-night. " And, turning upon his heel, he left ourAnton somewhat disconcerted. 

Indeed, he too, in course of time, began to be conscious of the monotonyof a business life, but he did not fret about it, having been taught byhis parents habits of industry and order. 

Mr. Jordan took much pains to initiate him into the mysteries of diverswares; and the hours that he first spent in the warehouses, amid thevaried produce of different lands, were fraught with a certain poetry oftheir own, as good, perhaps, as any other. There was a large, gloomy, vaulted room on the ground floor, in which lay stores for the traffic ofthe day. Tuns, bales, chests, were piled on each other, which everyland, every race, had contributed to fill. The floating palace of theEast India Company, the swift American brig, the patriarchal ark of theDutchman, the stout-ribbed whaler, the smoky steamer, the gay Chinesejunk, the light canoe of the Malay--all these had battled with winds andwaves to furnish this vaulted room. A Hindoo woman had woven thatmatting; a Chinese had painted that chest; a Congo negro, in the serviceof a Virginian planter, had looped those canes over the cotton bales;that square block of zebra-wood had grown in the primeval forests of theBrazils, and monkeys and bright-hued parrots had chattered among itsbranches. Anton would stand long in this ancient hall, after Mr. Jordan's lessons were over, absorbed in wonder and interest, till roofand pillars seemed transferred to broad-leaved palm-trees, and the noiseof the streets to the roar of the sea--a sound he only knew in hisdreams; and this delight in what was foreign and unfamiliar never woreoff, but led him to become, by reading, intimately acquainted with thecountries whence all these stores came, and with the men by whom theywere collected. 

Thus the first months of his life in the capital fled rapidly away; andit was well for him that he took so much interest in his studies, forFink proved right in one respect. In spite of the daily meal in thestately dining-room, Anton remained as great a stranger as ever to theprincipal and his family. He was too rational, indeed, to murmur atthis, but he could not avoid feeling depressed by it; for, with theenthusiasm of youth, he was ready to revere his chief as the ideal ofmercantile greatness. He admired his sagacity, decision, energy, andinflexible uprightness, and would have been devoted to him heart andsoul, but that he so seldom saw him. When the merchant was not engagedby business, he lived for his sister, whom he most tenderly loved. Forher he kept a carriage and horses which he himself never used, and gaveevening parties to which Anton and his colleagues were not invited. Gayequipages rolled in one after the other, liveried servants ran up anddown stairs, and graceful shadows flitted across the windows, whileAnton sat in his little upper chamber, and yearned eagerly after thebrilliant gayeties in which he had no part. True, his reason told himthat they did not belong to men of his class, but at nineteen reason isnot always supreme; and many a time he went back with a sigh from hiswindow to his books, and tried to forget the alluring strains of thequadrille and waltz in the descriptions of the lion's roar and thebull-frog's croak in the far-off tropics. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Baron of Rothsattel had moved to his town residence. It was notindeed large, but its furniture, the arabesques on its walls, thearrangement of its hangings were so graceful, that it ranked as a modelof comfort and elegance. The baron had made all his preparations insilence. At length the day came when the new carriage stopped at thedoor, and, lifting down his wife, he led her through the suite ofapartments to her own little boudoir, all fitted up with white silk. Enchanted beyond measure, she flew into his arms, and he felt as proudand happy as a king. They were soon perfectly settled, and able to begintheir course of visiting. 

It was the custom of a large portion of the nobility to spend the winterin town, and accordingly the Rothsattels met many friends, and severalof their acquaintance. Every one was pleased to welcome them, and aftera few weeks they found themselves immersed in gayety. The baroness soonbecame a leader of the feminine world, and her husband, after at firstmissing his walks through his farm and his woods, began to take equalpleasure in reviving his youthful acquaintance. He became member of anobleman's club, indulged his virtuoso tendencies, played whist, andfilled his idle hours with a little politics and a little art. And sothe winter passed pleasantly on, and the baron and his wife oftenwondered why they had not earlier indulged in this agreeable variety. 

Lenore was the only one dissatisfied with the change. She continued tojustify her mother's fear lest she should become an original. She foundit difficult to pay proper respect to the numberless elderly cousins ofthe family, and still more difficult to refrain from accosting first anypleasant gentleman she had known in the country, and now chanced to meetin the streets. Likewise, the Young Lady's Institution, which she had toattend, was in many ways objectionable to her. She had certain maps andtiresome lesson-books to take to and fro, and her mother did not approveof the servants' time being occupied in carrying them after her. Oneday, when walking like an angry Juno--the tokens of her slavery upon herarm, and her little parasol in her hand--she beheld the young gentlemanto whom she had shown her flower-garden coming to meet her, and sherejoiced at it, for he was pleasantly associated in her mind with home, the pony, and the family of swans. He was still some way off when herhawk's eye discerned him, but he did not see her even when he camenearer. As her mother had forbidden her ever to accost a gentleman inthe street, there was nothing for it but to stand still and to strikeher parasol on the flags. 

Anton looked up and saw to his pleasant surprise the lovely lady of thelake. Blushing, he took off his hat, and Lenore observed withsatisfaction that, in spite of the satchel on her arm, she impressed himas much us ever. 

"How are you, sir?" she inquired, in a dignified way. 

"Very well, " replied Anton; "how delighted I am to see you in town!"

"We are living here at present, " said the young lady, with lessstateliness, "at No. 20 Bear Street. "

"May I inquire for the pony?" said Anton, respectfully. 

"Only think, he had to be left behind!" was the sorrowful reply; "andwhat are you doing here?"

"I am in the house of T. O. Schröter, " said Anton, bowing. 

"Oh! a merchant; and what do you deal in?"

"In colonial produce. It is the largest firm in that department in thewhole town, " replied Anton, complacently. 

"And have you met with kind people who take care of you?"

"My principal is very kind, but I must take care of myself. "

"Have you any friends here with whom you can amuse yourself?"

"A few acquaintances. But I have much to do, and I must improve myselfin my leisure hours. "

"You look rather pale, " said the young lady, with motherly interest;"you should move more about, and take long walks. I am glad to have metyou, and shall be pleased to hear of your well-doing, " added she, majestically; and, with an inclination of her pretty little head, shevanished in the crowd, while Anton remained gazing after her, hat inhand. 

Lenore did not consider it necessary to mention this meeting. But a fewdays later, when the baroness happened to inquire where they should getsome necessary stores, she looked up from her book and said, "Thelargest firm here is that of T. O. Schröter, dealer in colonial produce. "

"How do you know that?" inquired her father, laughing; "you speak likean experienced merchant. "

"All the result of the Young Lady's Institution, " answered Lenore, pertly. 

Meanwhile, in the midst of his social pleasures, the baron did notforget the chief end of his town life. He made close inquiries as to thespeculations of other landed proprietors, visited the factories in thetown, became acquainted with educated manufacturers, and acquired someknowledge of machinery. But the information thus gained was socontradictory, that he thought it best not to precipitate matters, butto wait till some specially advantageous and safe undertaking shouldoffer. 

We must not omit to mention that about this time the family property wasincreased by a small, handsome, brass-inlaid casket, with a lock thatdefied any thief's power of opening, so that, if minded to steal, hewould have nothing for it but to carry off the casket itself. In it werelaid forty-five thousand dollars in the form of new promissory notes. The baron contemplated these with much tenderness. At first he would sitfor hours opposite the open casket, never weary of arranging theparchment leaves according to their numbers, delighting in their glossywhiteness, and forming plans for paying off the capital; and even when, for safety's sake, the casket had been made over to the keeping of theJoint-stock Company, the thought of it was a continual pleasure. Nay, the spirit of the casket began to peep out even in householdarrangements. The baroness was surprised at her husband counselingcertain economies, or telling with a degree of pleasure of ten louisd'or won last evening at cards. She was at first a little afraid that hehad become in some way embarrassed; but, as he assured her, with acomplacent smile, that this was far from being the case, she soonlearned to treat these little attempts at saving as an innocent whim, especially as they only extended to trifling details, the baroninsisting as much as ever upon keeping up a dignified and imposingsocial appearance. Indeed, it was impossible for him to retrench justnow. The town life, the furnishing of the house, and the necessaryclaims of society, of course increased the outgoings. 

And so it came to pass that the baron, after having paid a visit to hisproperty to settle the yearly accounts, returned to town much out oftune. He had become aware that the expenditure of the last year hadexceeded the income, and that the income of the next year gave nopromise of balancing the existing deficit of two thousand dollars. Thethought occurred that the sum must be taken from the white parchments;and the man who would have stood calm beneath a shower of bullets, brokeout into a cold perspiration at the idea of the debts thus to beincurred. It was plain that there had been an error in his calculations. He who wishes to raise a sum by small yearly savings must not increase, but lessen his expenditure. True, the increase in his case had beenunavoidable; but still, a most unlucky coincidence. The baron had notfelt such anxiety since his lieutenant-days. There were a thousand goodreasons, however, against giving up the town house; it was rented for aterm of years; and then, what would his acquaintance say? So he kepthis troubles to himself; quieted the baroness by talking of a coldcaught on his journey; but all day long the same thought kept gnawing athis heart. Sometimes in the evening he was able to drive it away awhile, but it was sure to return in the morning. 

It was one of these weary mornings that Mr. Ehrenthal, who had to payfor some grain, was announced. The very name was at that momentunpleasant to the baron, and his greeting was colder than usual; but theman of business did not mind little ups and downs of temper, paid hismoney, and was profuse in expressions of devoted respect, which all fellcoldly, till, just before going away, he inquired, "Did the promissorynotes duly arrive?"

"Yes, " was the ungracious reply. 

"It is sad, " cried Ehrenthal, "to think of forty-five thousand dollarslying dead. To you, baron, a couple of thousands or so is a mere trifle, but not to one of my sort. At this moment I might speculate boldly, andsafely too; but all my money being locked up, I must lose a clear fourthousand. " The baron listened attentively; the trader went on: "You haveknown me, baron, for years past, to be a man of honor, and of somesubstance too; and now I will make a proposition to you. Lend me forthree months ten thousand dollars' worth of promissory notes, and I willgive you a bill of exchange, which is as good as money. The speculationshould bring in four thousand dollars, and that I will divide with youin lieu of interest. You will run no risk; if I fail, I will bear theloss myself, and pay back the principal in three months. "

However uninteresting these words may appear to the reader, they threwthe baron into such a state of joyous excitement that he could scarcecommand himself sufficiently to say, "First of all, I must know whatsort of a bargain it is that you wish to drive with my money. " Ehrenthalexplained. The offer of purchasing a quantity of wood had been made tohim, which wood lay on a raft in an upper part of the province. He wouldtake all the expense of transport on himself; and he proceeded todemonstrate the certain profit of the transaction. 

"But, " said the baron, "how comes it that the present proprietor doesnot carry out this profitable scheme himself?"

Ehrenthal shrugged his shoulders. "He who means to speculate must notalways inquire the reason of bargains. An embarrassed man can not waittwo or three months; the river is at present frozen, and he wants themoney in two or three days. "

"Are you sure that his right to sell is incontestable?"

"I know the man to be safe, " was the reply; "and that, if I pay him thisevening, the wood is mine. "

Now it was painful to the baron, much as he wanted money, to turn theembarrassment of another to his own profit; and he said, "I consider itunfair to reckon upon what is certain loss to the seller. "

"Why should it be certain loss?" cried Ehrenthal. "He is aspeculator--he wants money; perhaps he has a greater bargain still inhis eye. He has offered me the whole quantity of wood for ten thousanddollars, and I have no business to inquire whether he can or can notmake more of my money than I of his wood. "

And so far Ehrenthal was right; but this was not all. The seller was anunlucky speculator, pressed by his creditors, threatened with anexecution, and determined to frustrate their hopes by driving animmediate bargain with a stranger, and then making off with the money. Perhaps Ehrenthal knew this; perhaps the baron too surmised that theremust be a mystery, for he shook his head. And yet _he_ ran no risk, incurred no responsibility; he but lent his money to a safe man, whom hehad known for years, and in a short time he should get rid of the evilgenius that tormented him ceaselessly. Too much excited to reflectwhether this was not a casting out of devils by Beelzebub, their chief, he rang the bell for his carriage, and said, in a lordly tone, "Youshall have the money in an hour. "

From that day the baron led a life of anxious suspense. He was alwaysgoing over this interview, always thinking of the piles of wood; and, whenever he rode out, his horse's head was turned to the river, that hemight watch the progress of the thaw. 

He had not seen Ehrenthal for some time. At length he came one morningwith his endless bows, and, taking out a large packet, saidtriumphantly, "Well, baron, the affair is settled. Here are your notes, and here the two thousand dollars, your share of the profit. "

The baron snatched the packet. Yes; they were the very same parchmentshe had taken out of the casket with so heavy a heart, and a bundle ofbank-notes besides. A weight fell from him. The parchments were safe, the deficit made up. Ehrenthal was courteously dismissed. That very daythe baron bought a turquoise ornament for his wife, which she had longsilently wished for, and sunshine prevailed in the family circle. 

But a dark shadow from the recent past had yet to fall athwart it. Thebaron, reading the paper one day in his wife's room, observed anadvertisement concerning a bankrupt dealer in wood, who had made hisescape after swindling his creditors. He laid down the paper, and thedrops stood on his brow. "If it should be the same man!"

Ehrenthal had given no name. Had he, a man of honor, been the means ofdefrauding just claims; had he taken part in a swindling transaction, ay, and gained by it too! The thought was too fearful. He hurried to hisdesk that he might pack up and send off the accursed profits--whither heknew not, but any where, away. He saw with horror that only a smallportion of them remained. In extreme agitation, he rang the bell, andsent for Ehrenthal. 

As chance would have it, Ehrenthal was gone on a journey. Meanwhilearose those soothing inward voices which know so well how to placethings doubtful in a favorable light. "How foolish this anxiety! Therewere hundreds of dealers in wood in that part of the country; and was itlikely that this very man should be Ehrenthal's client? Or, even if hewere, in a business point of view, how could they help the use he mightmake of their money? Nothing could be fairer than the transactionitself. " Thus the voices within; and oh! how attentively the baronlistened. 

But still, when Ehrenthal at length appeared, the baron met him with anexpression that positively appalled him. "What was the name of the manfrom whom you bought the wood?" cried he. 

Ehrenthal had read the newspaper too, and the truth now flashed uponhim. He gave a name at once. 

"And the place where the wood lay?"

Ehrenthal named that too. 

"Are you telling me the truth?" asked the baron, drawing a third deepbreath. 

Ehrenthal saw that he had a sick conscience to deal with, and treatedthe case with the utmost gentleness. "What is the baron uneasy about?"said he, shaking his head; "I believe that the man with whom I dealt hasmade a good profit out of the affair. Nothing could be more fair thanthe whole transaction. But, even had it not been so, why, my good sir, should you be troubled? There was no reason why I should not tell youthe names, both of the man and place, before; but I did not do so, because the bargain was mine, not yours. I became your debtor, and Ihave repaid you with a bonus--a large one, it is true; but I have dealtwith you for years, and why should I keep back from you the share ofprofit which I should have had to give any one else?"

"That is all right, Ehrenthal, " said the baron, more graciously; "and Iam glad that the case stands thus. But, had this man been the bankruptin question, I should have broken off our connection, and should neverhave forgiven you for involving me in a fraudulent transaction. "

Ehrenthal bowed himself out, muttering, as he went down stairs, "He's agood man, this baron; a good, good man. "

CHAPTER VII. 

We now return to Anton, who had been placed under the joint command ofMessrs. Jordan and Pix, and who found himself the small vassal of agreat body corporate, containing a variety of grades and functionslittle dreamed of by the uninitiated. First in the counting-house wasthe book-keeper Liebold, who, as minister of the home department, reigned supreme and solitary in a window of his own, forever recordingfigures in a colossal book, and seldom looking off their columns. 

In the opposite part of the room ruled the second dignitary in thestate, the cashier Purzel, surrounded by iron safes, heavy bags, andwith a large stone table before him, on which dollars rung, or graypaper money fell noiselessly the whole day through. 

Jordan was the principal person in the office. He was the head clerk, and his opinion was sometimes asked by the principal himself. In himAnton found, from the day of his arrival, a good adviser, and an exampleof activity and healthy common sense. 

Of all the clerks under Jordan's superintendence, the most interestingto Anton was Baumann, the future missionary. Not only was he a trulyreligious man, he was an admirable and infallible accountant. But, besides all these, the firm had some officials who did not live in thehouse. One was Birnbaum, the custom-house clerk, who was seldom visiblein the office, and only dined with the principal on Sundays. Then therewas the head of the warehouse department, Mr. Balbus, who, though by nomeans a cultivated man, was always treated by the chief with greatrespect; and, as Anton heard it said, had a mother and sick sisterentirely dependent upon him. 

But of all these men, the most aggressively active, the most despotic inhis measures, was Pix, the manager of the provincial traffic department. His domain began in the office, and extended throughout the house, andfar into the street. He was the divinity of all the country shopkeepers, who looked upon him as the real head of the business. He arranged thewhole exports of the house, knew every thing, was always to be found, and could do half a dozen things at once. Like all dignitaries, he wasimpatient of contradiction, and fought for his opinions against themerchant himself with a stiff-neckedness that often horrified Anton. Oneof his peculiarities was that of abhorring a vacuum as much as natureherself. Wherever there was an empty corner, a closet, a cellar, arecess to be discovered, there Pix would intrude with tuns, ladders, ropes, and all imaginable commodities; and wherever he and his giantband of porters had once got a footing, no earthly power could dislodgethem--not even the principal himself. 

"Where is Wohlfart?" called Mr. Schröter from the door of his office. 

"Up stairs, " calmly replied Pix. 

"What is he doing there?" was the amazed inquiry. 

At that moment loud voices were heard, and Anton came thundering downthe steps, followed by a servant, and both laden with cigar-boxes, whilebehind them appeared the female relative in much excitement. 

"They will not tolerate us up stairs, " said Anton, hurriedly, to Pix. 

"Now they have actually come to the laundry, " said the lady, just ashurriedly, to the principal. 

"The cigars can not stand down here, " declared Pix to both. 

"And I will not have cigars in the laundry, " cried the distant cousin. "I declare there is not a place in the house safe from Mr. Pix. He hasfilled the maid-servants' rooms with cigars, and they complain that thesmell is intolerable. "

"It is dry up there, " explained Mr. Pix to the merchant. 

"Could you not, perhaps, place them elsewhere?" inquired the latter, respectfully. 

"Impossible!" was the decided reply. 

"Do you really require the whole laundry, my dear cousin?" said theprincipal, turning to the lady. 

"The half of it were ample, " interpolated Pix. 

"I hope, Pix, you will content yourself with a corner, " said the head ofthe firm, by way of decision. "Tell the carpenter to run up a partitionat once. "

"If Mr. Pix once gets admittance, he will take the whole of ourlaundry, " expostulated the too experienced cousin. 

"It is the last concession we will make, " was the reply. 

Mr. Pix laughed silently--or grinned rebelliously, as the lady phrasedit; and, as soon as the authorities were out of sight, sent Anton upagain with the cigar-boxes. 

But what chiefly constituted the importance of Pix in the eyes of thecommunity were the Herculean porters under his command. When these menrolled mighty casks about, and lifted hundred weights like pounds, theyseemed to the new apprentice like the giants of fairy lore. Some of thembelonged to this firm exclusively, others to a corporation of porterswho worked for different houses, but T. O. Schröter's was the house theyliked best. For more than one generation the head of this particularfirm had enjoyed their highest consideration, and stood godfather to alltheir large-headed babies. 

Among these men, the strongest and tallest was Sturm, their chief--a manwho could hardly get through narrow streets, and was frequently calledto move a weight found impracticable by his comrades. Wonderful storieswere told of his exploits; and Specht affirmed that there was nothing onearth beyond his powers. 

His relations with the firm were very intimate indeed; and having anonly child, upon whom he doted, and who had early lost his mother, heplaced him, at the age of fifteen, in T. O. Schröter's house, in anondescript capacity. The boy was a universal favorite, knew every holeand corner, collected all the nails and pieces of packthread, folded allthe packing-paper, fed Pluto the watch-dog, and did sundry other oddjobs. Up to every thing, invariably good-humored and ready-witted, theporters fondly called him "our Karl;" and his father often glanced asidefrom his work to look at him with delight. 

But in one point Karl did disappoint him: he gave no promise of everattaining to his father's stature. He was a handsome, fair-haired, rosy-cheeked youth; but all the giants agreed that he would never bemore than a middle-sized man; and so his father fell into the habit oftreating him like a sort of delicate dwarf, with the utmostconsideration, and a certain touch of compassion. 

"I don't care, " said the indulgent parent to Mr. Pix, when introducingthe boy into the business, "what the little fellow learns besides, sothat he does learn to be honorable and practical. " This was a speechafter Mr. Pix's own heart; and this system of education was at oncebegun by Sturm taking his son into the great vaulted room, and saying, "Here are the almonds and the raisins--taste them. "

"Oh, they are good, father, " cried the boy. 

"I believe you, Liliputian, " nodded Sturm. "Now, see, you may eat asmany of them as you like; neither Mr. Schröter, Mr. Pix, nor I shallinterfere. But, my little lad, you had better see how long you can holdout without beginning. The longer the better for yourself, and the morehonor in it; and when you can stand it no longer, come to me and say'Enough;'" upon which he left him, having laid his great turnip of awatch on a chest standing by. The boy proudly placed his hands in hispockets, and walked up and down among the goods. After more than twohours, he came, watch in hand, to his father, exclaiming "Enough. "

"Two hours and a half, " said old Sturm, nodding at Mr. Pix. "Very well, child; come and nail up this chest; here is a new hammer for you; itcost tenpence. "

"It's not worth it, " was the reply. "You always pay too much. " Such wasKarl's education. 

The day after Anton's arrival, Pix had introduced him to Sturm, andAnton had said, in a tone of respect, "this is my first experience ofbusiness; pray give me a hint whenever you can. "

"Every thing is to be learned in time, " replied the giant; "yonder is mylittle boy, who has got on capitally in a year. So your father was not amerchant?"

"My father was an accountant; he is dead, " was the reply. 

"I am sorry to hear it, " said Sturm; "but you have still the comfort ofa mother?"

"My mother, too, is dead. "

"Alas! alas!" cried the porter, compassionately. He went on shaking hishead for a long time, and at length added, in a low voice, to his Karl, "He has no mother. "

"And no father either, " rejoined Karl. 

"Be kind to him, little one, " said old Sturm; "you are a sort of orphanyourself. "

"Not I, " cried Karl; "any one with such a great father as mine to lookafter has his hands full. "

"Why, you are a perfect little monster!" said his father, cheerfullyhammering away at a cask. 

From that hour Karl showed all manner of small attentions to Anton, anda species of affectionate intimacy sprang up between the two youths. 

Indeed, Anton was on excellent terms with all the officials. He listenedattentively to Jordan's sensible remarks, was prompt and unconditionalin his obedience to Mr. Pix, entered into political discussions withSpecht, read with interest Baumann's missionary reports, never asked Mr. Purzel for money in advance, and often encouraged Mr. Liebold to uttersome palpable truth without retracting the statement. There was only onewith whom he could not get on well, and that was the volunteer clerk, Fink. 

One gloomy afternoon, Mr. Jordan chanced to give our hero a certainmessage to take to another house, and, as he rose, Fink looked up fromhis desk, and said to Jordan, "Just send him at the same time to thegunsmith--the good-for-nothing fellow can send my gun by him. "

Our hero crimsoned. "Do not give me that commission, " said he to Jordan;"I shall not execute it. "

"Really!" asked Fink, in amazement; "and why not, my fine fellow?"

"I am not your servant, " replied Anton, bitterly. "Had you requested meto do this for you, I might have complied; but I will take no ordersfrom you. "

"Dolt!" muttered Fink, and went on writing. 

The whole office had heard him, and every eye turned to Anton, whoseeyes flashed as he exclaimed, "You have insulted me--I will not bear aninsult from any one--you must explain yourself. "

"I am not fond of giving any one a thrashing, " said Fink, negligently. 

"Enough!" cried Anton, turning deadly pale; "you shall hear farther;"and off he rushed to deliver Jordan's message. 

A cold rain was falling, but Anton was not aware of it: he felt nothingbut an agonizing sense of insult and wrong. As he reached theestablishment he sought, he saw his principal's carriage at the door, and as he came out again he met Sabine just about to enter it. He couldnot avoid handing her in; and, struck with his appearance, she asked himwhat was the matter. 

"A trifle, " was the reply. 

Insignificant as the incident was, it changed Anton's mood. Hercourteous greeting and kindly inquiry raised his spirits. He felt thathe was no longer a helpless child; and, raising his hand to heaven, hisresolve was taken. 

On his return to the office, he quietly went on with his work, heedlessof the inquiring glances around him; and, when the office was closed, hehurried to Jordan's room, where Pix and Specht were already met. Theyall treated him with a commiseration not quite free from contempt; buthe, having inquired from Jordan, in their presence, whether Fink had anyright to give him such an order, and whether in his (Jordan's) opinionhe had done wrong in resenting it, and having been satisfactorilyanswered on both heads, requested a few moments' private conversation, and then proceeded to declare that he should demand a public apologyfrom Fink. 

"Which he will never consent to, " said Jordan, with a shake of the head. 

"In that case I challenge him, either with sword or pistols. "

Now, if Jordan had seen a dusky vapor rise from his ink-bottle, and takethe form of a hideous genie, after the manner of fairy tales, and thisgenie had announced his intention of strangling him on the spot, hecould not have been more amazed. "The devil is in you, Wohlfart, " saidhe at last; "you want to fight a duel with Herr von Fink, a dead shot, while you are only an apprentice, and not half a year in the business:impossible. "

"I should now be a student if I had not been brought up to be amerchant. Curses on business, if it so degrades me that I can not evenask satisfaction for insult. I shall go to Mr. Schröter at once, andgive in my resignation. "

Jordan's surprise increased. Here was the good-natured apprenticetransformed before his eyes. At length it was agreed that he should takethe message; but Fink was not found at home. "Very possibly he hasforgotten all about it, and is amusing himself at some club or other, "was Jordan's commentary on the fact. 

"In that case, " said Anton, "I shall at once write to him, and have theletter laid on his table. "

Meanwhile great conferences were held in Jordan's room; for, althoughPix and Specht had promised secrecy, they indulged in such dark andmysterious hints that the truth was soon known. Baumann stole up toAnton to implore him not to peril two human lives for the sake of arough word; and, when he was gone, Anton found a New Testament on histable, open at the words, "Bless them that curse you. " Although notexactly in the mood to enter into their spirit, he took up the sacredbook, and, having read the passages his good mother so often repeated tohim, he prepared for bed in a softened frame of mind. 

Meanwhile, a rumor of some impending catastrophe pervaded the wholehouse. 

Sabine was in her treasure-chamber. Along its walls stood great oakenpresses, richly carved; in the middle, a table with twisted legs, and afew old-fashioned chairs around. On the shelves of the presses appearedpiles of linen, and rows of glass, china, and plate, collected by thetaste of more than three generations. The air was fragrant with oldlavender and recent eau de Cologne. Here Sabine reigned supreme. Sheherself took out and replaced whatever was wanted, and was not fond ofadmitting any other person. She was now standing at the table, which wascovered with newly-washed linen, and, as she looked over the arabesquesof the exquisitely fine table-napkins, a cloud passed over her brow. Two, three, four holes! She rang for the servant. 

"It is intolerable, Franz, " said she; "there are three spoiled now inNo. 24; one of the gentlemen runs his fork through the napkins. There issurely no need for that here. "

"That there is not, " was the indignant reply; "the plate is under my owncare. "

"Which of the gentlemen is so reckless?" asked Sabine, severely. 

"It is Herr von Fink, " was the reply; "he has a habit of constantlyrunning his fork through the napkins. It goes to my heart, Miss Sabine;but what can I do?"

Sabine hung her head. "I knew that it was he, " she sighed; "but we cannot go on thus. I will give you a set for Herr von Fink's use, and wemust sacrifice it. " She went to the cupboard, and began to look for one, but the choice was difficult; the beautiful table-linen was dear to herheart. At length, with a lingering look at the pattern, she sorrowfullylaid a set on the servant's arm. 

Franz still lingered. "He has burned a curtain in his bed-room, " saidhe; "the pair is spoiled. "

"And they were quite new!" sighed Sabine again. "Take them awayto-morrow. What more, Franz? What else has happened?"

"Ah! ma'am, " replied the servant, mysteriously, "Herr von Fink hasinsulted Herr Wohlfart, who is quite raging, and Herr Specht says thereis to be a duel. "

"A duel!" cried Sabine; "you must have misunderstood Herr Specht. "

"No, indeed, ma'am, it's all too true. Something dreadful will happen. Herr Wohlfart brushed past me angrily, and did not touch his tea. "

"Has my brother returned?"

"He does not come back till late to-day; he is on committee. "

"Very well, " said Sabine; "say nothing about it, Franz, to any one. "

And Sabine sat down again at the table, but the damask was forgotten. "So that was what made poor Wohlfart look so sad! This wild youth--hecame to us like a whirlwind, and the blossoms all fall in his path. Hiswhole life is confusion and excitement, and he carries away with him allwho approach within his reach. Even me--even me! Do what I will, I toofeel his spell--so beautiful, so brilliant, so strange. He is alwaysgrieving me, and yet all day long I am thinking and caring about him. Oh, my mother! it was in this room that I sat at your feet for the lasttime when, with your hand on my head, you prayed that Heaven mightshield me from every sorrow. Beloved mother, shield thy daughter againsther own beating heart. Strengthen me against him, his ensnaring levity, his daring mockery. "

Long did Sabine sit thus, communing with her guardian spirits. Thenwiping her eyes, she resolutely returned to count and arrange thetable-linen. 

Anton had got into bed, and was just going to put out his candle, when aloud knock was heard at the door, and the man he least expected stoodbefore him--Herr von Fink himself, with his riding-whip, and his usualcareless manner. "Ah! in bed already!" said he, sitting astride on achair close by. "I am sorry to disturb you. You have written me a veryspirited letter, and Jordan has told me the rest, so I am come to answeryou in person. "

Anton was silent, and looked darkly at him. 

"You are all good and very sensitive people, " continued Fink, whippinghis boots; "I am sorry that you took my words so to heart, but I am gladyou have so much spirit. "

"Before I listen further, " said Anton, angrily, "I must know whether itis your intention to make an apology to me before the other gentlemen. Perhaps a more experienced man would not consider this sufficient, butit would satisfy me. "

"There you are right, " nodded Fink; "you _may_ be quite satisfied. "

"Will you make this apology to-morrow morning?" inquired Anton. 

"Why should I not? I don't want to fight with you, and I will declarebefore the assembled firm that you are a hopeful young man, and that Iwas wrong to insult one younger and--forgive me the expression--muchgreener than myself. "

Our hero listened with mingled feelings, and then declared that he wasnot satisfied with this explanation. 

"Why not?" asked Fink. 

"Your manner at this moment is unpleasant to me; you show me lessrespect than is conventional. I know that I am young, have seen littleof the world, and that in many points you are my superior; but, forthese very reasons, it would better become you to behave differently. "

Fink stretched out his hand good-humoredly, and said in reply, "Do notbe angry with me, and give me your hand. "

"I can not do so yet, " cried Anton, with emotion; "you must first assureme that you do not treat the matter thus because you consider me tooyoung or too insignificant, or because you are noble and I am not. "

"Hark ye, Master Wohlfart, " said Fink, "you are running me desperatelyhard. However, we'll settle these points too. As for my Germannobility"--he snapped his fingers--"I would not give that for it; and asfor your youth and position, all I can say is, that, after what I haveseen this evening, the next time we quarrel I will fight you with anymurderous weapon that you may prefer. " And again he held out his hand, and said, "Now, then, take it; we have settled every thing. "

Anton laid his hand in his, and Fink, having heartily shaken it, wishedhim good-night. 

The following morning, the clerks being all assembled earlier thanusual, Fink made his appearance last, and said, in a loud voice, "Mylords and gentlemen of the export and home-trade, I yesterday behaved toMr. Wohlfart in a manner that I now sincerely regret. I have alreadyapologized to him, and I repeat that apology in your presence; and begto say that our friend Wohlfart has behaved admirably throughout, andthat I rejoice to have him for a colleague. " At this the clerks smiled, Anton shook hands with Fink, Jordan with both of them, and the affairwas settled. 

But it had its results. It raised Anton's position in the opinion of hisbrother officials, and entirely changed his relation to Fink, who, a fewdays after, as they were running up stairs, stopped and invited him intohis own apartment, that they might smoke a friendly cigar. 

It was the first time that Anton had crossed the threshold of thevolunteer, and he stood amazed at the aspect of his room. Handsomefurniture all in confusion, a carpet soft as moss, on whose gorgeousflowers cigar-ashes were recklessly strewed. On one side a great pressfull of guns, rifles, and other weapons, with a foreign saddle and heavysilver spurs hanging across it; on the other, a large book-case, handsomely carved, and full of well-bound books, and above, theoutspread wings of some mighty bird. 

"What a number of books you have!" cried Anton, in delight. 

"Memorials of a world in which I no longer live. "

"And those wings--are they a part of those memorials?"

"Yes, they are the wings of a condor. I am proud of them, as you see, "answered Fink, offering Anton a packet of cigars, and propelling a greatarm-chair toward him with his foot. "And now let us have a chat. Are youknowing in horses?"

"No, " said Anton. 

"Are you a sportsman?"

"Not that either. "

"Are you musical?"

"Very slightly so, " said Anton. 

"Why, what specialities have you, then, in Heaven's name?"

"Few in your sense of the word, " answered Anton, indignantly. "I canlove those who please me, and can, I believe, be a true friend; I canalso resent insolence. "

"Very well, " said Fink, "I am quite aware of that. I know there isplenty of spirit in you. Now let me hear what fate has hurled you intothis dreary tread-mill, where all must at last go dusty and resigned, like Liebold, or, at best, punctual and precise, like Jordan. "

"It was a kind fate, after all, " replied Anton, and began to tell thestory of his life. 

Fink kept nodding approvingly, and then said, "After all, the greatestdifference between us is that you remember your mother, and I do notmine. I have known people who found less love in their home than youhave done. "

"You have seen so much of the world, " pleaded Anton; "pray let me hearhow you chanced to come here. "

"Very simply, " began Fink; "I have an uncle at New York, one of thearistocrats of the Exchange. When I was fourteen, he wrote to my fatherto send me over, as he meant to make me his heir. My father was athorough merchant. I was packed up and sent across. In New York I soonbecame an accomplished scapegrace, was up to every species of folly, andkept race-horses at an age when German boys eat bread and butter, andplay with tops in the streets. I had my favorite _danseuses_ and_cantatrices_, and so bullied my servants, both white and black, that myuncle had enough to do to bribe them into taking it quietly. My friendshad torn me from my home without consulting my feelings, and I did notcare a straw for theirs. In short, I was the most renowned of the youngscamps who pique themselves upon their devilry on the other side thewater. It was on one of my birth-days that, returning home from acertain _petit souper_, the thought suddenly struck me that this careermust come to an end, or it would end me. So I went to the harbor insteadof to my uncle's house, and having, on my way, bought a coarse sailor'sdress and put it on, I hired myself to an English captain. We sailedround Cape Horn, and when we reached Valparaiso I thanked the Englishmanfor my passage, treated the crew, and jumped on shore with twentydoubloons in my pocket, to make my fortune by the strength of my arm. Isoon fell in with an intelligent man, who took me to his _hacienda_, where I won my laurels as herdsman. I was about half a year with him, and liked the life. I was treated as a useful guest, and much admired assportsman and horseman. What did I need further? We were just going tohave a great buffalo hunt, when suddenly two soldiers made theirappearance on the scene, and trotted me off with them to the town, whereI was made over to the American consul; and as my uncle had moved heavenand earth to track me, and as I found, from a long letter he hadwritten, that my father was really unhappy, I resolved to return toEurope by the next ship. I at once told my father that I did not mean tobe a merchant, but an agriculturist. At this the firm of Fink and Beckerwent distracted; but I stood to my point. At last we came to acompromise. I went for two years to a business-house in North Germany;then I came here to learn office-work, through which discipline theyhope to tame me. So here I am now in a cloister. But it's all in vain. Ihumor my father by sitting here, but I shall only stay long enough toconvince him that I am right, and then I shall take to agriculture. "

"Will you buy land in this country?" inquired Anton. 

"Not I, " returned Fink; "I prefer riding half the day without coming tothe end of my property. "

"Then you mean to return to America?"

"There or elsewhere. I am not particular as to hemisphere. Meanwhile, Ilive like a monk, as you see, " said Fink, laughing, as he mixed forhimself a fiery potion, and pushed the bottle to Anton. "Brew foryourself, my lad, " said he; "and let us chat away merrily, as becomesgood fellows and reconciled foes. "

From that evening forth Fink treated our hero with a friendship that heshowed to none of the other clerks. He often took him into his room, andeven went up the long staircase to his. Anton soon discovered that hisnew friend was a well-known character in the town--a perfect despotamong the fashionables, and the leader of all riding and hunting partiesgiven. Accordingly, he was much in society, and often did not come hometill morning. Anton could not help admiring the strength and energy ofthis man, who could take his place at the desk after only two or threehours' sleep without showing a trace of fatigue. Fink also departed fromthe rigid regularity of the house by sometimes appearing afteroffice-hours had begun, or leaving before they ended. Of this, however, Mr. Schröter took no notice. 

Thus the winter passed away, and signs of spring penetrated even here. The visitors no longer brought in snow-flakes, but left brown footmarks. The brokers began to speak of the yellow blossoms of the olive, and atlength Mr. Braun came in with a rose in his button-hole. 

A year was gone since Anton crossed the little lake with the fleet ofswans behind him. The whole year through he had thought of that oneday. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Veitel Itzig still occupied the same sleeping-quarters as on the eveningof his arrival. If, according to the assertions of the police, every manmust have some home or other--and, according to popular opinion, ourhome be where our bed stands--Veitel was remarkably little at his home. Whenever he could slip away from Ehrenthal's, he would wander about thestreets, and watch for such youths as were likely to buy from or sell tohim. He had always a few dollars to rattle in his pocket. He neveraddressed the rawest of schoolboys but as a grown-up man; he was aproficient in the art of bowing, could brighten up old brass and silveras good as new, was always ready to buy old black coats, and possessedthe skill of giving them a degree of gloss which insured their sellingagain. 

With every bargain that he made for Ehrenthal he combined one forhimself, and soon won a reputation that excited the envy of gray-beardedfripperers. He did not confine his activity to any one departmenteither, but became a horse-dealer's agent, the _employé_ of secretmoney-lenders--nay, a money-lender himself. Then he had the faculty ofnever getting tired, was all day on his feet, would run any length for afew pence, and never resented a harsh word. He allowed himself no otherrecreation than that of counting over his different transactions andtheir probable results. He lived upon next to nothing; a slice or two ofbread abducted from Ehrenthal's kitchen would serve for his supper. Onlyonce during the first year of his town life did he allow himself a glassof thin small beer, and that after a very profitable bargain. 

He was always remarkably neat in his attire, considering it essentialthat a man of business should bear the aspect of a gentleman. In short, at the end of twelve months his six ducats had increased thirty fold. 

He soon became indispensable in Mr. Ehrenthal's household. Nothingescaped him. He never forgot a face, and was as familiar with the dailystate of the funds as any broker on 'Change. He still occupied the postof errand-boy, blacked Bernhard's boots, and dined in the kitchen; butit was plain that a stool in the office, which Ehrenthal kept for form'ssake, would ultimately be his. This was the goal of his ambition--theparadise of his hopes. He soon saw that he only wanted three things toattain to it--a more grammatical knowledge of German, finer caligraphy, and an initiation into the mysteries of book-keeping, of which he as yetknew nothing. 

Meanwhile, he had become a distinguished man in his caravanserai, onewhom even Löbel Pinkus himself treated with respect. Veitel owed this tohis own sharp-wittedness. Ever since his first arrival, the hollow soundof the wooden partition had a good deal excited him, and he had oftenvainly sought to explore the mystery. At last, one Saturday evening, hepretended to be ill, and remained at home, when his host and the rest ofthe household had gone to the synagogue. 

Having had the good fortune to widen a chink in the partition, he beheldwhat delighted him in the extreme. A large dirty room, quite full ofchests, coffers, and a chaos of desirable articles--old clothes, beds, piles of linen, stuffs, hangings, hardware-goods, etc. Aladdin at hisfirst entrance into the magician's cave was hardly so enraptured asItzig by his discovery, which he carefully kept to himself. Sometimes atnight he heard a stir in the mysterious room; nay, once whispers reachedhim, some of them in the deep voice of Pinkus himself. One evening, too, coming home late, he saw boxes and bundles in a little carriage beforethe next house, all modestly covered up with white linen; and that verynight two silent guests disappeared, and came back no more; from all ofwhich Veitel concluded that his host was a commission agent, who had hisreasons for carrying on business by night rather than by day. 

It was as clear as possible. These goods were taken eastward, smuggledover the border, and spread all over Russia. 

Veitel used his discovery judiciously, only giving such hints of it toPinkus as to insure his most respectful behavior. 

On one eventful day Veitel returned in thoughtful mood to his lodgings, and sat in the public room. He was pondering how best to get hold ofsome scribe who would initiate him into the mysteries of grammar andbook-keeping for the smallest possible fee; nay, perhaps for a certainold black coat, which, owing to the peculiarity of its cut, he had neveryet been able to dispose of. Happening to look up in the midst of hisreflections, his eye fell on a stranger who held a pen in his hand, andconversed with a tradesman. It was plain that this man was no Jew. Hewas little and fat. He had a red turned-up nose, bushy gray hair, and hewore an old pair of spectacles, which had great difficulty in keeping onthe nose aforesaid. Veitel remarked that he had on an unusually badcoat, and took snuff. It was plain that this man was a writer of somekind; so, as soon as he had seen him hand over a paper to the tradesman, and receive a small piece of money, Veitel approached, and began:

"I wished, sir, to ask you if you happened to know any one who couldgive lessons in writing and book-keeping to a man of my acquaintance?"

"And this man of your acquaintance is yourself?" said the little man. 

"Why should I make a secret of it?" said Veitel. "Yes, it is I; but I amonly a beginner, and able to give but little. "

"He who gives little receives little, my dear fellow, " said the elderlyscribe, taking a pinch of snuff. "What is your name, and with whom areyou placed?"

"My name is Veitel Itzig, and I am in Hirsch Ehrenthal's office. "

The stranger grew attentive. "Ehrenthal, " he said, "is a rich man, and awise. I have had dealings with him in my time; he has a very fairknowledge of law. What fee are you willing to pay, provided a mastercould be found?"

"I do not know what should be given, " said Veitel. 

"Then I will tell you, " said he of the spectacles. "I might or might notgive you instructions myself; but first I must know more about you. If Iwere to do so, in consideration of your being but poor, and a beginner, as you say, and also of having myself a little spare time on hand, Ishould only ask fifty dollars. "

"Fifty dollars!" cried Veitel, in horror, sinking down on a stool, andrepeating mechanically, "fifty dollars!"

"If you think that too much, " said he of the spectacles, sharply, "knowthat I am not going to deal with a greenhorn; secondly, that I nevergave my assistance for so little before; and, thirdly, that I shouldnever think of teasing myself with you if I had not a fancy to spend afew weeks here. "

"Fifty dollars!" cried Itzig; "why, I had thought it would not cost morethan three or four, and a waistcoat and a pair of boots, and"--forVeitel saw that a storm was coming, and that the hat on the table wasmuch dilapidated--"a hat almost as good as new. "

"Go, you fool!" said the old man, "and look out for a parishschoolmaster. "

"Then, " said Itzig, "you are not a writing-master?"

"No, you great donkey, " muttered the stranger; then, in a soliloquy, "Who could have supposed that Ehrenthal would keep such a booby as this?He takes me for a writing-master!"

"Who are you, then?"

"One with whom you have nothing to do, " was the curt reply, and thelittle man rose and betook himself to the loft, while Veitel went off toask Pinkus, as unconcernedly as he could, the name and calling of thenew guest. 

"Don't you know him?" said Pinkus, with an ironical smile; "take careyou don't know him to your cost. Ask him his name; he knows it betterthan I do. "

"If you will put no confidence in me, I will in you, " said Veitel, andtold him the whole conversation. 

"So he would have given you instruction?" said Pinkus, shaking his headin amazement; "fifty dollars is a large sum; but many a man would give ahundred times as much to know what he does. Not that I care what youlearn, or from whom. "

Veitel went to his lair in greater perplexity than ever. Soon camePinkus with a slight supper for the stranger, to whom he manifested aremarkable degree of sociability. 

He now called him out on the balcony, and after a short talk in thedark, of which Veitel guessed himself the subject, re-entered the room, saying, "This gentleman wishes to spend a few weeks here in private; therefore, even if questioned, you will not mention it. "

"I don't even know who the gentleman is, " said Veitel; "how could I tellany one that he is living here?"

"You may trust this young man, " observed Pinkus to the stranger, andthen wished the two good-night. 

The man in spectacles sat down to his supper, every now and then castingsuch a glance at Veitel as an old raven might do at an unfledgedchicken, who had innocently ventured within his reach. 

Meanwhile, the thought darted across Itzig's mind that this mysteriousperson might be one of the chosen few--a possessor of the infalliblereceipt by which a poor man could become rich. Veitel knew now thatthere was no magic in this, that the receipt consisted in being morecunning than the rest of the world, and that this cunning was notwithout its serious consequences to its possessor; nay, it seemed to himas though to acquire it were to make a compact with Satan himself. Hishand trembled, his pale face glowed, but his desire for more certainknowledge on the subject prevailed; and he told the stranger that, having heard that there was an art of always buying and selling to thebest advantage, and so of making a fortune, he wished to ask whether itwas that art that he (the stranger) could impart if he chose. 

The old man pushed his plate away, and looked at him with amazement. "Either, " said he, "you are a great dolt, or the best actor I have everseen. "

"No; I am only a dolt, but I wish to become clever, " was the reply. 

"A singular fellow, " said the other, adjusting his spectacles so as tosee him better. After a long examination, he went on: "What you, my lad, call an art, is only a knowledge of law, and the wisdom to turn it toone's own profit. He who is up to this can not fail to be a great man, for he will never be hanged. " At which he laughed in a way that made apainful impression even upon Itzig. 

"This art, " he went on, "is not easily acquired, my boy. It takes muchpractice, a good head, prompt decision, and, above all, what the knowingcall 'character. '" At which he laughed again. 

Veitel felt that a crisis in his life had come. He fumbled for hisworn-out pocket-book, and held it for a moment in his trembling hand. During that moment, all manner of conflicting thoughts flashed likelightning through his mind. He thought of his worthy mother's tearfulfarewell, and how she had said, "Veitel, this is a wicked world; gainthy bread honestly. " He saw his old father on his death-bed, with hiswhite head drooping over his emaciated frame. He thought, too, of hisfifty dollars gathered together so laboriously--of the insults he hadhad to bear for their sake--the threatened blows. At that thought hethrew his pocket-book on the table, and cried, "Here is the money!" buthe knew, at the same time, that he was committing sin, and an invisibleweight settled on his heart. 

A few hours later, the lamp had burned low, but still Veitel sat withmouth open, eyes fixed, and face flushed, listening to the old man, whowas speaking about what most people would vote a tiresomesubject--promissory notes. 

Later still, the light was gone out; and the stranger, having emptiedhis bottle of brandy, was asleep on his straw bed, but still Veitel satand wrote in fancy on the dark walls fraudulent bonds and receipts, while the sweat ran down from his brow; then he opened the balcony door, and, leaning on the railing, saw the water rush by like a mighty streamof ink. Again he traced bonds on the shadows of the opposite walls, andwrote receipts on the surface of the stream. The shadows fled, the waterran away; but his soul had contracted, in that dark night, a debt to beone day required with compound interest. 

From that night Veitel hurried home every evening, and the lessons wenton regularly. 

We may here briefly relate what he gradually discovered as to thehistory of his teacher. 

Herr Hippus had seen better days. He had once been a leading attorney, and had then taken to the Bar, where he soon gained a high reputationfor his skill in making a doubtful cause appear a good one. At first hehad no intention of gaining a fortune by confounding right and wrong. Onthe contrary, he had a painful sense of insecurity when retained for aclient whose cause seemed to him unjust. He differed but little, indeed, from the best of his colleagues; perhaps he had somewhat fewer scruples;and, certainly, he was too fond of good red wine. He had a caustic wit, made an admirable boon companion, and, having a subtle intellect, wasfond of paradoxes and skillful hair-splitting. Thanks to the red wine, he fell into the habit of spending much, and so into the necessity ofmaking much also. Vanity and the love of excitement led him to devotethe whole energy of his brilliant intellect to winning bad cases, andthus that frequent curse of barristers overtook him; all who had badcases applied to him. For a long time this annoyed him; but gradually, very gradually, he became demoralized by the constant contact withfalsehood and wrong. His wants went on increasing, temptationsmultiplied, and conscience weakened. But, though long hollow within, hecontinued outwardly prosperous, and many prophesied that he, with hisimmense practice, would die one of the richest men in the city, when, cunning lawyer as he was, he had the misfortune to provoke inquiry byappearing in a desperate case. The result was, that he was at oncedisgraced, and vanished like a falling star from the circle of hisprofessional brethren. He soon lost the last remains of respectability. In reality, he had amassed very little, and his love of drink went onincreasing. He sunk to a mere frequenter of brandy-shops, a promoter ofunfair litigation, and an adviser of rogues and swindlers. Owing to someof these practices it was that he now found it convenient, under thepretense of a long journey, to become for a time invisible. Pinkus wasan old ally, and hence the opportunity for Veitel's lessons. 

These lessons soon became an absolute necessity to the old man'sheart--ay, to his heart; for, bad as he was, its warmth was not yetutterly extinguished. 

It grew a melancholy pleasure to him to open out his mental resources tothe youth, whose attention flattered him, and gradually he began toattach himself to him. He would put by a portion of his supper, and evenof his brandy for him, and enjoy seeing him consume it. Once, whenVeitel had caught a feverish cold, and lay shivering under his thincoverlet, the old man spread his own blankets over him, and felt a glowof pleasure on seeing his grateful smile. 

Veitel repaid these sparks of friendly feeling with a degree ofreverence, greater than ever pupil felt before. He did many smallkindnesses on his side, and made Hippus the confidant of all his owntransactions. It is true that this intimacy had its thorns. The old mancould not refrain from practicing his sharp wit on Itzig, who calledhim, too, by many an irreverent name when he had stupefied himself withbrandy; but, on the whole, they got on capitally, and were essential toeach other. 

During the months that the old man spent in this retreat, Veitel learnedmuch besides the special science already alluded to; he improved inspeaking and writing German, and gained a great amount of generalinformation. This change did not escape Mr. Ehrenthal, who mentioned itin his family circle much as a farmer would the promising points of ayoung bullock; and, at the end of the quarter, announced of his ownaccord to Veitel that the shoe-blacking and kitchen dinner were tocease, and that he was prepared to give him a place in his office, and asmall salary besides. Veitel received the long-desired intelligence withgreat self-command, and returned his humble thanks, adding, "I havestill one very, very great favor to ask. May I have the honor of diningonce a week at Mr. Ehrenthal's table, that I may see how people conductthemselves in good society? If you will do me this kindness, you maydeduct it from my salary. "

Ehrenthal shook his head, and said that he must refer the question tohis wife; the result of which consultation was, that on the followingSabbath Veitel was invited to eat a roast goose with the family. 

CHAPTER IX. 

One warm summer evening, office hours being over, Fink said to Anton, "Will you accompany me to-day? I am going to try a boat that I have justhad built. " Anton was ready at once; so they jumped into a carriage, anddrove to the river. Fink pointed out a round boat that floated on thewater like a pumpkin, and said, in a melancholy tone, "There it is--aperfect horror, I declare! I cut out the model for the builder myselftoo; I gave him all manner of directions, and this is the sea-gull's egghe has produced. "

"It is very small, " replied Anton, with an uncomfortable foreboding. 

"I'll tell you what it is, " cried Fink to the builder, who now cameforward, respectfully touching his hat, "our deaths will be at yourdoor, for we shall inevitably be drowned in that thing, and it will beowing to your want of sense. "

"Sir, " replied the man, "I have made it exactly according to yourdirections. "

"You have, have you?" continued Fink. "Well, then, as a punishment, youshall go with us; you must see that it is but fair that we should bedrowned together. "

"No, sir, that I will not do, with so much wind as this, " returned theman, decidedly. 

"Then stay ashore and make sawdust pap for your children. Give me themast and sails. " He fitted in the little mast, hoisted and examined thesails, then took them down again, and laid them at the bottom of theboat, threw in a few iron bars as ballast, told Anton where to sit, and, seizing the two oars, struck out from shore. The pumpkin danced gayly onthe water, to the great delight of the builder and his friends, whostood watching it. 

"I wanted to show these lazy fellows that it is possible to row a boatlike this against the stream, " said Fink, replacing the mast, settingthe sail, and giving the proper directions to his pupil. The wind camein puffs, sometimes filling the little sail, and bending the boat tothe water's edge, sometimes lulling altogether. 

"It is a wretched affair, " cried Fink, impatiently; "we are merelydrifting now, and we shall capsize next. "

"If that's the case, " said Anton, with feigned cheerfulness, "I proposethat we turn back. "

"It doesn't matter, " replied Fink, coolly; "one way or other, we'll getto land. You can swim?"

"Like lead. If we do capsize I shall sink at once, and you will havesome trouble to get me up again. "

"If we find ourselves in the water, mind you do not catch hold of me, which would be the surest way of drowning both. Wait quietly till I drawyou out; and, by the way, you may as well be pulling off your coat andboots; one is more comfortable in the water _en négligé_. " Anton did soat once. 

"That's right, " said Fink. "To say the truth, this is wretched sport. Nowaves, no wind, and now no water. Here we are, aground again! Push off, will you? Hey, shipmate! what would you say if this dirty shore weresuddenly to sink, and we found ourselves out on a respectable sea--wateras far as the horizon, waves as high as that tree yonder, and a goodhearty wind, that blew your ears off, and flattened your nose on yourface?"

"I can't say that I should like it at all, " replied Anton, nervously. 

"And yet, " said Fink, "there are few plights so bad but they might bestill worse. Just think; in that case it would be some comfort to haveeven these good-for-nothing planks between us and the water; but what ifwe ourselves lay on the stream--no boat, no shore--mountain waves allround?"

"I at least should be lost!" cried Anton, with genuine horror. 

"I have a friend, a good friend, to whom I trust implicitly in anycrisis, to whom this once happened. He sauntered down to the shore on aglorious evening, had a fancy to bathe, stripped, plunged, and struckout gayly. The waves lifted him up and drew him down; the water waswarm, the sunset dyed the sea with ten thousand exquisite hues, and thegolden sky glowed above him. The man shouted with ecstasy. "

"You were that man?" inquired Anton. 

"True. I went on swimming for about an hour, when the dull look of thesky reminded me that it was time to return; so I made for land; and whatthink you, Master Wohlfart, that I saw?"

"A ship?" said Anton; "a fish?"

"No. I saw _nothing_--the land had vanished. I looked on all sides--Irose as high as I could out of the water--there was nothing to be seenbut sea and sky. The current that set out from the land hadtreacherously carried me out. I was in mid ocean, somewhere betweenEngland and America, that I knew; but this geographical fact was by nomeans soothing to one in my circumstances. The sky grew dark, thehollows filled with black uncanny shadows, the waves got higher, and acold wind blew round my head; nothing was to be seen but the dusky redof the sky and the rolling waters. "

"Horrible!" cried Anton. 

"It was a moment when no priest in the world could have prevented a poorhuman being from wishing himself a pike, or some such creature. I knewby the sky where the land lay. Now came the question, which wasstronger--the current or my arm? I began a deadly struggle with thetreacherous ocean deities. I should not have done much by such swimmingas they teach in schools. I rolled like a porpoise, and struck outdesperately for about two hours; then the labor got hard indeed. It wasthe fiercest battle I ever fought. The sky grew dark, the emerald wavespitchy black, only they were crested with foam that blew in my face. Attimes a single star peeped from the clouds--that was my only comfort. SoI swam on and on, and still there was no land to be seen. I was tiredout, and the hideous darkness sometimes made me think of giving up thestruggle. The clouds gathered darker, the stars disappeared; I began todoubt whether I was taking the right direction, and I was making verylittle way. I knew the game was nearly up--my chest heaved--countlesssparks rose before my eyes. Just then, my boy, when I had glided halfunconsciously down the slope of a wave, I felt something under my feetthat was no longer water. "

"It was land!" cried Anton. 

"Yes, " said Fink; "it was good firm sand. I found myself on shore abouta mile to leeward of my clothes, and fell down like a dead seal. " Thenstopping, and with a steady look at Anton, "Now, mate, get ready!" criedhe; "take your legs from under the bench; I am going to tack and makefor shore. Now for it!"

At that moment came a violent gust of wind; the mast creaked, the boatheeled over, and could not right herself. According to promise, Antonwent to the bottom without any more ado. Quick as lightning Fink divedafter him, brought him up, and, with a violent effort, reached a spotwhence they could wade ashore. "Deuce take it, " gasped Fink; "take holdof my arm, can't you?"

But Anton, who had swallowed a quantity of water, was hardly conscious, and only waved Fink off. 

"I do believe he'll be down again, " cried the latter, impatiently, catching hold of him and making for the shore. 

A crowd had by this time assembled round the spot where Fink was holdinghis companion in his arms and exhorting him to recover himself. Atlength Anton opened his eyes. 

"Why, Wohlfart, " said Fink, anxiously, "how goes it, my lad? You havetaken the matter too much to heart. Poncho y ponche!" cried he to theby-standers; "a cloak and a glass of rum--that will soon bring himround. "

A cloak was willingly lent, and our hero carried to the builder's house. 

"Here is an end of boat, sails, oars, and all, " said Fink, reproachfully, "and of our coats into the bargain. Did not I tell youthat it was a good-for-nothing tub?"

For an hour, at least, Fink tended his victim with the greatesttenderness, but it was late before Anton was sufficiently recovered towalk home. 

The next day was Sunday, and the principal's birth-day besides. On thisimportant occasion, the gentlemen of the office spent some hours afterdinner with the family circle, and coffee and cigars were served. Asthey were sitting down to table, the good-natured cousin said to Fink, "The whole town is full of the fearful risk which you and Mr. Wohlfartran yesterday. "

"Not worth mentioning, my dear lady!" replied Fink, carelessly; "I onlywanted to see how Master Wohlfart would behave in drowning. I threw himinto the water, and he was within a hair's-breadth of remaining at thebottom, considering it indiscreet to give me the trouble of saving him. Only a German is capable of such self-sacrificing politeness. "

"But, " cried the cousin, "this is a sheer tempting of Providence. It isdreadful to think of it!"

"It is dreadful to think of the impurity of your river. The watersprites that inhabit it must be a dirty set. But Wohlfart did not mindtheir mud. He fell into their arms with enthusiasm. He threw both legsover the boat's edge before there was any occasion. "

"You told me to do so, " cried Anton, in self-exculpation. 

"Poor Mr. Wohlfart!" exclaimed the astonished cousin. "But your coats!This morning I met a policeman with the wet bundle in his arms, and itwas he who told me of your accident. "

"The coats were fished up at an early hour, " said Fink, "but Karl doubtswhether they will ever dry. Meanwhile, Wohlfart's boots are on a voyageof discovery toward the ocean. "

Anton blushed with anger at his friend's jests, and looked stealthilytoward the upper end of the table. The merchant glanced darkly at thecheerful Fink. Sabine was pale and downcast--the cousin alone was fluentin her pity for the coats. 

The dinner was more solemn than usual. After the plates were removed, Mr. Liebold rose to fulfill the arduous duty imposed upon him by hisposition--to propose the health of their principal. He took all possiblepains not to retract or qualify his eulogiums and good wishes; but eventhis toast fell flat--a certain painful excitement seemed to prevail atthe head of the table. 

After dinner they all stood round in groups, drinking their coffee; andbold spirits--Mr. Pix, for instance, ventured upon a cigar as well. Meanwhile, Anton roamed through the suite of rooms, looking at thepaintings on the walls, turning over albums, and fighting off ennui aswell as he could. In this way he reached the end room, and stopped therein amazement. Sabine stood before him, tears falling from her eyes. Shewas sobbing silently, her slender form shaken by the conflict within, but yet she was trying to repress her grief with an energy that onlymade it the more touching. 

As Anton, filled with deepest sympathy, turned to go, she looked round, composed herself, passed her handkerchief over her eyes, and saidkindly, "Take care, Mr. Wohlfart, that the foolhardiness of your friendleads you into no fresh danger. My brother would be very sorry that yourintercourse with him should prove an injury to you. "

"Miss Sabine, " replied Anton, looking reverentially at her, "Fink is asnoble as he is reckless. He saved me at the peril of his own life. "

"Oh yes!" cried Sabine, with an expression Anton did not quiteunderstand; "he loves to play with whatever is sacred to others. "

At that moment Mr. Jordan came to request her to give them some music. She went at once. 

Anton was excited to the utmost. Sabine Schröter stood so high in theestimation of the gentlemen of the counting-house that they paid her thecompliment of rarely naming her. Most of the younger clerks had beendesperately in love with her; and though the flames had burned down forwant of fuel, yet the embers still glowed in the innermost recesses oftheir hearts. All alike would have fought for her against any enemy inthe world. But they looked upon her as a marble saint, a being beyondthe influence of human weaknesses. 

Anton, however, now doubted whether she were really this. To him, too, the young lady of the house had been like the moon, only visible afaroff, and on one side. Daily he sat opposite her, saw the delicatesadness of her face--the deep glance of her beautiful eyes--heard herspeak the same commonplace sentences, and knew no more of her. All atonce an accident made him her confidant. He felt sure, by many a token, that this grief was connected with Fink; and although he had for him thedevoted admiration that an unsophisticated youth readily bestows upon adaring and experienced comrade, yet, in this case, he found himselfenlisted on the lady's side against his friend; he resolved to watch himnarrowly, and be to her a brotherly protector, a faithfulconfidant--all, in short, that was sympathizing and helpful. 

A few hours later, Sabine sat in the window with folded hands. Herbrother had laid aside his newspaper, and was watching her anxiously. Atlast he rose, stepped silently up to her, and laid his hand on her head. She clasped him in her arms. There they stood, leaning against eachother, two friends who had so shared their lives that each knew theother's thoughts without a spoken word. 

Tenderly stroking his sister's hair, the merchant began: "You know whatlarge dealings we have with Fink's father?"

"I know that you are not satisfied with the son. "

"I could not help taking him into our house, but I regret the hour I didso. "

"Do not be hard upon him, " pleaded the sister, kissing her brother'shand; "think how much there is that is noble in his character. "

"I am not unjust toward him. But it is yet to be proved whether he willbe a blessing or a curse to his fellow-men. He may become a more paltryaristocrat, who wastes his energies in refined self-indulgence, or acovetous, unscrupulous money-maker, like his uncle in America. "

"He is not heartless!" murmured Sabine; "his friendship for Wohlfartshows that. "

"He does but play with him--throws him into the water, and picks him outagain. "

"Nay, " cried Sabine; "he esteems his good sense and high principles, andfeels that he has a better nature than his own. "

"Do not deceive yourself and me, " replied the merchant; "I know thefascination that this strange man has long had for you. I have saidnothing, for I could trust you. But, now that I see that he makes youreally unhappy, I can not but wish for his absence. He shall leave ourhouse without delay. "

"Oh no, no!" cried Sabine, wringing her hands. "No, Traugott, that shallnot, must not be! If there be any way of rescuing him from the evilinfluences of his past life, it is the being with you. To see, to takepart in the regular activity, the high honor of your mercantile career, is salvation to him. Brother, " continued she, taking his hand, "I haveno secrets from you; you have found out my foolish weakness; but Ipromise you that henceforth it shall be no more to me than therecollection of some tale that I have read. Never by look or word will Ibetray it; only do not, oh! do not be angry with him--do not send himaway, and that on my account. "

"But how can I tell whether his remaining here may not subject you to apainful conflict?" inquired the merchant. "Our position as regards himis difficult enough without this. He ranks as a brilliant match in everysense of the word. His father has intrusted him to me. If an attachmentwere to spring up between you, it would be treachery to his father towithhold it from him. It might seem to him as if we had a wish to securethe young heir; and he, accustomed as he is to easy conquests, mightperhaps laugh at what he would call your weakness and mylong-headedness. The very thought calls up all my pride. "

"Brother, " cried Sabine, with burning cheeks, "do not forget that I amyour sister. I am a merchant's daughter, and he would never belongentirely to our class. I am as proud as you, and have always had theconviction that not all the love in the world could ever fill the gulfbetween us. Trust me, " continued she, with tears; "you shall see no moresad looks. But be kinder to him; think what his fate has been, tossedabout among strangers; think how he has grown up without affection, without a home; spoiled in many ways, but still with a high sense ofhonor, an abhorrence of all that is little. Trust me, and be kinder tohim. "

"He shall stay, " said the merchant; "but besides, my darling, there isanother whom we should seek to guard from his influence. "

"Wohlfart!" cried Sabine, cheerfully; "oh, I will answer for him. "

"You undertake a good deal. So he, too, is a favorite?"

"He is tender-hearted and honorable, and devoted to you; and he hasplenty of spirit too. Trust him, he will be a match for Fink. I happenedto meet him at the time that Fink had insulted him, and I have given hima place in my heart ever since. "

"How does this heart find room for every thing?" cried the merchant, playfully; "above and beyond all, the great store-room, the oakenpresses of our grandmother, and the piles of white linen; then, in aside-chamber apart, your strict brother; then--"

"Then all the others in the ante-chamber, " broke in Sabine. 

Meanwhile Fink entered Anton's room, humming a tune, little suspectingthe storm in the front part of the house, and, truth to tell, littlecaring what they thought about him there. "I have fallen into disgraceon your account, my son, " cried he, merrily. "His majesty has treated meall the day long with killing indifference, and the black-haired has notdeigned me a single glance--good sort of people, but desperately matterof fact. That Sabine has at bottom plenty of life and spirit, but sheplagues herself about the merest trifles. She would raise a question asto whether it was a fly's duty to scratch its head with the right leg orthe left. Why, you are on the way to be looked upon as the 'Mignon' ofthe counting-house, and I as your evil genius. Never mind; to-morrow wewill go together to the swimming-school. "

And so it was. From that day forth Fink delighted to initiate his youngfriend into all his own pursuits. He taught him to swim, to ride, toleap, to shoot at a mark, and even threatened to get him an invitationto a hunting-party. Against this Anton vehemently protested. 

Anton on his side rewarded him by the greatest devotion. They were happyevenings for both when, sitting under the shadow of the condor's wings, they chatted away and laughed so loud that through the open window thesound reached old Pluto the watch-dog, who, feeling himself the guardianof the establishment, and considered by all as a distinguished member ofit, woke up to bay out his hearty sympathy with their enjoyment--ay, they were happy hours; for their intimacy ripened for the first time inthe life of either into sincere friendship. And yet Anton never left offwatching Fink's bearing to Sabine; although he did not name her to him, he was always expecting to hear of some important event: a betrothal, ora quarrel between Fink and the merchant, or something extraordinary. Butnothing of the kind occurred; the solemn daily meals went on, andSabine's behavior to both friends was the same as before. 

Another year had passed away, the second since our apprentice's arrival, and again the roses blossomed. One evening Anton bought a large nosegayof them, and knocked with them at the door of Jordan, who was a greatlover of flowers. He was surprised to find all the clerks assembled, asthey had been on the day of his arrival, and he saw at a glance thatthey were embarrassed by his appearance. Jordan hurried to meet him, and, with a slight degree of confusion, requested that he would leavethem for about an hour, as they were discussing a subject into which he, as an apprentice, could not enter. It was the first time that thesekind-hearted men had ever allowed him to feel any difference between hisposition and theirs, and therefore his banishment slightly depressedhim. He carried back his nosegay, placed it with a resigned air upon hisown table, and took up a book. 

Meanwhile a solemn deliberation was going on in Jordan's room. He rose, struck the table with a ruler, and went on to state that a colleaguehaving, as they all knew, left the business, a vacancy had occurred, which Mr. Schröter himself wished should be filled by Wohlfart; but ashis case would thus be made exceptional--he having been an apprenticeonly two years instead of four--the principal kindly referred thedecision to the body of the clerks. 

An imposing silence succeeded to these words, which was at lengthinterrupted by Mr. Pix proposing punch, and that they should order inthe kettle for the tea-drinkers. 

The other gentlemen preserved a dignified silence, looked withsolemnity at the preparations going forward, and each felt hisresponsibility and his importance as a man and a clerk. 

The next question was, "How shall we vote?"

It was decided that the youngest should begin. 

Specht was the youngest. "First of all, I have to remark that Herr vonFink is not present, " said he, looking around in some excitement. 

A general murmur arose, "He does not belong to us; he is a volunteer. "

"In that case, " continued Specht, somewhat taken down by this universalopposition, "I am of opinion that Anton ought, according to custom, toremain an apprentice for four years; but, as he is a good fellow, andlikely to prove useful, I am also of opinion that an exception should bemade in his favor; while I propose that, in order to remind him of hisformer position, he be appointed to make tea for us during a year, andto mend a hundred pens for each of his colleagues. "

"Stuff and nonsense!" muttered Pix; "you have always such overstrainednotions. "

"What do you mean by overstrained notions?" inquired Specht, angrily. 

"I must call you to order, " said Mr. Jordan. 

The rest of the colleagues proceeded to give in their adherence to theplan. Baumann did so with enthusiasm. At last it came to the turn ofPix. "Gentlemen, " said he, "what is the use of much talking? Hisknowledge of business is fair, considering that he is but a youngfellow; his manner is pleasant--the servants respect him. According tomy notions, he is too tender and considerate; but it is not given to allto manage others. He is a poor hand at cards, and can make little ornothing of punch--that's about what he is. But, as these lastpeculiarities have nothing to do with the present proposal, I see noreason why he should not, from the present date, become our colleague. "

Then came Purzel and Liebold, who each gave his vote in his owncharacteristic way, and the affair was settled. Baumann was about torush off and call Anton, when Specht insisted upon the solemnity of adeputation, and Liebold and Pix were appointed to escort the astonishedyouth, who could not conceive what it all meant, till Jordan, advancingto meet him, said, with the utmost cordiality, "Dear Wohlfart, you havenow worked with us two years; you have taken pains to learn thebusiness, and have won the friendship of us all. It is the will of theprincipal, and our united wish, that the term of your apprenticeshipshould be abridged, and that you should to-morrow enter upon your dutiesas a clerk. We congratulate you sincerely, and hope that, as ourcolleague, you will show us the same friendly regard that you havehitherto shown. " So said worthy Mr. Jordan, and held out his hand. 

Anton stood for a moment as if stupefied, and then there followed anamount of hand-shaking and congratulation never witnessed before in thatapartment. Next came toasts, speeches, and, after an evening of mosthearty enjoyment, the colleagues separated at a late hour. 

Anton could not go to bed, however, without imparting his good fortuneto his friend Fink. So he went to meet him on his return home, and toldhim the important event in the bright moonlight. Fink made a grandflourish in the air with his riding-whip, and said, "Bravo! bravo! Ishould not have given our despot credit for such contempt of precedent. You will be launched a year the sooner into life. "

The following day the principal called the new clerk into his ownsanctuary, and received his thanks with a smile. 

Last of all, at dinner, the ladies congratulated the new official. Sabine even came down the whole length of the table to where Antonstood, and greeted him in the kindest terms. A bottle of wine was placedbeside each cover; while the merchant, raising his glass, and bowing toour happy hero, said, with earnest kindness, "Dear Wohlfart, we drink tothe memory of your excellent father. "

CHAPTER X. 

One winter morning Anton was reading diligently the "Last of theMohicans, " while the first snow-flakes were dancing down outside hiswindow, when Fink came in hurriedly, saying, "Anton, let me have a lookat your wardrobe?" He opened the different drawers, examined theircontents, and, shaking his head, said, "I will send my tailor to measureyou for a new suit. "

"I have no money, " replied Anton, laughing. 

"Nonsense!" cried Fink; "the tailor will give you as much credit as youlike. "

"I do not, however, choose to buy on credit, " said Anton, settlinghimself upon the sofa to argue the point with his friend. 

"You must make an exception in this case. It is high time that youshould see more of society, and I am going to introduce you. "

Anton started up, blushed, and exclaimed, "It won't do, Fink; I am quitea stranger, and have no position to give me confidence. "

"That's the very reason why you must go into society, " replied Fink, severely. "You must get rid of this miserable timidity as soon aspossible. Can you waltz? Have you any remote conception of the figuresof a quadrille?"

"A few years ago I had some dancing-lessons in Ostrau. "

"Very well; now you shall have some more. Frau von Baldereck informed meyesterday that a few families purposed instituting a private assembly, where their half-grown chickens might learn to spread their wings, secure from birds of prey. It is to be held in her house, as she has achicken of her own to bring up for the market. It's the very thing foryou, and I will introduce you. "

"Fink, " said our hero, "this is another of your mad adventures. Frau vonBaldereck belongs to the aristocratic set; you would only occasion methe mortification of being rejected, or, worse, treated with hauteur. "

"Is he not enough to put a saint out of patience?" cried Fink, indudgeon; "you and your class have more reason to hold your heads highthan half of those here assembled. And yet you are the very people, withyour timidity and subserviency, to keep up their foolish pretensions!How can you suppose yourself their inferior? I should never haveexpected to have found such meanness in you. "

"You mistake me, " replied Anton, angry in his turn. "I am not wanting inself-respect; but it would be foolish and unbecoming to intrude into acircle where I am not wished for, and where a man would be despised forbeing in a counting-house. "

"Nonsense! you _are_ wished for. There is a paucity of gentlemen. Thelady of the house (I am a favorite--no honor, mind you) has asked me tointroduce three young men of my acquaintance, and so nothing can be moresimple. You pay for your lessons like another; and whether you whirlround a countess or a young _bourgeoise_, what matters it?"

"It won't do, " replied Anton, shaking his head; "I have an inwardconviction that it is unbecoming, and wish to be guided by this. "

"Well, then, " said Fink, impatiently, "I have one other proposal tomake. You shall this very day call with me upon Frau von Baldereck. Iwill introduce you as Anton Wohlfart, one of the clerks in the firm ofT. O. Schröter. Not a word shall be said of these dancing-lessons, andyou shall see that she herself will invite you. If she does not, or ifshe shows the very least hauteur, you can stay away. This you can notobject to. "

Anton demurred. The case seemed by no means so clear as Fink made itout, but he was no longer able to weigh it dispassionately. For yearspast he had yearned for the free, dignified, refined life of the uppercircles. Whenever he heard music--whenever he read of the doings of thearistocracy, the turreted castle and the noble maiden rose before him inthe golden light of poetry. He consented to the proposal of hisexperienced friend. 

An hour later came the tailor, and Fink himself determined the cut ofthe new suit with a technical precision which impressed the tailor noless than it did Anton. 

That afternoon, as the November sun melted away the snow, Fink, with alarge bundle of papers in his hand, loitered down the most unfrequentedstreets, evidently on the look-out for some one or other. At last hecrossed over, and encountered, apparently to his surprise, twoelegantly-dressed gentlemen who were sauntering, on the opposite side. 

"Ah! Fink. "

"Oh, how do you do?"

"Where are you wandering to in this absent mood?" inquired young VonTönnchen. 

"I am looking, " replied Fink, in a melancholy voice, "for two goodfellows who will come and drink a bottle of wine with me this gloomyafternoon, and assist me in a little matter of business beforehand. "

"What! a duel?" inquired Herr von Zernitz. 

"No, fair sir, " replied Fink; "you know that I have forsworn all evilways, and am become a hard-working man of business, a worthy son of thefirm of Fink and Becker. I only want two witnesses to a legal document, which must be executed at once. Will you accompany me for a quarter ofan hour to the notary--for the rest of the evening to Feroni's?"

The two gentlemen were only too happy. Fink took them to a well-knownlawyer, to whom he delivered a long and important-looking document, written in English, and setting forth that Fritz von Fink was thelawful proprietor of the territory of Fowling-floor, in the State of NewYork. This, he explained to the lawyer, he now wished to make over toAnton Wohlfart, at present clerk in the house of T. O. Schröter, imploring the man of business, at the same time, to keep the mattersecret, which he duly promised; and the two witnesses attested the deed. As they left, Fink earnestly besought them never to reveal thecircumstance to Mr. Wohlfart. They both gave him their word of honor, evincing, however, some degree of curiosity as to the whole transaction. 

"I can not explain it to you, " said Fink, "there being about it apolitical mystery that is not quite clear even to myself. "

"Is the estate large that you have just ceded?" inquired Von Tönnchen. 

"An estate!" said Fink, looking up to the sky; "it is no estate. It is adistrict, mountain and vale, wood and water--but a small part, certainly, of America. But then, what _is_ large? On the other side ofthe Atlantic we measure things by a very different scale to that used inthis corner of Germany. At all events, I shall never again call theproperty mine. "

"But who is this Wohlfart?" asked the lieutenant. 

"You shall make his acquaintance, " answered Fink. "He is a handsomeyouth from the heart of the province, over whom a remarkable destinyhovers--of which, however, he knows, and is to know, nothing. But enoughof business. I have a plan for you this winter. You are old boys, it istrue; but you must take dancing-lessons. "

And, so saying, he led the way into Feroni's, where the three were soondeep in a bottle of port wine. 

Frau von Baldereck was one of the main supports of the very bestsociety, consisting as it did of the families of the county nobility, the officers, and a few of the highest officials. It was difficult tosay what had given this lady her social importance, for she was neithervery well connected, nor very rich, nor very elegant, nor veryintellectual. Perhaps it was this absence of all marked superioritywhich accounted for it. She had a very large acquaintance, was rigidlyconventional, valued every one according to a social standard, and, therefore, her estimate was always attended to. She had a young daughterwho promised to be very like her, and she inhabited a suite of largerooms on a first floor, where for many years dramatic representations, _tableaux vivants_, rehearsals, etc. , had been constantly held. 

This influential lady was deep in consultation with her mantuamaker asto how the new dress of her daughter could be best made so as to displayher faultless bust without exciting comment at the dancing-lesson, whenher favorite, Fink, was announced. Dismissing a while the weightyconsideration, she hurried down to give him a most gracious reception. 

After a few introductory remarks upon the last evening party at whichthey had met, Fink began:

"I have obeyed your orders, lady patroness, and shall bring you threegentlemen. "

"And who are they?"

"First, Lieutenant von Zernitz. "

"A great acquisition, " was the reply, for the lieutenant was consideredan accomplished officer. He made neat verses, was great in thearrangement of _tableaux vivants_, and was said to have written a talein some annual or other. "Herr von Zernitz is a delightful companion. "

"Yes, " said Fink; "but he can not bear port wine. The second is youngVon Tönnchen. "

"An old family, " observed the mistress of the house; "but is he not alittle--just a little--wild?" added she, modestly. 

"By no means, " said Fink; "though sometimes, perhaps, he makes otherpeople so. "

"And the third?" inquired the lady. 

"The third is a Mr. Wohlfart. "

"Wohlfart!" returned she, somewhat perplexed; "I do not know the name. "

"Very likely not, " said Fink, coolly; "Mr. Wohlfart came here from thecountry two or three years ago, to get an insight into the mysteries ofbusiness; he is now in Schröter's office, like myself. "

"But, my dear Fink!" interposed the lady. 

Fink was by no means taken aback. Comfortably reclining in hisarm-chair, he went on: "Mr. Wohlfart is a striking and interestingperson. There are some singular circumstances connected with him. Ithink him the finest fellow I ever met with. He comes from Ostrau, andcalls himself the son of an accountant there, now dead. But there hangsa mystery over him, of which he himself knows nothing. "

"But, Herr von Fink, " said the lady, anxious to be heard. 

Fink looked intently at the cornice, and went on. "He is already thepossessor of certain lands in America. The title-deeds have passedthrough my hands confidentially; but he must know nothing of it for thepresent. I myself believe that he has every prospect of more than amillion some future day. Did you ever see the late archduke?"

"No, " said the lady, with some curiosity. 

"There are people, " continued Fink, "who maintain that Anton isstrikingly like him. What I have said is a secret, however, of which myfriend knows nothing. One thing is certain, that the late emperor, onthe occasion of his last journey through the province, stopped atOstrau, and had a long conversation with the pastor there. "

Now this last circumstance was true, and Anton had chanced to mention itto Fink among other of his childish recollections. He had also statedthat the pastor in question had been an army-chaplain in the last war, and that the emperor had asked him in what corps he had served. 

Fink, however, did not think it necessary to descend to such minutiæ. Frau von Baldereck declared herself ready to receive Mr. Wohlfart. 

"One word more, " said Fink, rising; "what I have confided to you, goodfairy"--the fairy weighed upward of ten stone--"must remain a secretbetween us. I am sure I may trust to your delicacy what, were it to bespoken of by others, I should resent as a liberty taken with me and myfriend, Mr. Wohlfart. " He pronounced the name so ironically that thelady felt convinced that this gentleman, now under the disguise of aclerk, would soon burst upon the world as a prince. 

"But, " said she, as they parted, "how shall I introduce him to myacquaintance?"

"Only as my best friend; for whom I will answer, in every respect, as agreat addition to our circle. "

When Fink found himself in the street, he muttered irreverently enough, "How the old lady swallowed all my inventions, to be sure! As the son ofplain honest parents, they would have given the poor lad the coldshoulder; now, however, they will all behave with a courtesy that willcharm my young friend. I never thought that old sand-hole and itstumble-down hut would turn out so useful. "

The seed that Fink had sown fell on fruitful soil. Frau von Baldereck, who had a maternal design upon him, was only too glad to have a chanceof him as her daughter's partner in these dancing-lessons, which she hadnot expected him to attend. The few hints that she ventured to throw outabout Anton being confirmed by certain mysterious observations made bytwo officers, a rumor became current that a gentleman of immensefortune, for whom the Emperor of Russia had purchased extensivepossessions in America, would make his appearance at thedancing-lessons. 

A few days later, Anton was taken by Fink to call upon Frau vonBaldereck, from whom he received the most gracious, nay, pressinginvitation to join their projected _réunions_. 

The visit over, Anton, tripping down stairs on his Mentor's arm, remarked, in all simplicity, that he was surprised to find it so easy toconverse with people of distinction. 

Fink muttered something, which might or might not be an assent, andsaid, "On the whole, I am satisfied with you. Only you must, thiswinter, get over that confounded habit of blushing. It's bad enough in ablack neckcloth, but what will it be in a white one? You will look likean apoplectic Cupid. "

Frau von Baldereck, however, thought this modesty exceedingly touching;and when her daughter announced decidedly that she liked Fink much thebest of the two, she shook her head, and smiling, replied, "You are nojudge, dear; there is a nobility and natural grace in every thing thestranger does and says that is perfectly enchanting. "

Meanwhile the great day of the opening lesson arrived, and Fink, havingsuperintended Anton's toilette, carried him off to the scene of action. 

As they went down stairs, the door of Jordan's room softly opened, andSpecht, stretching out his long neck to look after them, cried out tothose within, "He is gone. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Why, thereare only the nobility there! A pretty story it will make. "

"After all, why should he not go, since he is invited?" said thegood-natured Jordan. To this no one knew exactly what to answer, tillPix cried angrily, "I do not like his accepting such an invitation. Hebelongs to us and to the office. He will learn no good among suchpeople. "

"These dancing-lessons must be curious scenes, " chimed in Specht;"frivolous in the extreme, mere love-making and dueling--for which weknow Wohlfart has always had a turn. Some fine morning we shall have himgoing out with pistols under his arm, and not returning on his feet. "

"Nonsense!" replied the irritable Pix; "they don't fight more than otherpeople. "

"Then he will have to speak French?"

"Why not Russ?" asked Mr. Pix. 

At which the two fell into a dispute as to what was the medium ofcommunication in the great lady's _salon_. However, all the colleaguesagreed in considering that Wohlfart had taken an exceedingly bold andmysterious step, and one pregnant with calamitous consequences. 

Nor was this the only discussion on the subject. "He is gone!" announcedthe cousin, returning from an interview with some of the domestics. 

"Another trick of his friend Fink, " said the merchant. 

Sabine looked down at her work. "I am glad, " said she at length, "thatFink should use his influence to give his friend pleasure. He himselfdoes not care for dancing, and I am sure that to attend these lessons isin him an act of self-denial; and I am also truly glad that Wohlfart, who has hitherto led such a solitary life, should go a little intosociety. "

"But into such society as this? How is it possible!" cried the cousin. 

Sabine tapped the table with her thimble. "Fink has spoken highly ofhim, and that was good and kind. And, in spite of the grave face of mydear brother, he shall, as a reward, have his favorite dish to-morrow. "

"Ham, with Burgundy sauce, " added the cousin. 

Meanwhile Fink and Anton were entering Frau von Baldereck's lightedrooms, and Fink, whispering, "Come, summon all your courage; you havenothing to fear, " led his unresisting friend up to the lady of thehouse, by whom they were most graciously received, and who, saying atonce to Anton, "I will introduce you to Countess Pontak, " led him off toa gaunt lady of uncertain age, who sat on a slightly-elevated seat, surrounded by a small court of her own. "Dear Betty, this is Mr. Wohlfart. " Anton saw at once that "dear Betty" had a nose of parchment, thin lips, and a most unpleasing countenance. He bowed before her withthe resigned air of a prisoner, while she began to cross-examine him asto who he was and whence he came, till his shyness was fast changinginto annoyance, when Fink stepped in. 

"My friend, proud lady, is half Slavonic, though he passionatelyprotests against any doubts cast upon his German origin. I recommend himto your kindness. You have just given a proof of your talent forinvestigation, now give my friend the benefit of the gentle indulgencefor which we all admire you. " The ladies smiled, the gentlemen turnedaway to hide their laughter, and Betty sat there with ruffled feathers, like some small bird of prey whom a larger has robbed of its victim. 

As for Anton, he was hurrying away into a corner to recover, when hefelt a light tap on his arm, and heard a fresh young voice say, "Mr. Wohlfart, do you not remember your old friend? This is the second timethat I have been obliged to speak first. "

Anton turned, and saw a tall, slight figure, with fair hair, and largedark blue eyes, smiling at him. The expression of delight on his facewas so unmistakable that Lenore could not help telling him how glad shetoo was to see him again. Soon they were in full conversation; they hadmet but three times in their lives, and yet had so much to say. At lastthe young lady reminded him that he must now speak to others, told himto join her when the music began, and, with the majesty of a queen, crossed the room to her mother. 

Anton was now hardened against all social terrors, and his embarrassmentover and gone. He joined Fink, who introduced him to a dozen gentlemen, not one of whose names he remembered, caring for them no more than forpoplars along a high road. 

But this audacious mood vanished when he approached the baroness. Therewere the delicate features, the unspeakable refinement, which had soimpressed him when he saw her first. She at once discovered that he wasunaccustomed to society, and looked at him with a curiosity notunmingled with some misgiving; but Lenore cut the interview as short asshe could by saying that it was time to take their places in the dance. 

"He waltzes tolerably--too much swing, perhaps, " muttered Fink tohimself. 

"A distinguished-looking pair, " cried Frau von Baldereck, as Anton andLenore whirled past. 

"She talks too much to him, " said the baroness to her husband, whohappened to join her. 

"To him?" asked he; "who is the young man? I have never seen the facebefore. "

"He is one of the adherents of Herr von Fink--he is alone here--has richrelatives in Russia or America; I do not like the acquaintance forLenore. "

"Why not?" replied the baron; "he looks a good, innocent sort of youth, and is far better suited for this child's-play than the old boys that Isee around. There is Bruno Tönnchen, whose only pleasure is to make thegirls blush, or teach them to leave off blushing. Lenore looksuncommonly well to-night. I am going to my whist; send for me when thecarriage is ready. "

Anton heard none of these comments upon him; and if the hum of thecompany around had been as loud as that of the great bell of the city'shighest steeple, he would not have heard it better. For him the wholeworld had shrunk to the circle round which he and his partner revolved. The beautiful fair head so near his own that sometimes they touched, thewarm breath that played on his cheek, the unspeakable charm of the whiteglove that hid her small hand, the perfume of her handkerchief, the redflowers fastened to her dress--these he saw and felt; all besides wasdarkness, barrenness, nothingness. 

Suddenly the music stopped, and Anton's world fell back into chaos. "What a pity!" said Lenore, as the last note died away. 

"I thank you for this bliss!" said Anton, leading her back to her place. 

As he moved to and fro in the crowd like a rudderless ship amid thewaves, Fink took him in tow, and said, "I say, you hypocrite, you haveeither drunk sweet wine, or you are a quiet sort of Don Juan. How longhave you known the Rothsattel? You have never spoken of her to me. Shehas a lovely figure and a classical face. Has she any sense?"

At that moment how unspeakably Anton despised his friend! Such anexpression as that could only proceed from the most degraded of humanbeings. 

"Sense!" exclaimed he, casting on Fink a look of deadly enmity; "he whodoubts it must be utterly devoid of sense himself. "

"Well, well!" exclaimed Fink, in amazement; "I am not in that melancholyplight, for I think the girl, or rather the young lady, uncommonlylovely; and, had I not some small engagements elsewhere, I might feelconstrained to choose her for the mistress of my affections. As it is, Ican only admire her afar off. "

"You are right, " said Anton, squeezing his arm. 

"Really, " returned Fink, in his usual careless tone, "you begin well, itmust be allowed; go on, my son, and prosper. "

And Anton did go on, and did his Mentor honor. He was indeedintoxicated, but not with wine. The music, the excitement of the dance, the gay scene around, inspired him; he felt self-confident, nay, daring; and, one or two trifling solecisms excepted, behaved as if hehad been surrounded by waxlights and obsequious domestics all the daysof his life. He was a good deal remarked--made, indeed, quite asensation; while dark hints of a mystery attached to him spread fromcorner to corner of the spacious rooms. 

At length came the cotillon. Anton sought out Lenore, who exclaimed, "Iknew that you would dance it with me!" This was to both the happiestpart of the whole happy evening. 

As to all that followed, it was a mere indistinct vision. Anton wasdimly conscious of walking about with Fink, of talking and laughing withhim and others, of bowing before the lady of the house, and murmuringhis thanks; of having his paletot reached him by a servant, and ofputting something into his hand; but all this was shadowy and unreal. Heonly saw one thing clearly: a white cloak, with a silk hood and atassel--oh, that tassel! Once more the large eyes shone full upon him, and he heard the whispered words, "Good-night!" Then came anuninteresting dream of going up stairs with Fink, and but half hearinghis jesting comments; of entering a small room, lighting a lamp, andwondering whether it was really here he lived; of slowly undressing, andat length falling asleep. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Since the important evening above described, the dancing-lessons hadgone on regularly, and Anton, having got over the purgatory of the firstintroduction, began to feel perfectly at home. Indeed, he became auseful member of the association, and was a pattern of assiduity andpunctuality, and a striking contrast to Fink, who horrified thedancing-master by declaring that the _galop_ step was fitted for everyand all dances alike, and by waltzing in the most eccentric orbitsconceivable. 

The fact was, Anton was so happy that his transfigured aspect struckboth the young and the old ladies, confirming the former in theirconviction that he was good and true-hearted, and the latter in theirs, that he was a prince in disguise. He himself best knew the secret of hisbliss. Every thought of his loyal heart revolved around its absolutemistress. All dances or conversations with others he looked upon asmore flourishes surrounding her name; neither was he without hisreward. She soon treated him like an old friend; and, whenever sheentered the room, it was not till she had discovered his brown curlsamong the circle that she felt at home in the brilliant assembly. 

It is, however, a melancholy fact, that destiny never long permits achild of earth to feel his whole nature and circumstances strung up totheir utmost sweetness and power. It invariably contrives to let downsome string while winding up another. Hence arises a discord, such asAnton was now called upon to experience. 

It was plain that the gentlemen of the counting-house looked withcritical eye upon the change in his way of life. There existed everypossible diversity among them, it is true; but all were unanimous inpronouncing that, since he had attended these dancing-lessons, our herohad greatly changed for the worse. They declared that his increasedsilence was pride, his frequent absences in an evening tokens ofunbecoming levity; and he who had once been a universal favorite was nowin danger of being universally condemned. He himself considered thecolder bearing of his colleagues very unkind; and so it came to passthat, for several weeks, he lived almost exclusively with Fink, and thatthe two formed, as it were, an aristocratic section in opposition to therest. 

Anton was more depressed by this state of things than he chose toconfess: he felt it every where--at his desk, in his room, nay, even atdinner. If Jordan wanted a commission executed, it was no longer to him, but to Baumann, that he turned; when Purzel, the cashier, came into theoffice, he no longer accepted Anton's seat; and though Specht addressedhim oftener than ever, it was no comfort to have questions like thesewhispered in his ear, "Is it true that Baron von Berg has dapple-grayhorses?" or, "Must you wear patent leather boots, or shoes, at Frau vonBaldereck's?" But Pix, his former patron, was the severest of all. Excessive toleration had never been one of this gentleman's weaknesses, and he now, for no very definite reasons, looked upon Anton as a traitorto himself and the firm. He was in the habit of keeping his birth-day ina most festal manner, surrounded by all his friends, and, knowing this, Anton had purposely refused an invitation of Herr von Zernitz; yet, whenthe day came, Fink and he were not included among the birth-day guests. 

Anton felt this deeply; and, to make matters worse, Spechtconfidentially told him that Pix had declared that a young gentleman whoassociated with lieutenants, and frequented Feroni's, was no companionfor a plain man of business. As he sat alone and heard the merrylaughter of his colleagues, he fell into a melancholy mood, which noneof his ball-room recollections had the power to dispel. 

For, truth to tell, he was not satisfied with himself--he was changed. He was not exactly negligent of business, but it gave him nopleasure--his work was a task. Sometimes, in writing letters, he hadforgotten the most important clauses; nay, once or twice he had mademistakes as to prices, and Jordan had handed him them back to re-write. He fancied, too, that the principal had not noticed him for some timepast, and that Sabine's greeting had grown colder. Even the good-naturedKarl had asked him, ironically he thought, whether he, as well as Fink, had a pass-key. It was in this mood that he now sat down to look overhis own accounts, which of late he had omitted to keep punctually. Hewas horrified to find that his debts amounted to more than he could paywithout mortgaging his little inheritance. He felt very unhappy and outof tune; but fate willed that the discord should increase. 

Two or three evenings later, the merchant, returning early from hisclub, answered Sabine's greeting dryly, and paced up and down the room. 

"What is the matter, Traugott?" asked she. 

He threw himself into a chair. "Would you like to know how Fink got hisprotégé introduced into Frau von Baldereck's circle? You were so readyto admire this proof of his friendship! He has concocted a whole systemof lies, and made the inexperienced Wohlfart play the part of a mereadventurer. " And he went on to narrate all that we already know. 

"But is it certain that Fink has done this?"

"Not a doubt of it. It is exactly like him. It is the same reckless, unscrupulous spirit, that neither heeds the life nor the reputation of afriend. "

Sabine fell back in her chair, and again her heart swelled withindignation. "Oh, how sad it is!" cried she; "but Wohlfart is innocent, that I am convinced of. Such falsehoods are not in his nature. "

"I shall know to-morrow, " said the merchant; "for his own sake, I hopeyou are right. "

The next day the principal summoned Anton to his own apartment, andtelling him the rumors that had arisen, asked him what he had done tocontradict them. 

Anton replied in much amazement, "That he knew nothing of such rumors asthese; that sometimes, indeed, he had been joked with as to his means, but that he had always avowed how small they were. "

"Have you spoken decidedly?" asked the merchant, severely. 

"I believe that I have, " was the honest reply. 

"These idle tales would not signify, " continued the principal, "but thatthey expose you to the charge of having sought, by unworthy means, togain a position to which you are not entitled, and also that they tendto degrade your parents' reputation, for it is given out that you arethe son of a man of very high rank. "

"Oh my mother!" cried Anton, wringing his hands, and the tears rollingdown his cheeks. As soon as he could control his emotion, he said, "The most painful part of all this is, that you should have supposed mecapable of circulating these falsehoods. I implore you to believe that Inever knew of them till now. "

"I am glad to believe it, " said the merchant; "but you have done much tosubstantiate them. You have appeared in a circle and incurred expenseswhich were alike unsuited to your position and your fortune. "

Anton felt that he would greatly prefer the centre of the earth to itssurface. At length he cried, "I know it--you are right--nay, I knew itall the time; and especially since I found that I had run intodebt"--here the merchant smiled almost imperceptibly--"I have felt thatI was on the wrong road altogether, though I did not know how to retracemy steps. But now I will lose no more time. "

"Was it not Fink who introduced you to that circle? Perhaps, " said themerchant, "he may be able to throw some light on the affair. "

"Allow me to call him, " said Anton, "and let him be witness as towhether I knew of this. "

"Certainly, if it be any satisfaction to you;" and Fink was summoned. Onentering, he looked with astonishment at Anton's excited aspect, andcried, without particularly heeding the principal's presence, "Thedevil! you have been weeping!"

"Over calumnies, " said the merchant, gravely, "which affect his owncharacter as a respectable man of business, and the honor of hisfamily. " And he proceeded to state the whole affair. 

"He is quite innocent, " said Fink, good-naturedly: "innocent andharmless as the violet that blows in the shade. He knew nothing of thisridiculous affair; and, if any one be to blame, it is I, and thebabbling fools who have spread the story. Don't torment yourself, Anton;since it annoys you, we will soon set it all to rights. "

"I shall go once more, " declared Anton, "to Frau von Baldereck, and tellher that I can no longer attend the dancing-parties. "

"As you like, " said Fink. "At all events, you have learned to dance, andto hold your hat like a gentleman. "

Before dinner, the merchant said to his sister, "You were right, Wohlfart had nothing to do with it; it was all Fink's invention. "

"I knew it, " cried Sabine, drawing out her needle vehemently. 

Anton worked hard all day, said little, and, when evening came, went upstairs to dress, like a man whose mind is made up. 

If Fink could have seen into his heart, he would have been shocked atthe sorrow there. It was not alone wounded self-love, mortification, shame, but the anguish of bidding farewell to Lenore. As it was, "Isay, " cried he, "I have a notion that you take this nonsense a greatdeal too tragically. Are you angry with me?" holding out his hand. 

"Neither with you nor with any one else; but let me for once act formyself. "

"What are you going to do?"

"Do not ask me. I have but one thing to do. "

"So be it, then, " was the good-humored reply; "but do not forget thatany thing like a scene would only amuse those people. "

"Trust me, " said Anton, "I shall make none. "

It happened to be a very gay meeting, and there were more gentlemenpresent than usual. Anton at once went up to Lenore, who came to meethim more lovely than ever, in her first ball-dress, saying, "How lateyou are! Come, papa is here, and I want to introduce you to him. Butwhat is the matter, you look so grave?"

"Dear lady, " returned Anton, "I do indeed feel sad. I can not dance thenext dance with you, and am only come to apologize to you, and to thelady of the house, for my abrupt departure. "

"Mr. Wohlfart!" cried Lenore, clasping her hands. 

"Your good opinion is more to me than that of all others, " said he, blushing; and proceeded rapidly to state the whole story, assuring herthat he had known nothing of it. 

"I believe you, " said Lenore, cordially; "and, indeed, papa said that itwas all most probably an idle tale. And because of this you will give upour dancing-parties!"

"I will, " said Anton; "for, if I do not, I run a risk of beingconsidered an intruder or an impostor. "

Lenore tossed her little head. "Go, then, sir!" and she turned away. 

Anton stood like one annihilated. Had he been ten years older, he mighthave interpreted her anger more favorably. As it was, a bitter pangthrilled through him. But the thought of what was still to be donenerved him to overcome it, and he walked steadily, nay, proudly to whereFrau von Baldereck was doing the honors. All the most distinguishedmembers of the party were around her. The gaunt old countess satdrinking a cup of tea. The baroness was there; and near her a tall, handsome man, whom Anton knew instinctively to be Lenore's father. As headvanced to make his bow to the lady of the house, his glance took inthe whole scene at once. Years have passed since then; but still heknows the color of every dress, could count the flowers in the bouquetof the baroness, ay, and remembers the gilt pattern on the countess'stea-cup. Frau von Baldereck received his obeisance with a gracioussmile, and was about to say something flattering, when Anton interruptedher, and in a voice that shook a little, perhaps, but was audiblethroughout the room, began his address, which was soon listened to inprofound silence. "Madam, I have this day heard that a rumor has beenspread of my possessing lands in America, and exciting an interest incertain high quarters. I now declare that this is all false. I am theson of a late accountant in Ostrau, and I inherit from my parents hardlyany thing beyond an unsullied name. You, madam, have been kind enough toinvite me, an insignificant stranger, to take part in your _réunions_this winter. After what I have just heard, I dare do so no longer, lestI should thus substantiate the idle reports I have mentioned, and besuspected of imposing upon your hospitality. Therefore I have only tothank you sincerely for your past kindness, and to take my leave. "

The whole party was struck dumb. Anton bowed, and turned to go. 

Just then there flew out from the paralyzed circle a brilliant form, andtaking both his hands in hers, Lenore looked at him with tearful eyes, and said, in a broken voice, "Farewell!" The door closed, and all wasover. 

When life returned in the room he had left, the first words audible werethe baroness's whisper to her daughter, "Lenore, you have forgottenyourself. "

"Do not blame her, " said the baron, aloud, with great presence of mind;"the daughter only did what the father should have done. The young manhas behaved admirably, and we can not but esteem him. "

A murmur, however, began to arise from different groups. "Quite adramatic scene, " said the lady of the house; "but who then said--"

"Ay, who was it that said, " interposed Von Tönnchen. All eyes turned toFink. 

"It was you, Herr von Fink, who--" Frau von Baldereck majesticallybegan. 

"I, my dear lady!" said Fink, with the composure of a just man unjustlyaccused. "What have I to do with the report? I have always contradictedit as much as possible. "

"Yes, " said several voices; "but then you used to hint--"

"And you certainly did say--" interpolated Frau von Baldereck. 

"What?" coldly inquired the imperturbable Fink. 

"That this Mr. Wohlfart was mysteriously connected with the Czar. "

"Impossible!" cried Fink, earnestly; "that is a completemisunderstanding. In describing the appearance of the gentleman, thenunknown to you, I may possibly have mentioned an accidental likeness, but--"

"But the American property, " chimed in Herr von Tönnchen; "why, youyourself made it over to him, and requested us to keep the transaction aprofound secret. "

"As you have kept my secret so well, " replied Fink, "as to tell it everywhere, and now in my presence, before all assembled here, you andZernitz are evidently answerable for the whole foolish rumor. And nowlisten, gentlemen; my friend Wohlfart having once expressed a playfulwish to have land in America, I amused myself by making him aChristmas-box of a certain possession of mine on Long Island, near NewYork, which possession consists of a few sand-hills and a tumble-downhut, built for wild-duck shooting. It was natural that I should ask younot to mention this, and I am very sorry that, from such a trifle, youshould have spun a web that excludes a delightful man from our circle. "And then a cold irony spreading over his features, he went on: "Irejoice to see how strongly you all share my feeling, and despise thelow snobbishness of soul which could consider a man more fitted forsociety because a foreign potentate had evinced an interest in him. And, since we have begun this evening's dance with explanations, let mefurther explain, that Mr. Anton Wohlfart is the son of a late accountantin Ostrau, and that I shall consider any further allusion to thismisunderstanding as an insult to my most intimate friend. And now, mydear lady, I am engaged to your daughter for the first quadrille, andcan positively wait no longer. "

In the course of the evening Lieutenant von Zernitz came up and said, "Fink, you have made fun of us, and I am sorry to be under the necessityof demanding satisfaction. "

"Be rational, and do nothing of the kind, " replied Fink. "We have shottogether so often, it would be a pity now to take each other for amark. "

Fink being by far the best shot in the room, Herr von Zernitz allowedhimself to be convinced. 

Anton had vanished from the fashionable circle like a falling star, andhe never reappeared therein. True, it did occur to Frau von Baldereck, rather late in the day, that it would be proper occasionally to invitethe young man, to prove that he had not been tolerated merely as--whathe was not, and some other families thought the same; but as theseinvitations came, as before said, rather late, and as Anton declinedthem, his fate was that of many a greater man--society forgot him. For ashort time the two chief hatchers of the grand report, Messrs. VonTönnchen and von Zernitz, spoke to him when they met him in the street;for a whole year they bowed, then they too knew him no more. 

The following day Anton told the merchant all that had passed, beggedhim to forgive his late remissness, and promised greater attention infuture. 

"I have no fault to find, " replied the merchant, kindly. "And now let mesee the amount of your debts, that we may get your affairs in order. "Anton drew a slip of paper from his pocket, the cashier was called, thesum paid, and put down to Anton's account, and that was settled. 

In the evening Fink said to Anton, "You went off with flying colors; theoldest man there declared aloud that you had behaved admirably. "

"Who said that?" Fink told him it was the Baron Rothsattel, and did notappear to remark his deep blush. "It would have been better, " continuedhe, "if you had not taken such a decided step. Why avoid the wholecircle, in which there are some who have a strong personal regard foryou?"

"I have done what my own feelings prompted, " said Anton; "perhaps oneolder and more experienced might have managed better; but you can notblame me for not taking _your_ advice in this matter. "

"It is singular, " thought Fink, as he went down stairs, "what differentevents teach different men to have and exert wills of their own. Thisboy has become independent in one night, and whatever Fate may now havein store for him, he is sure to acquit himself well. "

It spoke highly, both for Anton and his friend, that their intimacy wasby no means decreased by the circumstances just related. On thecontrary, it was deepened. Fink behaved with more consideration, andAnton gained more freedom, both of opinion and action. The influence ofthe younger of the friends weaned the elder from many an evil habit. Anton being more than ever zealous in his office duties, and moreobliging to his colleagues, Fink insensibly accustomed himself togreater application and punctuality. There was only one subject that henever touched upon, though he well knew that it was always uppermost inAnton's mind, and that was the lovely young girl who had shown so muchheart and spirit on the occasion of his last dancing-lesson. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Never had the flowers bloomed so gorgeously, never had the birds sung sogayly, as they did this summer on the baron's estate. The season spentin town had greatly extended the family acquaintance, and the castlewas, in consequence, almost always full of guests. Dances, rides, actedcharades, amusements of every kind, filled up the laughing hours. 

What happy days these were to Lenore! True, she still remained somethingof an original, and her mother would at times shake her head at somedaring freak or over-emphatic speech. It came naturally to her to playthe gentleman's part whenever there was a lack of gentlemen. She was theleader in every expedition, delighting to carry off all her young femalefriends to some distant spot whence there was a fine view, to force theminto some little village inn, where they had only milk and black breadfor supper, and then to carry them all home dead-tired in a wagon, whichshe herself would drive standing. She had a way of treating young menwith a sort of motherly kindness, as though they were still littlebread-and-butter-eating urchins; and on the occasion of a certaindramatic representation, she horrified her mother by appearing in a malecharacter, with a riding-whip and a little beard, which she twistedabout in the most fascinating way. But she looked so wondrously lovely, even thus attired, that her mother could not chide in earnest. 

If, however, there was any one not entirely satisfied with this way oflife, it was the baroness. A certain preoccupation and restlessness hadstolen over her husband--the cloudless serenity of former years wasgone. It was but a slight change, visible only to the wife's eyes; andeven she owned to herself that she was hardly justified in grieving overit. 

Just at this time, too, a great joy awaited her. Eugene had passed hisexamination, and promised them a visit to show them his epaulettes. Hismother had his room newly fitted up, and his father placed somefirst-rate guns and a new hunting-dress in it as a present for him. Onthe day of his arrival he rode out to meet him, and it was a pleasantsight to see the two noble-looking men embrace, and then ride hometogether. 

"We will surprise the ladies, " said the baron, and soon the baronessclasped her son in her arms. This was the climax of happiness at thecastle. Both parents' eyes glistened whenever they rested on their son. True, some of his expressions and gestures savored of the riding-school, but the baroness only smiled at them all. From time immemorial, indeed, the stable has been for the young cavalier the ante-chamber of thesaloon. Eugene soon became supreme among the band of young ladies; hepaid visits all around, invited friends in return; in short, one gayetysucceeded another. 

To all this there was only one drawback of which the baron wasconscious. He could no longer live within his income. What had beenpossible for twenty years now became manifestly an utter impossibility. The winter residence in town, the epaulettes of his son, Lenore's gauzesand laces--even the additional interest of his promissory notes, alltended to embarrass him. The returns from his property were eagerlyexpected, and already in part forestalled; nor were they increased. Nay, many a projected improvement of former years remained unaccomplished. Hehad once meant to plant a sandy waste at the extremity of his estate, but even that small outlay was inconvenient, and the yellow sand stillglistened in the sun. Again he was obliged to open the inlaid casket, and take out some of the fair parchments, and again his brow grewclouded and his mind troubled; but it was no longer the same agony ofanxiety as before: he had had a little practice, and looked at thingswith a calmer eye. Something would turn up--there would be some way orother of becoming freed from these embarrassments; at most, he need onlyspend two more winters in town till Lenore's education should be quitecompleted, and then he would devote himself energetically to the care ofhis property. Meanwhile, he resolved to talk matters over a little withEhrenthal, for, on the whole, he was an honorable man, that is, as faras a tradesman could be so; and, what was more, he knew the baron'scircumstances exactly, and it was easier to discuss them with him thanwith a stranger. 

As usual, Ehrenthal appeared just when wanted. His diamond breast-pinshone as usual, his obsequious compliments were as ludicrous as ever, and his admiration of the property as boundless. The baron took him allover the farm, and good-humoredly said, "You must give me some advice, Ehrenthal. "

Only two or three years had passed since a similar walk over this farm, and how the times had changed! Then, Ehrenthal had to insinuate hisadvice to the proud baron, and now the baron himself asked him for it. 

In the lightest tone that he could assume, he went on to say, "I havehad greater expenses than usual this year. Even the promissory notes donot yield enough, and I must therefore think of increasing my income. What would you consider the best means of doing this?"

The usurer's eyes brightened; but he answered, with all due deference, "The baron must be a better judge of that than I can be. "

"None of your bargains, however, Ehrenthal. I shall not enter intopartnership with you again. "

Ehrenthal replied, shaking his head, "There are not, indeed, many suchbargains to be made, which I could conscientiously recommend. The baronhas five-and-forty thousand dollars' worth of promissory notes. Why doyou keep them when they pay so small an interest? If you were, instead, to buy a good mortgage at five per cent, you would pay four per cent tothe Joint-stock Company, and one per cent. Would be your own; in otherwords, a yearly addition of four hundred and fifty dollars. But youmight make a better thing of them than that. There are many safemortgages which are offered to sale for ready money, at a great profitto the purchaser. You might, perhaps, for forty thousand dollars, oreven less, get a mortgage that would bring you in five per cent. Onforty-five thousand dollars. "

"I have thought of that, " replied the baron; "but the security for suchmortgages as these, which come into the hands of you brokers, isexceedingly poor, and I can not rely on it. "

Ehrenthal waived off this reproach, and said, in a tone of virtuousindignation against all dealers in insecure mortgages, "For my own part, I am very shy of mortgages altogether, and such as are in the market arenot fit for the baron, of course. You must apply to a trustworthy man;your own lawyer, for instance, may be able to procure you a goodmortgage. "

"Then you really know of none?" said the baron, secretly hoping that hedid. 

"I know of none, " was the positive reply; "but if you wish, I caninquire; there are always some to be had. Your lawyer can tell you whathe would consider good security; only you would have to pay down the sumtotal in case you procured it from him, whereas, if you could get onefrom a commercial man, you might make a profit of some thousands. "

Now this profit was a most important point to the baron, and his mindwas made up to realize it if possible. But he only said, "There is nohurry; should you hear of any thing desirable, you can let me know. "

"I will do all I can, " was the cautious reply; "but it will be well thatthe baron should also make inquiries himself, for I am not accustomed todeal in mortgages. "

If this assertion were not strictly true, it was, at all events, politic, for the cool indifference of the tradesman increased thebaron's confidence in him tenfold. The following day he went to town, and had a consultation with his lawyer, who strongly advised him to giveup the idea of making any such profit as he contemplated, because such amortgage would infallibly prove insecure. But this good advice onlyconfirmed the baron in his intention of taking his own way in thematter. 

A few days later, a tall stout man, with a shining red face, called uponthe baron--a Mr. Pinkus, from the capital. He had heard, he said, thatthe baron wished to invest, and he knew of a remarkably safe anddesirable mortgage, on a large property in the neighboring province, belonging to the rich Count Zaminsky, who lived abroad. This propertyhad every possible advantage, including two thousand acres ofmagnificent natural wood. The mortgage was at present in CountZaminsky's own hands. It was possible, Pinkus mysteriously hinted, topurchase it for ninety per cent. ; in other words, for thirty-sixthousand dollars. Certainly, it was a pity that the property lay inanother province, where agriculturists had many primitive peculiarities. But it was only six miles from the frontier--the neighboring town was onthe high road--the estate was princely. In short, the drawbacks were sosmall, and the advantages so great, that Pinkus never could have made uphis mind to let a stranger purchase it, had he not been such an exampleof human perfection as the baron. 

The baron received the compliment in a dignified manner, and before hisdeparture Pinkus laid down a heavy roll of parchment, that the questionof the security might be carefully investigated. 

Early the next morning the baron took the deeds to his man of business, and himself ascended the dirty staircase that led to the white door ofEhrenthal, who was overjoyed to hear of his visit--dressed himself withthe utmost rapidity, and insisted upon the baron doing him the infinitehonor of breakfasting with him. The baron was not cruel enough torefuse, and accordingly he was ushered into the state apartment, wherethe contrast between splendor and shabbiness amused him not a little, asdid also that between the gorgeous attire of the beautiful Rosalie, andthe sneaking, crouching manner of her father. 

During breakfast the baron asked Ehrenthal whether he happened to know aMr. Pinkus. 

At this business-like inquiry Rosalie vanished, and her father sat boltupright. "Yes, I do know him, " said he; "he is in a very small way, butI believe him an upright man. He is in a very small way, and all hisbusiness is with Poland. "

"Have you mentioned to him my wish to buy a mortgage?"

"How should I have thought of mentioning it to him? If he has offeredyou a mortgage, he must have heard of it from another dealer, of whom Idid make inquiries. But Pinkus is in a small way; how can he procure amortgage for you?" And Ehrenthal indicated by a gesture how small Pinkuswas, and by a look upward how immeasurably great his guest. 

The baron then told him all particulars, and asked about the propertyand circumstances of the count. 

Ehrenthal knew nothing; but he bethought himself that there was then intown a respectable tradesman from that very district, and promised tohave him sent to the baron, who soon after took his leave, Ehrenthalaccompanying him down stairs, and saying, "Be cautious about themortgage, baron; it is good money, and there are many bad mortgages. Tobe sure, there are good mortgages too; and, of course, people will say agood deal to recommend their own. As to Löbel Pinkus, he is in but asmall way of business; but, so far as I know, a trustworthy man. All youtell me about the mortgage sounds well, I own; but I humbly entreat you, baron, to be cautious--very cautious. "

The baron, not much enlightened by this worthy address, went to his townhouse, and impatiently awaited for the arrival of the stranger, who sooncame. His name was Löwenberg, and his appearance was a sort of medley ofthat of Ehrenthal and Pinkus, only he was thinner. He gave himself outas a wine-merchant, and appeared intimately acquainted with the countand his property. He said that the present possessor was young, andlived abroad; that his father had been rather a bad manager; but that, though the estate was burdened, it was not in the very least endangered. The land was not in high cultivation, therefore was susceptible ofimprovement, and he hoped the young count was the very man to see to it. On the whole, his report was decidedly favorable; there was noexaggeration about it--all was sensible and straightforward. The baron'smind was very nearly made up, and he went off straightway to one of hisacquaintance, who knew the Zaminsky family. He did not hear much fromhim certainly, but still it was rather favorable than otherwise. On theother hand, Ehrenthal called to inform him that the wool of the sheepof that district was seldom fine, and to beg that he would consult hislawyer before he decided. 

Ehrenthal's little office was on the same floor as the rest of theapartments, and opened out upon the hall. It was evening before hereturned to it, in a state of great excitement. Itzig, who had beensitting before a blank book, wearily waiting for his master, wonderedwhat could be the matter, when Ehrenthal eagerly said to him, "Itzig, now is the time to show whether you deserve your wages, and theadvantage of a Sabbath dinner in good society. "

"What am I to do?" replied Veitel, rising. 

"First, you are to tell Löbel Pinkus to come here, and then to get me abottle of wine and two glasses. Next go and bring me word to whom inRosmin, Councilor Horn, who lives near the market-place, has writtento-day, or, if not to-day, to whom he writes to-morrow. In finding thisout you may spend five dollars, and if you bring me back word thisevening you shall have a ducat for yourself. "

Veitel felt a glow of delight, but replied calmly, "I know none ofCouncilor Horn's clerks, and must have some time to become acquaintedwith them. "

He ordered the bottle of wine, and ran off into the street like a dog inscent of game. 

Meanwhile Ehrenthal, his hat still on, his hands behind his back, walkedup and down, nodding his head, and looking in the twilight like an uglyghost who once has had his head cut off and can not now keep it steadilyon. 

As Veitel went on his way, his mind kept working much as follows: "Whatcan be in the wind? It must be an important affair, and I am to knownothing about it! I am to send Pinkus. Pinkus was with Ehrenthal a fewdays ago, and the next morning he went to Baron Rothsattel's place inthe country; so it must have something to do with the baron. And now, asto these letters. If I could catch the clerk who takes them to the post, and contrive to read the directions, I should save money. But how managethis? Well, I must find out some way or other. " And, accordingly, Veitelposted himself at the door, and soon saw a young man rush out with apacket of letters in his hand. He followed him, and, turning sharplyround a corner, contrived to meet him. Touching his hat, "You are fromCouncilor Horn's office?"

"Yes, " said the clerk, in a hurry to get on. 

"I am from the country, and have been waiting for three days for animportant letter from the councilor; perhaps you may have one for me. "

"What is your name?" said the clerk, looking at him mistrustfully. 

"Bernhard Madgeburg, of Ostrau, " said Veitel; "but the letter may beaddressed to my uncle. "

"There is no letter for you, " replied the clerk, hurriedly glancing atthe directions. 

Do what he would, Veitel's eyes could not follow this rapid shuffling, so he seized the packet, and while the enraged official, catching holdof him, exclaimed, "What are you about, man! how dare you?" he devouredthe directions, gave back the letters, and touching his hat, coollysaid, "Nothing for me; do not lose the post; I am going to thecouncilor, " turned on his heel and made his escape. 

Spite of this bold stroke, he could only remember two or three of theaddresses. "Perhaps I have made my money, " thought he; "and if not, there's no time lost. " So he went back, and, creeping to the officedoor, stood and listened. The worthy Pinkus was speaking, but very low, and Veitel could make little of it. At last, however, the voices grewlouder. 

"How can you ask such a large sum!" cried Ehrenthal, angrily; "I havebeen mistaken in thinking you a trustworthy man. "

"I am trustworthy, " replied Pinkus; "but I must have four hundreddollars, or this affair will fall through. "

"How dare you say it will fall through? What do you know about it?"

"I know this much, that I can get four hundred dollars from the baron bytelling him what I know, " screamed Pinkus. 

"You are a rascal! You are a traitor! Do you know who it is that you usethus? I can ruin your credit, and disgrace you in the eyes of all men ofbusiness. "

"And I can show the baron what sort of a man you are, " cried Pinkus, with equal vehemence. 

At this the door opened, and Veitel plunged into the shadow of thestaircase. 

"I will give you till to-morrow to consider, " were Pinkus's partingwords. 

Veitel coolly stepped into the office, and his patron hardly noticedhim. He was pacing up and down the little room, like a wild beast in itscage, and exclaiming, "Just heavens! that this Pinkus should turn outsuch a traitor! He will blab the whole matter; he will ruin me!"

"Why should he ruin you?" asked Veitel, throwing his hat on the desk. 

"What are you doing here? What have you overheard?"

"Every thing, " was the cool reply. "You have both screamed so as to beheard all over the hall. Why do you keep the affair a secret from me? Icould have compelled Löbel to give you better terms. "

Ehrenthal stared in utter amazement at the audacious youth, and couldonly bring out, "What does this mean?"

"I know Pinkus well, " continued Veitel, determined henceforth to take apart in the game. "If you give him a hundred dollars, he will readilysell you a good mortgage for the baron. "

"How should you know any thing about the mortgage?"

"I know enough to help in the matter, " replied Itzig; "and I will helpyou, if you trust me. "

Ehrenthal continued to stare and stare, till at last it dawned upon himthat his assistant had more coolness and decision than himself. Accordingly, he said, "You are a good creature, Veitel; go and bring inPinkus; he shall have the hundred dollars. "

"I have seen the directions of the councilor's letters: there was one toCommissary Walter. "

"I thought so, " cried Ehrenthal, with delight. "All right, Itzig; nowfor Löbel. "

"I have to pay five dollars to the councilor's clerk, " continued theyouth, "and I am to have a ducat for myself. "

"All right! you shall have the money; but first I must see Pinkus. "

Veitel hastened to his lodgings, and found Pinkus still much excited, and revolving all Ehrenthal's injurious speeches. 

In a few decided words, he gave him to understand that he was quietly toaccept a hundred dollars, and to help Ehrenthal in this matter, else he, Veitel, would give the police a hint of the mysterious chamber in thenext house, and of the smuggling guests; and further, that henceforth hemust have a comfortable room on reasonable terms, and be treated nolonger like a poor devil, but an equal. The result of which address was, that, after a good deal of useless fuming and fretting, Pinkusaccompanied Veitel to Ehrenthal's house, where both worthies shook handsand came to terms; soon after which Veitel opened the door forLöwenberg, the wine-merchant, and was politely dismissed. This time hedid not care to listen, but returned to enjoy his supper in his newapartment. 

Meanwhile Ehrenthal said, over a glass of wine, to Löwenberg, "I haveheard that Councilor Horn has written for information respecting thismortgage to Commissary Walter, in your town. Is there any thing to bemade of him?"

"Not by money, " answered the stranger, thoughtfully, "but possibly byother means. He does not know that I have been authorized by the count'sattorney to sell this mortgage. I shall go to him, as if on business ofmy own, and take some opportunity of praising the property. "

"But if he knows it himself, of what use is that?" said Ehrenthal, shaking his head. 

"There will still be some use; for, after all, those lawyers must trustto us traders for details. How can they know, as we do, how wool andgrain sell on estates? At all events, we must do what we can. "

Ehrenthal sighed, "You can believe, Löwenberg, that it makes meanxious. "

"Come, come, " said the other, "it will be a profitable concern. Thebuyer you have in view pays ninety per cent. , and seventy is sent to thecount in Paris; of the twenty per cent. Remaining, you pay the count'sattorney five, and me five for my trouble, and you keep ten. Fourthousand dollars is a pretty profit where no capital has been risked. "

"But it makes me anxious, " said Ehrenthal. "Believe me, Löwenberg, itexcites me so much that I can not sleep at night; and when my wife asksme, 'Are you asleep, Ehrenthal?' I have always to say, 'I can not sleep, Sidonie; I must think of business. '"

An hour later a carriage with four horses rolled away from the door. Thefollowing morning Commissary Walter received a business call fromLöwenberg, and was convinced, by the cool, shrewd manner of the man, that the circumstances of the Count Zaminsky could not be so desperateas was commonly believed. 

Eight days after, the baron received a letter from his legal adviser, containing a copy of one from Commissary Walter. These experiencedlawyers both agreed in thinking that the mortgage in question was notpositively undesirable; and when Ehrenthal next called, he found thebaron's mind made up to the purchase. The irresistible inducement wasthe making a few thousand dollars. He was resolved to think themortgage good, and would perhaps have bought it even had his lawyerpositively dissuaded him. 

Ehrenthal, having a journey to take to that part of the country, mostunselfishly offered to complete the purchase for the baron, who waspleased with this arrangement. 

In about a fortnight he received the deeds. All were well contented withtheir share in the business, but Veitel Itzig with most reason, for hehad by it got a hold over his master, and was now friend and confidantin the most secret transactions. The baron took out his richly-inlaidcasket, and, in place of the fair white parchments, put in a thick, dirty bundle of deeds. Having done this, he joined the ladies, and gavea humorous account of Ehrenthal's bows and compliments. 

"I hate that man, " said Lenore. 

"On this occasion he has behaved with a certain disinterestedness, "replied her father. "But there is no denying that people of his classhave their absurdities of manner, and it is difficult to help laughingat them. "

That evening Ehrenthal was so cheerful in his family circle that hiswife asked him whether he had settled the affair with the baron. 

"I have, " he gayly replied. 

"He is a handsome man, " remarked the daughter. 

"He is a good man, " rejoined Ehrenthal, "but he has his weaknesses. Heis one of those who require low bows and civil speeches, and pay othersto think for them. There must be such people in the world, or what wouldbecome of people of our profession?"

About the same time Veitel was relating to his friend, the ex-advocate, the whole particulars of the affair. Hippus had taken off hisspectacles, and sat on a corner of the four-cornered chest Mrs. Pinkuswas pleased to call a sofa, looking like a sagacious elderly ape whodespises the race of men, and bites his keeper when he can. He listenedwith critical interest to his pupil's narrative, and shook his head orsmiled, according as he dissented or approved. 

When Veitel had done, Hippus cried, "Ehrenthal is a simpleton. He is upto nothing great; he is always trying half-measures. If he goes on thus, the baron will throw him overboard yet. "

"What more can he do?" asked Veitel. 

"He must give him anxieties--the anxieties of business, extensivebusiness, ceaseless activity, daily cares--that's what the baron couldnot stand. That class is accustomed to little work and much enjoyment. Every thing is made easy to them from their childhood. There are few ofthem who may not be ruined by having some great care always boring attheir brains. If Ehrenthal wishes to have the baron in his power, hemust entangle him in business. "

So said the advocate, and Veitel understood him, and looked with amixture of respect and aversion at the ugly little imp gesticulatingbefore him. At last Hippus took out the brandy bottle, and cried, "Anextra glass to-day. What I have just told you, you young gallows-bird, is worth more than a bottle of brandy. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

"I am eighteen years old to-day, " said Karl to his father, who wassitting at home one Sunday morning, never weary of contemplating thehandsome youth. 

"So you are, " replied the father; "there are eighteen tapers round thecake. "

"Therefore, father, " Karl went on, "it is time that I should turn to, something, and make some money. I will be a porter. "

"Make some money!" repeated old Sturm, looking at his son in amazement. "Do I not make as much, and more than we want? Why, you are going toturn a miser!"

"I can't always hang to your apron, " said Karl; "and if you were to earna thousand dollars, would that make an active, useful man of me? Or, ifI were to lose you, what would become of me?"

"You will lose me, boy, " said the giant, nodding, "in a few years, perhaps, and then you may become what you like, so it be not a porter. "

"But why should I not be what you are? Do not be unreasonable. "

"You know nothing about the matter. Do not be covetous; I can not bearcovetous people. "

"But, father, if I am not to be a porter, I must learn _something_, "cried Karl. 

"Learn!" exclaimed his father; "how much learning have you not hadstuffed into your little head already! Two years at the infant school, four at the city school, two at the industrial. Why, you have had eightyears' schooling, and you know the different goods as well as a clerk. Why, you are an insatiable youth. "

"Yes; but I must have a calling, " replied Karl. "I must be a shoemaker, tailor, shopkeeper, or mechanic. "

"Don't tease yourself about that, " said his father; "I have provided forall that in your education. You are practical and honorable too. "

"Yes; but can I make a pair of boots? can I cut out a coat?"

"You can, " replied old Sturm; "try, and you'll succeed. "

"Very well; to-morrow I'll buy you some leather, and make you a pair ofboots: you shall feel how they'll pinch. But, once for all, I can't goon as I am, and I'll set some one at you who will tell you the same. "

"Don't be covetous, Karl, " said his father, "or spoil this day for me. Give me the can of beer, and be a good boy. "

Karl placed the great can before his father, and soon took up his capand went out. Old Sturm sat still a while, but his comfort wasdestroyed, and the house seemed dull without his son's cheerful face. Atlength he went into the next room, and drew out a heavy iron chest fromunder the bed. He opened it with a little key that he took out of hiswaistcoat pocket, lifted one bag after another, began a long mentalcalculation, then pushed the chest under the bed again, and returned tohis can of beer with a calmer aspect. 

Meanwhile Karl had hurried off to the town, and soon made his appearancein Anton's apartment. After the kindly greeting on both sides, he began:

"I am come, sir, to ask your advice as to what is to become of me? I canmake nothing of my father. He won't hear of my being a porter; and if Ispeak of another calling, he comforts me with saying that he shall notlive long. A pretty comfort that! Would you be so good as to speak tohim about me? He has a high opinion of you, and knows that you arealways kind to me. "

"That I will, gladly, " replied Anton; "but what do you think ofbecoming?"

"It's all one to me, " said Karl, "so that it's something regular. Here Iturn my hands to all sorts of things, but that's different to regularwork. "

The next Sunday Anton went to old Sturm's. The home of the head porterwas a small house near the river, distinguished from those of hisneighbors by its red-washed walls. Anton opened the low door, andwondered how the giant could possibly live in so small a space. It musthave required constant patience and forbearance; for, had he ever drawnhimself up to his full height, he would infallibly have carried off theroof. 

"I am delighted to see you in my house, sir, " said Sturm, taking Anton'shand in his immense grasp as gently as he could. 

"It is rather small for you, Mr. Sturm, " answered Anton, laughing. "Inever thought you so large as I do now. "

"My father was still taller, " was the complacent reply; "taller andbroader. He was the chief of the porters, and the strongest man in theplace; and yet a small barrel, not half so high as you are, was thedeath of him. Be seated, sir, " said he, lifting an oaken chair, so heavythat Anton could hardly move it. "My Karl has told me that he has beento see you, and that you were most kind. He is a good boy, but he is afalling off as to size. His mother was a little woman, " added Sturm, mournfully, draining a quart of beer to the last drop. "It is draughtbeer, " he said, apologetically; "may I offer you a glass? It is a customamong us to drink no other, but certainly we drink this the whole daythrough, for our work is heating. "

"Your son wishes to become one of your number, I hear, " said Anton. 

"A porter!" rejoined the giant. "No, that he never shall. " Then layinghis hand confidentially on Anton's knee, "It would never do; my deardeparted wife besought me against it on her death-bed. And why? Ourcalling is respectable, as you, sir, best know. There are not many whohave the requisite strength, and still fewer who have the requisite--"

"Integrity, " said Anton. 

"You are right, " nodded Sturm. "Always to have wares of every kind inimmense quantities under our eyes, and never to touch one of them--thisis not in every body's line. And our earnings are very fair too. My deardeparted saved a good deal of money, gold as well as silver. But that isnot my way. For why? If a man be practical, he need not plague himselfabout money, and Karl will be a practical man. But he must not be aporter. His mother would not hear of it, and she was right. "

"Your work is very laborious, " suggested Anton. 

"Laborious!" laughed Sturm; "it may be laborious for the weak, but it isnot that. It is this, " and he filled his glass; "it is the draughtbeer. "

Anton smiled. "I know that you and your colleagues drink a good deal ofthis thin stuff. "

"A good deal, " said Sturm, with self-complacency; "it is a custom ofours--it always has been so--porters must be strong men, true men, andbeer-drinkers. Water would weaken us, so would brandy; there is nothingfor it but draught beer and olive oil. Look here, sir, " said he, mixinga small glassful of fine oil and beer, stirring plenty of sugar into it, and drinking off the nauseous compound; "this is a secret of ours, andmakes an arm like this;" and he laid his on the table, and vainlyendeavored to span it. "But there is a drawback. Have you ever seen anold porter? No; for there are none. Fifty is the greatest age they haveever reached. My father was fifty when he died, and the one we latelyburied--Mr. Schröter was at the funeral--was forty-nine. I have stilltwo years before me, however. "

Anton looked at him anxiously. "But, Sturm, since you know this, why notbe more moderate?"

"Moderate!" asked Sturm; "what is moderate? It never gets into ourheads. Twenty quarts a day is not much if you know nothing of it. However, Mr. Wohlfart, it is on this account that my dear departed didnot choose that Karl should be a porter. As for that, few men do live tobe much more than fifty, and they have all sorts of ailments that weknow nothing about. But such were my wife's wishes, and so it must be. "

"And have you thought of any other calling? True, Karl is very useful inour house, and we should all miss him much. "

"There it is, " interrupted the porter; "you would miss him, and soshould I. I am alone here; when I see my little lad's red cheeks, andhear his little hammer, I feel my heart glad within me. When he goesaway, and I sit here by myself, I know not how I shall bear it. " And hisfeatures worked with strong emotion. 

"But must he leave you at present?" inquired Anton; "perhaps he mayremain on for another year. "

"Not he; I know him; if he once thinks of a thing at all, he thinks ofnothing else. And, besides, I have been considering the matter theselast days, and I see I have been wrong. The boy did not come into theworld merely to amuse me; he must turn to something or other; so I tryto think of what my dear departed would have liked. She had a brother, who is my brother-in-law, you know, and who lives in the country; Ishould like my boy to go to him. It is far away, but then there'skinship. "

"A good thought, Sturm; but, since you are resolved, keep your son nolonger in uncertainty. "

"He shall know at once; he is only in the garden. " And he went andcalled him in stentorian tones. 

Karl hastened in, greeted Anton, and looked expectantly first at him andthen at his father, who had seated himself, and now inquired, in hisusual voice, "Little mannikin, will you be a farmer?"

"A farmer! that never occurred to me. Why, I should have to leave you, father. "

"He thinks of that, " said the father, nodding his head to Anton. 

"Do you then wish that I should leave you?" asked Karl, in amazement. 

"I must, my little man, " said Sturm, gravely; "I must wish it, becauseit is necessary for your dear departed mother's sake. "

"I am to go to my uncle!" cried Karl. 

"Exactly so, " said his father; "it's all settled, provided your unclewill have you. You shall be a farmer, you shall learn something regular, you shall leave your father. "

"Father, " said Karl, much downcast, "I do not like leaving you. Can'tyou come with me to the country?"

"_I_ go to the country! Ho, ho, ho!" Sturm laughed till the house shookagain. "My mannikin would put me into his pocket, and take me to thecountry. " Then wiping his eyes: "Come here, my Karl, " said he, holdingthe youth's head between his two great hands; "you are my own good lad;but there must be partings on this earth, and if it were not now, itwould be in a couple of years. "

And thus Karl's departure from the firm was arranged. 

As the time drew near, he tried in vain to conceal his emotion by agreat deal of cheerful whistling. He stroked Pluto tenderly, executedall his various odd jobs with intense zeal, and kept as close as hecould to his father, who often left his barrels to place his hand insilence on his son's head. 

"Nothing heavy in farming!" said the paternal Sturm to Anton, lookinganxiously into his face. 

"Heavy!" replied Anton; "it will be no light matter to learn allconnected with it. "

"Learn!" cried the other; "the more he has to learn the better, so it benot very heavy. "

"No, " said Pix, who understood his meaning, "nothing heavy. The heaviestare sacks of corn--hundred and eighty; beans--two hundred pounds. Andthose he need not lift; the servants do it. "

"If that's the case with farming, " cried Sturm, contemptuously rearinghimself to his full height, "it's all one to me whether he lifts them ornot. Even my mannikin can carry two hundred pounds. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

Anton was now the most assiduous of all the clerks in the office. Finkwas seldom able to persuade him to accompany him out riding or to theshooting gallery, but, on the other hand, he made diligent use of hisfriend's book-shelves, and having, after arduous study, gained someinsight into the mysteries of the English language, he was anxious toexercise his conversational powers upon Fink. But the latter proving amost irregular and careless master, Anton thought it best to put himselfin the hands of a well-educated Englishman. 

One day, looking up from his desk as the door opened, he saw, to hisamazement, Veitel Itzig, his old Ostrau schoolfellow. Hitherto they hadbut seldom met, and whenever they did so, Anton had taken pains to lookanother way. 

"How are you getting on?" asked he, coldly enough. 

"Poorly, " was the reply; "there is nothing to be made in our business. Iwas to give you this letter, and to inquire when Mr. Bernhard Ehrenthalmay call upon you. "

"Upon me!" said Anton, taking the letter and a card with it. 

The letter was from his English master, asking whether he would joinyoung Ehrenthal in a systematic course of some of the older Englishwriters. 

"Where does Mr. Bernhard Ehrenthal live?" asked Anton. 

"At his father's, " said Itzig, making a face. "He sits in his own roomall the day long. "

"I will call upon him, " rejoined Anton; and Itzig took his departure. 

Anton was not much inclined to agree to the proposal. The name ofEhrenthal did not stand high, and Itzig's appearance had not conferredany pleasant associations upon it. But the ironical way in which he hadmentioned his master's son, and something Anton had heard of himbesides, determined him to take the matter at least into consideration. 

Accordingly, one of the next days he mounted the dingy staircase, andwas at once ushered into Bernhard's room, which was long and narrow, andfilled with books great and small. 

A young man came toward him with the uncertainty of manner thatshort-sight gives. He had fine features, a fragile frame, brown curlinghair, and deep, expressive gray eyes. Anton mentioned the reason of hisvisit, and inquired the terms for the course. To his astonishment, youngEhrenthal did not know them, but said that, if Anton insisted uponsharing the expense, he would inquire. Our hero next asked whetherBernhard was in business with his father. 

"Oh no, " was the reply; "I have been at the University, and as it is noteasy for a young man of my creed to get a government appointment, and Ican live with my family, I occupy myself with my books. " And, casting aloving glance at his book-shelves, he rose as if to introduce his guestto them. 

Anton looked at their titles, and said, "They are too learned for me. "

Bernhard smiled. "Through the Hebrew I have gone on to the other Asiaticlanguages. There is much beauty in them, and in their Old-World legends. I am now engaged upon a translation from the Persian, and some day orother, when you have a few idle minutes, I should like to inflict ashort specimen upon you. "

Anton had the politeness to beg to hear it at once. It was one of thosecountless poems in which a votary of the grape compares his beloved toall fair things in heaven and earth. Its complicated structure impressedAnton a good deal, but he was somewhat amazed at Bernhard exclaiming, "Beautiful! is it not? I mean the thought, for I am unable to give thebeauty of language;" and he looked inspired, like a man who drinksSchiraz wine, and kisses his Zuleika all day long. 

"But must one drink in order to love?" said Anton; "with us the one isvery possible without the other. "

"With us, life is very commonplace. "

"I do not think so, " Anton replied, with fervor. "We have the sunshineand the roses, the joy in existence, the great passions and strangedestinies of which poets sing. "

"Our present time is too cold and uniform, " rejoined Bernhard. 

"So I read in books, but I do not believe it. I think that whoever isdiscontented with our life would be so still more with life in Teheranor Calcutta, if he remained there long enough. It is only novelty thatcharms the traveler. "

"But how poor in vivid sensations our civilized existence is, " rejoinedBernhard. "I am sure you must often feel business very prosaic. "

"That I deny, " was the eager reply; "I know nothing so interesting asbusiness. We live amid a many-colored web of countless threads, stretching across land and sea, and connecting man with man. When Iplace a sack of coffee in the scales, I am weaving an invisible linkbetween the colonist's daughter in Brazil, who has plucked the beans, and the young mechanic who drinks it for his breakfast; and if I take upa stick of cinnamon, I seem to see, on the one side, the Malay who hasrolled it up, and, on the other, the old woman of our suburb who gratesit over her pudding. "

"You have a lively imagination, and are happy in the utility of yourcalling. But if we seek for poetry, we must, like Byron, quit civilizedcountries to find it on the sea or in the desert. "

"Not so, " replied Anton, pertinaciously; "the merchant has just aspoetical experiences as any pirate or Arab. There was a bankruptcylately. Could you have witnessed the gloomy lull before the storm broke, the fearful despair of the husband, the high spirit of his wife, whoinsisted upon throwing in her own fortune to the last dollar to save hishonor, you would not say that our calling is poor in passion oremotion. "

Bernhard listened with downcast eyes, and Anton remarked that he seemedembarrassed and distressed. 

Changing the conversation, he proposed that they should both walktogether to the English master, and make the final arrangements. Theyleft the house like two old acquaintances; Anton surprised thatEhrenthal's son should be so little of a trader, Bernhard delighted tofind a man with whom he could discuss his favorite subjects. 

That evening he joined the family circle in a cheerful mood, and placinghimself behind his sister, who was practicing a difficult piece on acostly piano, he kissed her ear. "Do not disturb me, Bernhard, " saidshe; "I must get this piece perfect for the large party on Sunday, whenI shall be asked to play. "

"Of course you will be asked, " said her mother. "There is no companythat does not wish to hear Rosalie play. If you could only be persuadedto come with us, Bernhard--you are so clever and so learned. It was butthe other day that Professor Starke, of the University, spoke of you tome in the highest terms. It is so pleasant for a mother to feel proud ofher children! Why will you not join us? The society will be as good asany in the town. "

"You know, mother, that I am not fond of strangers. "

"And I desire that my son Bernhard should have his own way, " criedEhrenthal from a neighboring room, having chanced, during a pause inRosalie's practice, to hear the last sentence, and now joining hisfamily: "our Bernhard is not like other people, and his way is sure tobe a good one. You look pale, my son, " stroking his brown curls; "youstudy too much. Think of your health. The doctor recommended exercise. Will you have a horse, my son Bernhard? I will get the most expensivehorse in the town for you, if you like. "

"Thank you, dear father; but it would give me no pleasure, " and hegratefully pressed the hand of his father, who looked sorrowfully at hispale face. 

"Do you always give Bernhard what he likes to eat? Get him some peaches, Sidonie; there are hot-house peaches to be had. You shall have any thingyou like; you are my good son Bernhard, and my delight is in you. "

"He will not have any thing of the kind, " interposed his mother. "Allhis joy is in his books. Many a day he never asks for Rosalie and me. Hereads too much, and that's why he looks like a man of sixty. Why will henot go with us on Sunday?"

"I will, if you like, " said Bernhard, mournfully; adding soon after, "Doyou know a young man of the name of Wohlfart, in Schröter's house?"

"No, " said his father, decidedly. 

"Perhaps you do, Rosalie. He is handsome and refined-looking; I thinkyou must have met him. "

"Hardly, if he is in an office. "

"Our Rosalie dances chiefly with officers and artists, " explained hermother. 

"He is a clever and a delightful man, " continued Bernhard; "I am goingto study English with him, and rejoice to have made his acquaintance. "

"He shall be invited, " decreed Ehrenthal; "if he pleases our Bernhard, he shall be welcome to our house. Let us have a good dinner on Sunday, Sidonie, at two o'clock. He shall come to all our parties; Bernhard'sfriend shall be the friend of us all. "

The mother gave her consent, and Rosalie began to ponder what dress sheshould wear, so as to make the greatest impression. 

But whence came it to pass that Bernhard did not communicate to hisfamily the subject of the conversation that had so much interested him?that he soon relapsed into silence and returned to his study? that, whenthere, he bowed his head over his old manuscripts, while large dropsrolled down on them, erasing the much-prized characters unobserved?Whence came it that the young man, of whom his mother was so proud, whomhis father so loved and honored, sat alone, shedding the bitterest tearsthat an honest man can, while in another part of the house Rosalie'swhite fingers were flying over the keys, practicing the difficult piecethat was to astonish the next soiree? From that day dated a friendshipbetween Anton and Bernhard which was a source of pleasure and profit toboth. Anton described the studious youth to the free and easy Fink, andexpressed his wish to bring about a meeting between the two by atea-drinking in his rooms. 

"If it amuses you, Tony, " said Fink, shrugging his shoulders, "I willcome; but I warn you that of all living characters I most dislike abook-worm. No one theorizes more presumptuously upon every possiblesubject, or makes a greater fool of himself when it comes to practice. And, besides, a son of the worthy Ehrenthal! Don't be angry if I soonrun away. "

On the evening appointed, Bernhard sat on Anton's sofa in anxiousexpectation of the arrival of this well-known character, many wildanecdotes of whom had found their way even into his study. 

At first Anton feared that the two would never suit. Two greatercontrasts could hardly be imagined; the thin, transparent hand ofBernhard, and the healthy, muscular development of Fink; the bent formof the one, the elastic strength of the other; here, a deeply-linedface, with dreamy eyes; there, a proud set of features, lighted up by aglance like an eagle's--how could these possibly harmonize? But allturned out better than he had expected. Bernhard listened with muchinterest to what Fink had to say of foreign countries, and Anton did allhe could to turn the conversation to subjects likely to bring outBernhard. 

The result was, that a few days later Bernhard found himself sitting inone of Fink's easy-chairs, and even ventured to invite him, with Anton, to spend an evening with him. Fink consented. 

And now arose great excitement in the Ehrenthal circle. 

Bernhard dusted his books and set them in order, and for the first timein his life troubled himself about household matters. "We must have tea, supper, wine, and cigars, " said he. 

"You need not be uneasy, " replied his mother; "Herr von Fink shall findevery thing well arranged. "

"I will buy you some of the very finest cigars, and see to the wine, "added his father. 

As the hour drew near, Bernhard grew increasingly anxious, nay, irritable. "Where is the tea-kettle? The tea-kettle is not yet in myroom! Nothing is ready!" cried he to his mother. 

"I will make the tea and send it in--that is the fashionable way, "replied his mother, rustling up and down in a new silk. 

"No, " said Bernhard, decidedly, "I will make the tea myself. Anton makesit, and so does Von Fink. "

"Bernhard will make the tea himself!" cried the astonished mother toRosalie. "Wonderful! he will make his own tea!" exclaimed Ehrenthal, whowas in his room drawing on his boots. "He is going to make the tea!"cried the cook in the kitchen, clapping her hands in amazement. 

On their way, Anton said to Fink, "It is very kind of you, Fritz, tocome; Bernhard will be delighted. "

"One must make sacrifices, " replied Fink. "I have taken the liberty toeat my supper beforehand, for I have a horror of Jewish cookery. But thehandsomest girl in town is worth a little effort. I saw her lately at aconcert--a gorgeous figure, and such eyes! The old usurer, her father, has never seen such diamonds pass through his hands. "

"We are invited to see Bernhard, " replied Anton, somewhat reproachfully. 

"And we shall certainly see his sister too, " said Fink. 

"I hope not, " thought Anton. 

Bernhard's room was wonderfully adorned for their reception, and hehimself was a most pleasant host. The three were soon in full talk. Finkwas in one of his most benevolent moods, and Anton mentally prayed thatthe beautiful sister might be kept out of sight. 

But, just as the clock struck nine, the door opened, and Madam Ehrenthalmajestically crossed the threshold. "Bathsheba entering in to Solomon, "whispered Fink to Anton, who angrily trod upon his foot in return. Bernhard, in some embarrassment, introduced his mother, and she invitedthem all three to the next room, where Ehrenthal and the fair Rosalieawaited them. Fink soon fell into a lively discussion with her aboutmusic, for which, in reality, he little cared; promised her an excellentplace at the ensuing races, and told her and her mother satiricalanecdotes of the best society, which, as they were excluded from it, they particularly enjoyed. A princess of celebrated beauty came underdiscussion. Fink, who had been introduced to her once upon a time, declared that the young lady now before him might be taken for her, except, indeed, that the princess was not quite so tall andmajestic-looking; and then he went into ecstasies over Mrs. Ehrenthal'smosaic brooch. The paternal Ehrenthal, however, tried in vain to keep upa conversation with him. Fink contrived not to appear aware of hispresence, without, however, being in any way rude. Every one felt it tobe in the nature of things; and Ehrenthal himself humbly acted the partof nonentity assigned to him, and consoled himself by eating a wholepheasant. 

The supper lasted till midnight, and then Rosalie moved to the piano, after which Fink ran his fingers over the keys, and sang a wild Spanishsong. When at length the guests took their departure, the familyremained perfectly enraptured. Rosalie ran to the piano to try andremember the air Fink had sung; her mother was full of his praises, andher father, spite of his temporary annihilation, was enchanted with thevisit of the rich young heir, and kept repeating that he must be worthmore than a million. Even Bernhard's ingenuous spirit was captivated byhis manner and brilliant rattle. True, he had occasionally felt anuncomfortable misgiving, as though Fink might be making fun of them all;but he was too inexperienced to feel sure of it, and soothed himself bythinking that it was only the way of all men of the world. 

Anton alone was dissatisfied with his friend, and he told him so as theywalked home. 

"Why, you sat there like a stock, " replied Fink; "I entertained the goodpeople, and what more would you have? Change yourself into a mouse, creep into the decked-out room, and hear how they are singing mypraises. What more can be wanted than that our behavior to people shouldbe what they themselves find pleasant?"

"I think, " said Anton, "that our aim should rather be to behave in amanner worthy of ourselves. You went on like a frivolous nobleman whomeant to ask a loan from old Ehrenthal on the morrow. "

"I choose to be frivolous, " cried Fink; "and perhaps I may want a loanfrom the Ehrenthal house. And now have done with your preachments--it ispast one o'clock. "

A few days later, Anton remembered, at the close of the office, that hehad promised to send on a book to the young student. As Fink, who hadgone out an hour before, had carried off his paletot, which indeed oftenhappened, Anton wrapped himself in Fink's burnoose, which chanced to liein his room, and hurried off to Ehrenthal's house. As he reached thedoor, he was not a little amazed to see it noiselessly open, and ashawled and veiled figure come out. A soft arm wound itself round his, and a low voice said, "Come quickly; I have waited for you long. " Antonrecognized Rosalie's voice, and stood petrified. At length he said, "Youare mistaken. " With a suppressed scream the young lady rushed up stairs, and Anton, little less confused, entered his friend's room, where he hadthe shock of being at once addressed by the short-sighted Bernhard asHerr von Fink. A dreadful suspicion crossed his mind; and, pretending tobe in the utmost haste, he carried the luckless cloak home, over a heartfull of grief and anger. If it were, indeed, Fink that Ehrenthal's fairdaughter had been expecting! The longer Anton had to wait for hisfriend, the more angry he grew. At last he heard his step in thecourt-yard--ran down to meet him--told him the circumstance--and endedby saying, "Look! I wore your cloak; it was dusk; and I have a horriblesuspicion that she mistook me for you, and that you have mostunjustifiably abused Bernhard's friendship. "

"Ah ha!" said Fink, shaking his head, "here we have a proof of how readythese virtuous ones are to throw a stone at others. You are a child. There are other white cloaks in the town; how can you prove that minewas the one waited for? And then allow me to remark, that you showedneither politeness nor presence of mind on the occasion. Why not haveled the lady down stairs, and when the mistake became apparent, havesaid, 'It is true that I am not he you take me for, but I am equallyready to die in your service, ' and so forth?"

"You don't deceive me, " rejoined Anton; "when I think the matter over, Ican not, spite of your lies, shake off the belief that you were the oneexpected. "

"You cunning little fellow, " said Fink, good-humoredly, "confess, atleast, that when a lady is in the case, I needs must lie. For seestthou, my son, to admit this were to compromise the fair daughter of anhonorable house. "

"Alas!" said Anton, "I fear that she already feels herself compromised. "

"Never mind, " said Fink, coolly, "she will bear it. "

"But, Fritz, " said Anton, wringing his hands, "have you, then, no senseof the wrong you are doing to Bernhard? It is just because his pureheart beats in the midst of a family circle that he only endures becausehe is so trusting and inexperienced, that this injury pains me sobitterly. "

"Therefore you will do wisely to spare your friend's sensitiveness, andkeep his sister's secret. "

"Not so, " replied Anton, indignantly; "my duty to Bernhard leads me to adifferent course. I must demand from you that you break off yourconnection with Rosalie, whatever its nature, and strive only to see inher what you always should have seen--the sister of my friend. "

"Really, " returned Fink, in a mocking tone, "I have no objection to yourmaking this demand; but if I do not comply with it, how then?--alwayssupposing, which, by the way, I deny, that I was the fortunate expectedone. "

"If you do not, " cried Anton, in high excitement, "I can never forgiveyou. This is more than mere want of feeling--it is something worse. "

"And what, pray?" coldly asked Fink. 

"It is base, " cried Anton. "It is bad enough to take advantage of theyoung girl's coquetry, but worse to forget her brother as well as me, through whom you made this unfortunate acquaintance. "

"Be so good as to hear me say, " replied Fink, lighting the lamp of histea-kettle, "that I never gave you any right to speak to me thus. Ihave no wish to quarrel with you, but I shall be much obliged to youhenceforth to drop this subject. "

"Then I must leave you, for I can speak of nothing else while I have theconviction that you are acting unworthily. "

Anton moved to the door. "I give you your choice; either you break withRosalie, or, dreadful as it is to me to think of it, you break with me. If you do not by to-morrow evening give me an assurance that thisintrigue is at an end, I go to Rosalie's mother. "

"Good-night, thou stupid Tony!" said Fink. 

The following day was a gray one for both. 

It was Fink's constant custom, on entering the office, to beckon to hisfriend, whereupon Anton would leave his place, and exchange a few wordsas to how Fink had spent the previous evening. But this morning Antondoggedly remained where he was, and bent down over his letters when Finktook his seat opposite him. Whenever they looked up, they had to make asthough empty space were before them, and not each other's faces. Finkhad found it easy to treat the paternal Ehrenthal as a nonentity, but itwas not so in this case; and Anton, who had had no practice in the artof overlooking others, felt himself supremely uncomfortable. Then everything conspired to make it peculiarly difficult to each to play hispart. Schmeie Tinkeles, the unfortunate little Jew who spoke suchexecrable German, and whom Fink always found especial pleasure inbadgering and beating down, made his appearance in the office, and, asusual, a laughable scene ensued. All the clerks watched Fink, and chimedin with him, but Anton had to behave as though Tinkeles were a hundredmiles away. Then Mr. Schröter gave him a commission, which obliged himto ask Fink a question, and he had to cough hard to get out the words atall. He received a very short answer, which increased his anger. Finally, when the dinner hour struck, Fink, who used regularly to waittill Anton came for him, walked off with Jordan, who wondered what couldkeep Wohlfart, to which Fink could only reply that he neither knew norcared. 

During the afternoon Anton could not avoid a few furtive glances at thehaughty face opposite him. He thought how dreadful it would be to becomeestranged from one he so dearly loved; but his resolve was firm as ever. And so it happened that Fink, chancing to look up, met his friend's eyesmournfully fixed upon his face, and this touched him more than theanger of the previous night. He saw that Anton's mind was made up, andthe side of the scale in which sat the fair Rosalie kicked the beam. After all, if Anton did, in his virtuous simplicity, tell her mother, the adventure was spoiled, and, still worse, their friendship forever atan end. These reflections furrowed his fine brow. 

A little before seven o'clock a shadow fell on Anton's paper, and, looking up, he saw Fink silently holding out a small note to him, directed to Rosalie. He sprang up at once. 

"I have written to tell her, " said Fink, with icy coldness, "that yourfriendship left me no other choice than that of compromising her orgiving her up, and that, therefore, I chose the latter. Here is theletter; I have no objection to your reading it; it is her dismissal. "

Anton took the letter out of the culprit's hand, sealed it in all hastewith a little office seal, and gave it to one of the porters to post atonce. 

And so this danger was averted, but from that day there was anestrangement between the friends. Fink grumbled, and Anton could notforget what he called treachery to Bernhard; and so it was, that forsome weeks they no longer spent their evenings together. 

CHAPTER XV. 

The firm of T. O. Schröter had one day in the year invariably dedicatedto enjoyment. It was the anniversary of their principal's first entranceinto partnership with his father. Upon this festive occasion there was adinner given to the whole counting-house assembled, after which they alldrove to a neighboring village, where the merchant had a country house, and whither a number of public gardens and summer concerts alwaysattracted the inhabitants of the town. There they drank coffee, enjoyednature, and returned home before dark. 

This year was the five-and-twentieth of these jubilees. Early in themorning came deputations of servants and porters to congratulate, andall the clerks appeared at the early dinner in full state; M. Liebold ina new coat, which, for many years past, he had been in the habit offirst wearing upon this auspicious day. 

After dinner, the carriages drove up and took them to the great"Restauration" of the village. There they got out, the gentlemen allsurrounding their young lady, and loud music sounding a welcome as theyentered the beechen avenues of the garden, which was bright to-day withgay toilettes from the town. 

Sabine floated on with a perfect nebula of gentlemen around her. Possibly this court would have given more pleasure to most other women, but, at all events, the effect was very striking. The gentle Liebold'sface wore a continual smile of delight, which he was obliged tosuppress, as well as he could, from the fear of being supposed to laughat the passers-by: Sabine's shawl hung on his arm. Specht had, by a bold_coup de main_, possessed himself of her parasol, and walked on, hopingthat some falling blossom, some passing butterfly, might afford him apretext for beginning a conversation with her. But this was no easymatter, for Fink was on the other side. He was in one of his mostmalevolent moods, and Sabine could not help laughing against her will athis unmerciful comments upon many of the company. And so they walked onamong the tripping, rustling crowd of pleasure-seekers. There was aconstant bowing, smiling, and greeting; the merchant had each moment totake off his hat, and, whenever he did so, the fourteen clerks took offtheirs too, and created quite a draught; and very imposing it was. Afterhaving swum thus with the stream for some time, Sabine expressed a wishto rest. Instantly benches were set, the table got ready, and anubiquitous waiter brought a giant coffee-pot and the number of cupsrequired. Sabine's office was no sinecure. She chose Anton for heradjutant, and it was a pretty sight to see how kindly she gave each onehis cup, how watchful she was lest the sugar-bowl and the cream-jugshould be interrupted in their rounds, and at the same time how shecontrived to bow to her passing acquaintance, and to carry on aconversation with any friends of her brother's who came up to her. Shewas very lovely thus. Anton and Fink both felt how well her sereneactivity became her; and Fink said, "If this be for you a day ofrecreation, I do not envy your other days. No princess has such areception--so many to bow, smile, and speak to as you; but you get oncapitally, and have no doubt studied it. Now comes the mayor himself topay his compliments. I am really sorry for you; you have to lend me yourear; Liebold's cup is in your hand, and your eyes must be reverentiallyfixed upon the great civic official. I am curious to know whether youunderstand my words. "

"Take your spoon out of your cup, and I will fill it immediately, " saidSabine, laughing, as she rose to greet her old acquaintance. Meanwhile, Anton amused himself by listening to the remarks made on his party bythe passers-by. "That is Herr von Fink, " whispered a young lady to hercompanion. "A pretty face; a capital figure, " drawled a lieutenant. "What is one among so many?" muttered another idler. "Hush! those arethe Schröters, " said a clerk to his brother. Then two tall handsomeforms came slowly by--Dame Ehrenthal and Rosalie. Rosalie passed next tothe table: a deep flush suffused her face. She threw a troubled glanceat Fink, who, in spite of the lively conversation he was carrying onwith Sabine, had eyes for every thing that was going on. Anton rose tobow; and the imperturbable Fink coolly took off his hat, and looked atthe two ladies with as much unconcern as though he had never admired thebracelets on Rosalie's white arm. Anton's bow, Rosalie's strikingbeauty, and, perhaps, some peculiarity in their dress, had attractedSabine's attention. 

Ehrenthal's daughter did not heed the bow, but fixed her dark eyes onSabine, whom she took for her fortunate rival, with such a flashingglance of anger and hatred that Sabine shrank as though to avoid thespring of a beast of prey. 

Fink's lip curled, and he slightly shrugged his shoulders. When theladies had passed by, Sabine asked who they were. 

"Some acquaintances of Anton's, " said he, satirically. 

Anton named them as the mother and sister of the young student of whomhe had lately told her. 

Sabine was silent, and leaned back on the bench; her gay spirits wereover. The conversation flagged; and when her brother returned from avisit to the next table, she rose and invited the party to come and seeher garden. Again the nebula followed her, but Fink was no longer at herside. That burning glance had withered the green tendrils that had beendrawing them together. Sabine turned to Anton, and tried to be cheerful, but he saw the effort it cost her. 

This large garden, with its hot-houses and conservatories, was one ofSabine's favorite resorts, both in summer and winter. While the merchantcarried off Fink to look at a plot of neighboring ground which hethought of buying, the clerks besieged Sabine with questions as to thenames and peculiarities of the different plants. She showed them agreat palm-tree that her brother had given her, tropical ferns, gorgeouscactuses, and told them that she often drank coffee under these largeleaves on sunny winter days. Just then the gardener came up to her withcrumbs of bread and bird-seed on a plate. "Even when I have not so largea party with me as to-day, I am not quite alone, " said she. 

"Pray let us see your birds, " cried Anton. 

"You must go out of sight, then, and keep quite still. The littlecreatures know _me_, but so many gentlemen would terrify them. "

Sabine then went out a few steps, scattered the crumbs on the gravel, and clapped her hands. A loud chirping instantly succeeded, and numbersof birds shot down, hopping boldly about, and picking up the crumbsclose to her feet. They were not a very distinguished company--finches, linnets, and a whole nation of sparrows. Sabine gently stepped back tothe door, and said, "Can you see any difference among these sparrows?They have, I assure you, individualities of dress and character. Severalof them are personal acquaintances of mine. " She pointed to a largesparrow with a black head and a bright brown back. "Do you see thatstout gentleman?"

"He is the largest of them all, " said Anton, with delight. 

"He is my oldest acquaintance, and it is my dinners that have made himso fat. He moves about among the others like a rich banker. Only hearhim! His very chirp has in it something aristocratic and supercilious. He looks upon this crumb-scattering as a duty society owes him, anddetermines generously to leave for the others all he can not eat uphimself. But I think I see a tuft on his little breast. "

"A loose feather?" whispered Specht. 

"Yes, " continued Sabine; "I much fear his wife has pulled it out; for, important as he seems, he is under petticoat government. That graylittle lady yonder, the lightest of them all, is his wife. Now look, they are going to quarrel. " And a great contest began for an especiallylarge crumb, in which all the birds manifested a strong dislike to thebanker, and the wife came off victorious. 

"And now, do look!" cried Sabine, joyfully; "here comes my littleone--my pet;" and down plumped a young sparrow, with helpless outspreadwings, and fluttered up to the maternal bird, who hacked the large crumbinto little bits, and put them into its wide-opened beak, while thefather hopped up and down, at a little distance, looking with a certainmisgiving at his energetic better half. 

"What a pretty sight!" cried Anton. 

"Is it not?" said Sabine. "Even these little creatures have charactersand a family life. "

But the scene was suddenly changed; a quick step came round thehot-house; the birds flew away, and the mother called piteously to herchild to follow. But the little thing, heavy and stupefied with all ithad eaten, could not so quickly lift its weak wings. A cut from Fink'sriding-whip caught him, and sent its little body dead among the flowers. An angry exclamation arose, and all faces looked darkly on the murderer. As for Sabine, she went to the bed, picked up the bird, kissed itslittle head, and said, in a broken voice, "It is dead. " Then she put itdown on the bench near the door, and covered it with her handkerchief. 

An awkward silence ensued. At length Jordan said reproachfully, "Youhave killed Miss Sabine's favorite bird. "

"I am sorry for it, " replied Fink, drawing a chair to the table. Thenturning to Sabine, "I did not know that you extended your sympathy tothis class of rogues. I really believed that I deserved the thanks ofthe house for disposing of the young thief. "

"The poor little fellow!" said Sabine, mournfully; "his mother iscalling for him; do you hear her?"

"She will get over it, " rejoined Fink; "I consider it overdone to expendmore feeling upon a sparrow than his own relatives do. But I know youlike to consider all around you in a tender and pathetic light. "

"If you have not this peculiarity yourself, why ridicule it in others?"asked Sabine, with a quivering lip. 

"Why, " cried Fink, "because this eternal feeling, which here I meet withevery where, expended on what does not deserve it, makes people atlength weak and trivial. He who is always getting up emotions abouttrifles will have none to give when a strong attachment demands them. "

"And he who ever looks on all around him with cold unconcern, will nothe too be wanting in emotion when a strong attachment becomes a duty?"returned Sabine, with a mournful glance. 

"It would be impolite to contradict you, " said Fink, shrugging hisshoulders. "At all events, it is better that a man should be too hardthan too effeminate. "

"But just look at the people of this country, " said he, after anotheruncomfortable pause. "One loves the copper kettle in which his motherhas boiled sausages; another loves his broken pipe, his faded coat, andwith these a thousand obsolete customs. Just look at the Germanemigrants! What a heap of rubbish they take away with them--oldbirdcages, worm-eaten furniture, and every kind of lumber! I once knew afellow who took a journey of eight days merely to eat _sauer-kraut_. Andwhen once a poor devil has squatted in an unhealthy district, and livedthere a few years, he has spun such a web of sentimentalism about itthat you can not stir him, even though he, his wife and children, shoulddie there of fever. Commend me to what you call the insensibility of theYankee. He works like two Germans, but he is not in love with hiscottage or his gear. What he has is worth its equivalent in dollars, andno more. 'How low! how material!' you will say. Now, I like this. It hascreated a free and powerful state. If America had been peopled byGermans, they would be still drinking chicory instead of coffee, atwhatever rate of duty the paternal governments of Europe liked toimpose. "

"And you would require a woman to be thus minded?" asked Sabine. 

"In the main, yes, " rejoined Fink. "Not a German housewife, wrapped upin her table-linen. The larger her stock, the happier she. I believethat they silently rate each other as we do men on 'Change--worth fivehundred, worth eight hundred napkins. The American makes as good a wifeas the German, but she would laugh at such notions. She has what shewants for present use, and buys more when the old set is worn out. Whyshould she fix her heart on what is so easily replaced?"

"Oh, how dreary you make life!" rejoined Sabine. "Our possessions losethus their dearest value. If you kill the imagination which lends itsvaried hues to lifeless things, what remains? Nothing but an egotism towhich every thing is sacrificed! He who can thus coldly think may dogreat deeds perhaps, but his life will never be beautiful nor happy, nora blessing to others;" and unconsciously she folded her hands and lookedsadly at Fink, whose face wore a hard and disdainful expression. 

The silence was broken by Anton's cheerfully observing, "At all events, Fink's own practice is a striking refutation of his theory. "

"How so, sir?" asked Fink, looking round. 

"I shall soon prove my case; but first a few words in our own praise. Wewho are sitting and standing around are working members of a businessthat does not belong to us, and each of us looks upon his occupationfrom the German point of view which Fink has been denouncing. None of usreasons, 'The firm pays me so many dollars, consequently the firm isworth so many dollars to me. ' No; when the house prospers we are allpleased and proud; if it loses, we regret it perhaps more than theprincipal does. When Liebold enters his figures in the great book, andadmires their fair caligraphical procession, he silently smiles withdelight. Look at him; he is doing so now. "

Liebold, much embarrassed, pulled up his shirt collar. 

"Then there is our friend Baumann, who secretly longs for anothercalling. A short time ago he brought me a report of the horrors ofheathenism on the African coast, and said, 'I must go, Wohlfart; thetime is come. ' 'Who will attend to the calculations?' asked I; 'and whatwill become of the department which you and Balbus keep so entirely inyour own hands?' 'Ay, indeed, ' cried Baumann, 'I had not thought ofthat; I must put it off a little longer. '"

The whole party looked smilingly at Baumann, who said, as if to himself, "It was not right of me. "

"As for the tyrant Pix, I will only say that there are many hours inwhich he is not quite clear as to whether the concern is his or Mr. Schröter's. "

All laughed. Mr. Pix thrust his hand into his breast, like Napoleon. 

"You are an unfair advocate, " said Fink; "you enlist private feelings. "

"You did the same, " replied Anton. "And now I will soon dispose of you. About half a year ago, this Yankee went to our principal and said, 'Iwish no longer to be a volunteer, but a regular member of your house. 'Why was this? Of course, only for the sake of a certain number ofdollars. "

Again all smiled and looked kindly at Fink, for it was well known thathe had said on that occasion, "I wish for a regular share of employment, I wish for the responsibility attached to it, and I thoroughly like mywork. "

"And then, " continued Anton, triumphantly, "he shares all the weaksentimentalities he so condemns. He loves his horse, as you all know, not as the sum of five hundred dollars represented by so many hundredweight of flesh, and covered by a glossy skin--he loves it as a friend. "

"Because he amuses me, " said Fink. 

"Of course, " said Anton; "and thus table-linen amuses our housewives, sothat is even. And then his pair of condor wings, his pistols, riding-whips, red drinking-glasses, are all trifles that he values, justas a German emigrant does his birdcages; and, in short, he is, in pointof fact, nothing more than a poor-spirited German, like the rest of us. "

Sabine shook her head, but she looked more kindly at the American, andhis face too had changed. He looked straight before him, and there was asomething playing over his haughty features that, in any one else, wouldhave been called emotion. 

"Well, " said he, at length, "both the lady and I were perhaps toopositive. " Then pointing to the dead sparrow, "Before this serious factI lay down my arms, and confess that I wish the little gentleman werestill alive, and likely to reach a good old age among the cherries andother delicacies of the firm. And so, " turning to Sabine, "you will notbe angry with me any more, will you?"

Sabine smiled, and cordially answered "No. "

"As for you, Anton, give me your hand. You have made a brilliantdefense, and gained me a verdict of 'Not guilty' from a German jury. Take your pen and scratch out a few weeks from our calendar; youunderstand?" Anton pressed his hand, and threw his arm around hisshoulder. 

Once more the party was in a thoroughly genial mood. Mr. Schröter joinedthem, cigars were lit, and all tried to be as pleasant as possible. Mr. Liebold rose to ask permission from the principal and his sister--thatis, if it would not be considered an interruption--to sing a fewconcerted pieces with some of his colleagues. As he had for severalyears regularly made the same proposition in the same words, all wereprepared for it, and Sabine good-naturedly cried, "Of course, Mr. Liebold; half the pleasure would be gone if we had not our quartette. "Accordingly, the four singers began. Mr. Specht was the first tenor, Liebold the second, Birnbaum and Balbus took the base. These formed themusical section of the counting-house, and their voices went really verywell together, with the exception of Specht's being rather too loud, andLiebold's rather too low; but their audience was well-disposed, theevening exquisite, and all listened with pleasure. 

"It's an absurd thing, " began Fink, when the applause was over, "that acertain sequence of tones should touch the heart, and call forth tearsfrom men in whom all other gentle emotions are dead and gone. Everynation has its own simple airs, and fellow-countrymen recognize eachother by the impression these make. When those emigrants of whom wespoke just now have lost all love for their fatherland--nay, haveforgotten their mother tongue, their home melodies still survive, andmany a foolish fellow, who piques himself on being a naturalized Yankee, suddenly feels himself German at heart on chancing to hear a couple ofbars familiar to him in youth. "

"You are right, " said the merchant. "He who leaves his home is seldomaware of all that he relinquishes, and only finds it out when homerecollections become the charm of his later years. Such recollectionsoften form a sanctuary, mocked and dishonored indeed, but alwaysrevisited in his best hours. "

"I confess, with a certain degree of shame, " said Fink, "that I amlittle conscious of this charm. The fact is, I do not exactly know wheremy home is. Looking back, I find that I have lived most of my years inGermany, but foreign countries have left a livelier impression on mymind. Destiny has always torn me away before I could take deep root anywhere. And now, at times, I find myself a stranger here. For example, the dialects of the provinces are unintelligible to me. I get morepresents than I deserve on Christmas-day, but am not touched by themagic of the Christmas-tree; and few of the popular melodies you are allso proud of, haunt my ear. And, besides these smaller matters, there areother things in which I feel deficient, " continued he, more earnestly;"I know that at times I make too heavy demands upon the indulgence of myfriends. I shall have to thank your house, " said he, in conclusion, turning to the merchant, "if I ever acquire a knowledge of the best sideof the German character. "

Fink spoke with a degree of feeling he rarely showed. Sabine was happy;the sparrow was forgotten; and she cried, with irrepressible emotion, "That was nobly said, Herr von Fink. "

The servants then announced that supper was ready. 

The merchant took his place in the middle, and Sabine smiled brightlywhen Fink sat down, at her side. 

"I must have you opposite me, Liebold, " cried the principal; "I mustsee your honest face before me to-day. We have now been connected forfive-and-twenty years. Mr. Liebold joined us a few weeks after my fathertook me into partnership, " said he, by way of explanation to the youngerclerks; "and while I am indebted to you all, I am most indebted to him. "He held up his glass: "I drink your good health, my old friend; and solong as our desks stand side by side, separated only by a thinpartition, so long shall there exist between us, as heretofore, a fulland firm confidence, without many spoken words. "

Liebold had stood at the beginning of this speech, and he remainedstanding. He wished to propose a health, it was evident, for he lookedat the principal, held up his glass, and his lips moved. At last he satdown again, speechless. Straightway, to the amazement of all, Fink rose, and said, with deep earnestness, "Join me in drinking to the prosperityof a German house where work is a pleasure, and honor has its home. Hurrah for our counting-house and our principal!"

Thundering hurrahs followed, in which Sabine could not help joining. Therest of the evening was unbroken hilarity, and it was long past ten whenthey reached the town. 

As they went up stairs, Fink said to Anton, "To-day, my boy, you are notto pass me by. I have found it a great bore to be so long without you;"and the reconciled friends sat together far into the night. 

Sabine went to her own room, where her maid gave her a note in anunknown handwriting. The smell of musk and the delicate charactersshowed that it came from a lady. 

"Who brought it?" inquired she. 

"A stranger, " replied the maid; "he said that there was no answer, andwould not give his name. "

Sabine read, "Do not triumph too soon, fair lady. You have by yourcoquetry allured a gentleman who is accustomed to mislead, to forget, and shamefully to use those who trust him. A short time ago he said toanother all he now says to you. He will but betray and forsake youalso. "

The note was not signed: it came from Rosalie. 

Sabine knew well who had written it. She held it to the taper, and thenflinging it on the hearth, silently watched spark by spark die out. Longdid she stand there, her head against the mantel-piece, her eyes fixedupon the little heap of ashes. 

Tearless, voiceless, she held her hand pressed firmly on her heart. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Veitel Itzig was in the highest excitement. After many consultationswith his adviser Hippus, many nightly calculations as to the state ofhis purse, he had ventured upon a bold stroke of business, and hadsucceeded in it. He had wormed himself into a not very creditablesecret, and had sold it for eight thousand dollars. The happy day had atlength arrived when he was to carry home this large capital. After hislong endeavor to appear calm, while his heart was beating with anxioussuspense like a smith's hammer, he was now happy as a child; he jumpedround the room, laughed with pleasure, and asked Hippus what sort ofwine he would like to drink to-day. "Wine alone will not do, " repliedHippus, ominously. "However, it is long since I have tasted anyHungarian. Get a bottle of old Upper Hungarian; or, stay, it is darkenough, I will go for it myself. "

"How much does it cost?"

"Two dollars. "

"That is a good deal, but 'tis all one; here they are;" and he threwthem on the table. 

"All right, " said Hippus, snatching at them. "But this alone will notdo, I must have my percentage. However, as we are old acquaintances, Iwill be satisfied with only five per cent. Of what you have madeto-day. "

Veitel stood petrified. 

"Not a word against it, " continued Hippus, with a wicked glance at himover his spectacles; "we know each other. I was the means of yourgetting the money, and I alone. You make use of me, and you see that Ican make use of you. Give me four hundred of your eight thousand atonce. "

Veitel tried to speak. 

"Not a word, " repeated Hippus, rapping the table with the dollars in hishand; "give me the money. "

Veitel looked at him, felt in the pocket of his coat, and laid down twonotes. 

"Now two more, " said Hippus, in the same tone. Veitel added another. 

"And now for the last, my son, " nodded he, encouragingly. 

Veitel delayed a moment and looked hard at the old man's face, on whicha malevolent pleasure was visible. There was no comfort there, however;so he laid down the fourth note, saying, in a stifled voice, "I havebeen mistaken in you, Hippus;" and, turning away, he wiped his eyes. 

"Do not take it to heart, you booby, " said his instructor; "if I diebefore you, you shall be my heir. And now I am off to taste the wine, and I will make a point of drinking your health, you sensitive Itzig;"and, so saying, he crept out of the door. 

Veitel once more wiped away a bitter tear that rolled down his cheeks. His pleasure in his winnings was gone. It was a complex sort of feeling, this grief of his. True, he mourned the lost notes, but he had lostsomething more. The only man in the world for whom he felt any degree ofattachment had behaved unkindly and selfishly toward him. It was allover henceforth between him and Hippus. He could not, indeed, do withouthim, but he hated him from this hour. The old man had made him moresolitary and unscrupulous than before. Such is the curse of bad men;they are rendered wretched not only by their crimes, but even their bestfeelings turn to gall. 

However, this melancholy mood did not long continue. He took out hisremaining treasure, counted it over, felt cheered thereby, and turnedhis thoughts to the future. His social position had been changed at astroke. As the possessor of eight thousand dollars--alas! there were butseven thousand six hundred--he was a small Croesus among men of hisclass: many carried on transactions involving hundreds of thousandswithout as much capital as he had; in short, the world was his oyster, and he had but to bethink himself with what lever he should open it--howinvest his capital--how double it--how increase it tenfold. There weremany ways before him: he might continue to lend money on high interest, he might speculate, or carry on some regular business; but each of theseinvolved his beloved capital in some degree of risk; he might win, indeed, but then he might lose all, and the very thought so terrifiedhim that he relinquished one scheme after another. 

There was, indeed, one way in which a keen-witted man might possiblymake much without great danger of loss. 

Veitel had been accustomed, as a dealer in old clothes, to visit thedifferent seats of landed proprietors; at the wool market he was in thehabit of offering his services to gentlemen with mustaches and orders ofmerit; in his master's office he was constantly occupied with the meansand affairs of the nobility. How intimately he knew old Ehrenthal'ssecret desire to become the possessor of a certain estate! And how cameit that in the midst of his annoyance with Hippus, the thought of hisschoolfellow Anton suddenly flashed across him, and of the day when hehad walked with him last? That very morning he had walked about thebaron's estate, and lounged by the cow-house, counting the double row ofhorns within, till the dairy-maid ordered him away. Now the thoughtpassed like lightning through his brain that he might as well become theowner of that estate as Ehrenthal, and drive with a pair of horses intothe town. From that moment he had a fixed plan, and began to carry itout. 

And he speculated cunningly too. He determined to acquire a claim uponthe baron's property by a mortgage; thus he would safely invest hiscapital, and work on quietly till the day came when he could get hold ofthe property itself. At all events, if he did not succeed in that, hismoney would be safe. Meanwhile, he would become an agent andcommissioner, buy and sell, and do many clever things besides. Also, hemust remain Ehrenthal's factotum as long as it suited him. Rosalie washandsome and rich, for Bernhard would not live to inherit his father'swealth. Perhaps he might desire to become Ehrenthal's son-in-law, perhaps not; at all events, there was no hurry about that. There was oneother whom he must get on a secure footing--the little black man nowdrinking that expensive wine down stairs. Henceforth he would pay himfor whatever he did for him, but he would not confide in him. 

These were the resolves of Veitel Itzig; and, having concocted hisplans, he locked his door, threw himself down exhausted on his hard bed, the imaginary possessor of Baron Rothsattel's fair property. 

That evening the baroness and her daughter sat together in theconservatory, and both were silent; the baroness intently watching abright moth, which was bent upon flying into the lamp, and came knockingits thick little body over and over against the glass which saved itslife. 

Lenore bent over her book, but often cast an inquiring glance at hermother's thoughtful face. 

There came a quick step along the gravel, and the old bailiff, cap inhand, asked for the master. 

"What do you want?" said Lenore; "has any thing happened?"

"It's all over with the old black horse, " said the bailiff, in greatconcern; "he has been biting and kicking like mad, and now he is gaspinghis last. "

Lenore sprang up with an exclamation for which her mother chid her. 

"I will come and see to him myself, " said she, and hurried off with theold man. 

The sick horse lay on his straw, with the sweat running down, and hissides heaving violently. The stable-boys stood around, looking at himphlegmatically. When Lenore entered, the horse turned his head towardher as if asking help. 

"He knows me yet, " cried she. Then turning to the head groom, "Ride offinstantly for a veterinary surgeon. "

The man did not like the thought of a long ride at night, and replied, "The doctor is never at home, and the horse will be dead before he cancome. "

"Go at once!" commanded Lenore, pointing to the door. 

"What is the matter with the groom?" asked Lenore, as they left thestable. 

"He is grown good for nothing, and ought to be sent off, as I have oftentold my master; but the lout is as obedient to him as possible--he knowsthe length of his foot--while to every one else he is cross-grained, andgives me daily trouble. "

"I will speak to my father, " replied Lenore, with a slight frown. 

The old servant continued: "Ah! dear young lady, if you would but lookafter things a little, it would be a good thing for the property. I amnot satisfied with the dairy either: the new housekeeper does not knowhow to manage the maids; she is too smart by half--ribbons before andbehind. Things used to go on better; the baron used to come and look atthe butter-casks, now he is busy with other things; and when the mastergrows careless, servants soon snap their fingers at the bailiff. You canbe sharp enough with people; it's a thousand pities you are not agentleman. "

"You are right; it is a thousand pities, " said Lenore, approvingly; "butthere's no help for it. However, I will see to the butter from this veryday. How is corn now? You have been buying some lately?"

"Yes, " said the old man, dejectedly, "my master would have it so. Idon't know what's come to him: he sold the whole granary full to thatEhrenthal in winter. "

Lenore listened sympathizingly, with her hands behind her. 

"Do not fret about it, my old friend, " said she; "whenever papa is notat home, I will go about the fields with you, and you shall smoke yourpipe all the same. How do you like the new one I brought you?"

"It has a beautiful color already, " said the bailiff, chuckling, anddrawing it out of his pocket. "But to return to the black horse; thebaron will be very angry when he hears of it, and we could not help iteither. "

"Well, then, " said Lenore, "if it could not be helped, it must beendured. Good-night. Go back now to the horse. "

"I will, dear young lady; and good-night to you too, " said the bailiff. 

The baroness had remained in the conservatory, thinking of her husband, who formerly would have been by her side on an evening like this. Yes, there was a change in him: kind and affectionate toward her as ever, hewas often absent and preoccupied, and more easily irritated by trifles;his cheerfulness was of a more boisterous character, and his love formen's society increasing; and she mournfully asked herself whether itwere the fading of her youth that accounted for this. 

"Is not my father yet returned?" asked Lenore, as she entered. 

"No, my child, he has much to do in town; perhaps he will not be backtill to-morrow morning. "

"I do not like papa being so much away, " said Lenore; "it is long sincehe has read aloud to us in the evening, as he used to do. "

"He means you to be my reader, " said her mother, with a smile; "so takeyour book, and sit down quietly by me, you impetuous child. "

Lenore pouted, and instead of taking up the book, threw her arms roundher mother, and said, "Darling, you too are sad and anxious about myfather. Things are no longer as they used to be. I am no child now; tellme what he is doing. "

"Nonsense, " calmly replied the baroness. "I am keeping nothing back fromyou. If there really be any reason for your father's frequent absence, it is our duty to wait till he chooses to communicate it; and this isnot difficult to those who love and trust him as we do. "

"And yet your eyes are tearful, and you do seek to hide your anxietyfrom me. If you will not, I will ask my father myself. "

"No, you shall not, " said the baroness, in a tone of decision. 

"My father!" cried Lenore; "I hear his step. "

The stately form came rapidly toward them. "Good-evening, my hometreasures!" he called out. Then clasping wife and daughter at once inhis arms, he looked so cheerfully at them that the baroness forgot heranxiety and Lenore her question. The baron sat down between them, andasked whether they saw any thing unusual about him. 

"You are cheerful, " said his wife, fondly, "as you always are. "

"You have been paying visits, " said Lenore; "I know that by your whitecravat. "

"Right, " replied the baron; "but there's something more: the king hasbeen graciously pleased to give me the Order my father and grandfatherhave both worn, and I am much pleased that the cross should thus become, as it were, hereditary in our family. And with the Order came a mostgracious letter from the prince. "

"How charming!" cried his wife, throwing her arms around him; "I havelonged for this star for some years past. We will put on thedecoration;" and, having done so, she loyally kissed, first her husband, and then the cross. 

"We know indeed, " said the baron, "how such things are rated in ourdays, and yet I confess that the rank implied by such a decoration isintensely precious to me. Our family is one of the oldest in thekingdom, and there has never been a _mésalliance_ among us. However, atthe present time, money is beginning to replace our former privileges, and even we nobles must take thought for it if we wish to preserve ourfamilies in the same position as ourselves. I must provide for you, Lenore, and your brother. "

"As for me, " said Lenore, crossing her arms, "I can do nothing for thehonor of the family. If I marry, which I have, however, no inclinationto do, I must take some other name; and little will my old ancestors, inarmor yonder in the hall, care whom I choose for master. I can notremain a Rothsattel. "

The father drew her toward him laughingly. "If I could only find out howmy child has got these heretical notions!" said he. 

"She has always had them, " said her mother. 

"They will pass, " answered the baron, kissing his daughter's brow. "Andnow read the prince's letter, while I go and look after the blackhorse. "

"I will go with you, " said Lenore. 

The order, a memorial of the chivalrous past, was a source of still moresatisfaction to the baron than he cared to avow. The congratulations ofhis numerous acquaintance pleased him, and he felt it a prop to hisself-respect, which it often needed. A week later, Ehrenthal came on hisway to the neighboring village to offer his congratulations too, andjust as he was making his final bow he said, "You had once a notion, baron, of setting up a beet-root-sugar factory. I find that a company isabout to be formed to build one in your neighborhood. I have been askedto take shares, but first of all I thought I would ascertain yourviews. "

This intelligence was very unwelcome; for though, after muchdeliberation and consultation, he had resolved, for the present, topostpone the project, the baron did not like it to be hopelesslyinterfered with by a rival factory. 

In a tone of vexation, he exclaimed, "Just now, when I have, for a time, that capital to dispose of!"

"Baron, " said Ehrenthal, heartily, "you are a rich man, and muchrespected. Give out that you mean to set up a factory yourself and thecompany will be dispersed in a few days. "

"You know I can not do so at present, " said the baron, reluctantly. 

"You can, gracious sir, if you choose. I am not the man to urge you toit. What do you want with money-making? But if you say to me, 'Ehrenthal, I will set up a factory, ' why, I have capital for you asmuch as you like. I myself have a sum of ten thousand dollars ready; youmay have it any day. And now I will make a proposal. I will get you themoney you want, at a moderate rate of interest; and for the money Imyself advance, you shall give me a share of the business until you areable to repay the sum. Should you require further money, you must take amortgage on your property until you can replace the whole. "

The proposal appeared disinterested and friendly, but the baron felt acertain misgiving, and declined it. 

Accordingly, Ehrenthal had to retire, saying, "You can think the matterover; I shall, at all events, put off the forming of the company for amonth. "

From that day forth the baron was deluged with letters, notes, andmessages. First Ehrenthal wrote to say he had got the month's delay;then Herr Karfunkelstein, one of the projected company, wrote to say heresigned his pretensions; then Ehrenthal wrote again, inclosing theyearly accounts of a similar factory, that the profits might be judgedof. Then a Herr Wolfsdorf wrote to offer capital at a low rate ofinterest. Then, lastly, an unknown person of the name of Itzigveit wroteto beg that at least the baron would not enter into partnership withEhrenthal, as was rumored in the town, for, though a rich, he was a veryselfish man, and that the writer could advance capital on much betterterms; whereupon Ehrenthal wrote again that some of his enemies were, heknew, intriguing against him, and wishing to make money themselves inthe baron's promising undertaking, but that the baron must pleasehimself; that, for his part, he was an honorable man, and did not wishto push himself forward. 

The consequence of all these communications was, that the baron grewfamiliar with the thought of building his factory with borrowed money. However, there was one thing that offended his pride, and that was thethought of Ehrenthal as a shareholder; so far the letter of the unknownItzigveit had taken effect. 

During the next month he was the prey of a miserable irresolution, andhis wife, in silent sorrow, observed his excitement. He often went totown, and often inspected similar factories. True, the evidence thuscollected was not encouraging, but this he attributed to dread of hiscompetition, or to unfavorable details of site or management. 

The month was over, and a letter came from Ehrenthal to beg for adecision, as some members of the company were impatient of furtherdelay. 

It was on the evening of a hot day that the baron wandered restlesslyover his grounds. Heavy black, clouds gathered over an arch of yellowsky. The grasshoppers chirped far louder than their wont. The littlebirds twittered as if in apprehension of some coming evil. The swallowsflew low, and darted by close to the baron, as if they did not see him. The wild flowers along the road hung down covered with dust. Theshepherd who passed him looked gray and spectral in the lurid light. 

The baron strolled on to the other side of the lake whence Anton hadtaken his last look of the lordly home. The castle now stood before himin a crimson glow; every window-pane seemed on fire, and the red roseslay like drops of blood upon the dark green climbers beneath. And nearerand nearer rolled on the black clouds, as if to shroud the bright pilefrom sight. Not a leaf stirred, not a ripple curled the water. The baronlooked down into the water for some living thing, a spider, adragon-fly, and started back from the pale face that met him, and whichat first he did not recognize as his own. There was a sultry, boding, listless gloom over his heart, as over all nature. 

Suddenly a strange shivering sound in the tree-tops--a signal to thestorm. Again a pause, and then down rushed the mighty wind, bending thetrees, curling the lake, driving the dust in wild whirls along. Thebright light faded from the castle, and all the landscape toned downinto bluish gray. Then forked lightning, and a long and solemn peal. 

The baron drew himself up to his full height, and turned to meet thestorm. Leaves and branches flew round him, big drops fell on his head, but he kept looking up at the clouds, and at the lightning that flashedfrom them, as though expecting a decision from on high. 

Then came the galloping of a horse's feet, and a gay voice cried out, "Father!" A young cavalry officer had drawn up beside him. 

"My son! my beloved son!" cried the baron, with a quivering voice; "youare come at the right time;" and he clasped the youth to his heart, andthen held his hands and looked long into his face. All indecision, allmournful forebodings were over; he felt again as the head of his houseshould feel. Before him stood, blooming in youth and health, the futureof his family. He took it as an omen, as the voice of fate to him in thehour of decision. "And now, " said he, "come home; there is no furtherneed for our remaining in the rain. "

While the baroness drew her son down by her on the sofa, and neverwearied of looking at and admiring him, the baron sat at the window andwatched the torrents of rain. Brighter grew the flashes, and shorter theinterval between them and the thunder's roll. 

"Shut the window, " said she; "the storm comes this way. "

"It will do our house no harm, " replied her husband, encouragingly. "Theconductor stands firm on the roof, and shines through the clouds. Andnow look there where the clouds are blackest, behind those bright greenash-trees. "

"I see the spot, " returned she. 

"Make up your mind, " continued he, smiling, "always to have your belovedblue sky covered with gray smoke in that direction. Above those treeswill rise the factory chimney. "

"You mean to build?" inquired the baroness, anxiously. 

"I do, " was the reply. "The undertaking will involve much that will bedisagreeable to you and me, and will require all my energies. If Iventure upon it, it is not for our own sake, but our children's. I wishto secure this property to our family, and so to increase its returnthat the owner may be able amply to provide for the rest of hischildren, and yet leave the estate to the eldest son. After much painfuldeliberation, I have this day taken my resolve. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

The baron carried on his undertaking with the greatest possible spirit. He superintended the burning of the bricks; he himself marked the treesdestined to be cut down for the building. Ehrenthal had recommended abuilder, and the baron had found out a manager for the concern. He hadmade careful inquiries as to this man's past career, and congratulatedhimself upon the amount of his theoretical knowledge. Possibly this wasnot wholly an advantage, for plain practical men declared that he couldnever let a factory go quietly on, but was always interrupting the dailywork with new inventions and contrivances, and was therefore bothexpensive and unsafe. But the baron, naturally enough, considered hisprobity and intelligence to be the main point, and valued thetheoretical skill of the manager in proportion to his own ignorance. 

Pleasant as his prospects were, there were yet many drawbacks. Order andcomfort had flown away with the storks, who had for years beenaccustomed to make their nests on the great barn. Every body sufferedfrom the new undertaking. The baroness lost a corner of the park, andhad the grief of seeing a dozen noble old trees felled. The gardenerwrung his hands over the thefts committed by the strange laborers thatswarmed in all directions. The bailiff was in perfect despair at thedisorders in his jurisdiction. His horses and oxen were taken from himto carry timber when he wanted them to plow. The wants of the householdincreased; the returns from the property became less and less. Lenorehad much to do to comfort him, and brought him many pounds of tobaccofrom the town, that he might smoke off his annoyance. But the heaviestburden of course pressed upon the baron himself. His study was nowbecome a place of public resort, like any tradesman's shop. He had togive advice, to come to a decision, to overcome difficulties in a dozendirections at once. He went almost daily to town, and when he returnedhe was absent and morose in the midst of his family. His was a fair hopeindeed, but it was one very difficult to realize. 

The baron found some comfort, however, in Ehrenthal's cheerfuldevotedness. He was always useful, and fertile in expedient, and neverappeared doubtful as to the result of the undertaking. He was now afrequent visitor, welcome to the master of the house, but less so to theladies, who suspected him of having been the prompter of the factoryscheme. 

One sunny day, Ehrenthal, with shirt-frill and diamond pin, made hisappearance in his son's room. "Will you drive with me to-day to theRothsattel's Castle, my Bernhard? I told the baron that I should bringyou with me to introduce you to the family. "

Bernhard sprang up from his seat. "But, father, I am an utter strangerto them all. "

"When you have seen and spoken to them, you will no longer be astranger, " replied his father. "They are good people--good people, "added he, benevolently. 

Bernhard had still some modest scruples, but they were overruled, andthe two set out together--the pale student in much excitement at thenovelty of the drive, and the prospect of seeing a renowned beauty likeLenore. 

Meanwhile, his father overflowed with the praises of the family. "Noblepeople, " said he; "if you could only see the baroness as she is in herlace cap, so delicate and so refined! Too refined for this world as itis! Every thing so elegant! To be sure, the pieces of sugar are toolarge, and the wine is too dear, but it all seems of a piece with theirrank. "

"Is Fräulein Lenore a great beauty?" inquired Bernhard. "Is she veryproud?"

"She is proud, but she is a beauty indeed. Between ourselves, I admireher more than Rosalie. "

"Is she a blonde?"

Ehrenthal took some time to consider. "Blonde? what should she be but ablonde or a brunette? One thing I know, she has blue eyes. You can lookover the farm, and do not forget to walk round the park. See whether youcan find a spot where you would like to sit with your book. "

The guileless Bernhard heard in silence. 

The carriage stopped at the castle door. The servants announced that thebaron was in his room--the baroness not visible, but that the young ladywas walking in the garden. Ehrenthal and his son went round the house, and saw Lenore's tall figure slowly crossing the grass-plot. Ehrenthalthrew himself into a deferential attitude, and presented his son, whobowed low. Lenore bestowed a cool sort of salutation upon the student, and said, "If you want my father, he is up stairs in his room. "

"I will go to him, then. Bernhard, you may, I am sure, remain with theyoung lady. "

Arrived in the baron's room, the trader placed some thousand dollars onthe table, saying, "Here is the first sum. And now, what does the baronwish as to the security?"

"According to our agreement, I must give you a mortgage on theproperty, " was the reply. 

"Do you know what, baron? It would never do for you to grant a freshmortgage for every thousand dollars that I might happen to pay in; itwould be very expensive, and would bring the property into disrepute. Rather have a deed of mortgage drawn up for some considerable sum, saytwenty thousand dollars, and let it stand in the name of the baroness;you will then have a security that you may sell any day. And every timeI pay you, give me a simple note of hand, pledging your word of honorthat I have a claim to that amount on the mortgage. That is a simpleplan, and remains a secret between you and me. And when you need nofurther advances, we can settle the matter finally before an attorney. You can make over the mortgage to me, and I return you the notes ofhand, and repay you whatever may be wanted to make up the twentythousand. I only ask your word of honor on a slip of paper no longerthan my finger, and when the deed is ready, I should wish to have itexecuted in my house. You can not object to that. Any lawyer would tellyou that I am not dealing in a business-like way. A man's word is oftenbroken, but if there is one thing sure and steadfast in the world, Ibelieve it is your word of honor, baron. "

Ehrenthal said this with an expression of sincerity, which was notaltogether assumed. This plan of his was the result of many aconsultation with Itzig. He knew that the baron would require far morethan twenty thousand dollars, and it was to his advantage that he shouldprocure them easily; besides which, he, the thorough rogue, had firmtrust in the nobleman's integrity. 

Meanwhile, Lenore had asked Bernhard whether he would like to walk inthe park. He followed her in silence, looking timidly at the fair youngaristocrat, who carried her head high, and troubled herself but littleabout her companion. When she reached the grass-plot station that hadonce so enchanted Anton, she stood still, and pointed to thegravel-walk, saying, "That way leads to the lake, and this to the gardenagain. "

Bernhard looked up in amazement at the castle and its turrets, itsbalcony and creeping plants, and exclaimed, "I have seen all thisbefore, and yet I have never been here. "

"And certainly, " said Lenore, "the castle has never been to the town;there may be others like it. "

"No, " replied Bernhard, trying to collect his ideas, "no; I have seen adrawing of it in a friend's room. He must know you, " cried he, withdelight; "and yet he never told me so. "

"What is your friend's name?"

"Anton Wohlfart. "

The lady turned round at once with sudden animation. "Wohlfart? a clerkin T. O. Schröter's house? Is it he? And this gentleman is your friend?How did you become acquainted with him?" And she stood before Bernhardwith her hands behind her back, like a severe schoolmistresscross-examining a little thief about a stolen apple. 

Bernhard told her how he had learned to know and love Anton; and indoing so, he lost some of his embarrassment, while the young lady lostsome of her haughty indifference. 

She asked him many questions about his friend, and Bernhard greweloquent as he replied. 

Then she led him through the park, as once she had led Anton. Bernhardwas a son of the city. It was not the lofty, wide-spreading trees, northe gay flower-beds, nor the turreted castle which made an impression onhim; his eyes were riveted on Lenore alone. It was a bright Septemberevening; the sunlight fell through the branches, and whenever Lenore'shair caught its rays, it shone like gold. The proud eye, the delicatemouth, the slender limbs of the noble girl took his fancy prisoner. Shelaughed, and showed her little white teeth--he was enraptured; shebroke off a twig, and struck the shrubs with it as she passed--it seemedto him that they bent before her in homage to the ground. 

They came to the bridge between the park and the fields, where a fewlittle girls ran to Lenore and kissed her hands; she received thetribute of respect as a queen might have done. Two other children hadmade a long chain of dandelion stalks, and with it barred Bernhard'sway. 

"Away with you, rude little things, " cried Lenore; "how can you think ofbarring our way? The gentleman comes from the castle. "

And Bernhard felt with pride that, for the moment, he belonged to her. He put his hand in his purse, and soon got rid of the children. "It islong, " said he, "since I have seen a dandelion chain. I have anindistinct recollection of sitting as a little boy in a green nook, andtrying to make one;" and, gathering a few dandelion stalks, he began thechildish task. 

"If you are so expert in such childish play, " said Lenore, "here issomething for you, " and she pointed to a great burdock near theroad-side. "Have you ever seen a cap of burs?"

"No, " answered Bernhard, with some slight misgiving. 

"You shall have one immediately, " said Lenore. She went to the burdock;Bernhard gathered her some handfuls of burs. She fitted one into theother, and made a cap with two little horns. "You may put it on, " saidshe, graciously. 

"I dare not; the very birds would be frightened. If you too would--"

"You can not expect me to wear burs, " replied she; "but you shall haveyour wish. " She led him back to a group of sunflowers in the shrubbery, and, gathering a few of them, she made a kind of helmet, which shelaughingly put on. "Now for your cap, " commanded she. Bernhard obeyed, and his thoughtful, deeply-marked features, black coat, and white cravatlooked so strange and incongruous beneath the cap of burs, that Lenorecould not help laughing. "Come with me, " said she; "you shall look atyourself in the lake. " And she led him past the site of the factory--arough place, with heaps of earth, tiles, beams, in utmost confusion. Itwas a holiday; all the laborers had left, but some village children wereplaying about and collecting chips. A few steps farther on they came toa little bay, covered with water-lilies and surrounded by brushwood. "How desolate it looks!" said Lenore; "the bushes half pulledaway--even the trees injured: all the result of this building. We seldomcome here on account of the strange workmen. The village children, too, are become so bold, they make this their play-ground, and there is nokeeping them away. "

That moment a boat came in sight. A little village girl, a red-facedchubby thing, stood up tottering in it, while her older brother tried toget as far from shore as with one oar he could. "Look!" cried Lenore, angrily, "the little wretches have actually taken our boat. Come backinstantly to the shore. " The children were startled, the boy dropped theoar, the little girl tottered more than before, and, in the terror of aguilty conscience, lost her balance and fell into the water. Her brotherdrifted helplessly into the bay. "Save the child!" screamed Lenore. Bernhard ran into the lake forgetting that he could not swim, waded in afew steps, and then stood up to the breast in mud and water. Hestretched out his arms to the spot where the child had sunk, but couldnot reach it. Meanwhile Lenore had sprung, quick as lightning, behind abush. After a few seconds she returned and ran to a projecting bank. 

Bernhard looked with rapture and terror at her tall figure. She stillwore her fantastic coronal, her light garments floated round her, hereyes were fixed upon the spot where the child would reappear. Raisingher arms above her head, she leaped in and swam toward it, seized itsfrock, struck out with her free arm, and soon reached the boat. Exertingall her strength, she lifted the child in, and then drew the boat toland. Bernhard, who, pale as death, had stood watching her efforts, fought his way back to the land, gave her his hand, and drew in theboat. Lenore carried the unconscious child. Bernhard lifted out the boy, and both hurried to the gardener's house, while the little lad ranscreaming behind them. Lenore's soaked garments clung closely to herbeautiful form, and every movement of her fair limbs was seen almostunveiled by her companion. She did not heed it. Bernhard went with herinto the room, but she hastily sent him out again; while, with the helpof the gardener's wife, she undressed, and sought by friction and othermeans to restore the child to life. Meanwhile Bernhard stood without, his teeth chattering with cold, but in a state of excitement which madehis eyes glow like fire. "Is the child alive?" he called through thedoor. 

"She is, " answered Lenore from within. 

"Thank God!" cried Bernhard; but his thoughts rose no higher than thefair being within. Long he stood there shuddering and dreaming, till atlength a tall figure in woolen garments came out of the door. It wasLenore in the clothes of the gardener's wife, still agitated by all shehad gone through, but with a happy smile on her lips. Bernhard, besidehimself, kissed her hand more than once. 

"You look very well, " said Lenore, cheerfully; "but you will catchcold. "

He stood before her, wet and dripping, covered with weeds and mud. "I donot feel cold, " cried he, but his limbs shook. 

"Go in at once, " urged Lenore; and, opening the door, she called to thegood woman, "Give this gentleman your husband's clothes. "

Bernhard obeyed, and when he came out metamorphosed into a rustic, hefound Lenore rapidly walking up and down. 

"Come to the castle, " said she, with all her former dignity. 

"I should like once more to see the child, " replied he. 

They went to the bed on which the little girl lay. She looked updreamingly at Bernhard, who bent over her and kissed her forehead. "Sheis the child of a laborer in the village, " said the gardener's wife. Unobserved by Lenore, Bernhard laid his purse on the bed. 

On their return they found Ehrenthal impatient to depart. His amazementat recognizing his Bernhard in the rustic before him was boundless. 

"Give the gentleman a cloak, " said Lenore to the servants; "he isbenumbed with cold. Wrap yourself up well, or you may long have cause toremember your march among the water-lilies. "

And Bernhard did remember it. He wrapped the cloak about him, andsqueezed himself up into a corner of the carriage. A burning heat hadsucceeded to the chill, and his blood rushed wildly through his veins. He had seen the fairest woman on the earth; he had experienced realitiesmore transporting, more absorbing, than any of his favorite poet'sdreams. He could hardly answer his father's questions. There they satside by side, cold cunning and burning passion personified. Thisexcursion had been propitious to both; the father had got thelong-desired hold on the Rothsattel property, the son had had anadventure which gave a new coloring to his whole existence. 

On the baron's estate the factory slowly rose; in Ehrenthal's coffersthe baron's casket was filled by notes of hand and the new deed ofmortgage; and while Bernhard's tender frame drooped under the effects ofthe cold bath above described, he gave his spirit up to the intoxicationof the sweetest fancies. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

One afternoon the postman brought to Fink a letter with a black seal. Having opened it, he went silently to his own room. As he did notreturn, Anton anxiously followed, and found Fink sitting on the sofa, his head resting on his hand. 

"You have had bad news?" inquired Anton. 

"My uncle is dead, " was the reply; "he, the richest man, perhaps, inWall Street, New York, has been blown up in a Mississippi steamer. Hewas an unapproachable sort of man, but in his way very kind to me, and Irepaid him by folly and ingratitude. This thought imbitters his death tome. And, besides that, the fact decides my future career. "

"You will leave us!" cried Anton, in dismay. 

"I must set off to-morrow. My father is heir to all my uncle's property, with the exception of some land in the Far West, to which I am leftexecutor. My uncle was a great speculator, and there is much troublesomebusiness to be settled. Therefore my father wishes me to go to New Yorkas soon as possible, and I plainly see that I am wanted there. He hasall at once conceived a high idea of my judgment and capacity forbusiness. Read his letter. " Anton scrupled to take it. "Read it, myboy, " said Fink, with a sad smile; "in my family circle, father and sonwrite each other no secrets. " Anton read. "The excellent accounts whichMr. Schröter sends me of your practical sense and shrewdness in businesslead me to request you to go over yourself, in which case I shall sendMr. Westlock, of our house, to assist you. "

Anton laid the letter down, and Fink asked, "What say you to this praiseof the principal's? You know that I had some reason to believe myselffar from a favorite. "

"Be that as it may, I consider the praise just, and his estimatecorrect, " replied Anton. 

"At all events, " said Fink, "it decides my fate. I shall now be what Ihave long wished, a landed proprietor on the other side of theAtlantic. And so, dear Anton, we must part, " he continued, holding outhis hand to his friend; "I had not thought the time would so soon come. But we shall meet again. "

"Possibly, " said Anton, sadly, holding the young nobleman's hand fondlyin his. "But now go to Mr. Schröter; he has the first claim to hearthis. "

"He knows it already; he has had a letter from my father. "

"The more reason why he should expect you. "

"You are right; let us go. "

Anton returned to his desk, and Fink went to the principal's littleoffice. The merchant came to meet him with a serious aspect; and, afterhaving expressed his sympathy, invited him to sit down, and quietly todiscuss his future prospects. 

Fink replied with the utmost courtesy: "My father's views for me--basedon your estimate--agree so well with my own wishes, that I must expressmy gratitude to you. Your opinion of me has been more favorable than Icould have ventured to expect. If, however, you have really beensatisfied with me, I should rejoice to hear it from your own lips. "

"I have not been entirely satisfied, Herr von Fink, " replied themerchant, with some reserve; "you were not in your proper place here. But that has not prevented my discerning that for other and more activepursuits you were eminently well fitted. You have, in a high degree, thefaculty of governing and arranging, and you possess uncommon energy ofwill. A desk in a counting-house is not the place for such a nature. "

Fink bowed. "Nevertheless, it was my duty, " said he, "to fill that placeproperly, and I own that I have not done so. "

"You came here unaccustomed to regular work, but during the last fewmonths you have differed but little from a really industriouscounting-house clerk. Hence my letter to your father. "

Fink rose, and the merchant accompanied him to the door, saying, "Yourdeparture will be a great loss to one of our friends. "

Fink abruptly stopped, and said, "Let him go with me to America. He iswell fitted to make his fortune there. "

"Have you spoken to him on the subject?"

"I have not. "

"Then I may state my opinion unreservedly. Wohlfart is young, and Ibelieve the defined and regular work of a house like this verydesirable discipline for him for some years to come. Meanwhile, I haveno right to sway his decision. I shall be sorry to lose him, but if hethinks he will make his fortune more rapidly with you, I have noobjection to make. "

"If you will allow me, I will ask him at once, " said Fink. 

Then calling Anton into the office, he went on to say, "Anton, I haverequested Mr. Schröter to allow you to accompany me. It will be a greatpoint to me to have you with me. You know how much attached to you I am;we will share my new career, and get on gloriously, and you shall fixyour own conditions. Mr. Schröter leaves you to decide. "

Anton stood for a moment thoughtful and perplexed; the future sosuddenly opened out to him looked fair and promising, but he sooncollected himself, and, turning to the principal, inquired, "Is it youropinion that I should do right to go?"

"I can not say it is, dear Wohlfart, " was the merchant's grave reply. 

"Then I remain, " said Anton, decidedly. "Do not be angry with me, Fritz, for not following you. I am an orphan, and have now no home but thishouse and this firm. If Mr. Schröter will keep me, I will remain withhim. "

Evidently touched by the words, the merchant replied: "Remember, however, that thus deciding you give up much. In my counting-house youcan neither become a rich man, nor have any experience of life on alarge and exciting scale; our business is limited, and the day may comewhen you will find this irksome. All that tends to your futureindependence, wealth, connections, and so forth, you will more readilysecure in America than with me. "

"My good father often used to say to me, 'Dwell in the land; and verilythou shalt be fed. ' I will live according to his wish, " said Anton, in avoice low with emotion. 

"He is, and always will be, a mere cit, " cried Fink, in a sort ofdespair. 

"I believe that this love of country is a very sound foundation for aman's fortune to rise upon, " said the merchant, and there was an end ofthe matter. 

Fink said nothing more about the proposal, and Anton tried, by countlesssmall attentions, to show his friend how dear he was to him, and howmuch he regretted his departure. 

That evening Fink said to Anton, "Hearken, my lad; I have a fancy totake a wife across with me. "

Anton looked at his friend in utter amazement, and, like one who hasreceived a great shock and wishes to conceal it often does, he inquired, in forced merriment, "What! you will actually ask Fräulein vonBaldereck--"

"That's not the quarter. What should I do with a woman whose onlythought would be how she could best amuse herself with her husband'smoney?"

"But who else can you be thinking of? Not of the ancient cousin of thehouse?"

"No, my fine fellow, but of the young lady of the house. "

"For Heaven's sake, no!" cried Anton, springing up; "that would, indeed, be a pretty business. "

"Why so?" was the cool reply. "Either she takes me, and I am a luckyman, or she takes me not, and I start without a wife. "

"But have you ever thought of it before?" inquired Anton, uneasily. 

"Sometimes--indeed often during the last year. She is the besthousewife, and the noblest, most unselfish creature in the world. "

Anton looked at his friend in growing astonishment. Not once had Finkgiven him the remotest hint of such a thing. 

"But you never told me of it. "

"Have you ever told me of your feelings for another young lady?" repliedFink, laughing. 

Anton blushed and was silent. 

"I think, " continued Fink, "that she does not dislike me; but whethershe will go with me or not I can not tell; however, we shall soon know, for I am going at once to ask her. "

Anton barred the way. "Once more I implore you to reflect upon what youare going to do. "

"What is there to reflect upon, you simple child?" laughed Fink; but anunusual degree of excitement was visible in his manner. 

"Do you then love Sabine?" asked Anton. 

"Another of your home questions, " replied Fink. "Yes, I do love her inmy own way. "

"And do you mean to take her into the back woods?"

"Yes; for she will be a high-hearted, strong-minded wife, and will givestability and worth to my life there. She is not fascinating--at leastone can't get on with her as readily as with many others; but if I am totake a wife, I need one who can look after me. Believe me, theblack-haired one is the very one to do that; and now let me go; I mustfind out how I stand. "

"Speak at least to the principal in the first instance, " cried Antonafter him. 

"First to herself, " cried Fink, rushing down the stairs. 

Anton paced up and down the room. All that Fink had said in praise ofSabine was true; that he warmly felt. He knew, too, how deep her feelingfor him was, and yet he foresaw that his friend would meet with somesecret obstacle or other. Then another thing displeased him. Fink hadonly spoken of himself; had he thought of her happiness in thematter--had he even felt what it would cost her to leave her belovedbrother, her country, and her home? True, Fink was the very man toscatter the blossoms of the New World profusely at her feet, but he wasalways restless; actively employed, would he have any sympathy for thefeelings of his German wife? And involuntarily our hero found himselftaking part against his friend, and deciding that Sabine ought not toleave the home and brother to whom she was so essential; and, absorbedin these thoughts, Anton paced up and down, anxious and heavy-hearted. It grew dark, and still Fink did not return. 

Meanwhile he was announced to Sabine. She came hurriedly to meet him, and her cheeks were redder than usual as she said, "My brother has toldme that you must leave us. "

Fink began in some agitation, "I must not, I can not leave withouthaving spoken openly to you. I came here without any interest in thequiet life to which I had been so unaccustomed. I have here learned theworth and the happiness of a German home. You I have ever honored as thegood spirit of the house. Soon after my arrival, you began to treat mewith a distance of manner which I have always lamented. I now come totell you how much my eyes and heart have clung to you. I feel that mylife would be a happy one if I could henceforth ever hear your voice, and if your spirit could accompany mine along the paths of my futurelife. "

Sabine became very pale, and retreated. "Say no more, Herr von Fink, "said she, imploringly, raising her hand unconsciously, as if to avertwhat she foresaw. 

"Nay, let me speak, " rapidly continued he. "I should consider it thegreatest happiness if I could take with me the conviction of not beingindifferent to you. I have not the audacity to ask you to follow me atonce into an uncertain life, but give me a hope that in a year I mayreturn and ask you to become my wife. "

"Do not return, " said Sabine, motionless as a statue, and in a voicescarcely audible; "I implore you to say no more. "

Her hands convulsively grasped the back of the chair next to her, and, supporting herself by it, she stood with bloodless cheeks, looking ather suitor through her tears with eyes so full of grief and tendernessthat the wild-hearted man before her was thoroughly overcome, and lostall self-confidence--nay, forgot his own cause in his distress at heremotion, and his anxiety to soothe it. 

"I grieve that I should thus have shocked you, " said he; "forgive me, Sabine. "

"Go! go!" implored Sabine, still standing as before. 

"Let me not part from you without some comfort; give me an answer; themost painful were better than this silence. "

"Then hear me, " said Sabine, with unnatural calmness, while her breastheaved and her hands trembled; "I loved you from the first day of yourarrival; like a childish girl, I listened with rapture to the tone ofyour voice, and was fascinated by all your lips uttered; but I haveconquered the feeling. I have conquered it, " she repeated. "I dare notbe yours, for I should be miserable. "

"But why--why?" inquired Fink, in genuine despair. 

"Do not ask me, " said Sabine, scarce audibly. 

"I must hear my sentence from your own lips, " cried Fink. 

"You have played with your own life and with the life of others; youwould always be unsparing in carrying out your plans; you wouldundertake what was great and noble--that I believe--but you would notshrink from the sacrifice of individuals. I can not bear such a spirit. You would be kind to me--that, too, I believe; you would make as manyallowances for me as you could, but you would always have to make them:that would become burdensome to you, and I should be alone--alone in aforeign land. I am weak, spoiled, bound by a hundred ties to the customsof this house, to the little domestic duties of every day, and to mybrother's life. "

Fink looked down darkly. "You are punishing severely in this hour allthat you have disapproved in me hitherto. "

"No, " cried Sabine, holding out her hand, "not so, my friend. If therehave been hours in which you have pained me, there have been others inwhich I have looked up to you in admiration; and this is the very reasonthat keeps us apart forever. I can never be at rest near you; I amconstantly tossed from one extreme of feeling to another; I am not sureof you, nor ever should be. I should have to conceal this inwardconflict in a relation where my whole nature ought to be open to you, and you would find that out, and would be angry with me. "

She gave him her hand. Fink bent low over the little hand, and pressed akiss upon it. 

"Blessings on your future!" said Sabine, trembling all over. "If everyou have spent a happy hour among us, oh! think of it when far away. Ifever in the German merchant's house, in the career of my brother, youhave found any thing to respect, think, oh! think of it in that farcountry. In the different life that awaits you, in the greatenterprises, the wild struggles that you will engage in, never thinkslightly of us and of our quiet ways;" and she held her left hand overhis head, like an anxious mother blessing her parting darling. 

Fink pressed her right hand firmly in his own; both looked long intoeach other's eyes, and both faces were pale. At last Fink said, in hisdeep, melodious voice, "Fare you well!"

"Fare you well!" replied she, so low that he hardly caught the words. Hewalked slowly away, while she looked after him motionless, as one whowatches the vanishing of an apparition. 

When the merchant, after the close of his day's work, went into hissister's room, Sabine flew to meet him, and, clasping him in her arms, laid her head on his breast. 

"What is it, my child?" inquired he, anxiously stroking back her hairfrom her damp brow. 

"Fink has been with me; I have been speaking with him. "

"About what? Has he been disagreeable? Has he made you an offer?" askedthe merchant, in jest. 

"He has made me an offer, " said Sabine. 

Her brother started: "And you, my sister?"

"I have done what you might expect me to do--I shall not see him again. "

Tears started at the words; she took her brother's hand and kissed it. 

"Do not be angry with me for weeping. I am still a little shaken: itwill soon pass. "

"My precious sister--dear, dear Sabine!" cried the merchant; "I can notbut fear that you thought of me when you refused. "

"I thought of you and of your self-sacrificing, duty-loving life, andhis bright form lost the fair colors in which I had once seen itclothed. "

"Sabine, you have made a sacrifice for my sake, " cried her brother. 

"No, Traugott; if this has been a sacrifice, I have made it to the homewhere I have grown up under your care, and to the memory of our goodparents, whose blessing rests on our quiet life. "

It was late when Fink re-entered Anton's room; he looked heated, threwhis hat on the table, himself on the sofa, and said to his friend, "Before any thing else, give me a cigar. "

Anton shook his head as he reached him a bundle, and asked, "How haveyou fared?"

"No wedding to be, " coolly returned Fink. "She plainly showed me that Iwas a good for nothing sort of fellow, and no match for a sensible girl. She took the matter rather too seriously, assured me of her regard, gaveme a sketch of my character, and dismissed me. But, hang me!" cried he, springing up, and throwing away his cigar, "if she be not the best soulthat ever preached virtue in a petticoat. She has only one fault, thatof not choosing to marry me; and even there she is right. "

Fink's strange bearing made Anton feel anxious. 

"Why have you been so long away, and where have you been?" said he. 

"Not to the wine-shop, as your wisdom seems to surmise. If a man berefused, he has surely a good right to be melancholy for a couple ofhours or so. I have done what any one would in such desperatecircumstances. I have walked about and philosophized. I have quarreledwith the world--that is to say, with the black-haired and myself--andthen ended by standing still before a lamp-lit stall, and buying threeoranges. " So saying, he drew them out of his pocket. "And now, my son, the past is over and gone; let us speak of the future: this is the lastevening that we shall spend together; let no cloud hang over ourspirits. Make me a glass of punch, and squeeze these fat fellows in. Orange-punch-making is one of the accomplishments you owe to me. Itaught it you, and now the rogue makes it better than I do. Come and sitdown beside me. "

The next morning old Sturm himself came to carry off the luggage. Finktook Anton's hand, and said, "Before I go through my leave-taking of allthe others, I repeat to you what I said in our early days. Go on withyour English, that you may come after me. And be I where I may, in loghut or cabin, I shall always have a room ready for you. As soon as youare tired of this Old World, come to me. Meanwhile, I make you my heir;you will take possession of my rooms. For the rest, be perfectly surethat I have done with all bad ways. And now--no emotion, my boy!--thereare no great distances nowadays on our little earth. " He tore himselfaway, hurried into the counting-house, returned, bowed to the ladies atthe window, clasped his friend once more to his heart, leaped into thecarriage, and away--away to the New World. 

Meanwhile Anton mournfully returned to the office, and wrote a letter toHerr Stephan in Wolfsburg, inclosing that worthy man a new price currentand several samples of sugar. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A bad year came upon the country. A sudden rumor of war alarmed theGerman borderers in the east, and our province among the rest. Thefearful consequences of a national panic were soon perceptible. Tradestood still; the price of goods fell. Every one was anxious to realizeand withdraw from business, and large sums embarked in mercantilespeculations became endangered. No one had heart for new ventures. Hundreds of ties, woven out of mutual interest, and having endured foryears, were snapped at once. Each individual existence became moreinsecure, isolated, and poor. On all sides were anxious faces andfurrowed brows. The country was out of health; money, the vital blood ofbusiness, circulated slowly from one part of the great body to theother--the rich fearing to lose, the poor becoming unable to win. Thefuture was overcast all at once, like the summer sky by a heavy storm. 

That word of terror, "Revolution in Poland!" was not without seriouseffects in Germany. The people on the other side of the frontier, excited by old memories and by their landed proprietors, rose, and, ledby fanatical preachers, marched up and down the frontier, falling upontravelers and merchandise, plundering and burning small towns andnoblemen's seats, and aiming at a military organization under thecommand of their favorite leaders. Arms were forged, old fowling-piecesproduced from many a hiding-place; and, finally, the insurgents took andoccupied a large Polish town not far from the frontier, and proclaimedtheir independent national existence. Troops were then assembled in allhaste by government, and sent to invest the frontier. Trains filled withsoldiers were incessantly running up and down the newly-constructedrailway. The streets of the capital were filled with uniforms, and thedrum every where heard. The army, of course, was all at once in theascendant. The officers ran here and there, full of business, buyingmaps, and drinking toasts in all sorts of wines. The soldiers wrote hometo get money if possible, and to send more or less loving greetings totheir sweethearts. Numberless young clerks grew pale; numberless mothersknit strong stockings through their tears, and providently made lint fortheir poor sons; numberless fathers spoke with an unsteady voice of theduty of fighting for king and country, and braced themselves up byremembering the damage they had in their day done to that wickedNapoleon. 

It was on a sunny autumn morning that the first positive intelligence ofthe Polish insurrection reached the capital. Dark rumors had indeedexcited the inhabitants on the previous evening, and crowds of anxiousmen of business and scared idlers were crowding the railway terminus. Nosooner was the office of T. O. Schröter open, than in rushed Mr. Braun, the agent, and breathlessly related (not without a certain inwardcomplacency, such as the possessor of the least agreeable newsinvariably betrays) that the whole of Poland and Galicia, as well asseveral border provinces, were in open insurrection, numerous quietcommercial travelers and peaceable officials surprised and murdered, andnumerous towns set fire to. 

This intelligence threw Anton into the greatest consternation, and withgood cause. A short time before, an enterprising Galician merchant hadundertaken to dispatch an unusually large order to the firm; and, as isthe custom of the country, he had already received the largest part ofthe sum due to him for it (nearly twenty thousand dollars) in othergoods. The wagons that were to bring the merchandise must now, Antonreckoned, be just in the heart of the disturbed district. Moreover, another caravan, laden with colonial produce, and on its way to Galicia, must be on the very confines of the enemy's land. And, what was stillworse, a large portion of the business of the house, and of the creditgranted it, was carried on in, and depended upon, this very part of thecountry. Much--nay, every thing, he apprehended, would be endangered bythis war. So he rushed up to his principal, met him coming down, andhastily related the news just heard; while Mr. Braun hurried to delivera second edition in the office, with as many further particulars as werecompatible with his love of truth. 

The principal remained for a moment silent where he stood, and Anton, who was watching him anxiously, fancied that he looked a shade palerthan usual; but that must have been a mistake, for the next moment, directing his attention to the porters beyond, he called out, in thecool, business-like tone which had so often impressed Anton withrespect, "Sturm, be good enough to remove that barrel: it's in the verymiddle of the way; and bestir yourselves, all of you; the carrier willset out in an hour. " To which Sturm, with a sorrowful look upon hisbroad face, replied, "The drums are beating, and our men marching off. My Karl is there as a hussar, with gay lace on his little coat. It isunlucky, indeed. Alas for our wares, Mr. Schröter!"

"Make the more haste on that account, " replied the principal, smiling. "Our wagons are going to the frontier too, laden with sugar and rum; oursoldiers will be glad of a glass of punch in the cold weather. " Thenturning to Anton, he said, "These tidings are not satisfactory, but wemust not believe all we hear. " And then, going into his office, he spokerather more cheerfully than usual to Mr. Braun; and, having quietlyheard his whole story, made a few comforting observations as to theprobability of the wagons not having yet reached the frontier. 

And so the great subject of interest was laid aside for the day, andoffice-work went on as usual. Mr. Liebold wrote down large sums in hisledger; Mr. Purzel piled dollar on dollar; and Mr. Pix wielded the blackbrush and governed the servants with his wonted decision. At dinner theconversation was as calm and cheerful as ever; and after it, theprincipal went out walking with his sister and a few ladies of hisacquaintance, while all business men who met him exclaimed in amazement, "He goes out walking to-day! As usual, he has known it all before therest of us. He has a good head of his own. The house is a solid house. All honor to him!"

Anton sat all day at his desk in a state of nervous excitement till thenunknown to him. He was full of anxiety and suspense, and yet there wassomething of enjoyment in his feelings. He was keenly alive to thedanger in which his principal and the business were placed, but he wasno longer dejected or spiritless--nay, he felt every faculty enhanced;never had he written so easily; never had his style been so' clear, orhis calculations so rapidly made. He remarked that Mr. Schröter movedwith a quicker step, and looked round with a brighter glance than usual. Never had Anton so honored him before; he seemed, as it were, transfigured in his eyes. In wild delight, our hero said to himself, "This is poetry--the poetry of business; we can only experience thisthrilling sense of power and energy in working our way against thestream. When people say that these times are wanting in inspiration, andour calling wanting most of all, they talk nonsense. That man is at thisvery moment staking all he has at a single cast--all that he holdsdearest, the result of a long life, his pride, his honor, his happiness;and there he sits coolly at his desk, writes letters about logwood, andexamines samples of clover-seed--nay, I believe that he actually laughswithin himself. " So mused Anton while locking up his desk and preparingto join his colleagues. He found them discussing, over a cup of tea, thenews of the day, and its probable effect upon business, with a pleasantsort of shudder. All agreed that the firm must indeed suffer loss, butthat they were the men to retrieve it sooner than ever was done before. Various views were then propounded, till at length Mr. Jordan pronouncedthat it was impossible to know beforehand what turn things would take, which profound opinion was generally adopted, and the conference brokeup. Through the thin wall of his room Anton heard his neighbor Baumannput up a fervent prayer for the principal and the business, and hehimself worked off his excitement by walking up and down till his lampburned low. 

It was already late when a servant noiselessly entered, and announcedthat Mr. Schröter wished to speak to him. Anton followed in all haste, and found the merchant standing before a newly-packed trunk, with hisportfolio on the table, together with that unmistakable symptom of along journey, his great English cigar-case of buffalo hide. It containeda hundred cigars, and had long excited the admiration of Mr. Specht. Indeed, the whole counting-house viewed it as a sort of banner neverdisplayed but on remarkable occasions. Sabine stood at the open drawersof the writing-table, busily and silently collecting whatever thetraveler might want. The merchant advanced to meet Anton, and kindlyapologized for having summoned him so late, adding that he had notexpected him to be still up. 

When Anton replied that he was far too excited to sleep, such a ray ofgratitude for his sympathy shone from Sabine's eyes that our hero wasmightily moved, and did not trust himself to speak. 

The principal, however, smiled. "You are still young, " he said;"composure will come by-and-by. It will be necessary that I go and lookafter our merchandise to-morrow. I hear that the Poles show specialconsideration to our countrymen; possibly they imagine that ourgovernment is not disaffected toward them. This illusion can not lastlong; but there will be no harm in our trying to turn it to advantagefor the safety of our goods. You have conducted the correspondence, andknow all that is to be done for me. I shall travel to the frontier, and, when there, shall decide what steps should next be taken. "

Sabine listened in the utmost excitement, and tried to read in herbrother's face whether he was keeping back any thing out ofconsideration for her. Anton understood it all. The merchant was goingover the frontier into the very heart of the insurrection. 

"Can I not go in your stead?" said he, imploringly. "I feel, indeed, that I have hitherto given you no grounds for trusting me in soimportant an affair, but, at least, I will exert myself to the utmost, Mr. Schröter. " Anton's face glowed as he spoke. 

"That is kindly said, and I thank you, " replied the principal; "but Ican not accept your offer. The expedition may have its difficulties, andas the profits will be mine, it is but fair that the trouble should beso too. " Anton hung his head. "On the contrary, I purpose leavingdefinite instructions with you, in case of my not being able to returnthe day after to-morrow. "

Sabine, who had been anxiously listening, now seized her brother's hand, and whispered, "Take him with you. "

This support gave Anton fresh courage. "If you do not choose to send mealone, at least allow me to accompany you; possibly I may be of someuse; at least I would most gladly be so. "

"Take him with you, " again implored Sabine. 

The merchant slowly looked from his sister to Anton's honest face, whichwas glowing with youthful zeal, and replied, "Be it so, then. If Ireceive the letters I expect, you will accompany me to-morrow to thefrontier; and now good-night. "

The following morning, Anton, who had thrown himself ready dressed onthe bed, was awakened by a slight knock. "The letters are come, sir. "And, hurrying into the office, he found the principal and Mr. Jordanalready there, engaged in earnest conversation, which the former merelyinterrupted for a moment by the words "We go. " Never had Anton knockedat so many doors, run so quickly up and down stairs, and so heartilyshaken the hands of his colleagues, as in the course of the next hour. As he hurried along the dim corridor, he heard a slight rustling. Sabinestepped toward him and seized hold of his hand. "Wohlfart, protect mybrother. " Anton promised, with inexpressible readiness, to do so; feltfor his loaded pistols, a present from Mr. Fink, and jumped into therailway carriage with the most blissful feelings a youthful hero couldpossibly have. He was bent on adventure, proud of the confidence of hisprincipal, and exalted to the utmost by the tender relation into whichhe had entered with the divinity of the firm. He was indeed happy. 

The engine puffed and snorted across the wide plain like a horse fromBeelzebub's stables. There were soldiers in all the carriages--bayonetsand helmets shining every where; at all the stations, crowds of curiousinquirers, hasty questions and answers, fearful rumors, and marvelousfacts. Anton was glad when they left the railroad and the soldiers, andposted on to the frontier in a light carriage: The high road was quiet, less frequented indeed than usual, but when they drew near the borderthey repeatedly met small detachments of military. The merchant did notsay any thing to Anton about the business in hand, but spoke with muchanimation on every other subject, and treated his traveling companionwith confidential cordiality. Only he showed an aversion to Anton'spistols, which a little damped the latter's martial ardor; for when, atthe second station, he carefully drew them out of his pocket to examinetheir condition, Mr. Schröter pointed toward their brown muzzles, saying, "I do not think we shall succeed in getting back our goods bydint of pocket pistols. Are they loaded?"

Anton bowed assent, adding, with a last remnant of martial vanity, "Theyare at full cock. "

"Really!" said the principal, seriously, taking them out of Anton'spocket, and then calling to the postillion to hold his horses, he coollyshot off both barrels, remarking good-naturedly as he returned thepistols to their owner, "It is better to confine ourselves to ouraccustomed weapons: we are men of peace, and only want our own propertyrestored to us. If we can not succeed in convincing others of ourrights, there is no help for it. Plenty of powder will be shot away tono purpose--plenty of efforts without result, and expenditure which onlytends to impoverish. There is no race so little qualified to makeprogress, and to gain civilization and culture in exchange for capital, as the Slavonic. All that those people yonder have in their idlenessacquired by the oppression of the ignorant masses they waste in foolishdiversions. With us, only a few of the specially privileged classes actthus, and the nation can bear with it if necessary; but there, theprivileged classes claim to represent the people. As if nobles and merebondsmen could ever form a state! They have no more capacity for it thanthat flight of sparrows on the hedge. The worst of it is that we mustpay for their luckless attempt. "

"They have no middle class, " rejoined Anton, proudly. 

"In other words, they have no culture, " continued the merchant; "and itis remarkable how powerless they are to generate the class whichrepresents civilization and progress, and exalts an aggregate ofindividual laborers into a state. "

"In the town before us, however, " suggested Anton, "there is ConradGaultier, and the house of the three Hildebrands in Galicia as well. "

"Worthy people, " agreed the merchant, "but they are all merely settlers, and the honorable burgher-class feeling has no root here, and seldomgoes down to a second generation. What is here called a city is a mereshadow of ours, and its citizens have hardly any of those qualitieswhich with us characterize commercial men--the first class in thestate. "

"The first?" said Anton, doubtingly. 

"Yes, dear Wohlfart, the first. Originally individuals were free, and, in the main, equal; then came the semi-barbarism of the privileged idlerand the laboring bondsman. It is only since the growth of our largetowns that the world boasts civilized states--only since then is theproblem solved which proves that free labor alone makes national lifenoble, secure, and permanent. "

Toward evening our travelers reached the frontier station. It was asmall village, consisting, in addition to the custom-house and thedwellings of the officials, of only a few poor cottages and a publichouse. On the open space between the houses, and round about thevillage, bivouacked two squadrons of cavalry, who had posted themselvesalong the narrow river that defined the border, and who were appointedto guard it in company with a detachment of riflemen. The public housepresented a scene of wild confusion: soldiers moving to and fro, andsitting cheek by jowl in the little parlor; gay hussars and green coatscamped round the house on chairs, tables, barrels, and every thing thatcould by any contrivance be converted into a seat. They appeared toAnton so many Messrs. Pix, such was the peremptoriness with which theydisposed of the little inn and its contents. The Jew landlord receivedthe well-known merchant with a loud welcome, and his zeal was such thathe actually cleared out a small room for the travelers, where they couldat least spend the night alone. 

The merchant had scarcely dismounted when half a dozen men surroundedhim with shouts of joy. They were the drivers of the wagons that hadbeen recently expedited. The oldest of their party related that, whenjust beyond the frontier, they had been induced to make a hasty retreatby the alarming spectacle of a body of armed peasants. In turning round, the wheel of the last wagon had come off; the driver, in his fright, hadunharnessed the horses and left the wagon. While the delinquent stoodthere, flourishing his hat in the air, and excusing himself as well ashe could, the officer in command came up and confirmed the story. 

"You may see the wagon on the road, about a hundred yards beyond thebridge, " he went on to say; and when the merchant begged leave to crossthe bridge, he offered to send one of his officers with him. 

A young officer belonging to a squadron just returned from a patrol wascurbing his fiery steed at the door of the tavern. 

"Lieutenant von Rothsattel, " called the captain, "accompany thegentlemen beyond the bridge. "

It was with rapture that Anton heard a name linked with so many sweetrecollections. He knew at once that the rider of the fiery charger couldbe no other than the brother of his lady of the lake. 

The lieutenant, tall and slender, with a delicate mustache, was as likehis sister as a young cavalry officer could be to the fairest of allmortal maidens. Anton felt at once a warm and respectful regard for him, which was perhaps discernible in his bow, for the young gentlemanacknowledged it by a careless inclination of his small head. His horsewent prancing on by the side of the merchant and his clerk. They hurriedto the middle of the bridge, and looked eagerly along the road. Therelay the colossal wagon, like a wounded white elephant resting on oneknee. 

"A short time ago it had not been plundered, " said the lieutenant; "thecanvas was stretched quite tightly over it; but they have been at itnow, for I see a corner fluttering. "

"There does not appear to have been much mischief done, " replied theprincipal. 

"If you could get over a wheel and a pair of horses, you might carry offthe whole affair, " replied the lieutenant, carelessly. "Our men have hada great hankering after it all day. They were very anxious to ascertainwhether there was any thing drinkable in it or not. Were it not that weare commanded not to cross the borders, it would be a mere trifle tobring the wagon here, if the commanding officer allowed you to pass thesentinels, and if you could manage those fellows yonder. " So saying, hepointed to a crowd of peasants, who were camping behind some stuntedwillows just out of reach of shot, and who had stationed an armed man onthe high road as sentinel. 

"We will fetch the wagon if the officer in command permit us to do so, "said the principal. "I hope we may find a way of dealing with thosepeople yonder. "

Meanwhile Anton could not refrain from murmuring, "The whole day longthese gentlemen have allowed two thousand dollars' worth to lie there onthe highway; they have had plenty of time to get back the wagon for us. "

"We must not be unreasonable in our demands upon the army, " replied themerchant, with a smile. "We shall be satisfied if they only allow us torescue our property from those boors;" and, accordingly, they turnedback to make their wishes known to the captain. 

"If you can find men and horses, I have nothing to object, " replied he. 

As soon as the wagoners were reassembled, the principal inquired whichof them would accompany him, engaging to make good any harm that mighthappen to the horses. 

After some scratching and shaking of their heads, most of them declaredtheir willingness to go. Four horses were speedily harnessed, a child'ssledge belonging to the landlord produced, a wheel and some leversplaced thereon, and then the little caravan set off in the direction ofthe bridge, pursued by the jocular approbation of the soldiers, andaccompanied by some of the officers, who showed as much interest in theexpedition as comported with their martial dignity. 

On the bridge the captain said, "I wish you success, but unfortunately Iam unable to send any of my men to assist you. "

"It is better as it is, " answered the principal, bowing; "we willproceed to recover our goods like peaceable people, and while we do notfear those gentry yonder, we do not wish to provoke them. Be so good, Mr. Wohlfart, as to leave your pistols behind you; we must show thesearmed men that we have nothing to do with war and its apparatus. "

Anton had replaced his pistols in his pocket, whence they peeped outwith an air of defiance, but now he gave them to a soldier called byLieutenant von Rothsattel. And so they crossed the bridge, at the end ofwhich the lieutenant reluctantly reined up his charger, muttering, "These grocers march into the enemy's country before us;" while thecaptain called out, "Should your persons be in danger, I shall notconsider it any departure from duty to send Lieutenant Rothsattel and afew soldiers to your aid. " The lieutenant rushed back and gave the wordof command to his troop, which was not far off, to sit still, and thenhe dashed again to the end of the bridge, and watched with greatinterest and warlike impatience the progress of the grocers, as hecalled them. To his and his country's honor, be it here said, that theyall alike wished the poor civilians a warm reception, and some seriousinconvenience, that they might have a right to interfere, and cut andhack a little on their behalf. 

Meanwhile, the march of the merchants into the enemy's country hadnothing very imposing about it; lighting his cigar, and walking with abrisk step, the principal went on, Anton close by his side, and behindthem three stout wagoners with the horses. When they had got withinabout thirty yards of certain peasants in white smock frocks, thesebrandished their weapons, and cried out to them in Polish to halt. 

The principal, raising his voice, addressed them in their own tongue, desiring that they would call their leader. 

Accordingly, some of the savages began by wild gesticulations tocommunicate with their companions at a distance, while others heldtheir weapons in readiness, and aimed, as Anton remarked without anyparticular satisfaction, pretty exactly at him. Meanwhile the leader ofthe band advanced with long strides. He wore a blue coat with coloredlace, a square red cap trimmed with gray fur, and he carried a wild-duckgun in his hand. He seemed a dark-hued fellow, of a formidable aspect, enhanced by a long black mustache falling down on each side of hismouth. As soon as he came near, the merchant addressed him in a loudvoice, and rather imperfect Polish. "We are strangers. I am the owner ofthat wagon yonder, and am come to fetch it; tell your people to help me, and I will give them a good gratuity. " At which word all the weaponswere reverentially lowered. The chief of the krakuse, or irregulars, nowplaced himself pathetically in the middle of the highway, and began along oration, accompanied by much action, of which Anton understood verylittle, and his principal not all, but which, being interpreted by oneof the wagoners, was found to signify that the leader much regretted hisinability to serve the gentlemen, as he had received orders from thecorps stationed behind him to keep watch over the wagon till the horsesshould arrive which were to take it to the nearest town. 

The merchant merely shook his head, and replied, in a tone of quietcommand, "That won't do. The wagon is mine, and I must carry it off. Ican not wait the permission of your expected wagoners;" and, putting hishand into his pocket, he displayed to the owner of the blue coat half adozen shining dollars, unseen by the rest. "So much for you, and as muchfor your people. " The leader looked at the dollars, scratched his headvehemently, and turned his cap round and round; the result of which was, that he at last arrived at the conclusion that, since things stood thus, the worthy gentleman might drive off his wagon. 

The procession now triumphantly proceeded; the drivers seized thelevers, and, by their united efforts, raised the fallen side, detachedthe fragments of the broken wheel, put on the new one, and harnessed thehorses; and all this with the active assistance of some of the peasants, and the brotherly support of their commandant, who himself wielded alever. Then the horses were set off with a good will, and the wagonrolled on toward the bridge amid the loud acclamations of the krakuse, which were perhaps intended to drown a dissentient voice in hisinnermost breast. 

"Go on with the wagon, " said the merchant to Anton; and when the latterhesitated to leave his principal alone with the boors, the command wasstill more peremptorily repeated. And so the wagon slowly progressedtoward the frontier; and Anton already heard from a distance thelaughing greetings of the soldiers. 

Meanwhile the merchant remained in animated conversation with thepeasant band, and at length parted on the best possible terms with theinsurgents' leader, who, with true Slavonic politeness, acted the partof landlord on the public road, and, cap in hand, accompanied thetravelers till within gunshot of the military on the bridge. Theprincipal got into the wagon, underwent the warlike ceremonial of"Halt!" &c. , on the part of the sentinels, and received the smilingcongratulations of the captain, while the lieutenant said satirically toAnton, "You have had no cause to lament the want of your pocketpistols. "

"All the better, " answered Anton; "it was a tame affair indeed. The poordevils had stolen nothing but a small cask of rum. "

An hour later, the travelers were sitting with the officers of bothregiments, in the little tavern parlor, over a bottle of old Tokay, which the host had disinterred from the lowest depths of his cellar. Notthe least happy of the party was Anton. For the first time in his lifehe had experienced one of the small perils of war, and was, on thewhole, pleased with the part he had played; and now he was sitting by ayoung soldier, whom he was prepared to admire to the utmost, and had theprivilege of offering him his cigars, and discussing with him the day'sadventures. 

"The boors pointed their guns at you at first, " said the young nobleman, carelessly curling his mustache; "you must have found that a bore. "

"Not much of one, " replied Anton, as coolly as he could. "For a moment Ifelt startled as I saw the guns aimed at me, and behind them men withscythes, pantomiming the cutting off of heads. It struck meuncomfortably at first that all the muzzles should point so directly atmy face; afterward I had to work away at the wagon, and thought no moreabout it; and when, on our return, each of our wagoners affirmed thatthe guns had pointed at him and no one else, I came to the conclusionthat this many-sidedness must be part of the idiosyncrasy of guns--asort of optical unmannerliness that does not mean much. "

"We should soon have cut you out if the peasants had been in earnest, "replied the lieutenant, benevolently. "Your cigars are remarkably good. "

Anton was rejoiced to hear it, and filled his neighbor's glass. And sohe entertained himself, and looked at his principal, who seemed to beunusually inclined to converse with the gay gentlemen around him on allsubjects connected with peace and war. Anton remarked that he treatedthe officers with a degree of formal politeness, which considerablychecked the free and easy tone which they had at first adopted. Theconversation soon became general, and all listened with attention to themerchant while he spoke of the disturbed districts, with which formerjourneys had made him familiar, and sketched some of the leaders of theinsurrection. Young Von Rothsattel alone, to Anton's great distress, didnot seem to like the attention lent by his comrades to the civilian, northe lion's share of the conversation conceded him. He threw himselfcarelessly back on his chair, looked absently at the ceiling, playedwith his sword-hilt, and uttered curt observations, intended to denotethat he was not a little bored. When the captain mentioned that heexpected their commander-in-chief to arrive in the morning, and themerchant said in reply, "Your colonel will not be here till to-morrowevening, so at least he said to me when I met him at the station, " thedemon of pride in the young officer's breast became uncontrollable, andhe rudely said, "You know our colonel, then? I suppose he buys his teaand sugar from you. "

"At all events, he used to do so, " politely replied the merchant;"indeed, as a younger man, I have sometimes weighed out coffee for himmyself. "

A certain degree of embarrassment now arose among the officers, and oneof the elder attempted, according to his light, to rectify theintentional rudeness by saying something about a most highly-respectableestablishment where civilians or military alike might procure, withperfect satisfaction, whatever they needed. 

"I thank you, captain, for the confidence you repose in my house, "replied the merchant, with a smile, "and I am indeed proud that itshould have become respectable through my own active exertions and thoseof my firm. "

"Lieutenant Rothsattel, you head the next patrol; it is time that youshould set out, " said the captain. Accordingly, with clink and clatter, the lieutenant rose. 

"Here comes our landlord with a new bottle on which he sets great value;it is the best wine in his cellar. May not Herr von Rothsattel take aglass of it before he goes to watch over our night's rest?" inquired themerchant, with calm politeness. 

The young man haughtily thanked him and clattered out of the room. Antoncould have thrashed his new favorite with all his heart. 

It was now late; and Anton saw, with some astonishment, that themerchant still continued with the utmost politeness to play the host, and to evince a pleasure in every fresh experience of the Tokay not easyto reconcile with the purpose of his journey. At last, another bottlehaving been uncorked, and the captain having taken and commenced a freshcigar of the merchant's, the latter casually observed, "I wish to travelto the insurgent capital to-morrow, and request your permission, if itbe necessary. "

"You do!" cried all the officers round the table. 

"I must!" said the merchant, gravely, and proceeded briefly to state thereasons for his resolve. 

The captain shook his head. "It is true, " said he, "that the exact termsin which my orders are couched leave it optional whether I bar thefrontier against all alike, but yet the chief aim of our occupying thisposition is the closing up of the disturbed district. "

"Then I must make known my wishes to the commander-in-chief; but thiswill delay me more than a day, and this delay will very probably defeatthe whole object of my journey. As you have kindly informed me, therestill exists a certain degree of order among the insurgents, but it isimpossible to say how long this may last. Now it is upon the existenceof this very order that I must depend for the recovery of my property, for I can only get the loaded wagons out of the town with the consent ofthe revolutionary party. "

"And do you hope to obtain it?"

"I must endeavor to do so, " was the reply; "at all events, I shalloppose might and main the plundering and destroying of my goods. "

The captain mused a while. "Your plans, " said he, "place me in a strait;if any harm should befall you, which is, I fear, only too likely, Ishall be reproached for having allowed you to cross the frontier. Cannothing persuade you to give up this undertaking?"

"Nothing, " said the merchant--"nothing but the law of the land. "

"Are the wagons, then, of such consequence to you, that you are willingto risk your life for them?" asked the captain, rather morosely. 

"Yes, captain, of as much consequence as the doing your duty is to you. To me their safety involves far more than mere mercantile profit. I mustcross the frontier unless prevented by a positive prohibition. That Ishould not actually resist, but I should do all in my power to have anexception made in my favor. "

"Very good, " said the captain; "I will lay no hinderance in your way;you will give me your word of honor that you will disclose nothingwhatever as to the strength of our position, the arrangement of ourtroops, or as to what you have heard of our intended movements. "

"I pledge my word, " said the merchant. 

"Your character is sufficient guarantee that your intentions in takingthis journey are upright; but officially I could wish to see the papersconnected with it, if you have them by you. "

"Here they are, " said the merchant, in the same business-like tone. "There is my passport for a year, here the bill of goods of the Polishseller, the copies of my letters to the custom-house officer, and thereplies to them. "

The captain glanced over the papers, and gave them back. "You are abrave man, and I heartily wish you success, " said he, in a dignifiedtone. "How do you mean to travel?"

"With post-horses. If I can not hire, I shall buy, and drive themmyself. Our host will let me have a carriage, and I shall set outto-morrow morning, as I might cause more suspicion traveling by night. "

"Very well, then, I shall see you again at break of day. I believe thatwe ourselves are to move over into the enemy's country in three days'time; and if I hear no tidings from you in the mean time, I shall lookyou out in the conquered city. We must disperse, gentlemen; we havealready sat here too long. "

The officers then retired with clank of arms, and Anton and hisprincipal remained alone with the empty bottles. The merchant opened thewindow, and then turning to Anton, who had listened to the foregoingconversation in the greatest excitement, began, "We must part here, dearWohlfart--"

Before he could finish his sentence Anton caught hold of his hand, andsaid, with tears in his eyes, "Let me go with you; do not send me backto the firm. I should reproach myself intolerably my whole life throughif I had left you on this journey. "

"It would be useless, perhaps unwise, that you should accompany me. Ican perfectly well do alone all that has to be done; and if there be anyrisk to run, which, however, I do not believe, your presence could notprotect me, and I should only have the painful feeling of havingendangered another for my sake. "

"Still, I should be very grateful to you if you would take me with you, "urged Anton; "and Miss Sabine wished it too, " added he, wisely keepinghis strongest argument for the last. 

"She is a terrible girl, " said the merchant, with a smile. "Well, then, so let it be. We will go together; call the landlord, and let us makeall our traveling arrangements. "

CHAPTER XX. 

It was still night when Anton stepped over the threshold of the tavern. A thick cloud hung over the plain. A red glare on the horizon marked thedistrict through which the travelers had to pass. The mist of nightcovered, with a gray veil, a dark mass on the ground. Anton went nearer, and found that it consisted of men, women, and children, cowering on theearth, pale, hungry, and emaciated. "They are from the village on theother side of the boundary, " explained an old watchman, who stoodwrapped in his cavalry cloak. "Their village was on fire; they had runinto the forest, and during the night they had come down to the river, stretching out their hands, and crying piteously for bread. As they weremostly women and children, our captain allowed them to cross, and hashad a few loaves cut up for them. They are half famished. After themcame larger bodies, all crying 'Bread! bread!' and wringing their hands. We fired off a few pistol-shots over their heads, and soon scatteredthem. "

"Ha!" said Anton, "this is a poor prospect for us and our journey. Butwhat will become of these unfortunate creatures?"

"They are only border rascals, " said the watchman, soothingly. "Halfthe year they smuggle and swill, the other half they starve. They arefreezing a little just now. "

"Could one not have a caldron full of soup made for them?" inquiredAnton, compassionately, putting his hand into his pocket. 

"Why soup?" replied the other, coldly; "a drink of brandy would pleasethe whole fry better. Over there they all drink brandy, even the childat the breast; if you are inclined to spend something upon them in thatway, I'll give it out, not forgetting a loyal old soldier at the sametime. "

"I will request the landlord to have something warm got ready for them, and you will have the goodness to see that it is all right. " And againAnton's hand went into his pocket, and the watchman promised to keep hiswarlike heart open to compassion. 

An hour later the travelers were rolling along in an open britzska. Themerchant drove; Anton sat behind him, and looked eagerly out into thesurrounding landscape, where, through darkness and mist, a few detachedobjects were just beginning to appear. When they had driven about twohundred yards, they heard a Polish call. The merchant stopped, and asingle man cautiously approached. "Come up, my good friend, " said themerchant; "sit here by me. " The stranger politely took off his cap, andswung himself up to the driving-box. He turned out to be the chiefkrakuse of the day before--the man with the drooping mustache. 

"Keep an eye on him, " said the merchant in English to Anton; "he shallserve us as a safe-conduct, and be paid for it too; but if he touchesme, lay hold of him from behind. "

Anton took his despised pistols out of an old leathern pouch on one sideof the carriage, and, in sight of the krakuse, arranged themostentatiously in the pocket of his paletot. But the latter only smiled, and soon showed himself a creature of a friendly and social nature, nodding confidentially to both travelers, drinking some mouthfuls out ofAnton's traveling flask, trying to keep up, over his left shoulder, aconversation with him, calling him "your grace" in broken German, andgiving him to understand that he too smoked, though he did not happen tohave any tobacco. At last he requested the honor of driving thegentlemen. 

In this manner they passed a group of fallen houses, which lay on a flatclose to a marsh, looking like giant fungi that had shot up on amalarian soil, when they suddenly found themselves surrounded by a bandof insurgents. It was a general levy, such as they had seen the daybefore. There were flails in abundance, a few scythes, old muskets, linen smock-frocks, a strong smell of spirits, and wild, staring eyes. This troop at once seized the horses by the bridles, and quick aslightning began to unharness them. The krakuse now sprang up lion-likefrom his seat, and displayed, in his Polish tongue, a vast amount ofeloquence, aided by much gesticulation with hands and feet. He declaredthat these gentlemen were great noblemen, who were traveling to thecapital that they might speak with the government, and that it wouldcost the head of every man who presumed to pull a hair out of one oftheir horses' tails. This speech provoked several animated replies, during which some clenched their fists, and some took off their caps. Upon that the driver began a still more powerful oration, setting beforethe patriots a prospective quartering if they even ventured to lookaskance at the heads of the horses. This had the effect of diminishingthe number of clenched fists, and increasing that of the doffed caps. Atlength the merchant put an end to the whole scene by suddenly floggingthe horses, and thus compelling the last recusants to jump aside as fastas they could. The horses galloped off, loud interjections were heard inthe distance, and a few shots passed harmlessly over the heads of thetravelers, probably fired out of a general enthusiasm for fatherlandrather than with any definite purpose. 

So the hours passed on. They not unfrequently met bands of armedpeasantry screaming and brandishing their cudgels, or else following, with bent heads and hymn-singing, a priest who bore a church bannerdisplayed. The travelers were sometimes, indeed, stopped and threatened, but at other times saluted with the utmost reverence, especially Anton, who, sitting as he did behind, was taken for the most importantpersonage. 

At length they approached a larger village, the bands grew closer, theuproar greater, and here and there a uniform, a cockade, or a bayonetappeared among the smock-frocks. Here, too, the driver began to showsymptoms of disquiet, and announced to the merchant that he could nottake them any farther, and that they must report themselves to theleader in command. To this Mr. Schröter made no objection, but paid thedriver and stopped the carriage. 

A young man with a blue head-piece, and a red and white scarf about hiswaist, stepped forward, obliged the travelers to dismount, and with agreat display of zeal led them to the chief. The merchant still held thereins in his hand, and whispered to Anton that he was on no account tolose sight of the carriage. Anton pretended the utmost unconcern, andpressed a coin into the hand of the friendly krakuse, who had creptbehind the carriage, that he might go and get the horses a bundle ofhay. 

The sentry was in a house whose thatched roof had been dignified by thewhitewashing of the walls. A few muskets and guns leaned up against it, watched by a youthful volunteer in blue coat and red cap. Near at handsat the commanding officer, whose flat face was surmounted by an immensewhite plume, and whose person was adorned by an enormous white scarf, and a sword with elaborate hilt. This dignitary was considerably excitedwhen he beheld the strangers; he clapped his hat more firmly on hishead, stroked his unkempt beard, and began to give audience. After a fewpreliminary remarks, the travelers told him that they had weightybusiness to transact with the heads of the government. They refused, however, to give any account of its purport. This statement wounded thedignity of the authority before them. He made harsh allusions tosuspicious characters and spies, and called to his guard to stand totheir arms. Instantly five youths in blue caps rushed out of the house, ranged themselves in order, and were commanded to hold their guns inreadiness. Involuntarily Anton sprang between them and his principal. Meanwhile the man of the giant sword, on seeing that the merchant stillstood quietly by the post round which he had fastened the reins, changedhis murderous intent, contenting himself with assuring him that heconsidered him a very dangerous character, and was much inclined toshoot him as a traitor. 

The merchant shrugged his shoulders, and said, with calm politeness, "You are entirely mistaken as to the object of our journey. You can notseriously believe us to be spies, for we have just been brought to youby one of your own people, in order that we might obtain from yourkindness a convoy to the capital. I must once more request you not todetain us, as our business with the government is of a pressing nature, and I shall be obliged to make you responsible for all unnecessarydelay. " This address led to another volley of oaths on the part of theman in authority, who snorted violent defiance against the travelers, drank off a large glass of brandy, and finally came to a decision. Hecalled three of his men, and desired them to take their seats in thecarriage, and to convey it to the capital. A bundle of fresh straw wasthrown in, two youths with arms in their hands placed themselves behindthe travelers, while a white-frocked peasant sat on the box, took thereins, and indifferently drove the whole cargo, suspicious characters, patriots, and all, at a gallop toward the capital. 

"Our condition has changed for the worse, " said Anton. "Five men in thislittle carriage, and the poor horses tired already. "

"I told you, " replied the merchant, "that our journey would have someinconveniences. Men are never more troublesome than when they play atbeing soldiers. In other respects, this guard over us does no harm; atleast, with such an escort, we are sure to be admitted into the city. "

It was evening when they reached the capital. A red glare in the skyshowed them their goal while they were still far from it. As theyapproached, they met numerous companies of armed men moving in and out. Next came a long detention at the gates--an interchange of questions andanswers--an examination of the travelers by the aid of lanterns and pinetorches, angry looks, and even intelligible threats, and, finally, along drive through the streets of the old capital. Sometimes all aroundthem was still as death; sometimes a wild cry resounded from the crowd, all the more alarming because the words were not understood. 

At length the driver turned into a square, and stopped before a handsomehouse. The travelers were surrounded and pushed up a broad staircase bya crowd of gay uniforms, laced coats, and clean smock frocks. Next theywere thrust into a large apartment, and placed before a gentlemanwearing white silk gloves, who looked into a written report, and brieflyinformed them that, according to the report of the commandant at thestation, they were suspected of being spies, and were to undergo acourt-martial. The merchant at once broke out in high displeasure: "I amsorry that your informant should have told you a great falsehood, for wehave undertaken this journey on the highway and in broad daylight, forthe express purpose of speaking to your governors. The horses andcarriage which brought me here are both mine, and it was an uncalled-foract of politeness on the part of your commandant to furnish me with anescort. I wish to see the gentleman in command here as soon as possible;it is to him alone that I mean to impart the motive of my journey; be sogood, therefore, as to hand him my passport. "

The official examined the passport, and, looking at Anton, proceeded toinquire, with somewhat more consideration, "But this gentleman? He hasthe appearance of an officer in your army. "

"I am a clerk of Mr. Schröter's, " returned Anton, with a bow; "and outand out a civilian. "

"Wait a while, " said the young man, superciliously, going with thepassport into a neighboring room. 

As he remained away some time, and no one interfered with the travelers, they sat down on a bench, and tried to appear as unconcerned aspossible. Anton first cast an anxious glance at his principal, who waslooking down gloomily, and then gazed about him in amazement. The roomin which they were was lofty, and the ceiling much ornamented, but thewalls were dirty and smoke-stained; tables, chairs, and benches stoodabout in confusion, and seemed as if just brought in from the nearesttavern. A few writers bent over their papers, while soldiers sat or layalong the walls, asleep or talking loudly, several of them in French. Aroom like this, dimly lighted, was not calculated to make a cheerfulimpression upon Anton, who whispered to the merchant, "If revolutions ingeneral look like this, they are ugly things. "

"They always destroy, and seldom recreate, " was the reply. "I am afraidthat this room is an emblem of the whole town: the painted coat of armson the ceiling, and the dirty bench on which we are sitting. When suchcontrasts as these are brought into juxtaposition, it is enough to makea sober-minded man cross himself in horror. The nobles and the peopleare bad enough, taken separately, when they each try their hands atgovernment; but when they unite, they are sure to bring down the housethat holds them. "

"The nobles are the most troublesome, " said Anton. "Commend me to ourkrakuse; he was a polite insurgent, and knew the value of a half dollar;but these gentlemen seem to have no business notions at all. "

"Let us wait a little, " said the principal. 

A quarter of an hour had passed, when a young man, tall in stature andstately in aspect, followed by the white-gloved gentleman, politelyapproached the merchant, saying so loudly that even the sleepers couldhardly fail to hear, "I rejoice to see you here, and have indeed beenexpecting it; have the goodness to follow me with your companion. "

"By Jove, we are looking up!" thought Anton. 

They followed their majestic guide into a small corner room, which wasevidently the boudoir of the quarters, for it contained an ottoman, easychairs, and a handsome writing-table. Different uniforms and articles ofdress were carelessly thrown upon the furniture; and on the table lay, in the midst of papers, a pair of double-barreled pocket pistols, and alarge seal richly set in gold. 

While Anton was noticing that the whole room was very elegant, but, atthe same time, very untidy, the young chief turned to the merchant andsaid, with somewhat more reserve and less amenity, "You have, through amisunderstanding, been exposed to some rudeness, as is indeed oftenunavoidable in troubled times. Your escort has confirmed yourstatements. I now beg you to impart to me the reason of your visit. "

The merchant accordingly briefly but precisely explained the purpose ofhis journey, named those men in the place with whom he was connected inbusiness, and appealed to them to ratify his statements. 

"I know both those gentlemen, " answered the officer, carelessly. Thenlooking fixedly at the merchant, he asked, after a pause, "Have younothing further to communicate?"

The principal said he had not; but the other rapidly continued, "I quiteunderstand that our peculiar position prevents your government fromtreating with us directly, and that, in the event of your being chargedwith a commission, you must proceed with the utmost caution. "

Here the merchant hastily interrupted him. "Before you say more, I againassure you, as a man of honor, that I am come merely on my own business, and that my business is only what I have already stated. But as Iconclude from your words, as well as much that I have heard on my wayhither, that you take me for a delegate, I feel constrained to tell youthat I never could have been charged with any commission such as youseem to expect, its very existence being an utter impossibility. "

The noble looked grave, and said, after a moment's silence, "Very well;you shall not suffer on that account. The wish that you express is sosingular, that it would be impossible, in the common course of things, to grant it. If we are not permitted to consider you a friend, the rulesof war command us to deal with you and yours as enemies. But the men ofmy nation have ever possessed, in taking up arms, the rare virtue oftrusting to the virtue of others, as well as of acting nobly, even whenthey could expect no gratitude in return. Be assured that I will, as faras in me lies, assist you to recover your property. "

So said the nobleman with self-conscious dignity; and Anton was keenlyalive to the true nobility of the words, though too thoroughly a man ofbusiness to give himself up to the impression they made, his buddingenthusiasm being frostbitten by a very matter-of-fact thought: "Hepromises to help us, and yet he is not quite convinced that the propertywe wish to carry off is of right our own. "

"I am not, alas! so absolute, " continued the chief, "as to be able togratify you at once. However, I hope in the morning to furnish you witha pass for your wagons. First of all, try to find out where yourproperty now is, and I will send one of my officers with you as aprotection. The rest to-morrow. "

With these words the travelers were courteously dismissed; and as Antonwent out he saw the officer wearily throw himself back into aneasy-chair, and with bent head begin to play with the trigger of hispistols. 

A slight youth, with a large scarf, almost a child in years, but of amost noble bearing, accompanied our friends. As they left the house, they were politely saluted by several present, and it was plain that theante-chamber still believed in their diplomatic character. 

The officer inquired whether he should accompany the gentlemen, as itwas his duty not to lose sight of them. 

"Is this by way of protection or surveillance?" inquired Anton, who nowfelt in good spirits. 

"You will give me no occasion, I am sure, to exercise the latter, "returned the small warrior in exquisite French. 

"No, " said the merchant, looking kindly at the youth; "but we shallweary you, for we have yet to get through a good deal of uninterestingand commonplace business this evening. "

"I am only doing my duty, " replied their escort, with some haughtiness, "in accompanying you wherever you wish. "

"And in order to do ours, we must make all the haste we can, " said themerchant. And so they traversed the streets of the capital. Night hadset in, and the confusion and bustle seemed sadder still under hercloak. Crowds of the lowest of the populace, patrols of military, bandsof fugitive peasantry jostled each other, snatching, shrieking, cursing. Many windows were illuminated, and their brilliance cast a shadowless, ghostly glare over the streets. Thick red clouds rolled above the roofsof the houses, for one of the suburbs was on fire, and the wind blewswarms of golden sparks and burning splinters over the heads of thetravelers. Meanwhile the bells of the churches kept up a monotonoustolling. The strangers hurried silently along, the imperious tones oftheir escort always making way for them through the most unruly throng. At length they reached the house of the agent of their firm. It was shutup, and they had to knock long and loud before a window was opened, anda piteous voice heard asking who was there. 

When they entered the agent ran to meet them, wringing his hands, andtearfully falling on the merchant's neck. The presence of the younginsurgent prevented him from expressing his feelings. He threw open thenearest door, and in lamentable tones apologized for the exceedingdisorder in which the room was. Chests and coffers were being packed up;male and female servants were running to and fro, hiding silvercandlesticks here, thrusting in silver spoons there. Meanwhile themaster of the house never left off wringing his hands, lamenting hismisfortunes and those of the firm, welcoming, and, in the same breath, regretting the arrival of the principal, and every now and then assuringthe young officer, with choking voice, that he too was a patriot, andthat it was only owing to an unaccountable mistake on the part of one ofthe maids that the cockade had been taken off his hat. It was plain thatthe man and his whole family had quite lost their wits. 

The merchant had much trouble before he could get him into a corner andhear some business details. It appeared that the wagons had arrived intown on the very day that the insurrection broke out. Through theforesight of one of the wagoners, they had been taken into the greatcourt-yard of a remote inn, but as to what had become of them since thenthe agent knew nothing. 

After some further conversation the merchant said, "We shall not claimyour hospitality to-night; we shall sleep wherever our wagons are. " Allthe persuasions of the agent were peremptorily rejected. 

This worthy but weak man seemed really distressed at the new danger intowhich his friend was determined to run. 

"I shall call you up early, " said the merchant, as he left; "I proposesetting out to-morrow with my wagons, but first I wish to make a few, asyou know, necessary visits to our customers, and to have your companyduring them. " The agent promised to do his best by daylight. 

Again our travelers went forth into the night, accompanied by the Pole, who had scornfully listened to the half-whispered conversation. As theywent along the street, the principal, angrily throwing away his cigar, said to Anton, "Our friend will be of little use to us; he is helpless as a child. Inthe beginning of the disturbance, he neglected to do his duty--tocollect money, and seek for reimbursement. "

"And now, " said Anton, sorrowfully, "no one will be inclined to pay orreimburse us. "

"And yet we must bring this about to-morrow, and you shall help me to doso. By heaven, these warlike convulsions are in themselves inconvenientenough to trade without this addition, paralyzing as they do all usefulactivity, which is the only thing that prevents us from becoming mereanimals. But if a man of business allows himself to be more crushed thanis absolutely unavoidable, he does an injury to civilization--an injuryfor which there is no compensation. "

They had now reached a part of the town where empty streets, and thesilence of the grave immediately at hand, only enhanced the horrors ofthe distant clamor and the red glare in the sky. At length they stoppedbefore a low building with a large gateway. Entering, they looked intothe bar, a dirty room with blackened rafters, in which loud-voiced andbrandy-drinking patriots clustered on bench and table. The young officercalled for the landlord. A fat figure with a red face appeared. 

"In the name of the government, rooms for myself and my companions, "said the young man. The host sullenly took up a bundle of rusty keys anda tallow candle, and led them to an upper floor, where he opened thedoor of a damp room, and morosely declared that he had no other forthem. 

"Bring us supper and a bottle of your best wine, " said the merchant; "wepay well, and at once. "

This announcement occasioned a visible improvement in the mood of thefat landlord, who even made an unsuccessful attempt to be polite. Themerchant next asked for the wagons and wagoners. These questions wereevidently unwelcome. At first Boniface pretended to know nothing aboutthem, declaring that there were a great many wagons coming and going inhis court-yard, and that there were several wagoners too, but that hedid not know them. 

It was in vain that the merchant tried to make him understand the objectof his coming; the landlord remained obtuse, and was about to relapseinto his former moroseness, when the young Pole came forward, andinformed Mr. Schröter that this was not the way of dealing with suchpeople. He then faced the landlord, called him all manner of hard names, and declared that he would arrest and carry him off on the spot unlesshe at once gave the most exact information. 

The landlord looked timidly at the officer, and begged to be allowed toretire and send up one of the wagoners. 

Soon a lanky figure with a brown felt hat came lumbering up stairs, started at the sight of the merchant, and at last announced, withpretended cheerfulness, that there he was. 

"Where are the wagons? where are the bills of lading?"

The wagons were in the court-yard. The bills were reluctantly producedfrom the dirty leather purse of the wagoner. 

"You guarantee me that your load remains complete and undisturbed?"asked the merchant. 

The felt hat ungraciously replied that he could do nothing of the kind. The horses had been unharnessed and hid in a secret stable, that theymight not be confiscated by the government; as to the fate of thewagons, he could neither prevent nor ascertain it, and allresponsibility ceased in troublous times like these. 

"We are in a den of thieves, " said the merchant to his escort; "I mustrequest your assistance in bringing these people to reason. "

Now bringing people to reason was just what the young Pole believed tobe his speciality; so, with a smile, he took a pistol in one hand, andsaid aside to Anton, "Do as I, and have the goodness to follow me. " Nexthe seized the wagoner by the throat, and dragged him down the stair. "Where is the landlord?" cried he, in the most formidable tone he couldraise. "The dog of a landlord and a lantern!" The lantern being brought, he drove the whole pack--the strangers, the fat landlord, the capturedwagoner, and all others assembled by the noise, before him into thecourt-yard. Arrived there, he placed himself and his prisoner in thecentre of the circle, bestowed a few more injurious epithets upon thelandlord, rapped the wagoner on the head with his pistol, and thencourteously observed in French to the merchant, "This fellow's skullsounds remarkably hollow; what next do you require from the boobies?"

"Have the goodness to summon the wagoners. "

"Good, " said the Pole; "and then?"

"Then I will examine the freight of the wagons, if it be possible to doso in the dark. "

"Every thing is possible, " said the Pole, "if you like to take thetrouble to search through the old canvas in the night. But I should beinclined to advise a bottle of Sauterne and a few hours' repose instead. In times like these, one should not lose an opportunity of refreshingone's self. "

"I should prefer to inspect the wagons at once, " said the merchant, witha smile, "if you have no objection to it. "

"I am on duty, " replied the Pole, "therefore let's to work at once;there are plenty of hands here to hold lights for you. You confoundedrascals, " continued he, in Polish, again cuffing the wagoner andthreatening the landlord, "I will carry you all off together, and have acourt-martial held upon you, if you do not instantly bring all thedrivers belonging to this gentleman into my presence. How many of them?"inquired he, in French, from the merchant. 

"There are fourteen wagons, " was the reply. 

"There must be fourteen wagoners, " thundered the Pole again to thepeople; "the devil shall fly away with you all if you do not instantlyproduce them. " With the help of an old domestic servant, a dozen of thedrivers were at length brought forward; two, however, were in no way tobe recovered, and finally the landlord confessed that they had gone tojoin the patriots. 

The young Pole did not seem to attach much value to this instance ofpatriotism. Turning to the merchant, he said, "Here you have the men, now see to the freight; if a single article be found wanting, I willhave the whole of these fellows tried by court-martial. " Then hecarelessly sat down on the pole of a carriage, and looked at the pointsof his polished boots, which had got a good deal bemired. 

A number of lanterns and torches were now brought, and after a fewencouraging words from the merchant, the wagoners proceeded to rollaway some empty carts, and to open out a passage to their own goods. Most of these men had been employed by him before, and knew him andAnton personally; some of them proved themselves trustworthy andobliging; and while Mr. Schröter was cross-questioning the mostintelligent of their number, Anton hastened to ascertain, as well as hecould, the condition of the freight, which mostly consisted of wool andtallow. Some wagons were untouched; one was entirely unloaded, and manyhad lost their canvas covering, and been otherwise plundered. Themerchant had once more recourse to the young Pole. "It is just as wesupposed, " said he; "the landlord has persuaded some of the driversthat, now the revolution has set in, their obligations have ceased, andthey have begun to unload the wagons. Had we been a day later, everything would have been carried off. The landlord and a few of hisassociates have been the instigators, and some of the wagoners have beenfrightened into compliance. "

At this announcement a new volley of imprecations proceeded from thelips of the small authority, and the landlord, from whose face allruddiness had vanished, was soon on his knees before the officer, whopulled him by the hair, and treated him very roughly indeed. MeanwhileAnton and some of the men laid siege to a locked-up coach-house, brokeopen the door, and disclosed the bales of wool and the remainder of thestolen goods. 

"Let these people reload, " said the merchant; "they may well work thenight through as a punishment. " After some opposition, the wagoners setto, overpowered by a combination of threats and promises. The Pole drovethe drunken guests out of the tavern, had the outer door closed, and allthe candles and lanterns of the establishment brought into thecourt-yard. Next he dragged the host by the hair of his head to theupper story, and then, by the help of some patriots with great cockades, tied him to a bedpost, and gave him to understand that that was thenearest approach to a night's rest which he had to expect. "In the eventof the freight being found entire, and safely removed from yourpremises, you shall be forgiven, " said the Pole; "in the opposite case, I shall have you tried at once, and shot. "

Meanwhile the uproar in the court was great indeed. Anton had the wagonsreloaded and the freight properly secured. Full of his work, he scarcelylooked around, and only realized at odd moments his singular_entourage_, and the exciting nature of the scene. It was a large squarecourt, surrounded by low, ruinous wooden buildings, stables, andcoach-houses, and having two entrances, one through the inn itself, andone through a gate opposite. It occupied a space of several acres, as isoften the case with these hostelries of eastern Europe, stationed ongreat thoroughfares; and afforded, as do the caravanseries of Asia, shelter for large transports of goods, as well as for multitudes of thepoor and needy. All sorts of wagons were now assembled in the squarecourt in question, and it was crowded besides with ladders, poles, wheels, gigantic hampers, gray canvas coverings, bundles of hay andstraw, old tar-barrels, and portable racks. Besides the stable lanternsand flaming pine torches, there was the red glare in the sky, and thelurid clouds of smoke and sparks rolling still over the heads of thetravelers. This strange sort of twilight shone here at least upon apeaceful task. The wagoners worked hard, shouting loudly the while; darkforms now vanished in the shadow of the bales, now sprang on the top ofthem, while their animated gesticulations made them look, in the redlight, like a crowd of savages holding some mysterious nocturnal orgies. 

The merchant, meanwhile, walked up and down between the inn and thescene of action. It was in vain that Anton implored him to rest for afew hours. "This is no night for us to sleep in, " said he, gloomily; andAnton read in his dark glance the resolve of a man who is ready to stakehis all upon the accomplishment of his inflexible will. 

It was nearly morning when the last giant bale was firmly secured withropes and chains on the wagon top. Anton, who had himself been lending ahand, now slipped down, and announced to his principal that their workwas done. 

"At last!" replied the merchant, drawing a long breath; and then he wentup to announce the fact to their friendly escort. 

He, for his part, had contrived to get through the night in his own way;first, he thoroughly enjoyed the supper and wine brought him by theterrified maids, and found leisure to say a few encouraging words to theprettiest of them. Then he contemplated the dirty bed, and at last threwhimself, with a French oath, upon it, looking now at the distortedcountenance of the roguish host, who sat opposite him on the ground, nowat the ceiling; and, while half asleep himself, complimenting themerchant, who looked in from time to time, upon his capacity of keepingawake a whole night. At length the youth fell fast asleep. At least themerchant found him in the morning outstretched on the coarse coverlet, his delicate face shaded by his long black hair, his small handscrossed, and a pleasant smile playing around his lips. 

As he lay there he afforded no incorrect type of the aristocracy of hisnation: noble child that he was, with the passions, and perhaps the sinsof a man; while over against him crouched the coarse build of thefettered plebeian, who pretended to sleep too, but often cast amalicious glance at the recumbent form before him. 

The aristocrat sprang up when the merchant approached the bed, and, throwing the window open, said, "Good-day: it is morning, I see; I haveslept admirably. " Next he called to a patrol passing by, brieflyinformed the leader how things stood, made over to him the landlord andthe remainder of the supper, and desired him to stop at once, and keepguard over the house until he should return. Then he ordered thewagoners to harness the horses, and led the travelers out into the graydawn of a comfortless-looking day. 

On their way to the agent the merchant said to Anton, "We shall dividethe most necessary visits between us. Tell our customers that we have nokind of intention of oppressing them; that, on the restoration of somedegree of order, they may reckon upon the greatest forbearance andconsideration--nay, under conditions, upon an extension of credit, butthat at present we insist upon securities. We shall not effect much inthis confusion; but that these gentlemen should be, at a time like this, even reminded of our firm, is worth a good deal. " Then, in a lower tone, he added, "The town is doomed: we shall do little business here for sometime to come; remember that, and be firm. " And, turning to the Pole, hesaid, "I request you to allow my fellow-traveler to pay a few businesscalls in the company of our agent. "

"If your agent will answer with his person for the gentleman's return, "returned the Pole, with some reluctance, "I consent. "

The light of day had exercised its gracious office of giving color toflowers and courage to the faint-hearted, even in favor of the agent. Hedeclared himself ready to accompany Anton upon the terms proposed. Accordingly, under the protection of the great cockade upon hiscompanion's hat, Anton hurried from house to house, pale indeed fromloss of rest, but with an undaunted heart. Every where he was receivedwith amazement not always free from confusion. "How could people thinkin such a time about winding up matters of business, with the noise ofarms all round, and in deadly fear of a horrible future?"

Anton coolly replied, "Our firm is not accustomed to trouble itselfabout rumors of war when not absolutely obliged to do so. All times aresuited for the fulfillment of obligations; and if this be a fit seasonfor us to come here, it is also a fit season for you to arrange matterswith me;" through which representations he succeeded here and there inobtaining definite promises, commissions, nay, even reimbursement. 

After a few hours' hard work, Anton met his principal in the agent'shouse. When he had made his report, the merchant said, reaching out hishand to him, "If we can succeed in getting our wagons safely out of thetown, we shall have done enough to enable us to bear the unavoidablelosses that we must undergo. Now, then, to the commandant. " He gave afew further instructions to the agent, whispering to him in parting, "Ina few days our troops will enter; I take it for granted that you willnot leave your house till then. We shall thus meet again. "

With upraised hands the agent invoked the protection of all the saintsin the calendar upon the travelers, locked and bolted the house doorbehind them, and hid his revolutionary cockade in the stove. 

Our friends now hurried on through the tumult, led by the Pole. Thestreets were full again; bands of armed men passed by, the populace wasin wilder excitement, and the noise greater than on the previousevening. The houses were thundered at, and an entrance insisted on. Brandy-casks were rolled on to the flags, and surrounded by drunken menand women. Every thing denoted that the authorities were notsufficiently strong to enforce street-discipline. Even in the house ofthe commandant there was agitation and restlessness, soldiers werehurrying to and fro, and the messages which they brought were evidentlyunfavorable, for there was much whispering going on in the greatante-chamber, and anxious suspense was visible on every face. 

As soon as the young Pole entered he was surrounded by his friends anddrawn into a corner. After some hasty questions, he seized a musket, called off a few soldiers by name, and left the room, without troublinghimself any further about the travelers. 

The merchant and Anton were shown into the next room, where the youngcommander-in-chief received them. He too looked pale and dejected, butit was with the bearing of a true nobleman that he addressed Mr. Schröter: "I have forwarded your wishes; here is a passport for you andyour wagons. I pray you to infer from this that we are anxious to treatthe citizens of your state with consideration, possibly even more thanthe duty of self-preservation would dictate. "

The merchant received the important document with shining eyes. "Youhave shown me a remarkable degree of kindness, " said he; "I feel myselfdeeply indebted to you, and wish that I may one day be permitted toprove my gratitude. "

"Who knows?" answered the young commandant, with a melancholy smile; "hewho stakes all upon a cast may lose all. "

"He may lose much, " replied the merchant, courteously, "but not all, ifhe has striven honorably. "

At that moment a hollow sound was heard, a sound like the sweep of ahowling wind, or the roaring of a rushing flood. The commandant stoodmotionless and listened. Suddenly a discordant scream of many voicesresounded close by, and some shots followed. Anton, made susceptible bya night of wakefulness and long-continued excitement, started withterror, and remarked that his principal's hand, in which was thepassport, shook violently. The door of the cabinet now burst open, and afew stately-looking men rushed in, with garments torn, arms in theirhands, the traces of a street combat visible on their excitedcountenances, and at their head the young escort of the travelers. 

"Mutiny!" cried the youth to his commanding officer; "they are seekingyou. Save yourself. I will keep them off. "

Quick as thought Anton sprang toward his principal, dragged him away, and both flew through the ante-chamber, and down the staircase to theground floor. Here they came upon a band of soldiers who wereendeavoring to garrison the house against masses of the populace. But, swift as were the movements of the travelers, those of their lastnight's escort were quicker still, as, with a loud shout, he rushed tohead his friends in their resistance to the invaders. His black hairflew wildly around his bare head, and his eyes shone out from hisbeautiful and now pallid face with the unconquerable energy of a braveman. 

"Back!" he cried, with a loud, clear voice, to the raging people, andsprang like a panther in among them, dealing sword-strokes round. Themasses gave way; the comrades of the brave youth ranged themselvesbehind him. Again Anton seized his principal's arm, and dragged him offwith such speed as is only possible to men under the influence of strongexcitement. They had just got behind a projection of the house when theyheard a shot fired, and saw with horror the young Pole fall backwardbleeding, and heard his last cry, "The _canaille_!"

"To the wagons!" said the merchant, dashing down a narrow cross-street. They still heard in the distance shots and cries of discord; andbreaking through bands of curious and terrified inhabitants, whohindered their progress, they arrived breathless, and fearing the worst, at the door of the inn. 

Here, too, there was mutiny. The soldiers left in charge of the househad loosed the landlord, and speedily made their retreat as soon as newsof the tumult reached them. The court-yard was now a scene of wranglingand confusion. The landlord, supported by a number of idlers collectedfrom the street, was disputing violently with the wagoners. Some of thewagons were harnessed and ready for departure, but from others thecanvas covering had been again dragged off. The case was a desperateone. The merchant tore away from Anton, who tried to detain him, and, rushing into the midst of the disputants, called out in Polish as loudlyas he could, while holding the passport above his head, "Stop, I say;here is the order of the commander-in-chief authorizing the departure ofour wagons. Whoever resists it will be punished. We are under theprotection of the government. "

"What government, you rogue of a German?" screamed the landlord, withominous face; "the old government is done away with; the traitors havehad their reward, and their spies shall be hanged as well;" and, rushingat the merchant, he brandished an old sword at his head. 

Our Anton shuddered; but man being in the most critical moments liableto strange associations of idea, which play like meteors across theanguish of his spirit, it chanced that the broad back of the landlordsuddenly reminded him of the back of a squat schoolfellow of his atOstrau, a good-natured baker's son, upon whom, in many a scuffle, he hadoften practiced the boyish trick of tripping an adversary from behind. Quick as lightning he sprang upon the landlord, and most skillfullythrew him. The falling sword swerved from its fatal aim, only strikingthe arm of the merchant, cutting through the coat and into the flesh. Asthe fat fellow lay struggling on his back like a beetle, Anton drew outhis trusty pistols, and cried, with the inspiration of despair, "Back, you rascals, or I shoot him dead!"

This rapid diversion had more effect than could reasonably have beenhoped; the people that the landlord had collected around him, and who, after all, were only working for his interest, fell back, while half adozen wagoners, with bars of iron and other implements of the kind, crowded round the merchant, and now screamed as loudly as the otherparty had done a short time before, declaring that no harm should happento the gentleman and his wagons. The merchant cried, "Drive thesestrangers out!" and, taking up the sword that the landlord had dropped, at the head of his adherents stormed the latter's abettors, and drovethem through the house. The most stiff-necked of them tried to intrenchthemselves in the bar, but one after the other was cast out, roaring andcursing the while. The door was then locked, and the merchant hastenedback to the court-yard, and found Anton still kneeling by theincorrigible landlord to prevent him from rising. The rest of thewagoners having timidly got out of the way, the merchant now summonedthem all, and ordered them to put the horses to, saying to Anton, "Wemust leave this place. Better the street pavement than this den ofthieves. "

"You bleed!" cried Anton, in great distress, his eye falling on themerchant's arm. 

"It must be a mere scratch; I can move the arm, " was the prompt reply. "Open the gate; out with the wagons. Forward, my men! Anton, one of thewagoners will help you to bind the landlord. "

"And where shall we go?" inquired Anton, in English. "Are we to takethese wagons into the bloodshed of the streets?"

"We have a passport, and will leave the town, " answered the merchant, doggedly. 

"They will not respect our passport, " cried Anton in return, while heheld a pistol at the head of the obstreperous landlord. 

"If the worst come to the worst, there are other inns in this part ofthe town; any of them will be a better refuge. "

"But we have not the full complement of drivers, and some of our numberare disaffected. "

"I will manage the disaffected, " answered the merchant, sternly; "wehave the full number of horses, we only want the men. Those to whom thehorses belong will remain with them. The gate is open--out with thewagons!"

The gate led to an open space covered with building-stones and _débris_, and surrounded by a few poor houses. The merchant hastened thither tosuperintend the departure. A stout youth came to Anton's assistance. They were anxious moments these. Near the house, he and his helper werestruggling with the prostrate man, whose ugly wife and her twomaid-servants were howling at the house door. As the first wagon rolledaway, their screams became louder: the landlady called out "help" and"murder!" and the maids wailed all the louder the more fervently theyoung wagoner assured them that no harm would befall his worship, thelandlord, if he would only lie still, and that, moreover, they would allpay their bills besides. 

Just then loud knocks were heard at the house door; the women rushed inand unlocked it at once; and so great had been the hopeless excitementof the last few minutes, that it was almost with a sense of relief thatAnton saw a strong body of soldiery defile into the court. He rose fromthe ground, and left the landlord free. But the merchant walked slowly, and with uncertain steps, like a broken-down man, to meet the enemieswho, at this decisive moment, frustrated his will. 

The leader of the band, one of those whom the young Pole had in themorning summoned to the inn, said to the merchant, "You are prisoners;neither you nor your wagons can leave the town. "

"I have a passport, " eagerly replied Mr. Schröter, feeling for hispocket-book. 

"The new government forbids your journey, " was the curt rejoinder. 

"I must submit, " said the merchant, mechanically sitting down on awagon-pole, and clinging to the body of the vehicle. 

Anton held the half-unconscious man in his arms, and said, in utmostindignation, "We have been twice robbed in this inn; we were in dangerof being killed; my companion is wounded, as you see; if your governmentis determined to detain us and our wagons, at least protect our livesand our property. The wagons can not remain here, and if we areseparated from them, it will be still more difficult to prevent theirbeing plundered. "

The soldiers now held a consultation, and at length their leader calledAnton to share in it. After much discussion, it was finally arrangedthat the wagons should be moved to a neighboring establishment, equal tothis in accommodation, but superior in character. Anton obtained leaveto move to it with his companion, and there remain under surveillancetill something further should be decided. Meanwhile the merchant satleaning against the canvas covering, and taking, apparently, no interestin what was going on. Anton now rapidly told him the decision arrivedat. 

"We must bear it, " said the principal, rising slowly and withdifficulty. "Ask the landlord for our bill. "

"We will pay the landlord, " said the soldier in command, roughly pushingthe functionary aside. "Think of yourself, " added he, kindly catchinghold of the wounded man's arm to support him. 

"Pay for us and for the horses, " repeated Mr. Schröter to Anton; "we cannot remain in these people's debt. "

Anton accordingly took out his pocket-book, called the drivers together, and, in their presence, made over a banknote to the landlord, saying tohim, "I now pay you this sum provisionally, until you shall have madeout your account. You men are witnesses. " The drivers respectfullybowed, and hurried back to their wagons. 

The procession now set forth. First a portion of the armed escort, thenthe heavy wagons, which slowly and helplessly rumbled along over thestones; some of them without drivers, but kept in line by theirwell-trained horses. 

Mr. Schröter stood at the gate, leaning upon Anton, and counted eachwagon as it passed; and as the last rolled off, he said, "Done at last, "and consented to be led away. 

In the very next cross-street the procession turned into the greatcourt-yard of another inn. When the last of the wagons had at length hadits horses unharnessed, and the soldiers had barred the gate fromwithin, the merchant fell down in a swoon, and was carried into thehouse. 

He was placed in a small room, a guard stationed at his door, andanother in the court. Anton remained alone with the sufferer. Full ofanxiety, he knelt by his bed, unfastened his clothes, and bathed hisface with cold water. After a time Mr. Schröter revived, opened hiseyes, looked gratefully at Anton, and pointed to the window. 

Anton looked out, and said, joyously, "It opens upon the court-yard. Ican overlook and count the wagons. I really think that here, althoughprisoners, we are tolerably safe. But, first of all, allow me to look toyour wound: your clothes are much stained with blood. "

"My weakness proceeds more from over-excitement than loss of blood, "replied the merchant, raising himself up. 

Anton opened the door, and begged for a surgeon. Their guard wasprepared to go for one, and after an anxious hour had passed, heintroduced a shabby-looking individual, who hurriedly produced a razorand a dirty pocket-handkerchief, wiping the razor on his sleeve, andbringing the handkerchief into alarming proximity with Anton's chin. Itwas with some difficulty that the reason of his being sent for wasconveyed to him. 

Anton cut away the sleeve of the coat and shirt, and himself examinedthe wound. It was a cut in the upper arm; not a deep one, indeed, butthe arm was stiff, and Mr. Schröter suffered severely. The barberattempted to bandage it, and went off, promising to return on themorrow. The merchant fell back, exhausted with the pain of thebandaging, and Anton sat by him the remainder of the day, laying wetcloths around the arm, and watching the feverish slumber of the patient. 

Soon he sank himself into a sort of half sleep, a dull apathy, whichmade him indifferent to all that was going on without. Thus evening woreaway, and night came on. Anton occasionally dipped his fingers in coldwater, and crept from the bed to the window to watch the wagons, or tothe door to exchange a whisper with the guard, who showed a friendlyinterest in the case. 

Meanwhile the fire continued its ravages, and the sound of musketrythundered at the gates. Anton looked carelessly at the burning fragmentswhich the wind drove over the unhappy town, and heard, with a faintdegree of surprise, that the noise of the firing grew louder and louder, and at last became a deafening crash; all the sounds that struck his earfrom the street appearing to him as unimportant as the ringing of alittle early church-bell which he had often heard from his own room inthe principal's house, and which never disturbed any one out of hismorning repose. The whole night through he kept mechanically wetting andapplying cold-water poultices to the patient's arm, and rising wheneverthe latter groaned or turned; but when, toward morning, the merchantfell into a sounder sleep, Anton forgot his task, his head fell heavyupon his hands outstretched on the table, he neither saw nor heard; andamid the screams of the wounded, and the thundering of cannon whichattended the taking of a stoutly-defended town, amid all the horrors ofa bloody conflict, he slept like a tired boy over his school-task. 

When he awoke, after the lapse of a few hours, it had long been morning. The merchant smiled kindly at him from his bed, and reached out hishand. Anton pressed it with all his heart, and hurried to the window. "They are all right, " said he. He then opened the door; the guard of theprevious night had vanished; and on the street he heard the beat ofdrums, and the regular tramp of regiments marching in. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

"We gave you up for lost, " cried the newly-arrived captain to Mr. Schröter. "They manage inns wretchedly here, and all my inquiries afteryou proved fruitless. It was a fortunate thing that your letter found meout in this confusion. "

"We have accomplished our purpose, " said the merchant, "but not, as yousee, without drawbacks;" and he pointed, smiling, to his wounded arm. 

"First and foremost, let me hear your adventures, " said the captain, sitting down by the bedside. "You have more tokens of the fight to showthan I. "

The merchant told his story. He dwelt warmly upon Anton's courage, towhich he ascribed his safety, and ended by saying, "My wound does notprevent my traveling, and my return is imperative. I shall go with thewagons as far as the frontier. "

"Early to-morrow morning one of our companies returns to the frontier;you can send your wagons under its escort; besides which, the high roadsare now safe. To-morrow the mails begin to run again. "

"I must still further request your assistance. I am anxious to writehome by a courier this very day. "

"I will take care, " promised the captain, "that your return to-morrowshall meet with no impediments. "

As soon as the officer had left the room, Mr. Schröter said to Anton, "Ihave a surprise for you, dear Wohlfart, which will, I fear, be anunwelcome one. I wish to leave you here in my place. " Anton drew nearerin amazement. "There is no relying on our agent at a time like this, "continued the merchant, "and I have, during the last few days, rejoicedto discover how perfectly I can depend upon you. What you have just doneto save my head-piece will be unforgotten as long as I live. And nowdraw a writing-table here beside me; we have still some plans toarrange. "

The next morning a post-chaise stood before the inn door, into which Mr. Schröter was lifted by Anton. It was then drawn up to the side of thestreet till he had seen the wagons pass one by one out of the gateway. Then pressing Anton's hand once more, he said, "Your stay here may lastweeks, nay, months. Your work will be very disagreeable, and oftenfruitless. But I repeat it, do not be too anxious; I trust to yourdecision as to my own. And do not be afraid of incurring contingentloss, if you can only get unsafe debtors to pay up. This place isdevastated and lost to us for the future. Farewell till our happymeeting at home. "

Thus Anton remained alone in the strange town, in a position where greattrust imposed upon him great responsibility. He went back to his room, called the landlord, and at once made arrangements for his further staythere. The town was so filled with military that he preferred to remainin the small quarters that he had already occupied, and to put up withtheir inconveniences, having little expectation of changing for thebetter. 

It was indeed a devastated town which Anton now explored. A few daysback, crowds of passionately-excited men had filled the streets, andevery kind of daring enterprise was to be read on their wild faces. Where was now the haughty defiance, the thirst of battle, that inspiredall those thousands?

The crowds of peasants, the swarming town populace, the soldiers of thepatriot army, had vanished like ghosts scared by the presence of anenchanter. The few men to be seen were foreign soldiers. But their gayuniforms did not improve the aspect of the town. True, the fire wasquenched, whose clouds of smoke had darkened the sky. But there stoodthe houses in the pale light, looking as if they had been gutted. Thedoors remained closed; many of the window-panes were broken; on theflags lay heaps of mud, dirty straw, and fragments of furniture. Here, acar with a broken wheel; there, a uniform, arms, the carcass of a horse. At the corner of a street stood barrels and pieces of furniture whichhad been thrown out of the houses, as a last barricade to impede theadvancing troops; and behind them lay, carelessly strewn over withstraw, the corpses of slaughtered men. Anton turned away in horror whenhe saw the pale faces through the straw. Newly-arrived troops werebivouacking in the square--their horses stood in couples round; in allthe streets the tramp of patrols was heard; while it was only at rareintervals that a civilian was seen to pass along the flag-stones; withhis hat drawn low over his face, and casting timid sidelong glances atthe foreign troops. Sometimes, too, a pale-looking man was seen, ledalong by soldiers, and pushed onward with the bayonet if he went tooslowly. The town had worn an ugly appearance during the insurrection, but it was still worse now. 

When Anton returned from his first walk, with these impressions upon hismind, he found a hussar walking up and down before his door like asentinel. 

"Mr. Wohlfart!" shouted the hussar, rushing at him. 

"My dear Karl, " cried Anton; "this is the first pleasure I have had inthis wretched town. But how came you hither?"

"You know that I am serving my time. We joined our comrades at thefrontier a few hours after you had left. The landlord knew me, and toldme of your departure. You may imagine the fright I was in. To-day I gotleave of absence for the first time, and had the good luck to meet oneof the drivers, else I should not have found you out yet. And now, Mr. Wohlfart, what of our principal, and what of your goods?"

"Come with me into my room, and you shall hear all, " replied Anton. 

"Stop a moment, " cried Karl; "you speak to me more formally than youused to do, and I can't stand that. Please to speak just as if I wasKarl in our old place yonder. "

"But you are no longer so, " said Anton, laughing. 

"This is only a masquerade, " said Karl, pointing to his uniform; "in myheart I am still a supernumerary porter of T. O. Schröter's. "

"Have it your own way, Karl, " replied Anton; "but come in, and hear allabout it. "

Karl soon fell, as might have been expected, into a violent rage withthe good-for-nothing landlord. "The thievish dog! he has dared to attackour firm and our head! To-morrow I'll take a whole troop of our fellowsthere. I'll drive him into his own yard, and we'll all play at leap-frogover him by the hour, and at every leap we'll give a kick to that wickedhead of his. "

"Mr. Schröter let him go unpunished, " said Anton; "don't be more cruelthan he. I say, Karl, you are become a handsome youth. "

"I shall do, " returned Karl, much flattered. "I've got reconciled toagriculture. My uncle is a worthy man. If you picture my father toyourself about half his own size, thin instead of stout, and with asmall stumpy nose instead of a large one, and a long face instead of around, with a gray coat and no leather apron, and with a pair of greatboots up to his knees, why then you have my uncle--a most capital littlefellow. He is very kind to me. At first I found it dull in the country, but I got used to it in time; one is always going about the farm, andthat's pleasant. It was a blow to my gray-headed uncle when I had toturn soldier, but I was delighted to get upon a horse in right downearnest, and to see something of the scuffle here. There are wretchedinns in this country, Mr. Wohlfart, and this place is a horrible sceneof desolation. "

Thus Karl rattled on. At last he caught up his cap: "If you remain here, will you allow me often to spend a quarter of an hour with you?"

"Do as at home, " said Anton; "and if I happen to be out, the landlordwill have the key, and here are the cigars. "

And so Anton found an old friend; but Karl was not his only militaryacquaintance. The captain was delighted with a countryman who had playedso bold a part against the insurgents. He introduced him to the colonelwho commanded the division. To him Anton had to tell his adventures, andto receive high commendation from a large circle of epaulets; and thefollowing day the captain invited him to dinner, and introduced him tothe officers of his own squadron. Anton's modest composure made afavorable impression upon them all. At home they would probably havebeen restricted by their views of human greatness from becoming intimatewith a young merchant, but here in the camp they were themselves wisermen than in the idle days of peace, their social prejudices were fewer, and their recognition of others' deserts less impeded. Consequently, they soon came to consider the young clerk as a "deuced good fellow, "fell into the habit of calling him by his Christian name, and wheneverthey were going to drink their coffee or to play a game of dominoes, they invariably invited him to join them. An obscure tradition of largemeans and mysterious relationship once more emerged from the abyss ofpast years, but, to do the squadron justice, it was not this whichprompted their kind attentions to their countryman. Anton himself wasmore exalted by this good fellowship with these noble lads than he wouldhave chosen to confess to himself or to Mr. Pix. He now enjoyed a freeintercourse with men of mark, and felt as if born to many enjoymentswhich heretofore he had only contemplated with silent reverence fromafar. Old recollections began to reassert their sway, and he felt oncemore drawn into the magic circle, where every thing appeared to himfree, bright, and beautiful. Lieutenant von Rothsattel belonged to thenumber of Anton's friendly acquaintance. Our hero treated him with thetenderest consideration, and the lieutenant, who was at bottom areckless, light-hearted, good-natured fellow, was readily pleased byAnton's cordial admiration, and repaid him with peculiar confidence. 

Fortunately, however, for our hero, his business prevented him losinghis independence among his new allies. The town was indeed devastated;the wild uproar was over; but all peaceful activity seemed exhaustedtoo. The necessaries of life were dear, and work scarce. Many who oncewore boots went barefoot now. He who could formerly have bought a newcoat, now contented himself with having the old one mended; theshoemaker and tailor breakfasted on water-gruel instead of coffee; theshopkeeper was unable to pay his debts to the merchant, and the merchantunable to discharge his obligations to other firms. He who had torecover money from men thus depressed had a hard task indeed, as Antonsoon found out. On every side he heard lamentations which were but toowell founded; and frequently every species of artifice was employed toevade his claims. Every day he had to go through painful scenes, oftento listen to long legal proceedings carried on in Polish, out of whichhe generally came with an impression of having been "_done_, " though theagent played the part of interpreter. It was a strange commercial dramain which Anton had now to take a share. Men from every portion of Europewere here, and trade had many peculiarities, which to German eyes seemedirregular and insecure. Nevertheless, habits of duty exercise so greatan influence even over weaker natures, that Anton's perseverance morethan once won the day. 

The greatest claim that his house had was upon a Mr. Wendel, a drylittle man, who had done a great deal of business on every side. Peoplesaid that he had become rich by smuggling, and was now in great dangerof failing. He had received the principal himself with something ofcontumely, and had at first comported himself toward his young deputylike a man distracted. Anton had again spent an hour in reasoning withhim, and, in spite of all the latter's twistings and turnings, hadremained firm to his point. At length Wendel broke out, "Enough; I am aruined man, but you deserve to get your money. Your house has alwaysdealt generously by me. You shall be reimbursed. Send your agent to meagain in the course of the day, and come to me early to-morrow morning. "

On the morrow, when Anton, accompanied by the agent, appeared beforetheir debtor, Wendel, after a gloomy salutation, seized hold of a greatrusty key, slowly put on a faded cloak on which countless darns showedlike cobwebs on an old wall, and led his creditors to a remote part ofthe town, stopping before a ruined monastery. They went through a longcloister. Anton looked admiringly at the exquisite moulding of thearches, from which, however, time had worn off many a fragment thatencumbered the pavement. Monuments of the old inhabitants of the placewere ranged along the walls, and weather-stained inscriptions announcedto the inattentive living that pious Slavonic monks had once soughtpeace within this shelter. Here in this cloister they had paced up anddown; here they had prayed and dreamed till they had to make over theirpoor souls to the intercession of their saints. In the centre of thisbuilding Wendel now opened a secret door, and led his companions down awinding staircase into a large vault. This had once been used as thecellar of the rich cloister, and down that same staircase the cellarerhad gone--ah! how often--wandering between the casks, tasting here andtasting there; and at the ringing of the little bell above him, bowinghis head and saying a short prayer, and then returning to taste again, or in comfortable mood to walk up and down. The prayer-bell of thecloister had been melted down long ago; the empty cells were in ruins, the cattle fed where once the prior sat at the head of his brethren attheir stately meal. All had vanished; the cellar only remained, and thecasks of fiery Hungarian wine stood as they did five hundred yearsbefore. Still the rays of light converged into a star on the beautifularch of the roof; still the vault was kept stainlessly whitewashed, andthe floor strewn with finest sand; and still it was the cellarer'scustom only to approach the noble wine with a waxlight. True, they werenot the identical casks out of which the old monks drew their potions, but they were now, as then, filled with the produce of the vine-cladhills of Hegyalla, with the rosy wine of Menes, with the pride ofOEdenburg, and the mild juice of the careful vintage of Rust. 

"A hundred and fifty casks at eighteen, four-and-twenty, and thirtyducats the cask, " said the agent, beginning the inventory. 

Meanwhile Wendel went from one cask to another, the waxlight in hishand. He stood a little time before each, carefully wiping off with aclean linen cloth the very slightest trace of mould. "This was myfavorite walk, " said he to Anton. "For twenty years I have attendedevery vintage as a purchaser. Those were happy days, Mr. Wohlfart, andnow they are gone forever. I have often walked up and down here, lookingat the sunlight that shone down upon the barrels, and thinking of thosethat walked here before me. To-day I am here for the last time. And whatwill become of the wine? It will all be exported; they will drink it inforeign parts, without knowing its merits; and some brandy distillerwill take possession of this cellar, or some new brewer will keep hisBavarian beer in it. The old times are over for me too. This is thenoblest wine of all, " said he, going up to a particular cask. "I mighthave excepted it from my surrender. But what should I do with thisbarrel only? Drink it? I shall never drink wine more. It shall go withthe rest, only I must take leave of it. " He filled his glass. "Did youever drink wine like that before?" asked he, mournfully, holding out theglass to Anton, who willingly owned he never had. 

They slowly reascended the steps. Arrived at the top, the wine-merchantcast one last long look into the cellar, then turned round like onefully resolved, locked the secret door, took out the key, and laid itsolemnly in Anton's hand. "There is the key of your property. Ouraccounts are settled. Fare you well, gentlemen. " Slowly and with benthead he went through the ruined cloister, looking, in the gray light ofthe early morning, like the ghost of some ancient cellarer stillhaunting the relics of his past glory. 

The agent called after him, "But our breakfast, Mr. Wendel!" The old manshook his head, and made a gesture of refusal. 

Yes, indeed, the breakfast. Every transaction was drowned in wine inthis town. The long sittings in drinking-houses, which even the badtimes did not prevent, were no small sorrow to Anton. He saw that menworked much less, and talked and drank much more in this country than inhis. Whenever he had succeeded in getting a matter arranged, he couldnot dispense with the succeeding breakfast. Then buyers, sellers, assistants, and hangers-on of every kind sat at a round table togetherin one of the taverns; began with porter, ate Caviare by the pound, andwashed it down with red Bordeaux wine. Hospitality was dispensed on allsides; every familiar face must come and take a share in the banquet;and so the company went on increasing till evening closed. Meanwhile thewives, accustomed to such proceedings, would have dinner brought up andremoved three successive times, and at last adjourned till the next day. At times like these Anton often thought of Fink, who, despite hisreluctance, had at least taught him to get through such ordeals as theserespectably. 

One afternoon, while Anton was sitting watching a game at dominoes, anold lieutenant, looking off his newspaper, called to the players, "Yesterday evening one of our hussars had two fingers of his right handsmashed. The ass who was quartered with him had been playing with hiscarabine, which was loaded. The doctor thinks amputation unavoidable. Iam sorry for the fine fellow: he was one of the most efficient of oursquadron. These misfortunes always happen to the best. "

"What is the man's name?" asked Herr von Bolling, going on with hisgame. 

"It is Corporal Sturm. "

Anton sprang up, making all the pieces on the table dance again, andasked where he was to be found. 

The lieutenant described the situation of the Lazaretto. In a dark room, full of beds and invalid soldiers, Karl lay pale and suffering, andreached out his left hand to Anton. "It is over, " he said; "it hurt memost confoundedly, but I shall be able to use the hand again. I canstill guide a pen, and shall try to do every thing else, if not with theright hand, why, with the left. Only I shall never again cut a figure ingold rings. "

"My poor, poor Karl, " cried Anton; "it's all over with your soldiering. "

"Do you know, " said Karl, "I can stand that misfortune pretty well. After all, it was not a regular war; and when spring and sowing-timecomes, I shall be all right again. I could get up now if the doctor werenot so strict. It is not pleasant here, " added he, apologetically;"many of our people are sick, and one must shift for one's self in astrange town. "

"You shall not remain in this room, " said Anton, "if I can help it. There is such an atmosphere of disease here that a man in health becomesquite faint; I shall ask permission to have you moved into my lodging. "

"Dear Mr. Anton!" cried Karl, overjoyed. 

"Hush!" said the other; "I do not yet know whether we shall get leave. "

"I have one other request to make, " said the soldier, at parting, "andthat is, that you will write the circumstance off to Goliath, so as notto make him too uneasy. If he first heard of it from a stranger, hewould go on like a madman, I know. "

Anton promised to do this, and then hurried to the surgeon of theregiment, and next to his kind friend the captain. 

"I will answer for his getting leave, " said the latter. "And as, fromthe account of his wound, his dismissal from the service seems to meunavoidable, he may as well stay with you till he receives it. "

Three days later, Karl, with his arm in a sling, entered Anton's room. "Here I am, " said he. "Adieu my gay uniform! adieu Selim, my gallantbay! You must have patience with me, Mr. Anton, for one other week, thenI shall be able to use my arm again. "

"Here is an answer from your father, " said Anton, "directed to me. "

"To you?" inquired Karl, in amazement. "Why to you? why has he notwritten to me?"

"Listen. " Anton took up a great sheet of folio paper, which was coveredover with letters half an inch long, and read as follows: "WorshipfulMr. Wohlfart, this is a great misfortune for my poor son. Two fingersfrom ten--eight remain. Even though they were but small fingers, thepain was all the same. It is a great misfortune for both of us that wecan no longer write to each other. Therefore I beg of you to have thegoodness to tell him what follows: 'He is not to grieve overmuch. Boringcan still perhaps be done, and a good deal with the hammer. And even ifit be Heaven's will that this too should be impossible, still he is notto grieve overmuch. He is provided for by an iron chest. When I am dead, he will find the key in my waistcoat pocket. And so I greet him with mywhole heart. As soon as he can travel, he must come to me; all the more, as I can no longer tell him in writing that I am his true and lovingfather, Johann Sturm. '" Anton gave the letter to the invalid. 

"It is just like him, " said Karl, between smiles and tears; "in hisfirst sorrow he has imagined that he can no longer write to me, becauseI have hurt my hand. How he will stare when he receives my letter!"

Karl spent the next few weeks with Anton. As soon as he could move hishand, he took possession of the wardrobe of his friend, and began torender him the little services that he had undertaken long ago in theprincipal's house. Anton had some difficulty to prevent him from playingthe superfluous part of valet. 

"There you are brushing my coat again, " said he one day, going intoKarl's room. "You know I will not stand it. "

"It was only to keep mine in countenance, " said Karl, by way of excuse;"two look so much better hanging together than one. Your coffee isready, but the coffee-pot is good for nothing, and always tastes of thespirit of wine. "

When he found that, as he said, he could be of no use to Anton, he beganto work on his own account. Owing to his old love of mechanics, he hadcollected a quantity of tools of all sorts, and whenever Anton left thehouse, he began such a sawing, boring, planing, and rasping, that eventhe deaf old artillery officer, who was quartered in the neighboringhouse, was under the impression that a carpenter had settled near him, and sent a broken bedstead to be repaired. As Karl was still obliged tospare his right hand, he used one tool after the other with the left, and was as pleased as a child with the progress he made. And when thesurgeon forbade such exertions for a week to come, Karl began to writewith his left hand, and daily exhibited to Anton samples of his skill. "Practice is all that is wanted, " said he; "man has to discover what hecan do. As for that, writing with the hands at all is merely a habit; ifone had no hands, one would write with one's feet; and I even believethat they are not essential, and that it could be managed with thehead. "

"You are a foolish fellow, " laughed Anton. 

"I do assure you, " continued Karl, "that with a long reed held in themouth, with two threads fastened to the ears to lessen the shaking, onemight get on very tolerably. There is the setting of your keyhole comeoff; we'll glue that on in no time. "

"I wonder that it does not stick of itself, " said Anton, "for a mosthorrible smell of glue comes from your room. The whole atmosphere isimpregnated with glue. "

"God forbid!" said Karl; "what I have is perfectly scentless glue--a newinvention. "

When this true-hearted man set out homeward, with his dismission in hispocket, Anton felt as if he himself then first exchanged thecounting-house for the foreign city. 

One day our Anton passed the inn where his principal had been wounded. He stood still a moment, and looked with some curiosity at the old houseand at the court-yard, where white-coated soldiers were now occupied inblacking and polishing their belts. At that moment he perceived a formin a black caftan glide away like a shadow out of the bar across theentrance. It had the black curls, the small cap, the figure and bearingof his old acquaintance, Schmeie Tinkeles. Alas! but it was his face nolonger. The former Tinkeles had been rather a smart fellow of his kind. He had always worn his long locks shining and curled; he had had redlips, and a slight tinge of color on his yellow cheeks. The presentSchmeie was but a shadow of him of yore: he looked pale as a ghost, hisnose had become pointed and prominent, and his head drooped down likethe cup of a fading flower. 

Anton cried out in amazement, "Tinkeles, is it really you?" and went upto him. Tinkeles collapsed as if struck by a thunderbolt, and staredwith wide-opened eyes at Anton, an image of horror and alarm. 

"God of justice!" were the only words that escaped his white lips. 

"What is the matter with you, Tinkeles? you look a most miserablesinner. What are you doing in this place, and what in the world leadsyou to this house, of all others?"

"I can not help being here, " answered the trader, still halfunconscious. "I can not help our principal being so unfortunate. Hisblood has flowed on account of the goods which Mausche Fischel sent off, having been paid for them. I am innocent, Mr. Wohlfart, on my eternalsalvation. I did not know that the landlord was such a worthless being, and that he would lift his hand against the gentleman who stood beforehim there without hat, without cap on--without cap on, " he whined outstill more loudly; "bareheaded. You may believe that it was with me asthough a sword had fallen upon my own body when I saw the landlord usesuch violence to a man who stood before him like a nobleman as he is, and has been all his life long. "

"Hear me, Schmeie, " said Anton, looking wondering at the Galician, whostill harped upon the same string, trying to regain his composure bydint of speaking. "Hear me, my lad; you were in this town when ourwagons were plundered--you saw from some hiding-place or other ourquarrel with the landlord--you know this man's character, and yet youremain here; and now I will just tell you, in so many words, what youhave half confessed to me--you knew of the unloading of the wagons, and, more, you had an interest in the carriers remaining behind; and inshort, you and the landlord are in the same boat. After what you havenow said, I shall not let you go till I know all. You shall either comewith me to my room, and there freely confess, or I will take you to thesoldiers, and have you examined by them. "

Tinkeles was annihilated. "God of my fathers, it is fearful--it isfearful!" whined he, and his teeth chattered. 

Anton felt compassion for his great terror, and said, "Come with me, Tinkeles, and I promise you that if you make a candid confession nothingshall be done to you. "

"What shall I confess to the gentleman?" groaned Tinkeles; "I, who havenothing to confess. "

"If you will not come at once, I call the soldiers, " said Anton, roughly. 

"No soldiers, " implored Tinkeles, shuddering again. "I will come withyou, and will tell you what I know, if you will promise to betray me tono one, not to your principal, not to Mausche Fischel, and not either tothe wicked man, the landlord, and not to any soldiers. "

"Come, " said Anton, pointing down the street. And so he led away thereluctant Tinkeles like a prisoner, and never took his eyes off him, fearing that he would follow the suggestions of his evil conscience, andrun off down some side street. The Galician, however, had not courage todo this, but crept along by Anton, looked toward him every now and then, sighing deeply, and gurgled out unintelligible words. Arrived at Anton'slodging, he began of his own accord: "It has been a weight on myheart--I have not been able to sleep--I have not been able to eat ordrink; and whenever I ran here or there on business, it has lain on mysoul just as a stone does in a glass--when one tries to drink, the stonefalls against the teeth, and the water spills. Alas! what have I notspilled!"

"Go on, " said Anton, again mollified by the candid confession. 

"I came here on account of the wagons, " continued Tinkeles, lookingtimidly at Anton. "Mausche has dealt with your firm for ten years, andalways uprightly, and you have made a good sum of money out of him, andso he thought that the time was come when he might do a business of hisown, and settle his account with you. And when the uproar began, he cameto me and said, 'Schmeie, ' said he, 'you are not afraid, ' said he. 'Letthem shoot away, and go you among them and see that you keep the wagonsfor me. Perhaps you can sell them, perhaps you can bring them back; atall events, it is better that we should have them than any one else. 'And so I came and waited till the wagons arrived, and I spoke with thelandlord, saying that, since the goods could not reach you, it wasbetter they should fall into our hands. But that the landlord shouldprove such a man of blood, that I did not wish, and did not know; andsince I saw how he cut your master's arm, I have had no peace, and Ihave ever seen before me the bloody shirt, and the fine cloth of hisgreat-coat, which was cut in two. "

Anton listened to this confession with an interest that outweighed theaversion he felt for these--not uncommon--manoeuvres of Galiciantraders. He contented himself with saying to the delinquent, "Yourrascality has cost Mr. Schröter a wounded arm; and, had we not appearedupon the scene, you would have stolen from us twenty thousand dollars. "

"Not twenty thousand, " cried Schmeie; "wool is very low, and there'snothing to be made of tallow. Less than twenty thousand. "

"Indeed!" said Anton, disdainfully; "and now, what am I to do with you?"

"Do nothing with me, " implored Schmeie, laying his hand on Anton's coat. "Let the whole matter go to sleep. You have the goods, be satisfied withthat. It was a good business that which Mausche Fischel was not able toundertake because you hindered him. "

"You still regret it, " said Anton, indignantly. 

"I am glad that you have the property, " replied the Jew, "because youshed your blood about it; and therefore do nothing with me; I will seewhether I can't please you in other matters. If you have any thing forme to do in this place, it will be a satisfaction to me to help you. "

Anton coldly replied, "Although I have promised not to bring yourthievishness to judgment, yet we can never deal with you again. You area worthless man, Tinkeles, and have dealt unfairly with our house. Henceforth we are strangers. "

"Why do you call me worthless?" complained Tinkeles. "You have known meas an upright man for years past; how can you call me worthless becauseI wanted to do a little stroke of business, and was unfortunate andcould not do it? Is that worthless?"

"Enough, " said Anton; "you may go. " Tinkeles remained standing, andasked whether Anton required any new imperial ducats. "I want nothingfrom you, " was the reply. "Go. "

The Jew went slowly to the door, and then turning round, observed, "There is an excellent bargain to be made with oats; if you willundertake it with me, I will go shares with you; there is much money tobe made by it. "

"I have no dealings with you, Tinkeles. In Heaven's name, go away. "

The Jew crept out, once more scratching at the door, but not venturingin. A few minutes later, Anton saw him cross the street, looking muchdejected. 

From that time Anton was regularly besieged by the repentant Tinkeles. Not a day passed without the Galician forcing an entrance, and seeking areconciliation after his fashion. Sometimes they met in the streets, sometimes Anton was disturbed when writing by his unsteady knock; he hadalways something to offer, or some tidings to impart, through which hehoped to find favor. His power of invention was quite touching. Heoffered to buy or sell any thing or every thing, to transact any kind ofbusiness, to spy or carry messages; and when he found out that Anton wasa good deal with the military, and that a certain young lieutenant, inparticular, went often with him to the "Restauration, " Tinkeles began tooffer whatever he conceived might prove attractive to an officer. True, Anton remained firm in his resolve of not dealing with him, but at lasthe had no longer the heart to treat the poor devil roughly; and Tinkelesfound out from many a suppressed smile, or short question put, thatAnton's intercession for him with the principal was not quite hopeless. And for this he served with the perseverance of his ancestor Jacob. 

One morning young Rothsattel came clattering into Anton's room. "I havebeen on the sick-list. I had a bad catarrh, and was obliged to remain inmy comfortless quarters, " said he, throwing himself on the sofa. "Canyou help me to while away time this evening? We are to have a game atwhist. I have invited our doctor and a few of our men. Will you come?"Pleased and a little flattered, Anton accepted. "Very well, " continuedthe young gentleman; "then you must give me the power of losing my moneyto you. That wretched _vingt-et-un_ has emptied my pockets. Lend metwenty ducats for eight days. "

"With pleasure, " said Anton; and he eagerly produced his purse. 

Just as the lieutenant carelessly pocketed it, a horse's hoofs wereheard in the street, and he rushed to the window. "By Jove, that is alovely thing--pure Polish blood--the horse-dealer has stolen it from oneof the rebels, and now wants to tempt an honest soldier with it. "

"How do you know that the horse is to be sold?" asked Anton, sealing aletter at the writing-table. 

"Don't you see that the creature is led about by a rogue to attractnotice?"

At that moment there was a light knock at the door, and Schmeie Tinkelesfirst inserted his curly head, and then his black caftan, and gurgledsubmissively, "I wished to ask their honors whether they would look at ahorse that is worth as many louis-d'or as it cost dollars. If you wouldjust step to the window, Mr. Wohlfart, you would see it--seeing is notbuying. "

"Is this one of your mercantile friends, Wohlfart?" asked thelieutenant, laughing. 

"He is so no longer; he is fallen into disgrace, " replied Anton, in thesame tone. "This time his visit is intended for you, Herr vonRothsattel. Take care, or he will tempt you to buy the horse. "

The dealer listened attentively to the dialogue, and looked with muchcuriosity at the lieutenant. 

"If the gracious baron will buy the horse, " said he, coming forward, andstaring at the young officer, "it will be a beautiful saddle-horse forhim on his estate. "

"What the deuce do you know about my estate?" said the lieutenant; "Ihave none. "

"Do you know this gentleman?" asked Anton. 

"How should I not know him, if it be he who has the great estate in yourcountry, in which he has built a factory, where he makes sugar out offodder. "

"He means your father, " explained Anton. "Tinkeles has connections inour province, and often stays months there. "

"What do I hear?" cried the Galician; "the father of this worshipfulofficer! Your pardon, Mr. Wohlfart; so you are acquainted with thebaron, who is the father of this gentleman!" A smile hovered over thelieutenant's mustache. 

"I have, at all events, seen this gentleman's father, " replied Anton, annoyed with the pertinacious questioning of the trader, and withhimself for blushing. 

"And forgive me if I ask whether you know this gentleman intimately, andwhether he is what one calls your good friend?"

"What are you driving at, Tinkeles?" said Anton, sharply, and blushedstill deeper, not knowing exactly how to answer the question. 

"Yes, Jew, he is my good friend, " said the lieutenant, clapping Anton onthe shoulder. "He is my cashier; he has just lent me twenty ducats, andhe won't give me any money to buy your horse. So go to the devil. "

The trader listened attentively to every word spoken, and looked at theyoung men with curiosity, but, as Anton remarked, with a degree ofsympathy foreign to his nature. "So, " he repeated, mechanically, "he haslent you twenty ducats; he would lend you more if you asked him; Iknow--I know. So you do not want the horse, Mr. Wohlfart? My services toyou, Mr. Wohlfart;" and, so saying, he vanished, and soon the quick trotof a horse was heard. 

"What a fellow that is!" cried the lieutenant, looking out after him. 

"He is not generally so easy to get rid of, " said Anton, perplexed atthe strange conduct of the Jew. "Perhaps your uniform expedited hisdeparture. "

"I hope it was of some use to you, then. Good-by till the evening, " saidthe lieutenant, taking his leave. 

That afternoon the light knocking was heard again, and Tinkelesreappeared. He looked cautiously around the room, and approached Anton. "Allow me to ask, " said he, with a confidential wink, "is it really truethat you lent him twenty ducats, and would lend him more if he wished?"

Anton assented to both these propositions. "And now, " said he, "tell meplainly what is running in your head, for I see you have something todisclose. "

Tinkeles made a sly face, and winked harder. "Even though he be yourgood friend, beware of lending him money. If you know what you areabout, you will lend him no more money. "

"And why not?" inquired Anton. "Your good advice is useless, unless Iknow on what it is founded. "

"And if I tell you what I know, will you intercede for me with Mr. Schröter, so that he may not think about the wagons when he sees me inhis counting-house?"

"I will tell him that you have behaved well in other respects. It willbe for him to decide what he will do. "

"You will intercede for me, " said Tinkeles; "that's enough. Things aregoing ill with Von Rothsattel, the father of this young man--very ill. Misfortune's black hand is raised over him. He is a lost man. There isno saving him. "

"How do you know this?" cried Anton, horrified. "But it is impossible, "he added, more calmly; "it is a lie, a mere idle rumor. "

"Believe my words, " said the Jew, impressively. "His father is in thehands of one who walks about in secret, like the angel of destruction. He goes and lays his noose around the necks of the men he has singledout without any one seeing him. He tightens the noose, and they fallaround like ninepins. Why should you lend your money to those who havethe noose around their neck?"

"Who is this demon who has the baron in his power?" cried Anton, inuncontrollable excitement. 

"What signifies the name?" coolly replied the Galician. "Even if I knewit I would not tell it, and if I told it it could do you no good, northe baron either, for you know him not, and he knows him not. "

"Is it Ehrenthal?" inquired Anton. 

"I can not tell the name, " rejoined the trader, shrugging his shoulders;"but it is not Hirsch Ehrenthal. "

"If I am to believe your words, and if you wish to do me a service, "continued Anton, more composedly, "you must give me exact information. Imust know this man's name--must know all that you have heard of him andof the baron. "

"I have heard nothing, " replied the trader, doggedly, "if you wish toexamine me as they do in the courts of law. A word that is spoken fliesthrough the air like a scent; one perceives it, another does not. I cannot tell you the words I have heard, and I will not tell them for muchmoney. What I say is meant for your ear alone. To you I say that two menhave sat together, not one, but many evenings--not one, but many years;and they have whispered in the balcony of our inn, under which the waterruns; and the water whispered below them, and they whispered above thewater. I lay in the room on my bed of straw, so that they believed I wasasleep; and I have often heard the name of Rothsattel from the lips ofboth, and the name of his estate too; and I know that misfortune hoversover him, but further I know not; and now I have said all, and will go. The good advice I have this day given you will make up for the day whenyou fought for the wool and the hides; and you will remember the promiseyou have made me. "

Anton was lost in thought. He knew from Bernhard that Ehrenthal was inmany ways intimately connected with the baron, and this link between thelanded proprietor and the ill-spoken-of speculator had often seemed tohim unaccountable. But Tinkeles' story was too incredible, for he hadnever himself heard any unfavorable account of the baron'scircumstances. "I can not, " said he, after a long pause, "be satisfiedwith what you have told me. You will think the matter over, and perhapsyou will remember the name, and some of the words you heard. "

"Perhaps I may, " said the Galician, with a peculiar expression, whichAnton in his perplexity quite lost. "And now we have squared ouraccounts. I have occasioned you anxiety and danger, but, on the otherhand, I have done you a service--a great service, " he repeated, complacently. "Would you take louis-d'or instead of bank-notes?" askedhe, suddenly falling into a business tone; "if so, I can let you havethem. "

"You know that I have no money transactions, " replied Anton, absently. 

"Perhaps you can give Vienna bills drawn upon safe houses. "

"I have no bills to give, " said Anton, with some irritation. 

"Very well, " said the Jew; "a question does no harm;" and he turned togo, stopping, however, when he reached the door. "I was obliged to givetwo florins to Seligmann, who led the horse, and waited half a day uponthe gentleman's pleasure. It was a mere advance that I made for you;will you not give me my two florins back?"

"Heavens be praised!" cried Anton, laughing in spite of himself; "now wehave the old Tinkeles once more. No, Schmeie, you won't get your twoflorins. "

"And you will not take louis-d'or in exchange for Vienna notes?"

"I will not. "

"Adieu!" said Tinkeles; "and now, when we meet again, we are goodfriends. " He lifted the latch. "If you want to know the name of the manwho can make Von Rothsattel as small as the grass in the streets whichevery one treads upon, inquire for Hirsch Ehrenthal's book-keeper, ofthe name of Itzig. Veitel Itzig is the name. " With these words he madehis exit so rapidly that, although Anton tried, he could not overtakehim. 

He determined at once to inform the baron's son of what he had heard, though he feared that it would occasion his tender nature greatdistress. "But it must be done this very evening, " thought he. "I willgo early, or remain till the others have left. "

Fate, however, did not favor this intention. Early as Anton went, hefound five or six young cavalry officers already arrived at youngRothsattel's rooms before him. Eugene lay in his dressing-gown on thesofa, the squadron encamping round him. The doctor succeeded Anton. "Howare you?" said he to the patient. 

"Well enough, " replied Eugene. "I don't want your powders. "

"A little fever, " continued the doctor. "Pulse full, and so on. It istoo hot here. I propose that we open the window. "

"By Jove, doctor, you shall do no such thing, " cried a young gentleman, who had made himself a sort of couch of two chairs; "you know that Ican't stand a draught except when on duty. "

"Leave it alone, " cried Eugene; "we are homoeopathists here; we willdrive out heat by heat. What shall we drink?"

"A mild punch would be best for the patient, " said the doctor. 

"Bring the pine-apple, my good Anton; it is somewhere there, with therest of the apparatus. "

"Ha!" cried the doctor, as Anton produced the fruit, and the servantcame in with a basket of wine; "a sweet Colossus, a remarkable specimenindeed! With your leave, I'll make the punch. The proportions must havesome reference to the state of the patient. "

So saying, the doctor put his hand into his pocket, and brought out ablack case, in which he looked for a knife to cut the fruit. 

The young hussars broke out at once into a volley of oaths. 

"My good sirs, " cried the doctor, little moved by the storm he hadraised, "has any one of you got a knife? Not one, I know. There isnothing to be found in your pockets but looking-glasses and brushes; andwhich of you understands the making of a bowl that a man of the worldcan drink? You can, indeed, empty one, but make it you can not. "

"I will try what I can do, doctor, " said Bolling, from a corner. 

"Ah! Herr von Bolling, are you here too?" replied the doctor, with abow. 

Bolling took the pine-apple, and carefully held it out of reach of themedical arm. "Come here, Anton, " said he, "and take care that thatmonster of a doctor does not approach our punch with hisdissecting-knife. "

While these two were brewing, the doctor took out two packs of cards, and solemnly laid them on the table. 

"None of your cards!" cried Eugene; "to-day, at least, let us betogether without sinning. "

"You can't, " said the doctor, mockingly; "you'll be the first to touchthem. I thought of nothing but a quiet game at whist, a game for pioushermits. Time, however, will show what you will make of these packs;there they lie by the candlesticks. "

"Don't listen to the tempter, " cried one of the lieutenants, laughing. 

"Whoever touches the cards first shall forfeit a breakfast to theparty, " said another. 

"Here is the punch, " said Bolling, setting down the bowl. "Taste it, ohman of blood!"

"Raw!" pronounced the oracle; "it would be drinkable to-morrow evening. "

While these gentlemen were disputing about the merits of the beverage, Eugene took up one of the packs of cards, and mechanically cut them. Thedoctor exclaimed, "Caught, I declare! He himself is the one to pay theforfeit. " All laughed, and crowded round the table. "The bank, doctor, "cried the officers, throwing him the cards. Soon other packs came outof other pockets; and the doctor laying a little heap of paper andsilver on the table, the game began. The stakes were not high, and lightjests accompanied the loss and gain of the players. Even Anton took acard and staked away without much thought. He found it difficult, though, to take any cordial part in the entertainment, and looked withsincere sympathy at young Rothsattel bending, in his ignorance, over thecards. He himself won a few dollars, but remarked with pain that Eugenewas invariably unlucky. As, however, he was a party concerned in this, he made no remark; but the doctor himself said to his patient, afterhaving again swept away the ducats the former had put down, "You aregetting hot; you are feverish; if you are prudent, you will play nomore. I have never yet had a fever-patient who did not lose at Pharao. "

"That won't do, doctor, " replied Eugene, sharply, and staked again. 

"You are unlucky, Eugene, " cried the good-humored Bolling. "You go ontoo fast. "

His deal over, the doctor took up the cards and placed them in hispocket. "The bank has won immensely, " said he; "but I leave off; I havemade enough. "

Again a storm arose among the officers. "I will hold the bank, " criedEugene; "give me your cash, Wohlfart. "

The doctor protested, but at length gave in, thinking, "Perhaps he'llhave a run of luck as banker; one must not refuse a man a chance ofcompensation. "

Anton took some bank-notes out of his pocket, and laid them down beforeEugene, but he himself played no more. He sat there sadly, and looked athis friend, who, heated by wine and fever, stared fixedly at the cardsof the players. Deal succeeded deal, and Eugene lost all he had beforehim. The officers glanced at each other in amazement. 

"I too propose that we leave off, " said Bolling; "we will give you yourrevenge another time. "

"I will have it to-day, " cried Eugene, springing up and shutting thedoor. "Not one of you shall stir. Keep your places and play; here ismoney. " He threw a bundle of matches on the table. "Every match standsfor a dollar; no stake under. I will pay to-morrow. " The game went on;Eugene continued to lose; the matches were scattered in all directions, as by some secret spell. Eugene got another bundle, exclaiming wildly, "We'll reckon when we separate. "

Bolling rose and stamped with his chair. 

"Whoever leaves the room is a scoundrel!" cried Eugene. 

"You are a fool!" said the other, angrily. "It is a shame to take all acomrade's money as we are doing to-day. I have never seen such a thing. If it be Satan's contriving, I will not help him further. " He rose andsat apart. Anton joined him. Both looked on in silence at the desperateway in which gold was flung about. 

"I too have had enough of it, " said the doctor, showing a thick bundleof matches in his hand. "This is a singular evening; since I have knowncards, such a case as this has never come within my experience. "

Once more Eugene sprang to the side-table where the matches lay, butBolling seized the whole box and flung them into the street. "Betterthat they burn our boots than your purse, " cried he. Then throwing thecards on the floor, "The game shall cease, I say. "

"I will not be dictated to thus, " retorted Eugene, in a rage. 

Bolling buckled on his sword and laid his hand on the belt. "I will talkto you to-morrow. And now make your reckoning, gentlemen, " said he; "weare going to break up. "

The counters were thrown on the table, the doctor counting. Eugenegloomily took out his pocket-book, and entered into it the amount of hisdebt to each. The company retired without any courteous greetings. 

On the way the doctor said, "He owes eight hundred dollars. "

Bolling shrugged his shoulders. "I hope he can raise the money; but I dowish you had kept your cards in your pocket. If the story gets about, Rothsattel will have cause to regret it. We shall all do our best tohush it up, and I request you, Mr. Wohlfart, to do the same. "

Anton returned to his lodgings in the utmost excitement. The wholeevening he had sat upon thorns, and silently reproached the spendthrift. He regretted having lent him money, and yet felt it would have beenimpossible to refuse. 

The following morning, just as he was setting out to pay Eugene a visit, the door opened, and Eugene himself entered, out of tune, dejected, unsteady. 

"A horrid piece of ill luck yesterday, " cried he. "I am in greatstraits; I must get hold of eight hundred dollars, and have not in allthis luckless town a friend to whom I can turn except you. Exert yourfaculties, Anton, and contrive to get me the money. "

"It is no easy matter for me to do so, " replied Anton, gravely. "The sumis no inconsiderable one, and the money which I have here at my disposalis not my own. "

"You will contrive it, though, " continued Eugene, persevering; "if youdo not help me out of this scrape, I know not where to turn. Our colonelis not to be trifled with. I risk the loss of all if the matter be notsoon settled and hushed up. " And in his distress he took Anton's handand pressed it. 

Anton looked at the troubled face of Lenore's brother, and replied withan inward struggle: "I have a little sum belonging to me invested in thefunds of our house, and have now got money to transmit thither; it wouldbe possible to tell the cashier to take my money and to keep back thesum you require. "

"You are my deliverer, " cried Eugene, suddenly relieved; "in a month, atlatest, I will repay you the eight hundred dollars, " added he, inclinedat the speedy prospect of money to hope the best. 

Anton went to his desk and counted out the sum. It was the larger partof what still remained of his inheritance. 

When Eugene had with warmest thanks pocketed the money, Anton began:"And now, Herr von Rothsattel, I wish to communicate something whichweighed upon my heart all yesterday evening. I beg that you will notconsider me intrusive if I tell you what you ought to know, and yet whata stranger has hardly a right to say. "

"If you are going to sermonize me, the moment is ill chosen, " repliedthe lieutenant, sulkily. "I know perfectly that I have done a stupidthing, and am in for a lecture from my papa. I do not wish to hear fromanother what I must listen to from him. "

"You trust very little to my good feeling, " cried Anton, indignantly; "Iyesterday heard from a very singular source that your father has gotinto difficulties through the intrigues of an unprincipled speculator. Ieven heard the name of the man who is plotting his ruin. "

The lieutenant looked in amazement at Anton's earnest face, and at lastsaid, "The devil! you frighten me. But no, it is impossible. Papa hasnever told me any thing about his affairs being out of order. "

"Perhaps he himself does not know the schemes, or the worthlessness ofthe men who mean to use his credit for their own ends. "

"The Baron of Rothsattel is not the man to be made a tool of by anyone. "

"That I agree to, " said Anton, readily; "and yet I must beg you toreflect that his late extensive undertakings may have brought him intocontact with cunning and unprincipled traders. He who gave me thisinformation evidently did it with a good purpose. He announced hisbelief, which is, I fear, widely shared by a number of inferior men ofbusiness, that your father is in grave danger of losing severely. I nowrequest that you will go with me to the man; perhaps we shall succeed ineliciting more from him. He is the very Jew you saw with me yesterday. "

The lieutenant looked down in deep dejection, and, without saying aword, took up his cap and accompanied Anton to the inn at which Tinkeleswas staying. 

"It will be better that you should ask for him, " said Anton on the way. So the officer entered and asked every servant that he met, and then thelandlord. Schmeie had left in the middle of the previous day. Theyhurried from the inn to the government offices, and there found thatTinkeles had taken out his passport for the Turkish frontier. Hisdeparture made his warning appear the more important. The longer theydiscussed the matter, the more excited the lieutenant became, and theless he knew what to do. At last he broke out: "My father is perhaps nowdistressed for money, and how am I to tell him of my debt? It is adreadful case. Wohlfart, you are a good fellow for lending me the money, though this wandering Jew's report was in your head. You must be stillmore accommodating, and lend me the sum for a longer time. "

"Until you yourself express a wish to repay it. "

"That is kind, " cried the lieutenant; "and now do one thing more: writeto my father. You know best what this confounded man has told you, andit would be a great bore to me to have to tell a thing of the kind topapa. "

"But your father may well consider the interference of a strangerunwarrantable impertinence, " rejoined Anton, oppressed by the idea ofhaving to write to Lenore's father. 

"My father already knows you, " said Eugene, persuasively; "I remember mysister talking to me about you. Just say that I entreated you to write. It would really be better that you should do so. "

Anton consented. He sat down at once, and informed the baron of thewarning given by the wool-dealer. And thus he, while far away, cameinto new relations with the family of the baron, which were destined tohave important consequences for him and them alike. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Happy the foot that can roam over a wide expanse of property--happy thehead which knows how to subject the forces of ever-fresh nature to anintelligent human will. All that makes man strong, healthy, worthy, isgiven in portion to the agriculturist: his life is a ceaseless battleand a ceaseless victory. The pure air of heaven steels the muscles ofhis body, and the primeval order of nature forces his thoughts too intoa regular orbit. Other species of industry may become obsolete; his isenduring as the earth: other tastes may prison men in narrow walls, inthe depths of the earth, or between the planks of a ship; his glance hasonly two boundaries--the blue sky above, the firm earth below. His isalmost the rapture of creation; for whatever his edict demands fromorganic or inorganic nature, springs up beneath his hand. Even thetownsman's heart is refreshed by the green blade and the golden ear, thequietly pasturing cow and the frisking colt, the shade of the woods andthe perfume of the fields; but far stronger, higher, nobler is theenjoyment of the man who, walking over his own land, can say, "All thisis mine; all this is a blessing upon my energy and insight. " For he doesnot merely supinely enjoy the picture before him: some definite wishaccompanies every glance, some resolve every impression. Every thing hasa meaning for him, and he a purpose regarding it. Daily labor is hisdelight, and it is a delight that quickens each faculty. So lives theman who is himself the industrious cultivator of his own soil. 

And three times happy the proprietor of land where a battle with naturehas been carried on for long years. The plowshare sinks deep into thewell-cleaned ground, the ears hang heavy on the well-grown corn, and theturnip swells to colossal size. Then comes the time when a new form ofindustry is added to the old. Strange shapes of machinery are seen nearthe farm-buildings, giant caldrons, mighty wheels, and huge pipes, whilethe grinding and turning of the engines goes on ceaselessly by day andnight. A noble industry, this! It springs from the energies of thesoil, and increases them a hundred-fold. When the fruits of his ownground are devoted to the factory, the ancient plow without, the newsteam-engine within, unite in perfect harmony to make their ownerricher, stronger, and wiser. His life is linked by many ties to men ofother callings, and strangers rejoice to hold out their hands to him, and unite their efforts with his. The circle of his interests goes onwidening, and his influence over others increasing. 

Near to the dwelling of a man like this a new race of laborers buildcottages of every degree, all comes right to him, and can be turned toprofit. The value of the land rises yearly, and the tempting prospect ofgreat returns impels even the obstinate peasantry out of the oldaccustomed track. The wretched path becomes a good road, the marshyditch a canal. Wagons pass along from field to field, red-tiled roofsrise in once desolate stations; the postman, who formerly came in twicea week, appears daily now, his bag heavy with letters and newspapers, and as he stops at some new house to bring the young wife, latelysettled there, a letter from her home, he gratefully accepts the glassof milk she offers him in her delight, and tells her how long the wayused to be from village to village in the summer heat. Soon new wantsarise--the childish hangers on to all progress. The needle of the tailorhas many a new stuff to pierce, the small shopkeeper sets up his storebetween the cottages, the village schoolmaster complains of themultitude of his scholars; a second school is built, an adult classestablished; the teacher keeps the first germ of the lending library ina cupboard in his own room, and the bookseller in the next town sendshim books for sale; and thus the life of the prosperous agriculturist isa blessing to the district, nay, to the whole country. 

But woe to the landed proprietor when the ground he treads has falleninto the power of strangers. He is lost if his crops fail to satisfytheir claims, and the genii of nature give their smiles to him only whoconfronts them freely and securely--they revolt when they discernweakness, precipitation, and half measures. No undertaking any longerprospers. The yellow blossoms of the turnip and the blue flowers of theflax wither without fruit. Rust and gangrene appear among the cattle, the shriveled potato sickens and dies; all these, long accustomed toobey skill, now cruelly avenge neglect. Then the daily walk through thefields becomes a daily curse; the very lark that springs from the cornreminds him that it is all sold as it stands; the yoke of oxen carryingthe clover to the barn suggests that the whole yield of the dairybelongs to a creditor. Gloomy, morose, despairing, the man returns home. It is natural that he should become a stranger to his farm, should seekto escape from painful thoughts in change of scene, and his absenceprecipitates his downfall. The one thing that might yet save him, acomplete surrender of himself to his avocations, is become intolerable. 

Woe, threefold woe, to the landed proprietor who has precipitatelyinvoked the black art of steam to settle on his land, in order to educefrom it energies which it does not possess! The heaviest curse thatmortal man can know has fallen upon him. He not only becomes weakerhimself, but he deteriorates all those whom he takes into his service. All that still remains to him is torn to fragments by the rotation ofthe wheels he has madly introduced; his oxen and his horses are worn outby the heavy demands the factory makes upon them; his worthyfarm-servants are transformed into a dirty, hungry proletariat. Whereonce the necessary work at least was obediently performed, contention, cheating, and opposition prevail. He himself is swept away in a vortexof complicated business, claims surge in upon him wave upon wave, andhe, in his desperate struggle, drowning man that he is, has no choicebut to cling to whatever comes within his grasp, and then, wearied byhis fruitless efforts, to sink into the abyss. 

Once the baron's lands had borne better crops than those of hisneighbors, his herds were acknowledged to be thoroughly healthy, badyears, which crushed others, had passed comparatively lightly over him. Now, all this was reversed as by some evil spell. A contagious diseasebroke out among the cattle; the wheat grew tall indeed, but when it cameto be threshed the grain was light. Every where the outgoings exceededthe incomings. Once upon a time he could have borne this calmly, now itmade him positively ill. He began to hate the sight of his farm, andleft it entirely to the bailiff. All his hopes centred in the factory, and if he ever visited his fields, it was only to look after thebeet-root. 

The new buildings rose behind the trees of the park. The voices of manybusy laborers sounded shrill around it. The first crop of beet wasbrought in and heaped up ready for the mill. On the following day theregular factory was to begin, and yet the coppersmith was stillhammering there, mechanics were working away at the great engine, andbusy women carrying off chips and fragments of mortar, and scouring thescenes of their future labor. The baron stood before the building, listening impatiently to the beating of the hammer which had been sodilatory in completing its task. The morrow was to be to him thebeginning of a new era. He stood now at the door of his treasure-house. He might now cast all his old cares away. During the next year he shouldbe able to pay off what he owed, and then he would begin to put by. But, while he thus speculated, his eye fell upon his over-worked horses, andthe anxious face of his old bailiff, and a vague fear crept, like aloathly insect, over the fluttering leaves of his hopes; for he hadstaked all on this cast; he had so mortgaged his land that at thismoment he hardly knew how much of it was his own; and all this to raisestill higher the social dignity of his family tree!

The baron himself was much altered during the last few years. A wrinkledbrow, two fretful lines around the mouth, and gray hair on the temples:these were the results of his eternal thought about capital, his family, and the future aggrandizement of the property. His voice, which oncesounded strong and full, had become sharp and thin, and every gesturebetrayed irritation and impatience. 

The baron had, indeed, had heavy cares of late. He had thoroughlylearned the misery of extensive building operations combined with ascarcity of money. Ehrenthal was now become a regular visitor at thecastle. Every week his horses consumed the baron's good hay; every weekhe brought out his pocket-book, and reckoned up the account or paid offbills. His hand, which at first so readily and reverentially sought hispurse, did so now tardily and reluctantly; his bent neck had becomestiff, his submissive smile had changed into a dry greeting; he walkedwith a scrutinizing air through the farm, and, instead of ferventpraises, found many a fault. The humble agent had grown into thecreditor, and the baron had to bear, with still increasing aversion, thepretensions of a man with whom he could no longer dispense. And notEhrenthal alone, but many a strange figure besides knocked at thebaron's study, and had private dealings with him there. The broad shapeof the uncouth Pinkus appeared every quarter, and each time that hisheavy foot ascended the castle stairs discord and dissatisfactionfollowed. 

Every week, as we said, Ehrenthal had visited the estate: now came themost anxious time of all, and no eye beheld him. They said in the townthat he was gone off upon a journey, and the baron was listeningrestlessly to the noise of every carriage that passed, wondering whetherit brought the tardy, the hated, yet the indispensable visitor. 

Lenore now joined her father, a radiant beauty, full in form and tall instature, but somewhat shadowed by life's cares, as her thoughtful eyesand the anxious glance she cast at the baron plainly proved. "The postis come in, " said she, reaching him a packet of letters and newspapers;"I dare say there is no letter from Eugene again. "

"He has many other things to do, " replied her father; but he himselflooked eagerly for the handwriting of his son. Then he saw a directionin a strange hand, and on the letter the postmark of the very town inwhich Eugene was quartered. It was Anton's letter. The baron tore itopen. When he had seen from its respectful tenor how well it was meant, and had read the name of Itzig in it, he put it up in his pocket. Thesecret terror which had so often shot through his heart fell upon himagain, and then followed the unwelcome thought that his embarrassmentswere the subject of conversation even in foreign towns. Ill-timedwarnings were the last thing that he wanted; they only humbled. He stoodlong in gloomy silence by his daughter. But, as the letter containedtidings of Eugene, he forced himself at length to speak. "A Mr. Wohlfarthas written to me. He is now traveling in his mercantile capacity on theother side of the frontier, and has made Eugene's acquaintance. "

"He!" cried Lenore. 

"He seems to be an estimable kind of man, " said the baron, with aneffort. "He speaks affectionately of Eugene. "

"Yes, " cried Lenore, in delight; "one learns to know whatconscientiousness and stability mean when one associates with him. Whata strange coincidence! The sister and the brother. What has he writtento you about, father!"

"Matters of business, kindly meant, no doubt, but not of any present useto me. The foolish boys have heard some idle rumor, and haveunnecessarily troubled themselves about my affairs. " And, so saying, hegloomily walked toward his factory. 

Much perturbed, Lenore followed him. At length he opened the newspaper, and carelessly turned it over till his eye fell upon a certainadvertisement. His face flushed deeply, the paper fell out of his hand, and, catching hold of one of the wagons, he leaned his head upon it. Lenore, much shocked, took up the paper, and saw the name of the Polishestate on which she knew that her father had a large mortgage. A day wasspecified for the sale of that estate by auction on behalf of aconcourse of creditors. 

The intelligence fell like a thunderbolt upon the baron. Since he hadburdened his own property, the sum that he had invested in Poland washis last hope of well-doing. He had often doubted whether he was notfoolish to leave his money in the hands of strangers abroad, and to payso high an interest to strangers at home; but he had always had a horrorof being led to invest this round sum in his undertakings, consideringit in the light of his wife's jointure and his daughter's portion. Nowit, too, was endangered, the last security had vanished. Every thingaround him reeled. Ehrenthal had deceived him. It was he who had carriedon the correspondence with the lawyer of the Polish count. He hadpunctually paid him the interest when it was last due. There was nodoubt that he had known the precarious nature of this foreigninvestment, and had kept back the knowledge from his client. 

"Father, " cried Lenore, raising him as she spoke, "speak with Ehrenthal;go to your solicitor; he may be able to suggest some remedy. "

"You are right, my child, " said the baron, with a toneless voice; "it ispossible that the danger may not yet be imminent. Tell them to put thehorses to; I will go to town at once. Conceal what you have read fromyour mother, and you, dear Lenore, come with me. "

When the carriage drove up, the baron was still in the very same placewhere he had first read the fatal tidings. During the journey he satsilently in a corner of the carriage. Arrived in town, he took hisdaughter to his lodgings, which he had not yet given up, for fear ofleading his wife or his acquaintance to suspect that his means wereimpaired. He himself drove to Ehrenthal's. He entered the office inangry mood, and, after a dry salutation, held out the newspaper to thetrader. Ehrenthal rose slowly, and said, nodding his head, "I know it;Löwenberg has written to me about it. "

"You have deceived me, Mr. Ehrenthal, " cried the baron, striving hardfor composure. 

"To what purpose?" replied Ehrenthal. "Why should I hide from you whatthe newspapers must needs reveal? This may happen in the case of anyestate, any mortgage; what great misfortune is there in this?"

"The property is deeply involved, it seems: you must long have knownthis; you have deceived me. "

"What are you saying there about deceit?" cried Ehrenthal, indignantly;"have a care that no stranger hear your words. I have left my moneystanding with you; what interest can I have in lowering you andincreasing your difficulties? I myself am only too deeply involved inthem, " and he pointed to the place occupied in most men by a heart. "HadI known that your factory would devour my good money, one thousand afteranother, even as the lean kine of Egypt devoured the fat, I should havetaken more time to consider, and would not have paid you a singledollar. A herd of elephants will I feed with my substance, but nevermore a factory. How then can you say that I have deceived you?"continued he, in increasing dudgeon. 

"You have known the state of matters, " cried the baron, "and havedisguised the count's position from me. "

"Was it I who sold you the mortgage?" inquired the offended Ehrenthal. "I have paid you the interest half-yearly--that is my offense; I havepaid you much money besides--that is my deceit. " He then continued moreconciliatingly: "Look at the matter calmly, baron: another creditor hasoffered to purchase the estate; the lawyers have not apprised us of it, or they have sent the advertisement to a wrong address. What of that?You will now be paid your capital, and then you can pay off themortgages on your own land. I hear that this estate in Poland is a veryvaluable one, so you have nothing to fear for your capital. "

The baron had only to depart with this uncertain hope. As he dejectedlyentered his carriage, he called out to the coachman, "To the CouncilorHorn;" but on the way thither he gave counter orders, and returned tohis lodgings. A coolness had sprung up between him and his former legaladviser; he shrunk from disclosing to him his never-ceasingembarrassments, and had been offended by Horn's well-meant warnings. Hehad often, therefore, applied for advice to other lawyers. 

Itzig, in the tenderness of his heart, had rushed out of the office assoon as he beheld the baron's horses, but now he put in his head again. 

"How was he?" he inquired from Ehrenthal. 

"How should he be?" answered Ehrenthal, ungraciously; "he was in agreat taking, and I had good cause to be angry. I have buried my gold inhis property, and I have as many cares about that property as I havehairs on my head--all because I followed your advice. "

"If you think that the ancestral inheritance of the baron is to comeswimming toward you like a fish with the stream, and that you have onlyto reach out your hand and take it, I am sorry for you, " replied Itzig, spitefully. 

"What am I doing with the factory?" cried Ehrenthal. "The land wouldhave been worth twice as much to me without the chimney. "

"When once you have got the chimney you can sell the bricks, " wasItzig's ironical rejoinder. "I wanted to tell you that I expect a visitto-morrow from an acquaintance out of my own district; I can not, therefore, come to the office. "

"You have this last year gone after your own affairs so often, " rudelyreplied Ehrenthal, "that I don't care how long you remain away. "

"Do you know what you have just said?" Veitel broke out. "You have said, 'Itzig, I need you no longer; you may go;' but I shall go when it suitsme, not when it suits you. "

"You are a bold man, " cried Ehrenthal. "I forbid you to speak thus tome. Who are you, young Itzig?"

"I am one who knows your whole business, who can ruin you if he will, and one who means kindly toward you, better than you do toward yourself;and, therefore, when I come to the office the day after to-morrow, youwill say, 'Good morning, Itzig. ' Do you understand me now, Mr. Ehrenthal?" and, seizing his cap, he hurried into the street, where hissuppressed wrath broke out into a flame, and, gesticulating wildly, hemuttered threatening words. And so did Ehrenthal alone in the office. 

The baron returned to his daughter, threw himself heavily down on thesofa, and scarcely heard her loving words. There was nothing to detainhim in town but the dread of communicating this intelligence to hiswife. He alternately brooded over plans for getting over the possibleloss, and painted its consequences in the blackest colors. 

Meanwhile Lenore sat silent at the window, looking down upon the noisystreets, with their rolling carriages and the stream of passers-by; andwhile she wondered if any of these had ever felt the secret anxiety, fear, and dejection which the last few years had brought her youngheart, one of the throng would now and then look up to the plate-glasswindows of the stately dwelling, and, his eye resting admiringly on thebeautiful girl, he perhaps envied the happy destiny of the nobly born, who could thus look calmly down on those whose lot it was to toil fordaily bread. 

The streets grew dim, the lamps threw their dull rays into the room, Lenore watched the play of light and shade on the wall, and her sadnessincreased as the darkness deepened. Meanwhile two men were standing ineager conversation at the house door; the bell sounded, a heavy step washeard in the ante-room, and the servants announced Mr. Pinkus. At thatname the baron rose, called for candles, and went to the next room. 

The innkeeper entered, bobbing his great head, but seemed in no hurry tospeak. 

"What brings you here so late?" asked the baron, leaning on the tablelike one prepared for every thing. 

"Your honor knows that the bill of exchange for the ten thousand dollarsfalls due to me to-morrow. "

"Could you not wait till I paid you your full ten per cent. For anextension of the loan?" asked the baron, contemptuously. 

"I am come, " said Pinkus, "to explain that I am suddenly in want ofmoney, and must request you to let me have the principal. "

The baron retreated a step. This was the second blow, and it was mortal. His face turned pale yellow, but he began with a hoarse voice to say, "How can you make such a demand, after all that has passed between us?how often have you assured me that this bill of exchange was a mereform!"

"It has been so hitherto, " said Pinkus; "now it comes into force. I haveten thousand dollars to pay to-morrow to a creditor of mine. "

"Make arrangements with him, then, " returned the baron; "I am preparedfor a higher rate of interest, but not to pay off the principal. "

"Then, baron, I am sorry to tell you that you will be proceededagainst. "

The baron silently turned away. 

"At what hour may I return to-morrow for my money?" inquired Pinkus. 

"At about this hour, " replied a voice, weak and hollow as that of an oldman. Pinkus bobbed again and went away. 

The baron tottered back to his sitting-room, where he sank down on thesofa as if paralyzed. Lenore knelt by him, calling him by every tendername, and imploring him to speak. But he neither saw nor heard, and hisheart and head beat violently. The fair, many-colored bubble that he hadblown had burst now; he knew the fearful truth--he was a ruined man. 

They sat till late in the evening, when his daughter persuaded him totake a glass of wine and to return home. They drove away rapidly. As thetrees along the road-side flew past him, and the fresh air blew in hisface, the baron's spirit revived. 

A night and day were still his, and during their course he must needsfind help. This was not his first difficulty, and he hoped it would notbe his last. He had incurred this debt of, originally, seven thousanddollars odd, because the fellow who now dunned him had brought him themoney some years ago, and entreated, almost forced him to take it atfirst at a very low rate of interest. For a few weeks he had let it lieidle; then he had appropriated it, and step by step his creditor hadincreased his demands up to a bill of exchange and a usurious rate ofinterest. And now the vagabond grew insolent. Was he like the rat whoforesees the sinking of the ship, and tries to escape from it? The baronlaughed so as to make Lenore shudder; why, he was not the man to fallresistless into the hands of his adversary; the next day would bringhelp. Ehrenthal could never leave him in the lurch. 

It was night when they reached home, and the baron hurried to his ownroom and went to bed, knowing well, however, that sleep would not visithim that night. He heard every hour strike, and every hour his pulsebeat more stormily and his anguish increased. He saw no hope ofdeliverance but in Ehrenthal; yet his horror of appearing before thatman as a suppliant forced drops of sweat from his brow. It was morningbefore he lost the consciousness of his misery. 

Shrill sounds awoke him. The factory laborers, with the village band, had prepared him a serenade. 

At another time he would have been pleased with this mark of goodfeeling; now, he only heard the discord it produced, and it annoyed him. 

He hastily dressed himself and hurried into the court. The house washung with garlands, the laborers were all ranged in order before thedoor, and received him with loud acclamations. He had to tell them inreturn how much he rejoiced to see this day, and that he expected greatresults, and while he spoke he felt his words a lie, and his spiritbroken. He drove off without seeing his wife or daughter, and knocked atthe door of Ehrenthal's office before it was open. The usurer wassummoned down from his breakfast. 

Anxious to know the reason of so unusual an occurrence as this earlyvisit, Ehrenthal did not give himself time to change his dressing-gown. The baron stated the case as coolly as he could. 

Ehrenthal fell into the greatest passion. "This Pinkus, " he went onrepeating, "he has presumed to lend you money on a bill of exchange. Howcould he have so large a sum? The man has not got ten thousand dollars;he is an insignificant man, without capital. "

The baron confessed that the sum was not so large originally, but thisonly increased Ehrenthal's excitement. 

"From seven to ten, " he cried, running wildly up and down till hisdressing-gown flapped round him like the wings of an owl. "So he hasmade nearly three thousand dollars! I have always had a bad opinion ofthat man; now I know what he is. He is a rascal--a double dealer. Henever advanced the seven thousand either; his whole shop is not worth somuch. "

This strong moral indignation on the part of Ehrenthal threw a ray ofjoy into the baron's soul. "I, too, have reason to consider Pinkus adangerous man, " said he. 

But this agreement in opinion proved unlucky, diverting, as it did, Ehrenthal's anger against the baron instead. "Why do I speak of Pinkus?"he screamed; "he has acted as a man of his stamp will act. But you--you, who are a nobleman, how could you deal so with me? You have carried onmoney transactions with another man behind my back, and you have, in ashort time, let him win three thousand dollars on a bill of exchange--abill of exchange, " continued he; "do you know what that means?"

"I wish that the debt had not been necessary, " said the baron; "but asit falls due to-day, and the man will not wait, the question is how weare to pay him. "

"What do you mean by _we_?" cried Ehrenthal, hastily. "You must contriveto pay; you must see where you can get money for the man you have helpedto pocket three thousand dollars; you did not consult me when you gavethe bill; you need not consult me as to how you are to pay it. "

In the baron's soul a contest between wrath and wretchedness was goingon. "Moderate your language, Mr. Ehrenthal, " cried he. 

"Why should I be moderate?" screamed he. "You have not been moderate, nor Pinkus either, and neither will I. "

"I will call again, " said the baron, "when you have regained that degreeof decorum which, under all circumstances, I must beg you to observetoward me. "

"If you want money from me, don't call again, baron, " cried Ehrenthal. "I have no money for you; I would rather throw my dollars in the streetthan pay you one other. "

The baron silently retired. His wretchedness was great; he had to bearthe insults of the plebeian. Next, he went round to all hisacquaintances, and endured the torment of asking on all sides for money, and on all sides having it refused. He returned to his lodgings, and wasconsidering whether it were best to try Ehrenthal again, or to attemptto postpone the payment of the bill by offering usurious interest, when, to his surprise, a strange figure, that he had only seen once or twicebefore, entered his apartments, with a haggard face, surrounded by redhair, two sly eyes, and a grotesque expression about the mouth, such asone sees on laughing-masks at Carnival time. 

Veitel bowed low, and began: "Most gracious baron, have thecondescension to forgive my coming to you on matters of business. I havea commission from Mr. Pinkus, empowering me to receive the money for thebill of exchange. I would most humbly inquire whether you will be sogracious as to pay it me?"

The sad seriousness of the hour was for a moment lost upon the baronwhen he saw the lank figure twisting and turning before him, makingfaces and attempting to be polite. "Who are you?" inquired he, with allthe dignity of his race. 

"Veitel Itzig is my name, gracious sir, if you will permit me toannounce it to you. "

The baron started on hearing the name of Itzig. That was the man of whomhe had been warned--the invisible, the merciless. 

"I was till now book-keeper at Ehrenthal's, " modestly continued Itzig;"but Ehrenthal was too haughty for me. I have come into a small sum ofmoney, and I have invested it in Mr. Pinkus's business. I am on thepoint of establishing myself. "

"You can not have the money at present, " said the baron, morecomposedly. This helpless creature could hardly be a dangerous enemy. 

"It is an honor to me, " said Veitel, "to be told by the gracious baronthat he will pay me later in the afternoon; I have plenty of time. " Hedrew out a silver watch. "I can wait till evening; and that I may notinconvenience the baron by coming at an hour that might not suit him, orwhen he chanced to be out, I will take the liberty to place myself onhis steps. I will stand there, " said he, as if deprecating the baron'srefusal to let him sit. "I will wait till five o'clock. The baron neednot inconvenience himself on my account. " And Veitel bowed himself out, and retired from the room backward like a crab. The baron recalled him, and he stood still in that bent and ridiculous attitude. At that momenthe looked the weakest and oddest of men. The warning letter must haveconfounded the poor book-keeper with his master. At all events, it waseasier to deal with this man than with any other. 

"Can you tell me of any way in which I may satisfy your claim withoutpaying down the sum this day?"

Veitel's eyes flashed like those of a bird of prey, but he shook hishead and shrugged his shoulders long in pretended reflection. "Graciousbaron, " said he, at length, "there is one way--only one way. You have amortgage of twenty thousand on your property, which mortgage belongs toyourself, and is kept in Ehrenthal's office. I will persuade Pinkus toleave you the ten thousand, and will add another ten if you make overthat mortgage to my friend. "

The baron listened. "Perhaps you do not know, " rejoined he, with muchseverity, "that I have already made over that deed of mortgage toEhrenthal. "

"Forgive me, gracious sir, you have not; there has been no legalsurrender of it made. "

"But my written promise has been given, " said the baron. 

Veitel shrugged again. "If you promised Ehrenthal a mortgage, why shouldit be this very one of all others? But what need of a mortgage toEhrenthal at all? This year you will receive your capital from thePolish estate, and then you can pay him off in hard cash. Till then, just leave the mortgage quietly in his hands; no one need know that youhave surrendered it to us. If you will have the kindness to come with meto a lawyer, and assign the deed to my friend, I will give you twothousand dollars for it at once, and on the day that you place the deedin our hands I will pay down the rest of the money. "

The baron had forced himself to listen to this proposal with a smile. Atlast he replied briefly, "Devise some other plan; I can not consent tothis. "

"There is no other, " said Itzig; "but it is only midday, and I can waittill five. "

He again began a series of low bows, and moved to the door. 

"Reflect, gracious sir, " said he, earnestly, "that you do not merelywant the ten thousand dollars. You will, in the course of the next fewmonths, require as much more for your factory and the getting your moneyout of the Polish investment. If you surrender the mortgage to us, youwill have the whole sum you need; but pray do not mention the matter toEhrenthal: he is a hard man, and would injure me throughout life. "

"Have no fear, " said the baron, with a gesture of dismissal. 

Veitel withdrew. 

The baron paced up and down. The proposal just made revolted him. True, it would rescue him from this and other impending difficulties, but, ofcourse, it was out of the question. The man who proposed it was soabsurd a being, that it was of no use even to be angry with him. But thebaron's word was pledged, and the matter could not be thought offurther. 

And yet how trifling the risk! The documents would remain at Ehrenthal'still the Polish count had paid him, then he would clear his own debts toEhrenthal, and release his documents. No one need ever know of it; andif the worst should befall, he had but to give Ehrenthal anothermortgage on his property, and the money-broker would be equallysatisfied. The baron kept banishing the thought, and yet it ceaselesslyreturned. It struck one, it struck two: he rang for his servant, andordered the carriage round, carelessly asking if the stranger were stillthere. The coachman drove up; the stranger was on the steps; the baronwent down without looking at him, got into the carriage, and when he wasasked by the footman, hat off, whither the coachman was to drive, itfirst occurred to him that he did not know. At length he said, "ToEhrenthal's. "

Meanwhile Ehrenthal had been spending a troubled morning. He began tosuspect that some other, too, was speculating against the baron. He sentfor Pinkus, overwhelmed him with reproaches, and tried in every sort ofway to discover whence he had got his capital; but Pinkus had been wellschooled: he was bold, rude, and silent. Then Ehrenthal sent for Itzig. Itzig was nowhere to be found. 

Consequently, Ehrenthal was in a very bad temper when the baronreturned, and he told him dryly that the day had come when his paymentsmust cease. A painful scene ensued; the baron left the office in bittermood, and determined to pay a last visit to an early comrade, who wasknown to be a rich man. 

It was past four when he returned hopeless to his lodgings. A thinfigure was leaning against the steps, and bowed low to the baron as hehurried past. His strength was exhausted; he sat on the sofa as he haddone the day before, and blindly stared before him. He knew there was norescue but that which waited on the steps below. Prostrate, powerless, he heard the clock strike the quarter to five; his pulses beat likehammers, and each throb brought the moment nearer that was to decide hisfate. The last stroke of the hour was over. The ante-room bell rang; thebaron rose. Itzig opened the door, holding the two papers in his hand. 

"I can not pay, " the baron cried, in a hoarse voice. 

Itzig bowed again and offered him the other paper: "Here is the sketchof a contract. "

The baron took up his hat, and said, without looking at him, "Come to anattorney. "

It was evening when the baron returned to the castle of his forefathers. The pale moonlight shone on the turrets, the lake was black as ink, andcolorless as they was the face of the man who leaned back in thecarriage, with close compressed lips, like one who, after a longstruggle, had come to an irrevocable decision. He looked apatheticallyon the water and on the cool moonshine on the roof, and yet he was gladthat the sun did not shine, and that he did not see his father's housein its golden light. He tried to think of the future he had insured; hepondered over all the advantages to accrue from his factory; he lookedforward to the time when his son would dwell here, rich, secure, freefrom the cares that had involved his father with vulgar traders, andprematurely blanched his hair. He thought of all this, but his favoritethoughts had become indifferent to him. He entered the house, felt forhis full pocket-book before he gave his hand to his wife, and noddedsignificantly to Lenore. He spoke cheerfully to the ladies, and evencontrived to joke about his busy day; but he felt that something hadcome between him and his dearest ones--even they seemed estranged. Ifthey leaned over him or took his hand, his impulse was to withdraw fromthe caress. And when his wife looked lovingly at him, there was asomething in her eyes, where once he was wont to turn for comfort inevery extremity, that he could no longer bear to meet. 

He went to his factory, where he was again received with huzza afterhuzza by the workmen, and with merry tunes by the village band. Theyplayed the very air to which he had often marched with his regiment bythe side of his old general, whom he loved as a father. He thought ofthe scarred face of the old warrior, and thought too of a court of honorthat he and his brother officers had once held upon an unhappy youth whohad lightly given and broken his word of honor. He went into hisbed-room, and rejoiced that it had become dark, and that he could nolonger see his castle, his factory, or his wife's searching glance. Andagain he heard hour after hour strike, and at the stroke of each thethought was forced in upon him, "There is now another of that regimentwho has, when gray-haired, done the very deed that led a youth to blowout his brains: here lies the man, and can not sleep because he hasbroken his word of honor. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The spring storms were sweeping over the plains when Anton was recalled. The winter had been a laborious and anxious season. He had oftentraveled in frost and snow through devastated districts far into theeast and south. Every where he had seen mournful sights, burnt castles, disturbed trade, insecurity, famine, brutality, and burning party hate. 

"When will he come?" asked Sabine. 

"In a few hours, by the next train, " replied her brother. 

Sabine sprang up and seized her bunch of keys. "And the maids are notyet ready; I must look after things myself. Let him spend the eveningwith us, Traugott; we women must see something of him. "

Her brother laughed. "Take care that you do not spoil him. "

"No fear of that, " said the cousin; "when he once gets back into theoffice, there he will remain, and we shall never see him except atdinner. "

Meanwhile Sabine was searching among the treasures, loading the servantswith packets of every kind, and impatiently watching till the clerksleft their apartments for the counting-house. At last she herself creptinto Anton's room. She gave one more searching glance at thesofa-cushion she had worked, and arranged in an alabaster vase all theflowers that the gardener had succeeded in forcing. While so engaged, her eye fell upon the drawing that Anton had done on his first arrival, and on the rich carpet which Fink had had laid down. Where was Fink now?She felt on this day as if she had been parted from him many, manyyears, and the recollection of him resembled the sad, perplexed feelingthat succeeds an unhappy dream. But she could openly tell thenoble-hearted man to whom this room now belonged how much she hadlearned to value him, and she rejoiced that the hour was at hand whenshe could thank him for all that he had done for her brother. 

"But Sabine!" cried the cousin, in amazement, for she too had found herway into the room. 

"What is the matter?" said Sabine, looking up. 

"Why, these are the embroidered curtains which you have had put up. Theydo not belong to this part of the house. "

"Let them be, " returned Sabine, with a smile. 

"And the coverlet, and these towels--why, they are your best set. Goodheavens! The coverlet with lace, and the rose-colored lining!"

"Never mind, cousin, " said Sabine, blushing. "He whom we expect deservesthe best that our old chests contain. "

But the cousin went on shaking her head. "If I had not seen this, Ishould never have believed it. To give these for daily use! I can notmake you out, Sabine. My only comfort is that he will never remark it. That I should live to see this day!" And, clasping her hands, she leftthe room in much excitement. 

Sabine hurried after her. "She will go and tease Traugott about it, "said she; "I must persuade her that things could not have been otherwisearranged. "

Meanwhile the traveler felt like a son returning to his home after along absence. At the nearest station to the capital his heart began tobeat with delight; the old house, his colleagues, the business, hisdesk, his principal, and Sabine, all floated pleasantly before hismind's eye. At last the drosky stopped before the open door, and FatherSturm, calling out his name with a voice that sounded all over thestreet, ran and lifted him out of the carriage like a child. Then upcame Mr. Pix, and shook his hand long, not remarking that his blackbrush, during the up-and-down movement, was making all sorts ofhieroglyphics on his young friend's coat. Next Anton went into thecounting-house, where the lights were already burning, and heartilycried out "Good-evening. " His colleagues rose like one man, and withloud expressions of pleasure crowded about him. Mr. Schröter hurried outof his own room, and his grave face beamed with satisfaction. These werehappy moments, indeed, and Anton was more moved than became such atraveled man. And on his way from the counting-house to his room, oldPluto sprang out impetuously, immoderately wagging his matted tail, sothat Anton could hardly escape from his caresses. Arrived at his owndoor, a servant met him with a smile, and respectfully opened it. Antongazed in wonder at the way in which it was decorated. 

"Our young lady herself arranged it as you see, " imparted the servant. Anton bent over the alabaster vase, and closely examined every flower asthough he had never seen such before. Then he took up the cushion, feltit, stroked it, and, full of admiration, put it back in its place. Henow returned to the office, to give Mr. Schröter the latest intelligenceas to his proceedings. The merchant took him into his own little room, and they talked long and confidentially. 

It was a serious conversation. Much was lost, much still endangered, andit would require years of industry to make good what was forfeited, andreplace old connections by new. "To your judgment and energy, " said Mr. Schröter, "I already owe much. I hope you will continue to assist me inregaining lost ground. And now there is still some one else who wants tothank you. I hope you will be my guest this evening. "

Anton next went to his long-closed desk, and took out pens and paper. But much could not be made of writing to-day. One of his colleaguesafter the other left his own place and came to Anton's stool. Mr. Baumann often walked across, just to clap him on the back, and thencheerfully returned to his own corner; Mr. Specht kept knocking away atthe railings which divided him from Anton, and showered down questionsupon him. Mr. Liebold left the blotting-paper several moments on thelast page of the great ledger, and came over for a chat. Even Mr. Purzelmoved, with the sacred chalk in his hand, out of his partition; and, finally, Mr. Pix came into the room to confide to Anton that, for somemonths back, he had played no _solo partie_, and that Specht, meanwhile, had fallen into a state closely resembling insanity. 

Later in the evening Anton entered the principal's apartments. Sabinestood before him. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were moist as she bentdown over the hand that had saved her brother's life. 

"Lady!" cried Anton, shocked, and drew his hand away. 

"I thank you, oh! I thank you, Wohlfart, " cried Sabine, holding hishands in both hers. And so she stood silent, transfigured by an emotionshe knew not how to repress. While Anton contemplated the fair girl, who, with blushing cheeks, looked so gratefully at him, he realized thechange that Polish sword-cut had made in his position. The partitionwall had fallen which, till now, had divided the clerk from theprincipal's family. And he also felt his heart swelling with honestpride the while, that he was not all unworthy of a woman's trust. 

He now told her, in reply to her questions, the particulars of theirstruggle for the wagons, and the other incidents of that adventuroustime. Sabine hung upon his words; and when her eyes met the full, clearlight of his, they involuntarily drooped beneath it. She had neverbefore remarked how singularly handsome he was. Now it burst upon her. Amanly, open face, curling chestnut hair, beautiful dark blue eyes, amouth that told of energy and decision, and a color that went and camewith every change of feeling. He seemed to be, at the same time, astranger, and yet a dear and trusted friend. 

The cousin entered next, the embroidered curtains having caused anexcitement in her mind, which now displayed itself in a silk gown andnew cap. Her greetings were loud and fluent; and when she remarked thatMr. Wohlfart's whiskers were very becoming to him, Sabine looked assent. 

"There you have the hero of the counting-house, " cried the merchant, joining them. "Now show that you know how to reward knightly valorbetter than with fair words. Let him have the best that cellar andkitchen afford. Come along, my faithful fellow-traveler. The Rhine wineexpects that, after all your heavy Polish potations, you will do ithonor. "

The lamp-lighted room looked the picture of comfort as the four sat downto dinner. The merchant raised his glass. "Welcome to your country!Welcome home!" cried Sabine. Anton replied, in a low tone, "I have acountry, I have a home in which I am happy; I owe both to your kindness. Many an evening, when sitting in some wretched inn, far away amongsavage strangers, whose language I imperfectly understood, I havethought of this table, and of the delight it would be to me to see thisroom and your face once more; for it is the bitterest thing on earth tobe alone in hours of relaxation and repose without a friend, without anything that one loves. "

As he bade them good-night, the principal said, "Wohlfart, I wish tobind you still more closely to this firm. Jordan is leaving us nextquarter to become a partner in his uncle's business; I can not appoint abetter man than you to fill his place. "

When Anton returned to his room, he felt what mortal man is seldomallowed to feel here below, unpunished by a reverse--that he wasperfectly happy, without a regret and without a wish. He sat on thesofa, looked at the flowers and at the cushion, and again saw in fancySabine bending over his hand. He had sat there long enjoying thisvision, when his eye fell upon a letter on the table, the postmark "NewYork, " the direction in Fink's hand. 

Fink, when he first left, had written more than once to Anton, but onlya few lines at a time, telling nothing of his occupation, nor his plansfor the future. Then a long interval passed away, during which Anton hadhad no tidings from his friend, and only knew that he spent a good dealof his time in traveling in the Western States of the Union as managerof the business of which his uncle had been the head, and in theinterest of several other companies in which the deceased had hadshares. But it was with horror that he now read the following letter:

"It must out at last, though I would gladly have kept it from you, poorboy! I have joined thieves and murderers. If you want any thing of thekind done, apply to me. I envy a fellow who becomes a villain by choice;he has at least the pleasure of driving a good bargain with Satan, andcan select the particular sort of good-for-nothingness which suits histastes; but my lot is less satisfactory. I have been, through thepressure of rascalities invented by others, driven into a way of lifewhich is as much like highway robbery as one hair is to another. 

"Like a rock in an avalanche, I, pressed on all sides, have got frozeninto the midst of the most frightful speculations ever devised by ausurer's brain. My departed uncle was good enough to make me heir to hisfavorite branch of business--land speculations. 

"I put off involving myself with its details as long as I could, andleft the charge of that part of my inheritance to Westlock. As this wascowardly, I found an excuse for it in the quantity of work themoney-matters of the deceased afforded me. At last there was no help forit; I had to undertake the responsibility. And if before I had had apretty good guess at the elasticity of whatever it was that served myuncle instead of a conscience, it now became beyond a doubt that thepurpose of his will and testament was to punish my juvenile offensesagainst him by making me a companion of old weather-beaten villains, whose cunning was such that Satan himself would have had to put his tailinto his pocket, and become chimney-sweep in order to escape them. 

"This letter is written from a new town in Tennessee, a cheerfulplace--no better, though, for being built on speculation with my money:a few wooden cottages, half of them taverns, filled to the roof with adirty and outcast emigrant rabble, half of whom are lying ill withputrid fever. 

"Those who are still moving about are a hollow-eyed, anxious-lookingset, all candidates for death. Daily, when the poor wretches look at therising sun, or are unreasonable enough to feel a want of something toeat and drink--daily, from morn to eve, their favorite occupation is tocurse the land-shark who took their money from them for transport, land, and improvements, and brought them into this district, which is underwater two months in the year, and for the ten others more like a toughkind of pap than any thing else. Now the men who have pointed out tothem this dirty way into heaven are no other than my agents andcolleagues, so that I, Fritz Fink, am the lucky man upon whom everyimprecation there is in German and Irish falls all the day long. I sendoff all who are able to walk about, and have to feed the inhabitants ofmy hospital with Indian corn and Peruvian bark. As I write this, threenaked little Paddies are creeping about my floor, their mother having sofar forgotten her duty as to leave them behind her, and I enjoy theprivilege of washing and combing the frog-like little abominations. Apleasant occupation for my father's son! I don't know how long I shallhave to stick here; probably till the very last of the set is dead. 

"Meanwhile I have fallen out with my partners in New York. I have hadthe privilege of rousing universal dissatisfaction; the shareholders ofthe Great Western Landed Company Association have met, made speeches, and passed resolutions against me. I should not much care for that if Isaw a way of getting clear of the whole affair. But the deceased hasmanaged so cleverly that I am tied down like a nigger in a slave-ship. Immense sums have been embarked in this atrocious speculation. If I makeknown its nature, I am sure that they will find a way of making me paythe whole sum at which my late uncle put down his name; and how to dothat without ruining not myself alone, but probably also the firm ofFink and Becker, I can't yet see. 

"Meantime I don't want to hear your opinion as to what I ought to do. Itcan be of no use to me, for I know it already. Indeed, I wish for noletter at all from you, you simple old-fashioned Tony, who believe thatto act uprightly is as easy a thing as to eat a slice of bread andbutter; for, as soon as I have done all I can, buried some, fed others, and offended my colleagues as much as possible, I shall go for a fewmonths to the far southwest, to some noble prairie, where one may findalligators, and horned owls, and something more aristocratic than thereis here. If the prairie afford pen and ink, I shall write to you again. If this letter be the last you ever get from me, devote a tear to mymemory, and say, in your benevolent way, 'I am sorry for him: he was notwithout his good points. '"

Then came a precise description of Fink's affairs, and of the statutesof the association. 

Having read this unsatisfactory letter, Anton sat down at once and spentthe night in writing to his friend. 

Even in the common light of the next day our hero retained his feelingsof the night before. Whether he worked at his desk or jested with hisfriends, he felt conscious how deeply his life was footed in the wallsof the old house. The rest saw it too. Besides other marks of favor, Anton often spent the evenings with the principal and the ladies. Thesewere happy hours to Sabine. She rejoiced to find, as they discussed theevents of the day, a book read, or some matter of feeling andexperience, how much agreement there was between her views and Anton's. His culture, his judgment surprised her; she suddenly saw him investedwith glowing colors, just as the traveler gazes in amazement at somefair landscape, which heavy clouds have long hidden from his view. 

His colleagues, too, took his peculiar position very pleasantly. Theyhad heard from the principal's own lips that Anton had saved his life, and that enabled even Mr. Pix to look upon the frequent invitations hereceived without note or comment. Anton, too, did his part towardkeeping up the good feeling of the counting-house. He often asked themall to his room, and Jordan complained, with a smile, that his partieswere now quite forgotten. His favorite companion was Baumann, who hadhad an increase of missionary zeal during the last half year, and onlybeen kept back by finding that an experienced calculator could ill bespared at the present crisis. Specht, too, was a special candidate forhis favor, Anton's travels and adventures having invested him with aromantic halo in the former's fantastic mind. 

Unfortunately, Specht's own position in the good-will of his colleagueshad been materially shaken during Anton's absence. He had long been thebutt of all their witticisms, but now Anton was very sorry to see thathe was universally disliked. Even the quartette had given him up--atleast there was decided enmity between him and both basses. WheneverSpecht ventured upon an assertion that was not quite incontrovertible, Pix would shrug his shoulders and ejaculate "Pumpkins. " Indeed, almostall that Specht said was met by a whisper of "pumpkins" from one orother; and whenever he caught the word, he fell into a towering passion, broke off the discourse, and withdrew. 

One evening Anton visited the tabooed clerk in his own room. Before hereached the door, he heard Specht's shrill voice singing the celebratedsong, "Here I sit on the green grass, with violets around;" and lookingin, he saw the minstrel, in poetical attitude, so enjoying his ownmelody, that he stood without for a few moments, not to disturb theinspiration. Specht's room was by no means large, and his invention hadbeen exercised for years in giving it a special and distinguishedcharacter. Indeed, he had succeeded by means of pictures, plaster ofParis casts, small ornaments of different kinds, useless pieces offurniture, and a great coat of arms over the bed, in making it unlikeany other apartment ever seen. But the most remarkable thing about itwas in the very centre of the room. There hung an immense ring suspendedto a beam in the ceiling. On each side were large flower-pots filledwith earth, and from these countless threads were fastened to the ring. Under the ring was a garden-table made of twisted boughs, and a fewchairs of the same nature. 

Anton stood still in amazement, and at last called out, "What the deucehave you such a network as this in your room for?"

Specht sprang up and said, "It is an arbor. "

"An arbor! I see nothing green about it. "

"That will come, " said Specht, pointing out his great flower-pots. 

On a closer inspection, Anton detected a few weak shoots of ivy, whichlooked dusty and faded, like the twilighted dream-visions which thewaking man allows to cling round his spirit for a few moments before hesweeps them away forever. 

"But, Specht, this ivy will never grow, " said Anton. 

"There are other things, " importantly announced Specht, showing Anton afew wan-looking growths that just peered above the top of the pots, andresembled nothing so much as the unfortunate attempts to germinate whichthe potato will make in a cellar when spring-time comes. 

"And what are these shoots?"

"Kidney-beans and pumpkins. The whole will form an arbor. In a few weeksthe tendrils will run up the threads. Only think, Wohlfart, how well itwill look--the green tendrils, the flowers, and the great leaves! Ishall cut off most of the pumpkins, but a few of them shall remain. Justpicture to yourself the fresh green and the yellow blossoms! What aplace it will be to sit with friends over a glass of wine or to sing aquartette in!"

"But, Specht, " inquired Anton, laughing, "can you really suppose thatthe plants will grow in your attic?"

"Why not?" cried Specht, much offended. "They will do as well here aselsewhere. They have sun; I take care that they have air too, and Iwater them with bullock's blood. They have all they want. "

"But they look desperately sick. "

"Just as at first they will, of course; the air is still cold, and wehave had little sun as yet. They will soon shoot up. When we have nogarden, we must do the best we can. " He looked complacently around hisroom, "As to the decorations of a room, you see I can cope with anyone--of course, in proportion to my means. However, I have spent a gooddeal upon it; and so, though not large, it is thoroughly comfortable. "

"Yes, " rejoined Anton, "except for a certain class of restless men wholike freedom to move about. You can have no visitors here but those whoare content to sit down the moment they enter. "

"To sit quiet is one of the first rules of good society, " rejoinedSpecht. "Unfortunately, men are often heartless and worthless. Do younot find, Wohlfart, that in our counting-house there are many veryunfeeling?"

"Often a little blunt, " replied Anton, "but kind-hearted at bottom. "

"That is not my experience, " sighed Specht. "I am now quite alone, andmust seek my comfort out of doors. When I can, I go to the theatre, orto the circus, or to see a dwarf or a giant if they happen to comeround, and of course I go to the concerts. "

"But even there you are solitary. "

"Yes; and then it is expensive, and I am not, as you know, very welloff, nor shall I, I fear, ever be much better. I ought to have beenrich, " said he, importantly, "but a cousin and trustee of mine broughtme to this, else I should have driven my carriage and four. I dare say Ishould not have been at all happier. If only Pix were not so rude! It isdreadful, Anton, to be daily liable to this. When you were away, Ichallenged him, " said he, pointing to an old rapier on the wall; "but hebehaved very ill. I told him I was sorry to be obliged to do it, andoffered him a choice of arms and place. He rudely wrote back that hewould fight on the ground floor where he was always stationed, and thatas to arms I might use any I liked, but that his weapon would be hisgreat brush, with which he was ready to sign his name on both my cheeks. You will allow that I could not consent to that. " Anton allowed it. 

"And now he sets all the others against me. My position is unbearable. Ican not be with them without getting insulted. But I know how to revengemyself. When the pumpkins blow, I will invite all the rest and leave outPix. I will serve him as he once did you, Wohlfart, and revenge thewrongs of each. "

"Very good, " said Anton. "But suppose that, as I owe some civility toour colleagues, we unite in giving a party in your room?"

"That is indeed kind of you, Wohlfart, " cried Specht, joyously. 

"And we will not wait till the pumpkins have grown up; we will bring ina little green in the mean while. "

"Very good; fir-trees, perhaps. "

"Leave it to me, " continued Anton; "and, after all, we won't excludePix, but invite him with the rest. That is a much better revenge, andworthy of your good heart. "

"You think so?" inquired Specht, doubtfully. 

"I am sure of it. I propose next Sunday evening; and will send out theinvitations in our joint names. "

"In writing, " cried Specht, in ecstasy, "on pink paper. "

"The very thing. "

The clerks were not a little amazed the following morning at receivingsmart-looking notes, laid by Mr. Specht himself, early in the morning, upon the desk of each, inviting them to see the pumpkins flower in hisapartment. However, as Anton's name was at the bottom of the page, therewas nothing for it but to accept. Meanwhile Anton took Sabine into hisconfidence, and begged from her ivy and flowers. Specht himself workedhard the remainder of the week, and on the day of the festival, with thehelp of the servant, he contrived to entwine the threads with greenleaves, to procure a number of colored lamps, and to intermix with theleaves some triangular inventions of yellow paper, which weremarvelously like the flowers of the pumpkin. 

Thus the room really did present the aspect Mr. Specht had long seen inhis day-dreams. The colleagues were exceedingly amazed. Mr. Pix was thelast to enter, and could not suppress an exclamation of surprise when hesaw the unlucky arbor positively overgrown and covered with yellowflowers, shining in the colored lamp-light. The great flower-pots werefilled with gay nosegays, a red lamp hung down from the centre, and onthe rustic table was placed a large pumpkin. Anton would make thequartette sit in the arbor, and grouped the others around the room, thebed having been arranged with bolsters and cushions so as to look like asecond sofa. 

When they were all settled, Specht approached the great pumpkin, andsolemnly exclaimed, "You have long plagued me about pumpkins; here is myrevenge. " He took hold of the short stalk, and lifted away the otherhalf. It was hollow. A bowl of punch stood within. The clerks laughed, and cried "Bravo!" while Specht filled the glasses. 

Nevertheless, at first, there was a certain degree of estrangementvisible between the host and his guests. True, the obnoxious word wasnever mentioned, but his propositions seldom found favor. When Antonwent round dispensing a bundle of Turkish pipes, which he had boughtwhile abroad for his colleagues, Specht proposed that they should allsit cross-legged on the sofas and on the floors, in true Turkishfashion. This proposal fell through. Also, when he next asserted that, as our commerce with the East increased, the Circassian maidens sold bytheir parents to Turkish families would soon come over and play the partof waitresses in Bavarian beer-shops, he evidently failed to carryconviction to any of the party. But the gentle influences of thepumpkin-bowl gradually told upon the severe intellects of thecounting-house. 

First of all, the musical members of the firm were reconciled. Antonproposed the health of the quartette. The quartette returned thanks insome embarrassment, having been dissolved for about a month. It cameout, however, from certain dark hints given by the first bass, thatSpecht had been unreasonable in his demands upon them. He had wished tomake use of the quartette to serenade the charming Zillibi, the _primadonna_ of the circus; and when the basses declined, Specht had flowninto a violent passion, and sworn he would never sing with them tillthey consented. 

"If he had been content to serenade her in the evening, " said Balbus, "we might, perhaps, have given in for the sake of peace, but hemaintained that it must be at four o'clock in the morning, as it wasthen that the riding-master rose to feed his horses. That was too much. Meanwhile the lady ran off with a Bajazzo. "

"That is not true, " cried Specht; "the Bajazzo carried her off byforce. "

"At all events, it has been a fortunate incident for us, " said Anton, "as it releases these gentlemen from the observance of their vows. I seeno reason, therefore, why they should any longer deprive us of theenjoyment their musical talents are so calculated to afford. From what Ihear, my dear Specht, you were a little hasty; so make such an apologyto these gentlemen as becomes a man of honor, and then I shall proposethe instant re-establishment of the quartette. "

Specht rose accordingly, and said, "Adopting the advice of my friendWohlfart, I now beg to apologize to you all, and am, moreover, ready togive you satisfaction in any way that you prefer. " Whereupon he tossedoff his glass, and vehemently shook hands with the basses. 

After that the music-books were brought out, and the four voices soundedremarkably well out of the arbor. A reconciliation with Pix stillremained to be effected. Specht looked at him all evening mistrustfully, as he sat on the sofa-bed, stroking old Pluto, who had come with him tothe party. Specht now poured out another glass for Pix, and laid it downbeside him. Pix quaffed it in silence; Specht refilled it, and began ina free-and-easy tone--"Now, Pix, what do you think of the pumpkins?"

"It is a crazy idea, " said Pix. 

Specht turned away much hurt, but he soon returned to the charge. "Youwill grant, Pix, that men may hold different opinions on many subjects, and yet need not be enemies. "

"I grant that. "

"Why, then, are you my enemy? Why do you think meanly of me? It is hardto live on bad terms with one's colleagues. I will not conceal that Iesteem you, and that your conduct pains me. You have refused mesatisfaction, and yet you are angry with me. "

"Don't heat yourself, " said Pix; "I have refused you no satisfaction, and I am not angry with you. "

"Will you prove this to these gentlemen?" cried Specht, much pleased;"will you hob-nob with me?"

"Come, now, " said Pix, good-humoredly, "I have no wish to quarrel; Ionly say this pumpkin notion was a crazy one. "

"But it is my notion still, " cried Specht, withdrawing his glass; "Iwater them with bullock's blood, and in a few weeks they will be green. "

"No, " said Pix; "that is over forever, as you will see yourselfto-morrow morning. And now come here and hob-nob with me, and pumpkinsshall never be spoken of between us any more. "

Specht hob-nobbed with all his heart, and became exceedingly cheerful. The weight that had long oppressed him had fallen off. He sang, he shookall his colleagues by the hand, and dealt more largely than ever in boldassertions. 

As Anton went down stairs with the others, he remarked that Pluto wascarrying something yellow in his mouth, and gnawing it eagerly. 

"It is Specht's pumpkin, " said Pix; "the dog has taken it for a piece ofbeef, and bitten it to pieces. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Anton stood by the sick-bed of his friend Bernhard, and looked withsincere sympathy at his wasted form. The young student's face was morefurrowed than ever, his complexion was transparent as wax, his long hairhung in disorder around his damp brow, and his eyes shone with feverishexcitement. 

"All the time you have been away, " said he, sadly, "I have been longingfor you; now that you are returned, I shall be better. "

"I will often come if our conversation does not excite you too much, "replied Anton. 

"No, " said Bernhard, "I will merely listen, and you shall tell me aboutyour travels. "

Anton began his recital: "I have seen of late what we have both of usoften wished to see--foreign scenes and a life of adventures. I havefound pleasant companionship in other countries, but the result of myexperience is that there is no greater happiness than that of livingquietly among one's own people. I have met with much that would havedelighted you, because it was poetical and soul-stirring, butdisappointment was largely mingled with it all. "

"It is the same all over the earth, " said Bernhard. "When a mightyfeeling shakes the heart, and seeks to impel onward, the world stainsand tarnishes it, and fair things die, and lofty aims become ridiculous. So it is no better with others than with us. "

"That is our old bone of contention, " said Anton, cheerily; "are you notconverted, you skeptic?"

Bernhard looked down embarrassed. "Perhaps I am, Wohlfart. "

"Oh ho!" cried Anton; "and what has brought this change about? Was itsome experience of your own? It must have been, I am sure. "

"Whatever it was, " said Bernhard, with a smile that irradiated his face, "I believe that with us, too, beauty and loveliness are to be found;that with us, too, life can give birth to great passions, holy joys, andbitter griefs; and I believe, " continued he, mournfully, "that evenwith us many sink under the burden of a terrible destiny. "

Anton listened anxiously to these words, and remarked that the largeeyes of the invalid shone with a sudden inspiration. 

"No doubt, " said he, "it is as you say, but the fairest and mostennobling thing this life can boast is the triumph of the mind over allexternal influences. I honor the man who lets neither his passions norhis destiny overpower him, but who, even if he have erred, can tearhimself away and regain his liberty. "

"But how if it be too late, and if the force of circumstances bestronger than he?"

"I am not willing to believe in such force of circumstances, " repliedAnton. "I imagine that, however sore pressed a man may be, if he setshimself to work in earnest, he may hew his way out. True, he will bearthe scars of such an encounter, but, like a soldier's, there will behonor in them. Or, even if he does not overcome, he can at least fightvaliantly, and if conquered at last, he deserves the sympathy of all;but he who yields himself up without resistance, the wind blows suchaway from the face of the earth. "

"No spell will change down into stone, sings the poet, " said Bernhard, taking a feather from his pillow and brushing it away. "I have aquestion to ask you, Wohlfart, " said he, after a pause. "Fancy that I ama Christian, and that you are my father-confessor, from whom no secretsmust be kept back. " Then looking anxiously at the door of the next room, he whispered, "What do you think of my father's business?"

Anton started in amazement, while Bernhard watched him in painfulsuspense. "I understand little about these matters, " continued he;"alas! too little, perhaps. I do not want to know whether he passes forpoor or rich; but I ask you, as my friend, what do strangers think ofthe way in which he makes his money? It is dreadful, and perhaps sinful, that I, his son, should put such a question as this, but an irresistibleimpulse urges me on. Be honest with me, Wohlfart. " He rose in his bed, and, putting his arm round Anton's neck, said in his ear, "Does myfather rank with men of your class as an upright man?"

Anton was silent. He could not say what he really thought, and he couldnot tell a lie. Meanwhile the invalid sank back upon his pillows, and alow groan quivered through the room. 

"My dear Bernhard, " replied Anton, at length, "before I answer to a sonsuch a question as this, I must know his motive for asking it. "

"I ask, " said Bernhard, solemnly, "because I am exceedingly uneasy aboutthe good of others, and your answers may spare much misery to many. "

"Then, " said Anton, "I will answer you. I know of no particular dealingof your father's which is dishonorable in the mercantile sense of theword. I only know that he is numbered among that large class of businessmen who are not particular in inquiring whether their own profit ispurchased at the price of another's loss. Mr. Ehrenthal passes for aclear, keen-sighted man, to whom the good opinion of solid merchants ismore indifferent than to a hundred others. He would probably do muchthat men of higher principle would avoid, but I do not doubt that hewould also shrink from what certain other speculators around ventureupon. "

Again there came a trembling sigh from the invalid, and a painfulsilence ensued. At last he lifted himself up again, and, placing hislips so near Anton's ear that his burning breath played upon hisfriend's cheek, he said, "I know that you are acquainted with the BaronRothsattel. The young lady herself told me so. "

"It is as she has said, " replied Anton, with difficulty concealing hisexcitement. 

"Do you know any thing of the connection between my father and thebaron?"

"But little; only what you have yourself occasionally told me, that yourfather had money on the baron's estate. But when I was abroad, I heardthat a great danger threatened the baron, and I was even authorized towarn him against an intriguer. " Bernhard watched Anton's lips in agony. Anton shook his head. "And yet, " said he, "it was one who is no strangerin your house. It was your book-keeper Itzig. "

"He is a villain, " cried Bernhard, eagerly, clenching his thin hand. "Heis a man of low nature. From the first day that he entered our house, Ifelt a loathing of him as of an unclean beast. "

"It appears to me, " continued Anton, "that Itzig, of whom I knewsomething in earlier years, is plotting against the baron behind yourfather's back. The warning I received was so obscure, I hardly knew whatto make of it; however, I could but inform the baron of what had beentold me. "

"That Itzig rules my father, " whispered Bernhard. "He is a demon in ourfamily. If my father acts selfishly toward the baron, that man isanswerable for it. "

Anton soothingly assented. "I must know how matters stand between thebaron and my father, " continued the invalid. "I must know what is to bedone to help that family out of their difficulties. I can help, " he wenton to say, and again a ray of joy lit up his pale face. "My father lovesme. He loves me much. In my present weak state, I have found out how hisheart clings to me--when he comes in the evening to my bed, and strokesmy forehead; when he sits where you do, Wohlfart, and mournfully looksat me for hours together! Wohlfart, after all, he is my father!" Heclasped his hands, and hid his face in the pillows. "You must help me, my friend; you must tell me how to save the baron. I charge you to dothis. I myself will speak to my father. I dreaded the hour before, but, after what you have told me, I fear now either that he does not knowall, or, " added he, in a low murmur, "that he will not tell me all. Youyourself must go to the baron. "

"You must not forget, Bernhard, " replied Anton, "that, even with thebest will in the world, it is not permitted us to force ourselves thusinto the affairs of others. However good our intentions may be, still Iam a stranger to the baron. My interference may seem, both to him and toyour father, sheer presumption. I do not say that the step is a useless, but it is a most uncertain one. It would be better that you should firstfind out the nature of your father's proceedings. "

"Go, though, to the baron, " implored Bernhard, "and if he remain silent, ask the young lady. I have seen her, " continued he; "I have kept it backfrom you as men will keep their dearest secret; now you shall hear it. Ihave been more than once on the Rothsattel estate. I know how fair sheis, how proud her bearing, how noble her every gesture. When she walksover the grass, she seems the queen of nature; an azure glory shinesaround her head; wherever she looks, all things bow down before her; herteeth like pearls, her bosom a bed of lilies, " whispered he, and sankdown on his pillows with folded hands and flashing eyes. 

"He too!" cried Anton to himself. "My poor Bernhard, you are delirious!"

Bernhard shook his head. "Since that day, " said he, "I know that life isnot commonplace, but it is terrible! Will you now consent to speak tothe baron and his daughter?"

"I will, " said Anton, rising to go. "But I repeat to you that, in doingthis, I am taking an important step, which may easily lead to freshinvolvements for us both. "

"One in my state fears no involvements, " said Bernhard; "and as foryou, " and he cast a searching glance at Anton, "you will be what youhave spoken of to me this day, a man who can cut his way throughdifficulties, and whose business it is, even though wounded, to fightwith fate. Me, Anton Wohlfart, me the whirlwind will sweep away. "

"Faint-heart, " cried Anton, tenderly, "it is your disease that speaksthus. Courage will return with health. "

"You hope so?" inquired the invalid, doubtingly. "I do so too, at times;but often I grow faint-hearted, as you say. Yes, I will live, and I willlive no longer as of yore. I will try hard to grow stronger. I will notdream so much as I do now, will not fret and excite myself in solitude. I will make trial of the life of a brave and wise man, who gives backevery blow that he receives, " cried he, with flushed cheeks, and holdingout his hand to his friend. Anton bent over him, and left the room. 

That evening Ehrenthal went to his son's bedside, as he always did, after having closed the office door and hidden the key in his own room. 

"What did the doctor say to you to-day, my Bernhard?"

Bernhard had turned his face to the wall, but he now suddenly flunghimself round, and said impetuously, "Father, I have something to speakto you about. Lock the door, that no one may disturb us. "

Ehrenthal, in amazement, ran to both doors, locked and bolted themobediently, and then hurried back to his son's bedside. 

"What is it that vexes you, my Bernhard?" inquired he, stretching outhis hand to feel his son's brow. 

Bernhard drew back his head, and his father's hand sank on thebedclothes. 

"Sit down there, " said the invalid, darkly, "and answer my questions assincerely as if you were speaking to yourself. "

The old man sat down. "Ask, my son, and I will answer you. "

"You have told me that you have lent much money to Baron Rothsattel;that you will lend him no more, and that the nobleman will not be ableto retain his estate. "

"It is as I have said, " replied his father, as cautiously as ifundergoing a legal examination. 

"And what is to become of the baron and of his family?"

Ehrenthal shrugged his shoulders. "He will forfeit his property; andwhen the day comes that the estate has to be sold, I shall, on accountof my money invested therein, bid for it, and I hope I shall be thepurchaser. I have a large mortgage on it, which is safe, and a smallmortgage besides, which is not worth much. "

"Father, " cried Bernhard, with a piercing voice, which made Ehrenthalstart, "you wish to turn this man's misfortunes to your own profit; youwish to seat yourself in his place. Yes, you drove to the baron'sestate, and took me with you, and perhaps you were then planning how toturn his embarrassment to advantage. It is horrible! horrible!" He threwhimself back on the pillows and wrung his hands. 

Ehrenthal moved restlessly on his seat: "Speak not of matters that youdo not understand. Business is for the day; when I come to you in theevenings, then you are not to trouble yourself about my occupations. Iwill not have you lift up your hands, and cry 'Horrible!'"

"Father!" exclaimed Bernhard, "if you would not see me die with shameand sorrow, you will give up your plan. "

"Give up!" cried Ehrenthal, indignantly. "How can I give up my gold? Howcan I give up the estate about which I have taken thought night and day?How can I give up the greatest stroke of business I have yet carried on?You are a disobedient child, and do grieve me for nothing. What fault ofmine was it that I gave the baron my money? He would have it so. Whatfault is it of mine that I buy the property? I but redeem my money. "

"Cursed be every dollar that you have laid out thus! Cursed be the daythat this unblessed purpose entered your mind!" continued Bernhard, andhe raised his hand threateningly against his father. 

"What is this!" cried Ehrenthal, springing up; "what evil thoughts havetaken hold of my son's heart, that he should thus speak to his father?What I have done, have I not done it for thee, not for myself--not formy old days? I always thought of thee, and of how thou shouldst be adifferent man to thy father. I should have the labor and the anxiety, and thou shouldst go from the castle to the garden, book in hand, andback to the castle again, and move to and fro as thou wouldst. Thebailiff should take off his cap, and the servants their hats, and theyshould all say, 'That is our young master, he who walks yonder. '"

"Yes, " cried Bernhard, "this is your love: you want to make me partakerin an unrighteous deed. You are mistaken, father. Never will I go out ofthe castle into the garden, book in hand; rather will I, a poor beggar, beg my bread on the public road, than set my foot on an estate that hasbeen gained by sin. "

"Bernhard, " cried the old man, wringing his hands in his turn, "thoucastest a stone on thy father's heart, and its weight sinks him to theearth. "

"And you ruin your son, " cried Bernhard, in uncontrolled passion. "Seeto it for whom you are lying and cheating; for, as sure as there is aheaven above us, it shall never be said that you have done it for yourunhappy son. "

"My son, " wailed the father, "do not smite my heart with your curses. Ever since you were a little lad, carrying your satchel to school, youhave been all my pride. I have always allowed you to do your ownpleasure. I have bought you books. I have given you more money than yourequired. I have watched your eyes to read your wishes there. While Iwas toiling hard all day below, I used to think, 'Because of my pains, my son will rejoice. '" He took the corner of his dressing-gown to wipehis eyes, and tried to recover his composure. And so he sat, abroken-down man, face to face with his son. 

Bernhard looked silently at his father's bent head. At last he reachedout his hand. "My father!" he gently said. 

Ehrenthal instantly seized the proffered hand between his, and holdingit fast for fear it should be again withdrawn, he came nearer, kissedand stroked it. "Now thou art my own kind son once more, " said he, withemotion; "now thou wilt not speak such wicked words again, or quarrelwith me about this baron. "

Bernhard snatched his hand away. 

"I will not press him; I will have patience about the interest, " saidEhrenthal, beseechingly, trying to recover his son's hand. 

"Ah! it is useless to speak to him!" cried Bernhard, in deepestdistress; "he does not even understand my words. "

"I will understand every thing, " gasped out Ehrenthal, "if you will onlygive me back your hand. "

"Will you relinquish your plan about the estate?" asked Bernhard. 

"Speak not of the estate, " besought the old man. 

"In vain!" murmured Bernhard, turning away and hiding his face in hishands. 

Ehrenthal sat by him annihilated and sighing deeply. "Hear me, my son, "said he, at length; "I will see if I can not get him another estate thathe can buy with his remaining means. Do you hear me, my son Bernhard?"

"Go!" cried Bernhard, without anger, but with the energy of intensegrief. "Go, and leave me alone!"

Ehrenthal rose and left the room, walking up and down vehemently in thenext, wringing his hands, and talking to himself. Then he opened thedoor, approaching Bernhard's bed, and asked, in a piteous voice, "Wiltthou not give me thy hand, my son?" But Bernhard lay silent, withaverted face. 

It was with a beating heart that Anton, two days later, gave his name tothe baron's servant. 

"Wohlfart!" cried the baron, and the recollection of the letter returneddisagreeably to him; "bring him in. " He met Anton's low bow rathercoolly. "I am obliged to you, " said he, "for a letter lately received, and you must excuse my having, on account of much business on hand, leftit unanswered. "

"If, " began Anton, "I now take the liberty of calling with reference tothe same subject, I implore you not to look upon it as intrusive. I comehere charged with a message from a friend of mine who feels the mostdevoted respect for you and your family. He is the son of Ehrenthal themerchant. He himself is prevented from waiting upon you by illness, andtherefore implores you, through me, to make use of the influence hepossesses with his father. In the event of your thinking it probablethat he may be of use, may I request you to communicate your wishes tohim?"

The baron listened eagerly. Now, when every thing forsook him upon whichhe had himself relied, strangers began to interfere with his fate--thisItzig, for instance, and Wohlfart, and now Ehrenthal's son. "I know butlittle of the young man, " said he, with reserve; "I must request you, first of all, to explain to me how I happen to have the honor ofexciting such an unusual amount of interest in his mind. "

Anton replied with some warmth "Bernhard Ehrenthal has a noble heart, and his life is stainless. Having grown up among his books, heunderstands little or nothing of his father's business matters, but heis under the impression that the latter is led on by wicked advisers toact the part of an enemy toward you. He has influence over hisfather--his fine sense of rectitude is much disturbed--and he ardentlywishes to hold back a parent from proceedings which he himself considersdishonorable. "

Here was help. It was a breath of fresh air piercing through the chokingatmosphere of a sick-room; but the fresh air made the patientuncomfortable. These honorable men, so ready to condemn all that did notapprove itself to their own sense of honor, had become distressing tothe baron. At all events, he would not expose himself to thisWohlfart--the very essence, no doubt, of scrupulous conscientiousness. And, accordingly, he replied with affected cordiality, "My relations tothe father of your friend are precisely such as might be facilitated bythe kindly intervention of one mutually interested in us both. Whetheryoung Ehrenthal, however, be the proper person, I can not decide. Meanwhile, tell him that I am grateful for his sympathy, and that Ipurpose calling upon him at his own time to consult him on the subject. "Upon which announcement Anton rose, the baron accompanying him to thedoor, and, wonderful to say, making him a low bow. 

It was the result of no accident that, as Anton passed through theante-chamber, Lenore should enter it. "Mr. Wohlfart!" she cried, withdelight, and hurried to him. "Dear young lady!" cried he; and they metas old friends. 

They forgot their interval of separation; they were as of old, partnersin the dance. Both said how much they had altered since then, and whilethey said so, all the intervening years dropped off unperceived fromeach. 

"You wear upright collars again, " cried Lenore, with a slightlyreproachful voice. Anton instantly turned them down. 

"Have you got the hood you then wore? It was lined with red silk, and itbecame you exquisitely. "

"My present hood is lined with blue, " said Lenore, laughing. "And onlythink, the little Countess Lara is to be married next week! She and Iwere talking of you not long ago; and Eugene, too, has written to usabout you. How enchanting, that you should have become acquainted withmy brother! Come this way, Mr. Wohlfart; I must hear how the time haspassed with you. " She led him into the drawing-room, and made him sit byher on the sofa, looking at him with those smiling eyes, whose lightused formerly to make him so happy. Much in him had changed since then;perhaps another maiden occupied his imagination now; but when he lookedupon the mistress of his early youth, the wild, high-spirited girlmatured into the noble and graceful woman, all the feelings of the pastrevived, and he breathed with rapture the perfumed air of the elegantsaloon. 

"Now that I see you, " said Lenore, "it seems to me as if ourdancing-lessons had only been yesterday. That was a pleasant time for metoo. Since then I have had much sorrow, " added she, drooping her head. 

Anton lamented this with a fervor which made her look up brightly again. 

"What has brought you to my father?" inquired she, at length, in analtered tone. 

Anton spoke of Bernhard, of his long sickness, and deep regard for herfamily, not concealing that she herself was the chief cause of it, whichmade her look down, and fold the corners of her handkerchief together. "If you can find a way of recommending your father to use Bernhard'sinfluence, do so. I can not get rid of a fear that there is a conspiracycarrying on against him in Ehrenthal's office. Perhaps you will findmeans of letting Bernhard or me know how we can best be useful. "

Lenore looked mournfully in Anton's face, and moved nearer to him. "Youare to me like an old friend, and I can trust my sorrows to you. Myfather conceals the cause of his anxiety from my mother and me, but heis sadly changed the last few years. This factory requires much money, and he is often without any, I am sure. My mother and I pray daily thatpeace may be restored to us--a happy time like that when I first becameacquainted with you. As soon as I can discover any thing, I will writeto you, " said she, with firm resolve; "and when Eugene comes home onleave, he will seek you out. "

Thus Anton left the baron's house, excited by his meeting with his fairfriend, and full of anxiety to serve the whole family. At the house doorhe stumbled upon Ehrenthal, who, in return for his distant bow, calledafter him to come very soon again to see his son Bernhard. 

Ehrenthal had spent a miserable day. He had never, in the whole courseof his life, sighed or shaken his head so much before. It was in vainthat his wife, Sidonia, asked her daughter, "What ails the man, that hesighs so deeply?" It was in vain that Itzig sought to cheer his master'sspirits by drawing glowing pictures of the future. All thedissatisfaction in Ehrenthal's breast exploded against his book-keeper. "It was you who advised me to take these steps against the baron, " hescreamed at him on the morning after his scene with Bernhard. "Do youknow what you are? You are a good for nothing fellow. " Itzig shruggedhis shoulders, and returned an ironical reply, which made Ehrenthal gladto bury his head in the newspaper. Longer than two days he could notendure the sight of the sorrow of his son, who got visibly worse, andonly answered his father in monosyllables. "I must make a sacrifice, "said Ehrenthal to himself. "I must give back sleep to his eyes, and putan end to his groaning. I will remember my son; and I will get the baronthe Rosmin property, or I will save the money that he has invested init, without any profit for myself. I shall lose in that way, for I mighthave arranged with Löwenberg so as to gain more than a thousand dollars. I think this will please my Bernhard. " And putting his hat firmly on hishead, as if to crush down all rebellious thoughts, he entered thedwelling of his debtor. 

The baron received his unexpected visitor with breathless terror. "Thewarner is scarcely gone when the enemy arrives, " thought he. "He is cometo require the legal surrender of the mortgage. "

But what was his relief when Ehrenthal of his own accord politelyrequested that he might go to Rosmin on the baron's behalf, and take thenecessary steps. "I will employ as my coadjutor a safe man--theCommissary Walter--so that you may see that all is done legally. Youwill give me authority to bid for the property, and to raise it thus tosuch a sum as shall insure your mortgage being covered by thepurchase-money that some other will pay. "

"I know that this will be necessary, " said the baron; "but, for God'ssake, Ehrenthal, what will be done if the property remains upon ourhands!"

Ehrenthal shrugged his shoulders. "You know that I did not persuade youinto the mortgage; indeed, I may say, if I remember aright, that I evendissuaded you from it. If you had taken my advice then, you wouldprobably never have bought that mortgage. "

"The thing is done, however, " returned the baron, irascibly. 

"First of all, baron, I must beg you to admit that I am innocent of thismatter. "

"That is immaterial now. "

"It is immaterial to you, " said Ehrenthal, "but not to me, and to myhonor as a man of business. "

"What do you mean by that?" cried the baron, in a tone that madeEhrenthal start. "Do you dare to insinuate that any thing can beimmaterial to me about which even your honor is sensitive?"

"Why are you so irritable, baron? I say nothing against your honor Godforbid that I should. "

"You spoke of it, though, " said the unhappy man. 

"How can you thus misunderstand an old acquaintance? I only wish foryour declaration that I am innocent of the purchase of this mortgage. "

"Be it so, " cried the baron, stamping. 

"Then it is all right. And should a misfortune befall us, and you beobliged to purchase the property, we will see what can be done. It is abad time to lend money; but still I will advance you a sum in return fora mortgage on the property. "

He then proceeded to make arrangements for his departure as the baron'srepresentative, and left him a prey to conflicting emotions. 

Was he saved? was he lost? A fear came over him that this mortgage woulddecide his fate. He resolved to go to Rosmin himself, and not leavematters to Ehrenthal. But then came the painful thought that he mustneeds repose unlimited trust in this man, lest the man learn to mistrusthim, and so he drifted here and there in a sea of dangers. The wavesrose and threatened his very life. 

That evening Ehrenthal entered his son's sick-room, and placed thenewly-executed document on his bed. "Canst thou give me thy hand now?"said he to his son, who looked gloomily before him. "I am to travel forthe baron. I am to buy him a new estate. We have settled it alltogether. Here is his signature authorizing me to act for him. I am toadvance him capital; if he is wise, he may again become a man ofsubstance. "

Bernhard looked sorrowfully at his father, and shook his head. "That isnot enough, my poor father, " said he. 

"But I am reconciled to the baron, and he has himself confessed that Iam not to blame for his misfortunes. Is not that enough, my son?"

"No, " said the invalid; "so long as you keep that wicked man Itzig inyour office, no joy can shine in on my life. "

"He shall go, " said Ehrenthal, readily; "he shall go this next quarter, if my son Bernhard wishes it. "

"And will you give up the idea of buying the baron's estate foryourself?"

"When it comes to be sold, I will think of what you have said, " repliedhis father. "And now speak no more about the estate; when you are mystrong, healthy son again, we will return to the subject. "

So saying, he seized the hand which Bernhard delayed giving, held itfast in both his, and sat silently beside him. 

If ever in the course of his life Ehrenthal had known satisfaction, itwas now, in having brought about this reconciliation with his son. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Wave after wave broke over the head of the drowning man. 

The factory had now been in operation for some months. The beet-rootcrop on the estate itself had been deficient, and the cultivation of itin the country round had proved unsuccessful. Many of the small farmershad failed to fulfill their contracts, and others had brought ininferior produce. There was a scarcity of beet-root as well as ascarcity of capital; the works stopped, the workmen dispersed. 

Ehrenthal was gone off to the Polish property, and the baron wasconsumed by the fever of suspense. At last came the dark day whenEhrenthal appeared before him, a letter from Commissary Walter in hishand. The baron's capital had only been saved by his buying the estate. 

The owners of the first mortgage of a hundred thousand dollars hadraised the property, by bidding, up to a hundred and four thousand; theyhad then left off, and no other purchaser had come forward. 

"The estate is now yours, baron, " said Ehrenthal. "In order that you maybe able to maintain it, I have negotiated with the owners of the firstmortgage, and they will leave the hundred thousand upon the estate. Ihave advanced for you four thousand dollars and the legal expenses. "

The baron said not a word; his head fell heavily on his writing-table. As Ehrenthal left the room, he muttered, "It is all over with him. Andthe next quarter he will lose his old estate, and he has not energy toundertake the new. I shall have to buy the Polish property too, in theend. "

And now term-time drew near, and the baron had the interest of all hisborrowed money to pay. Once more he looked round for help. In vain!Last of all he came to his neighbor, George Werner, who had for someyears paid homage to Lenore, and then prudently drawn back, the baron'sembarrassments being no longer a secret. The young man showed all thesympathy conventional in such a case. He was very sorry, indeed, to hearthat there was so large a mortgage upon the recently-purchased property. "Whom did you send to the auction?" asked he. 

"Hirsch Ehrenthal, " was the reply. 

George Werner waxed eloquent. "I fear, " cried he, "that that fellow hasplayed you false. I know the usurer well: years ago we lost a large sumby his villainy. My father had cut down a wood in the next province, andsold it to a timber-merchant. Ehrenthal made a cheating bargain withthis man, got the timber from him at a nominal price, while the otherfellow ran off to America. The two rogues shared my father's money. "

The baron's face grew livid; he rose, said not another word about hisconcerns, and slunk out of his neighbor's house like a felon. 

From that day he brooded darkly in his arm-chair, was harsh to his wife, unapproachable by his daughter. The two poor women sufferedinexpressibly. 

One ray of hope still remained to him--Bernhard's influence with hisfather. But he would not take the hand unselfishly offered him. He didnot send for Anton, but for another, of whom the idea was repulsive tohim, yet whose grotesque presence seemed to cheer him whenever they met. Once more, at the last hour, a gracious destiny left his choice free. But alas! he was himself free no longer. It was the curse of an evildeed that now confused his judgment. 

Again Itzig stood before him, and the baron, looking askance at the bentfigure, said, "Young Ehrenthal has offered to make up my difference withhis father. "

Veitel leaped up suddenly as if he had been shot. "Bernhard!" said he. 

"That is his name, I dare say; he is an invalid. "

"He will die, " replied Veitel. 

"When?" asked the baron, occupied with his own thoughts; but, recoveringhimself, he added, "What is the matter with him?"

"It is here, " said Itzig, laying his hand on his chest; "it labors likea pair of bellows: when a hole is once torn, the breath ceases. "

The baron put on an expression of sympathy, but, in reality, his onlythought was that he had no time to lose. "The invalid, " said he, "hassufficient influence over his father to give me hopes of Ehrenthal'sconsent to my wishes. "

"What does Bernhard know of business? He is a fool, " cried Veitel, unable to conceal his annoyance. "If you were to put an old parchmentcovered with manuscript before him, he would give you any mortgage youliked for it; he is half-witted. "

"I see that you do not approve this plan, " said the baron, againdrifting hopelessly. 

Before Itzig replied, he stood for a long time reflecting, andrestlessly looking away from the baron into every corner of the room. Atlast he said, in a more self-possessed tone, "The baron is right. Itwill be best, after all, that you and Ehrenthal should go together toBernhard's sick-bed, and there finally settle your affairs. " Again hewas silent, and his face grew red with stormy thoughts. "Will the baronbe graciously pleased to leave me to fix the day and the hour when hecan best speak to Bernhard Ehrenthal? As soon as you enter the office, Iwill go up and tell him that you are there. Meanwhile you will have thegoodness to wait in the office, even if I should be half an hour away. You will wait, whatever Ehrenthal may say. And when I take you upstairs, all will be right, for Bernhard can do what he likes with hisfather. "

"I shall wait till I hear from you, " decided the baron, distressed atthe thought of the painful day. 

Itzig then took his leave, and rushed in frantic excitement to his lairin the house of Pinkus. Arrived there, he ran wildly up and down, clenching his fist at the thought of Bernhard. He opened his old desk, and took out of a secret drawer two keys, which he laid on the table, and stood looking at them steadfastly and long. At length he pushed theminto his pocket, and ran down to the caravanserai. There, cowering in acorner of the gallery, he found his sagacious friend Mr. Hippus, whoseaspect had certainly not improved during the last few days. He was nowsitting squeezed into a corner where the sunlight fell, and was readinga dirty romance. When Veitel hurriedly entered, he only buried his headdeeper in his book, for which he appeared to care far more than for theyoung man of business before him. 

"Shut up your book, and listen to me, " cried Itzig, impatiently. "Rothsattel will get his notes of hand back from Ehrenthal; he will givein the mortgage, and I shall have to pay him the remaining eightthousand dollars. "

"Only think--only think, " replied the old man, wagging his ugly head, "what things one lives to see! If Ehrenthal gives his money away to avagabond who has broken his word, it will be time for us all to mend ourways and turn honest. Before, however, we speak further, you may justbring me up something to eat and drink. I am thirsty, and have notanother word to say at present. "

Veitel hurried down stairs, and the old man, looking after him, muttered, "Now for it! now for it!"

When Veitel had placed his meal before him, Hippus briefly inquired, "How much?"

"Three hundred, " said the old man; "and even then I must have time toconsider. It is not in my line, most worthy Itzig. I am willing to laborin my vocation for less, as you have experienced ere now, but for anoble exploit in the style of Cartouche and others of your friends, Irequire better compensation. I am only a volunteer, and I can't say thatmy preferences lie in this direction. "

"Do mine?" cried Itzig. "If there be any other means to take, tell methem. If you know how the baron and Ehrenthal can be kept asunder, sayso. Ehrenthal's only son will make peace between them; he will standbetween them like the winged cupid on a valentine between two lovers, and we shall be done. "

"_We_?" chuckled the old man. "_You_ will be done, you jackdaw. What areyour affairs to me?"

"Two hundred, " cried Veitel, drawing nearer. 

"Three, " replied the old man, tossing off his glass; "but even then Iwill not do it alone; you must be there. "

"If I am to be there, " said Veitel, "I can do it alone, and shall notrequire your help. Listen to me. I will contrive that the office shallbe empty; that Ehrenthal and the baron shall leave the house at the samemoment. I will give you a sign, to say whether the papers are on thetable or in the press. It will be dark. You will have about half anhour's time. I will fasten the house door, and unbolt the back door, which is generally closed. It will all be so safe that a child of twoyears might do it easily. "

"Safe enough for you, " said the old man, dryly, "but not for me. "

"We have tried what could be done with the law, and it has notanswered, " cried Veitel; "now we must defy it. " He struck the balustradewith his clenched fist, and ground his teeth fiercely. "And if you don'tchoose to do it, still it shall be done, though I know that all thesuspicion will fall upon me, unless I am in Bernhard's room at thetime. "

"Very fine indeed, gallant Itzig, " said the man, adjusting hisspectacles, so as to observe more closely the expression of the other'scountenance. "Since you are so brave, I will not leave you in the lurch. But three hundred. "

The bargaining then began. The pair squeezed themselves into thefarthest corner of the gallery, and whispered together till dark. 

A few days later, at twilight, Anton entered his friend's sick-room. "Iam come to pay you a flying visit, just to see how you are. "

"Weak, " replied Bernhard; "still very weak, and breathing becomes verydifficult. If I could only get out, only once out of this gloomy room. "

"Does your doctor allow you to drive out? If the sun be bright and warm, I will bring a carriage to-morrow and take you a drive. "

"Yes, " cried Bernhard, "you shall come. I shall have something to tellyou then. " He looked cautiously around. "I have this day received by thetownpost a note without a signature. " He drew it out from under hispillow, and gave it with a mysterious look to his friend. "Take it:perhaps you know the hand. "

Anton went to the window and read, "The Baron Rothsattel wishes to speakto you this evening. Contrive, therefore, to be alone with your father. "

When Anton gave back the note, Bernhard received it reverentially, andreplaced it under his pillow. "Do you know the hand?" said he. 

"No, " replied Anton; "the hand seems a feigned one; it is not the younglady's. "

"Whoever the writer may be, " continued Bernhard, dejectedly, "I hope fora good result from this evening's interview. Wohlfart, this dispute lieslike a hundred weight on my breast; it takes my breath away. Thisevening I shall be better; I shall be free. "

Speaking had tired him. "Farewell, then, till morning, " said Anton. Ashe rose he heard the rustle of ladies' dresses, and Bernhard's motherand sister approached the bed and greeted the visitor. "How are you, Bernhard?" asked his mother; "you will be all alone with your fatherthis evening. There is a great musical meeting, and Rosalie is to play. We have moved the piano into the back room, Mr. Wohlfart, that Bernhardmay not be disturbed by Rosalie's practicing. "

"Sit down for a moment beside me, mother, " said Bernhard; "it is longsince I have seen you handsomely dressed. You look beautiful to-day; youhad just such a gown as this when I, as a boy, took scarlet fever. WhenI dream of you I always see you in a scarlet dress. Give me your hand, mother; and while you listen to the music this evening, think, too, ofyour Bernhard, who will be making silent melody here. "

His mother sat down beside him. "He is feverish again, " said she toAnton, who silently assented. 

"To-morrow I shall go out into the sunshine, " cried Bernhard, in anexcited tone; "that will be my enjoyment. "

"The carriage waits, " said Rosalie, remindingly; "and we have to go outthe back way, which is dirty. Itzig has persuaded my father that thecarriage must not drive round to the front for fear of disturbingBernhard. "

"Good-night, Bernhard, " said his mother, once more reaching out herplump hand. The ladies hurried away. Anton followed them. 

"What do you think of Bernhard?" asked the mother, as they went downstairs. 

"I consider him very ill, " Anton replied. 

"I have already told my husband that, when summer comes, and I go withRosalie to the Baths, we will take Bernhard with us. "

Anton went home with a heavy heart. 

The house grew silent; nothing was to be heard in the sick-room but thelabored breathing of the sufferer. But there was a stir on the floorbelow him--doubtless a mouse gnawing the wainscot. Bernhard listeneduneasily. "How long will it go on gnawing? till it makes a hole at last, and comes into the room. " A shudder came over him--he tossed about onhis bed--the darkness seemed to press him in--the air grew thick. Herang till the maid came and set down the lamp. Then he gazed languidlyround. The room looked old and prison-like to-day; it appearedunfamiliar to him, like some room in a strange house, where he was onlya visitor. He looked with indifference at his library, and the drawerwhere lay his beloved manuscripts. That spot upon the floor--that chinkthrough which the light from the next room shone in every evening, to-morrow he would leave them all to drive with Anton. He wonderedwhether they would take the road the young lady took when going to andfro between town and her father's estate. Perhaps they might meet her. His eye beamed; he confidently believed that they should meet her. Shewould sit queen-like in her carriage, her veil flying round her bloomingface; she would raise her white hand and wave it to him--nay, she wouldrecognize him; she would know that he had rendered her father a service;she would stop and inquire how he was. He should speak to her--shouldhear the noble tones of her voice; she would bow once more; then thecarriages would separate, one here, the other there. And whither wouldhe go? "Into the sunshine, " whispered he. And again he listenedanxiously to the gnawing of the mouse. 

A hurried step came through the room beyond. Bernhard sat up--the bloodmounted to his face. It was the father of Lenore who was coming to him. The door opened softly; an ugly face peeped in, and glanced stealthilyaround the room. Bernhard cried in dismay, "What do you want here?"

Itzig went up to the bed in haste, and breathing hard, said, in a voicethat sounded as choked as that of the invalid, "The baron has just goneinto the office. He has told me to come to you, and to persuade you tosupport the proposal that he is about to make to your father. "

"He has said that to you?" cried Bernhard. "How can the baron give amessage to a man like you?"

"Hold your peace, " rejoined Veitel, rudely; "there is no time for yourspeeches. Listen to what I have to say. The baron promised your father, on his word of honor, security for twenty thousand dollars, and now hecan not give him that security, because he has sold the deed to another. He has broken his word, and now demands that your father should renouncehis security. If you can advise your father to lose twenty thousanddollars, why, do so. "

Bernhard trembled all over. "You are a liar!" cried he. "Every word thatproceeds from your mouth is hypocrisy, double-dealing, and deceit. "

"Hold your peace, " replied Veitel, in feverish anxiety. "You are not topersuade your father to his harm. There is no helping this baron; he isa fly who has burned his wings in the candle; he can only crawl. Andeven if Ehrenthal be fool enough to follow your evil counsel, he can notmaintain for the baron possession of his estate. If he does not ejecthim, another will. I have no interest in saying this to you, " continuedhe, uneasily listening to a sound in front of the house; "I do so merelyout of attachment to your family. "

Bernhard struggled for breath. "Get out of my sight!" said he, atlength; "there is nothing but deceit and falsehood on earth. "

"I will bring up the baron and your father, " said Veitel, and rushed outof the room. 

Meanwhile Ehrenthal's angry voice sounded loudly on the ground floor. "Iwill go to the lawyer; I will expose you and your intrigues. "

Veitel burst open the door. The baron sat on the stool, and hid his facewith his hands. Ehrenthal stood before him trembling with rage. On thedesk stood the baron's casket, containing the fatal notes of hand andthe mortgage. Veitel cried out, "Have done, Ehrenthal; your Bernhard isvery ill; he is all alone up stairs, and calls for you and for thebaron; he wants you both beside him. "

"What means this?" screamed Ehrenthal. "Are you intriguing with my sontoo, behind my back?"

"Have you shown him the new mortgage that you have had drawn up forhim?" asked Veitel, hurriedly. 

"He will not even look at it, " returned the baron, gloomily. 

"Give it to me, " said Veitel; and he laid a new deed before Ehrenthal. 

"You want me to take a bit of paper instead of my good money--meretrash, that is not worth my burning. "

"Will you not give over?" cried Veitel, in greatest distress. "No one isup stairs with Bernhard, and he is calling out for you and the baron; hewill do himself a mischief. Do go up stairs; he has groaned out that Iam to bring you both to him immediately. "

"Just God!" cried Ehrenthal, "what is to be done! I can not come to myson; I am in terror about my money. "

"He will cry himself to death, " said Veitel; "you can speak about themoney long enough afterward. Do make haste. "

The baron and Ehrenthal both left the office. Itzig followed. Ehrenthallocked the door, laid the iron bar across it, and fastened the bolts. Asthey went up stairs a piece of money rang upon the step. Ehrenthallooked round. "It dropped out of my pocket, " said Veitel. 

The baron and Ehrenthal entered the sick-chamber, and Itzig pushedhimself in after them, creeping along the wall to the window behindBernhard, so that the latter should not see him. The baron sat down atthe head of the bed, the father at the foot, and the lamp threw a palelight on the parties who came to wrangle about capital and security inthe presence of the dying. The nobleman began by a courteous speech, referring to Bernhard's visit to his estate, hoping soon to welcome himthere again; but his eyes rested with terror on the sunken face, and aninner voice told him the last hour was near. Bernhard sat up in his bed, his head resting on his breast, and, raising his hand, he interruptedthe baron, saying, "I pray you, baron, to tell me what you require frommy father, and, while doing so, to recollect that I am no man ofbusiness. "

The baron proceeded to state his case. Ehrenthal was often about tointerrupt him, but each time Bernhard waved his hand, and then the oldman stopped, and contented himself with vehemently shaking his head andmumbling to himself. 

When the baron's statement was over, Bernhard beckoned to his father. "Come nearer me, and listen quietly to my words. "

The father stooped down with his ear close to his son's mouth. "What Iam about to say, " continued Bernhard, in a low voice, "is my firmresolve, and it is not one taken this day. If you have made money, itwas with the hope that I should outlive you and be your heir. Was it notso?"

Ehrenthal vehemently nodded assent. "If, then, you behold your heir inme, listen to my words. If you love me, act in accordance with them. Irenounce my inheritance so long as we both live. What you have laid upfor me has been laid up in vain. I require nothing for my future. If itbe appointed me to recover, I will learn to support myself by my ownlabor. Beside your love and your blessing, father, I want nothing. Thinkupon this. "

Ehrenthal raised his arms and cried, "What words are these, my Bernhard, my poor son! Thou art ill; thou art very ill. "

"Hear me further, " besought Bernhard. "Whatever your claims may be onthis gentleman's estate, they must be given up. You have been connectedwith him in business for long years; you must not be the means ofmaking his family unhappy. I do not ask you to give away the large sumin question. That would pain you too much, and would be humiliating tohim; all I require is, that you should accept the security he offersyou. If he ever promised you any other, forget it; if you have papers inyour possession which compromise him, give them back. "

"He is ill, " groaned his father; "he is very ill. "

"I know that this will pain you, my father. Ever since you left yourgrandfather's house, a poor barefooted Jew-boy, with one dollar in yourpocket, you have thought of nothing but money-making. No one ever taughtyou any thing else, and your creed excluded you from the society ofthose who better understood what gave value to life. I know it goes toyour heart to risk a large sum, but yet, father, you will do it--youwill do it because you love me. "

Ehrenthal wrung his hands, and said, with floods of tears, "You know notwhat you ask, my son. You plead for a robbery--a robbery from yourfather. "

The son took his father's hand. "You have always loved me. You havewished that I should be different from yourself. You have always givenheed to my words, and before I could express a wish you have fulfilledit. But this is the first great request that I have ever made. And thisrequest I will whisper in your ear as long as I live; it is the first, father, and it will be my last. "

"Thou art a foolish child, " cried the father, beside himself; "thouaskest my life--my whole substance. "

"Fetch the papers, " replied Bernhard. "I must, with my own eyes, see yougive back to the baron what he wishes to retract, and receive from himwhat he can still give. "

Ehrenthal took out his handkerchief and wept aloud: "He is ill. I shalllose him, and I shall lose my money too. " Meanwhile the baron sat silentand looked down. As for Itzig, he was clenching his fist convulsively, and unconsciously tearing the curtain down from the pole. 

Bernhard looked at his father's emotion unmoved, and repeated with aneffort, "I will have it so; bring the papers, father, " Then he sank backon his pillow. His father bent over him, but with a silent gesture ofaversion Bernhard waved him off, saying, "Enough! you hurt me. "

Then Ehrenthal rose, took up his office-candle, and tottered out of theroom. 

The baron sat still as before, but in the midst of his suspense he wasconscious of flashes that resembled joy. He saw a spot of blue in hisclouded sky. His promise given back to him, eight thousand dollars toreceive from the man in the window, he might look up once more. He tookBernhard's hand, and, pressing it, said, "I thank you, sir--oh how Ithank you! You are my deliverer; you save my family from despair, and mefrom disgrace. "

Bernhard held the baron's hand firmly in his, and a blissful smilepassed over his face. Meanwhile the one in the window was grinding histeeth in his phrensy of anxiety, and pressing himself against the wallto control the fever-fit which shook him. 

Thus they remained a long while. No one spoke. Ehrenthal did not return. Suddenly the room door was burst open, and a man rushed in furious, withdistorted face and streaming hair. It was Ehrenthal, holding in his handthe flaring candle, but nothing else. 

"Gone!" said he, clasping his hands, and letting the candle fall; "allgone! all is stolen!" He fell on his son's bed, and stretched out hisarms, as if to implore help from him. 

The baron sprang up, not less horrified than Ehrenthal. "What isstolen?" cried he. 

"Every thing!" groaned Ehrenthal, looking only at his son. "The notes ofhand, are gone, the mortgages are gone. I am robbed!" screamed he, springing up. "Robbery! burglary! Send for the police!" And again herushed out, the baron following him. 

Half fainting and bewildered, Bernhard looked after them. Itzig nowstepped out from the window and came to the bed. The sufferer threw hishead on one side, and gazed at him as the bird does at the snake. It wasthe face of a devil into which he gazed; the red hair stood upbristling; hellish dread and hate were in every ugly feature. Bernhardclosed his eyes, and covered them with his hand. But the face camenearer still, and a hoarse voice whispered in his ear. 

Meanwhile two men stood in the office below, and looked at each other instupid amazement. The casket and its contents were gone. The deeds thatthe baron had laid on the desk were gone too. Ehrenthal had unlocked thedoor as usual. There was nothing wrong with the bolts. Every thing stoodin its right place. If any money had been taken out of the drawer, itcould be but very little. There was not a sign of the well-securedshutters having been touched; it was inexplicable how the documentscould have been taken away. 

Then they searched the whole ground floor: nothing to be seen--even thehouse door was locked. They recollected that the cautious book-keeperhad done that as they went up stairs. Again they went back to the officeand searched every corner, but more rapidly and more hopelessly thanbefore. Then they sat over against each other, watching for some tokenof treachery; and again they sprang up, and mutually poured out suchreproaches as only despair can invent. 

The papers had vanished from Ehrenthal's office just as he hadunwillingly yielded to his son's entreaties for a reconciliation withthe baron. He had not, indeed, made up his mind to it--he had only goneto fetch the papers. Would any one believe that those papers werestolen? Would his own son believe him?

And as for the baron, his loss was greater still. He had just had a hopeof rescue, now he fell again into an abyss beyond his fathoming. Hisnotes of hand were in some stranger's possession. If the thiefunderstood how to make use of them--nay, if the thief were onlyapprehended, he was lost; and if they were never found again, still hewas equally lost. He was not in a condition to make any arrangement withEhrenthal; he was not in a condition to pay any of his creditors; he waslost beyond possibility of deliverance. Before him lay poverty, failure, disgrace. Again there recurred to his mind that court of honor, hisfellow-officers, and the unfortunate young man who had destroyedhimself. He had been obliged to view the body; he knew how one looks whohas died thus; he knew too, now, how a man comes to die. Once he hadshuddered at the image of the corpse, now he shuddered at it no longer. His lips moved, and as in a dream he said to himself, "That is the lastresource. " The door was now torn open, a hideous head appeared, and awild cry was heard, "Come up, Hirsch Ehrenthal; your son is dying. " Thenthe apparition vanished, Ehrenthal rushed off with a shriek, and thebaron tottered out of the house. 

When the father fell down beside his son's bed, a white hand was liftedup once more, then a corpse fell back. Bernhard was gone out into thesunshine. 

The evening was warm. A light mist hid the stars, but there was still apleasant twilight. The balmy breath of the flowering shrubs in thepublic gardens was wafted into the streets. The passers-by returnedslowly home, sorry to leave the sweet south breeze, and shut themselvesup in-doors. The beggar stretched himself comfortably out on thethreshold of the stately house; every young fellow who had a sweetheartled her out with him through the streets. He who was weary forgot hispast day's work; he who was sad felt his sadness less on such an eveningas this; he who was alone the whole year felt impelled to seekcompanionship to-day. Groups stood laughing and chattering at the doors;children were playing; the caged nightingale sang her sweetestsong--sang of the early summer--that happy time when life is sweet andfond hopes blossom. 

Through these swarms of people a tall man walked slowly; his head hadsunk on his breast. He did not hear the nightingale's note, and passedthrough the circle of dancing children without one sound of their happyvoices falling upon his ear. He passed into the suburbs, slowly ascendeda flower-crowned hill, and sat down on a bench. Beneath him the darkriver rolled onward to the sea, and opposite him rose the mighty mass ofthe old cathedral. The river was covered with timber-rafts brought downfrom the mountains. On these rafts stood the little huts of theirrowers, with small fires in them, at which the men were now preparingtheir suppers. He too had had to do with timber-rafts like these, andthe money he had thus won had been spoken of as a theft. He got uphastily and hurried down the hill. 

His way lay through an alley of tall sycamores, and again he stopped, and wearily leaned against the trunk of a tree. Before him rose thechimneys of the manufacturing part of the town. He too knew what it wasto build a tall pile like that. He had laid all he had at its base--hisstrength, his money, his honor. He had paid for it with sleepless nightsand whitened hair; it was the tomb-stone of his race which he had raisedon his estate, and what he now saw before him in the uncertain light wasa monster church-yard, full of shadowy monuments, beneath which laycoffined the peace of mind of many wretched men; and nodding, he said, and started to hear his own words, "It is the last. " He rose and went tohis house. 

On his way thither he felt how comforting it was to think of that whichwould free him from such hideous pictures. He went in and smiled whenthe lamp shone on his face. As he stood in the hall he could hear voicesin his wife's room. Lenore was reading aloud. He listened and heardthat she was reading a novel. He would not frighten those poor women;but there was a back room apart from all the rest--he would go there. While he was still standing in the hall, the room door opened, and thebaroness looked out. She gave an involuntary start when she saw him. Hesmiled and cheerfully entered the room, gave his hand to his wife, stroked Lenore's head, and bent down to see what she was reading. Thebaroness regretted that she had had her tea without him, and he jokedher about her impatience for her favorite beverage. He went to the cagein which two foreign birds were sitting on the same perch, their smallheads resting against each other, and putting his fingers to the wiresas if to stroke them, he said absently, "They are gone to rest. " Thentaking the waxlight from the servant's hand, he moved toward his ownroom. As he took hold of the door-handle, he remarked that his wife'seyes followed him anxiously, and, turning toward her, he noddedcheerfully. Then he closed the door, took a polished case out of hiswriting-table, and carried it and the candle to the small back room. Here he was sure he should disturb no one. 

Slowly he loaded. In loading he looked at the inlaid work on thebarrels. It had been the toilsome task of some poor devil of agunmaker--it had often been admired by his acquaintance. The pistolsthemselves had been a wedding-present from the general, who had on oneoccasion acted the part of father to his orphan bride. He hurriedlyrammed down the charge, then looked behind him. When he fell it shouldnot be on the floor; he would not make on those who should come in thesame painful impression that his outstretched comrade had made on him. 

He placed the barrel to his temple. At that moment a woman's shriek washeard, his wife rushed in, his arm was seized with the strength ofdespair; he started, and his finger touched the trigger--a flash, areport, and he sank back on the sofa, and groaning, raised both hishands to his eyes. 

In the merchant's house the bereaved father came, candle in hand, out ofthe room of the dead to the office below. He looked anxiously about onthe desk, in the cupboard, in every corner of the room; then sat down, shook his head, and marveled. Then he locked up the office, went upstairs again, and fell groaning and crying on the bed. So he spent thewhole night, seeking and wailing, wailing and seeking--a distracted, desolate, broken-down man. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

In the merchant's house domestic life flowed smoothly on again. Thesmall disturbance made by the return of Anton had gradually settleddown. Those first-class treasures of Sabine's had made way for otherspecimens of damask, still of a superior kind, it is true, but whichcame within the compass of the elderly cousin's comprehension. She hadbeen quite right in prophesying that Anton would never remark thosesigns of exuberant gratitude or their withdrawal. However, one changehad been permanently made--the greatest, the best of all changes--theclerk retained a privileged place in the heart of the young mistress ofthe firm, and his tall figure often appeared as one of the circle thatSabine's fancy loved to gather round her when at her work-table or inher treasure-chamber. 

To-day she was walking restlessly up and down before dinner. The cousin, who heard every thing, had just told her that a maid from Ehrenthal'shad run into the office to announce Bernhard's death to his friend. "Howwill he bear it?" thought she. And the name of Ehrenthal forced herthoughts back to the past, to one now far away, and to that painful hourwhen the struggle going on in her own mind had been suddenly brought toa close by a letter from the house of the departed. And Anton had knownof that conquered feeling of hers. How considerate he had always been, how chivalrous, how helpful! She wondered if he had any idea of thecompleteness of her triumph over a girlish illusion. She shook her head. "No, he has not. It was here, at this very table, that an accident firstbetrayed me to him. That past time still rises like a cloud between us. Whenever I sit near Wohlfart of an evening, I am conscious of another'sshadow at my side; and when he speaks to me, his tone, his manner alwaysseem to say, 'You are not alone; he is with you. '" Sabine started, andlovingly passed her hand over the beautiful flowers on the table beforeher, as if to dispel a painful thought. She could not tell him that shewas free from that long-felt sorrow. Now, however, when he had lost afriend whom he so much loved, she must show him that there were otherhearts that clung to him still. And again she walked up and down, tryingto devise a way of speaking to him alone. 

Dinner was announced. Anton came with the rest, and took his place atonce. There was no opportunity of exchanging a word during the meal, buthe often met her sad and sympathizing eye. "He eats nothing at allto-day, " whispered her cousin; "not even any of the roast, " she added, reproachfully. Sabine was much perturbed. Mr. Jordan had already risen;Anton would leave the room with the rest, and she should not see himagain the whole day through. So she called out, "The great Calla isfully blown now. You were admiring the buds the other day; will youremain a moment; I should like to show it you?" Anton bowed and staidbehind. A few more awkward moments, then her brother rose too; and, hurrying to Anton, she took him to the room where the flowers were. 

"You have had sorrowful tidings to-day, " she began. 

"The tidings themselves did not surprise me, " replied Anton. "The doctorgave no hope. But I lose much in him. "

"I never saw him, " said Sabine; "but I know from you that his life waslonely--poor in affection and in enjoyment. "

She moved an arm-chair toward Anton, and led him on to talk about hisfriend. She listened to every word with warm sympathy, and well knewwhat to ask and how to comfort. It was a relief to Anton to speak of thedeparted one, to describe his quiet way of life, his erudition, hispoetical enthusiasm. After a pause, Sabine looked up frankly into hisface, and asked, "Have you any tidings of Herr von Fink?"

It was the first time since his departure that she had ever breathed hisname. Anton felt how touching her confidence was, given in this hour ofhis sadness. In his emotion, he seized her hand, which she was slow inwithdrawing. 

"He is not happy in his new life, " he gravely replied. "There was asavage humor in his last letter, from which I gather, even more thanfrom his actual words, that the business into which his uncle's deathhas thrown him does not suit him. "

"It is unworthy, " cried Sabine. 

"At all events, it is not what would be recognized as honorable in thishouse, " replied Anton. "Fink is upright, and has lived too long withyour brother to take pleasure in the wild speculations so common on theother side the Atlantic. His partners and colleagues are for the mostpart men without a conscience, and his feelings revolt against theircompanionship. "

"And can Herr von Fink tolerate such relations as these for a day?"

"It is a remarkable thing that he whose own will was ever so arbitrarilyexercised, should now be obliged against that will to obey a pressurefrom without, and every where to work with his hands tied. Theorganization of such speculations in America is so complicated that oneshareholder can do little to alter it; and, now that Fink has attainedwhat used to be the goal of his wishes--a large capital, and themanagement of immense districts--his condition appears more uncertainthan it ever was before. He was always in danger of thinking slightinglyof others, now I am distressed at the bitter contempt he expresses forhis own life. His last letter paints an intolerable state of things, andseems to point to some decisive resolve. "

"There is only one resolve for him, " cried Sabine. "May I ask what yousaid to him in reply?"

"I entreated him instantly, come what would, to free himself from thebusiness in which he was entangled. I said that his own strong willmight find a way of extrication, even if that which I pointed out provedimpracticable. Then I begged of him either to carry out his old plan ofbecoming a landed proprietor in America, or to return to us. "

"I knew that you would write thus, " said Sabine, drawing a long breath. "Yes, Wohlfart, he shall return, " said she, gently, "but he shall notreturn to us. "

Anton was silent. 

"And do you think that Herr von Fink will follow your advice?"

"I do not know. My advice was not very American. "

"But it was worthy of you, " cried Sabine, with proud delight. 

"An officer wishes to speak to Mr. Wohlfart, " said a servant at thedoor. 

Anton sprang up. Sabine went to her flowers and bent mournfully overthem. The shadows of others hovered still between her friend and her. 

The few words spoken by the servant filled Anton with a vague terror. Hehurried into the ante-room: there stood Eugene von Rothsattel. Anton wasgladly rushing forward to greet him, but the young soldier's face ofagony made him start back. He whispered, "My mother wishes to speak toyou; something dreadful has occurred. " Anton caught up his hat, ran intothe office, hurriedly asked Baumann to excuse him to the principal, andthen accompanied the lieutenant to the baron's house. 

On the way, Eugene, who had lost all self-command, said unconnectedly toAnton, "My father last night accidentally wounded himself by apistol-shot--a messenger was sent to summon me--when I came, I found mymother in a swoon--my sister and I do not know what to do--Lenoreimplored my mother on her knees to send for you--you are the only one inwhom we have any confidence in our distress--I understand nothing aboutbusiness, but my father's affairs must be in a dreadful state--my motheris beside herself--the whole house is in the greatest disorder. "

From what Eugene said and what he did not say; from his broken sentencesand his look of agony, Anton guessed at the horrors of the previousevening. In the boudoir of the baroness he found Lenore, weeping andexhausted. 

"Dear Wohlfart!" cried she, taking his hand and beginning again to sob, while her head sank powerless on his shoulder. 

Meanwhile Eugene walked up and down, wringing his hands, and at lengththrowing himself on the sofa, he gave himself up to silent tears. 

"It is horrible, Mr. Wohlfart, " said Lenore, lifting up her head. "Noone may approach my father--Eugene may not, nor I--only my mother andold John are with him; and early this morning the merchant Ehrenthal washere, insisting that he must see my father. He screamed at my mother, and called my father a deceiver, till she fainted away. When I rushedinto the room, the dreadful man went off threatening her with hisclenched fist. "

Anton led Lenore to a chair and waited till she had told him all. Therewas no possibility of comforting in this case, and his own heart waswrung to the utmost by the misery he witnessed. 

"Call my mother, Eugene, " said Lenore, at length. 

Her brother left the room. 

"Do not forsake us, " implored Lenore, clasping her hands; "we are at thelast gasp; even your help can not save us. "

"He is dead who might perhaps have done so, " mournfully replied Anton. "Whether I can be of any use I know not, but you can not doubt mywillingness to be so. "

"No, " cried Lenore. "And Eugene, too, thought of you at once. "

The baroness now entered. She walked wearily; but, steadying herself bya chair, she saluted Anton with dignity. "In our position, " said she, "we need a friend who knows more of business than we three do. Anunfortunate accident prevents the baron--possibly for a long time tocome--from managing his own affairs, and, little as I understand them, Ican see that our interests require prompt measures. My children havementioned you to me, but I fear I am unreasonable in asking you todevote your time to our service. "

She sat down, beckoned Anton to take a chair, and said to her children, "Leave us; I shall be better able to tell Mr. Wohlfart the little that Iknow when I do not see your grief. "

When they were alone, she motioned him nearer and tried to speak, buther lips quivered, and she hid her face in her handkerchief. 

"Before I can consent, gracious lady, " said he, "to your reposing in mesuch confidence as this, I must first inquire whether the baron has norelative or intimate friend to whom you could with less pain make such acommunication. I pray you to remember that my own knowledge of businessis but small, and my position not one to constitute me a propercounselor to the baron. "

"I know no one, " said the baroness, hopelessly. "It is less painful tome to tell you what I can not conceal, than to one of our own circle. Consider yourself a physician sent for to visit a patient. The baron hasthis morning told me some particulars of his present circumstances. " Andthen she proceeded to relate what she had gathered as to the nature ofhis embarrassments, the danger in which the family property was placed, and the capital needed to take possession of the Polish estate. 

"My husband, " continued she, "has given me the key of his desk, and hewishes Eugene, with the help of a man of business, to go over hispapers. I now request of you to make this examination together with myson. When you need explanations, I will try to obtain them from thebaron. The question is now, whether you are inclined to undertake thistrouble for us, who are only strangers. "

"I am most willing to do so, " earnestly replied Anton; "and I hope thatthe kindness of my principal will allow me the time needful for thepurpose, if you do not consider it more advisable to depute the baron'sexperienced legal adviser to the task. "

"There will be an opportunity of asking that gentleman's advice later, "said the baroness. 

Anton rose. "When do you wish to begin?"

"Immediately. I fear there is not a day to lose. I shall do all I can tohelp you look the papers over. " She led Anton into the next room, calledin Eugene, and unlocked the baron's desk. As she opened it she lost herself-command for a moment, and moving to the window, the quivering ofthe curtains betrayed the anguish that shook her fragile frame. 

The mournful task began. Hour after hour passed. Eugene was in nocondition to peruse any thing, but his mother reached letters anddocuments to Anton, and, though often obliged to desist a while, shebravely returned to the task. Anton placed the papers in order, andsought, by glancing over each, to arrive at least at a superficial viewof the facts of the case. 

It was evening, when the old servant opened the door in dismay, andcalled out, "He is there again. " The baroness could not repress a slightscream, and made a gesture of aversion. 

"I have told him that no one is at home, but he will not be dismissed;he makes such a noise on the steps. I can not get rid of him. "

"It will kill me if I hear his voice again, " murmured the baroness. 

"If the man be Ehrenthal, " said Anton, rising, "I will try to get himaway. We have now done what was most necessary; have the goodness tolock up these papers, and to allow me to return to-morrow. " The baronesssilently assented, and sank back in her chair. Anton hurried off to theante-room, whence he could hear Ehrenthal's loudly-raised voice. 

The appearance of the usurer shocked him. His hat pushed half off hishead, his pale face swelled as if by drinking, his glazed eyes red withtears, Ehrenthal stood before him, calling in broken sentences for thebaron, wailing and cursing alternately. "He must come! he must come atonce!" cried he; "the wicked man! A nobleman, indeed! he is a vagabond, after whom I will send the police. Where is my money? Where is mysecurity? I want my mortgage from this man who is not at home. "

Anton went straight up to him, and asked, "Do you know me, Mr. Ehrenthal?" Ehrenthal turned his glazed eyes upon him, and graduallyrecognized the friend of his dead son. 

"He loved you!" he cried, in a lamentable voice. "He spoke to you morethan to his father. You were the only friend that he had on earth. Haveyou heard what has happened in the house of Ehrenthal?" continued he, ina whisper. "Just as they stole the papers he died. He died with a handlike this, " and clenching his fist he struck his forehead. "Oh my son!my son! why didst not thou forgive thy father!"

"We will go to your son, " said Anton, taking the arm of the old man, whounresistingly allowed himself to be led back to his own house. 

From thence Anton hurried to Councilor Horn, with whom he had a longconversation. 

It was late before he returned home. In the midst of his anxiety aboutthose whose prosperity had filled his imagination years before, theconfidence that they, in their adversity, reposed in him, dilated hisbreast with a feeling of pride. He burned with desire to help them, andhoped that his zealous devotion might yet find some way of rescue. Asyet he saw none. Looking up at the great building before him, so firmand secure, in the moonlight, a thought flashed into his mind. If anyman could help them, it was his principal. His keen eye would be able tounravel all the dark secrets in which the baron was entangled, and hisiron strength of will would crush the villains who held the unfortunatenobleman in their power. And then he had a noble nature; he alwaysdecided on the right, without an effort or a struggle. Anton looked atthe first floor. The whole house-front was dark, but in a corner room alight still burned. It was the private office of his chief. 

With sudden resolve, Anton begged the servant to take him to Mr. Schröter, who looked with amazement at the unexpected visitor, and askedwhat brought him, and whether any thing had happened. 

"I implore your counsel--I implore your help, " cried Anton. 

"For yourself or for others?" inquired the merchant. 

"For a family with whom I have accidentally become connected. They arelost if a strong hand does not ward off the impending catastrophe. "Anton then rapidly related the occurrences of the afternoon, and, seizing his principal's hand in his emotion, cried, "Have pity upon theunhappy ladies, and help them. "

"Help them!" replied the merchant; "how can I? Have you beencommissioned to apply to me, or are you only following the impulse ofyour own feelings?"

"I am not commissioned; it is only the interest that I take in thebaron's fate which leads me to you. "

"And what right have you to inform me of facts communicated in strictconfidence to yourself by the baron's lady?" asked the merchant, dryly. 

"I am committing no indiscretion in telling you what will, in a fewdays, be no secret, even to strangers. "

"You are unusually excited, otherwise you would not forget that, underno circumstances whatever, does a man of business venture to make such acommunication without the special permission of the parties concerned. Of course, I shall make no wrong use of what you have said, but it wasby no means business-like, Wohlfart, to be so open toward me. "

Anton was silent, feeling, indeed, that his principal was right, but yetit seemed hard to be blamed for reposing confidence at such a time asthis. The merchant walked silently up and down; at length, stoppingbefore Anton, he said, "I do not now inquire how you come to take sowarm an interest in this family. I fear it is an acquaintance you owe toFink. "

"You shall hear all, " said Anton. 

"Not at present. I will now content myself with repeating that it isimpossible for me to interfere in these affairs without being speciallyapplied to by the parties themselves. I may add that I by no means wishfor such an application, and do not disguise from you that, were itmade, I should probably decline to do any thing for the BaronRothsattel. "

Anton's feelings were roused to the utmost. "The question is the rescueof an honorable man, and of lovely and amiable women from the toils ofrogues and impostors. To me, this seems the duty of every one; I, atleast, consider it a sacred obligation which I dare not shrink from. Butwithout your support I can do nothing. "

"And how do you think this embarrassed man can be helped?" inquired themerchant, seating himself. 

With somewhat more composure, Anton replied: "In the first instance, byan experienced man of business making himself master of the case. Theremust be some way of circumventing these villains. Your penetration woulddiscover it. "

"Any attorney would be far more likely to do so, and the baron mightreadily engage the services of experienced and upright legal advisers. If his enemies have done any thing illegal, the quick eye of a lawyer isthe most likely to detect it. "

"Alas! the baron's own lawyer gives but little hope, " replied Anton. 

"Then, my dear Wohlfart, no other is likely to do much good. Show me anembarrassed man who has strength to grasp an offered hand, and bid mehelp him, and for the sake of all I owe you, I will not refuse to do so. I think you are convinced of this. "

"I am, " said Anton, dejectedly. 

"From all I hear, however, " the merchant went on, "this is not the casewith the baron. From what I gather from general report, as well as fromyou, his embarrassments arise from his having fallen into the hands ofusurers, which proves him deficient in what alone ennobles the life ofany man--good sense, and the power of steady exertion. "

Anton could only sigh his assent. 

"To help such a man, " inexorably continued the merchant, "is a futileattempt, against which reason may well protest. We are not to despair ofany, but want of strength is the most hopeless case of all. Our power oflaboring for others being limited, it becomes our duty to inquire, before we devote our time to the weak, whether we are not thusdiminishing our chances of helping better men. "

Anton interrupted him. "Does he not deserve every allowance to be madefor him? He was brought up to exact much; he has not learned, as wehave, to make his way by his own labor. "

The merchant laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. "The veryreason. Believe me, a large number of these landed gentry, who pay thepenalty of their old family memories, are beyond help. I am the last todeny that many worthy and admirable men belong to this class. Indeed, wherever remarkable talent or nobility of character shoots up amongthem, no doubt their position offers peculiar scope for its development, but for average men it is not a favorable one. He who considers it hishereditary privilege to enjoy life, and who assumes a distinguishedposition in virtue of his family, will very often fail to put forth hiswhole strength in order to deserve that position. Accordingly, numbersof our oldest families are declining, and their fall will be no loss tothe state. Their family associations make them haughty without anyright to be so--limit their perceptions and confuse their judgment. "

"Even if all this be true, " cried Anton, "it does not absolve us fromhelping individuals of the class who have excited our sympathy. "

"No, " said the principal, "if it be excited. But it does not glow sorapidly in advancing years as in youth. The baron has endeavored toisolate his property from the current of circumstances, in order toleave it forever to his family. Forever! You, as a merchant, know how toestimate the attempt. True, every rational man must allow it to bedesirable that the culture of the same soil should be handed down fromfather to son. We all prize what our forefathers have possessed beforeus, and Sabine would unlock every room in this house with pride, becauseher great-great-grandmother turned the same keys before her. It istherefore natural that the landed proprietor should desire to preservethose familiar scenes, which are the source of his own prosperity, tothose nearest and dearest to him. But there must be means to this end, and these means are the making his own existence available for themaintenance and increase of his patrimony. Where energy dies in familiesor individuals, then it is well that their means die too, that theirmoney should circulate through other hands, and their plowshare pass tothose who can guide it better. A family that has become effete throughluxury ought to sink down into common life, to make room for theuprising of fresh energies and faculties. Every one who seeks, at thecost of free activity for others, to preserve permanent possessions andprivileges for himself or his family, I must look upon as an enemy tothe healthy development of our social state. And if such a man ruinhimself in his endeavors, I should feel no malicious pleasure in hisdownfall, but I should say that he is rightly served, because he hassinned against a fundamental law of our social being; consequently, Ishould consider it doubly wrong to support this man, because I could butfear that I should thus be supporting an unsound condition of the bodypolitic. "

Anton looked down mournfully. He had expected sympathy and warmconcurrence, and he met with disaffection and coldness that he despairedof conquering. "I can not gainsay you, " he at length replied; "but inthis case I can not feel as you do. I have been witness to theunspeakable distress in the baron's family, and my whole soul is fullof sadness and sympathy, and of the wish to do something for those whohave opened their heart to me. After what you have said, I dare nolonger ask you to trouble yourself with their affairs, but I havepromised the baroness to assist her as far as my small powers permit, and your kindness allows. I implore you to grant me permission to dothis. I shall endeavor to be regular in my attendance at the office, butif during the next few weeks I am occasionally absent, I must ask you toexcuse me. "

Once more the merchant walked up and down the room, and then, looking atAnton's excited face, with deep seriousness and something of regret, hereplied, "Remember, Wohlfart, that every occupation which excites themind soon obtains a hold over a man, which may retard as well as advancehis success in life. It is this which makes it difficult to me to agreeto your wishes. "

"I know it, " said Anton, in a low voice; "but I have now no choiceleft. "

"Well, then, do what you must, " said the merchant, gloomily; "I will layno hinderance in your way; and I hope that after a few weeks you will beable to consider the whole circumstances more calmly. " Anton left theroom, and the merchant stood looking long with frowning brow at theplace his clerk had occupied. 

Nor was Anton in a more congenial mood. "So cold, so inexorable!"exclaimed he, as he reached his own room. He began to suspect that hisprincipal was more selfish and less kindly than he had hithertosupposed. Many an expression of Fink's recurred to his mind, as well asthat evening when young Rothsattel, in his boyish conceit, had spokenimpertinently to the merchant. "Is it possible, " thought he, "that thatrude speech should be unforgotten?" And his chief's keen, deep-furrowedface lost inexpressibly by contrast with the fair forms of the nobleladies. "I am not wrong, " he cried to himself; "let him say what hewill, my views are more just than his, and henceforth my destiny shallbe to choose for myself the way in which I shall walk. " He sat long inthe darkness, and his thoughts were gloomy as it; then he went to thewindow to look down into the dark court below. A great white blossomrose before him like a phantom. Striking a light, he saw that it was thebeautiful Calla out of Sabine's room. It hung down mournfully on itsbroken stem. Sabine had had it placed there. This little circumstancestruck him as a mournful omen. 

Meanwhile Sabine, taper in hand, entered her brother's room. "Good-night, Traugott, " nodded she. "Wohlfart has been with you thisevening; how long he staid!"

"He will leave us, " replied the merchant, gloomily. 

Sabine started and dropped her taper on the table. "For God's sake, whathas happened? Has Wohlfart said that he was going away?"

"I do not yet know it, but I see it coming step by step; and I can not, and still less can you, do any thing to retain him. When he stood beforeme here with glowing cheeks and trembling voice, pleading for a ruinedman, I found out what it was that lured him away. "

"I do not understand you, " said Sabine, looking full at her brother. 

"He chooses to become the confidential friend of a decayed noble. A pairof bright eyes draws him away from us: it seems to him a worthy objectof ambition to become Rothsattel's man of business. This intimacy withnobility is the legacy bequeathed to him by Fink. "

"And you have refused to help him?" inquired Sabine, in a low voice. 

"Let the dead bury their dead, " said the merchant, harshly; and heturned to his writing-table. 

Sabine slowly withdrew. The taper trembled in her hand as she passedthrough the long suite of rooms listening to her own footfall, andshuddering as the feeling came over her that an invisible companionglided by her side. This was the revenge of that other. The shadow thatonce fell on her innocent life now drove her friend away from theircircle. Anton's affections clung to another. She had but been in hiseyes a mere stranger, who had once loved and languished for one now faraway, and who now, in widow's weeds, looked back regretfully to thefeelings of her youth. 

The few next weeks were spent by Anton in over-hard work. He had greatdifficulty in keeping up his counting-house duties, while he spent everyspare hour in conference with the baroness and the lawyer. 

In the mean time, the misfortunes of the baron ran their course. He hadnot been able to pay the interest of the sums with which his estate wasburdened. When last they were due, a whole series of claims was broughtagainst him, and the estate fell under the administration of thedistrict authorities. Complicated lawsuits arose. Ehrenthal complainedloudly, claiming the first mortgage of twenty thousand dollars--nay, hewas inclined to advance claims on the last mortgage offered by the baronin the recent fatal hour. Löbel Pinkus also appeared as claimant of thefirst mortgage, and asserted that he had paid the whole sum of twentythousand dollars. Ehrenthal had no proof to bring forward, and had beenfor some weeks past quite unable to manage his own affairs, whilePinkus, on the contrary, fought with every weapon a hardened sinner candevise or employ, and the deeds which the baron had executed at Veitel'ssuggestion proved to be so capital a master-stroke of the cunningadvocate, that the baron's man of business had, from the first, littlehope of the case. We may here observe that Pinkus did eventually win it, and that the mortgage was made over to him. 

Anton was now gradually gaining some insight into the baron'scircumstances. But the double sale of the first mortgage was still kepta secret by the latter, even from his wife. He declared Ehrenthal'sclaim unfounded, and even expressed a suspicion that he had himself hadsomething to do with the robbery in his office. Indeed, he reallybelieved this. Then the name of Itzig was never broached, and thesuspicion against Ehrenthal, which the baron's lawyer shared, preventedAnton seeking any explanation from him. 

Meanwhile, an estrangement had sprung up between our hero and hisprincipal, which the whole counting-house remarked with surprise. Themerchant scowled at Anton's vacant seat when the latter chanced to beabsent during office-hours, or looked coldly at his clerk's face, madepale as it was with excitement of mind and night-work. He took no noticeof his new occupation, and never seemed to remark him. Even to hissister he maintained a stiff-necked silence; nor could all her attemptslead him to speak of Anton, who, on his side, felt his heart revoltagainst this coldness. After his return, to be treated like a child ofthe house, praised, promoted, petted, and now to be treated like a merehireling, who is not worth the bread thrown to him; to be a toy of anincomprehensible caprice--this, at least, he had not deserved; so hebecame reserved toward the whole family, and sat silent at his desk; buthe felt the contrast between the now and the then so keenly, that often, when alone, he would spring up and stamp on the ground in the bitterindignation of his heart. 

One comfort remained. Sabine was not estranged. True, he saw little ofher, and at dinner she seemed to avoid speaking to him, but he knew thatshe was on his side. 

A few days after his first conversation with the merchant, she came downstairs as he stood in the hall, and had to pass him by so closely thather dress touched him. He had retreated, and made a formal bow, but shelooked at him imploringly, and whispered, "You must not be estrangedfrom me. " It was an affair of a moment, but the faces of both wereradiant with a happy understanding. 

The time had now arrived when Mr. Jordan was to quit the firm. Theprincipal again called Anton into his little office, and without anyseverity, but also without a trace of his former cordiality, began: "Ihave already mentioned to you my intention of appointing you Jordan'ssuccessor; but, during the last few weeks, your time has been more takenup with other business than would be compatible with such a post, Itherefore ask you whether you are now at liberty to undertake Jordan'sduties?"

"I am not, " replied Anton. 

"Can you name any--not very distant--time when you will be free fromyour present occupation? In that case I will endeavor to find asubstitute until then. "

Anton sorrowfully replied, "I can not at present say when I shall againbe master of my whole time; and, besides, I feel that, even as it is, Itax your indulgence by many irregularities. Therefore, Mr. Schröter, Ibeg that you will fill up this post without any reference to me. "

The merchant's brow grew furrowed and dark, and he silently bowedassent. Anton felt as he closed the door that the estrangement betweenthem was now complete, and, resuming his place, he leaned his throbbinghead on his hand. A moment later Baumann was summoned to the principal, and Jordan's situation conferred upon him. On returning to the office, he went up to Anton and whispered, "I refused at first, but Mr. Schröterinsisted. I am doing you an injustice. " And that evening Mr. Baumann, inhis own room, read in the first book of Samuel the chapters treating ofthe unjust Saul (the principal), and of the friendship between Jonathanand the persecuted David, and strengthened his heart thereby. 

The next day Anton was summoned to the baroness. Lenore and her mothersat before a large table covered with jewel-boxes and toilette elegancesof every description, while a heavy iron chest stood at their feet. Thecurtains were drawn, and the subdued light shone softly into the richlyfurnished room. On the carpet glowed wreaths of unfading flowers, andthe clock ticked cheerfully in its alabaster case. Under the shade offlowering plants sat the two love-birds in their silvered cage, hoppingfrom perch to perch, screaming ceaselessly, or sitting up quietly closeto each other. The whole room was beauty and perfume. "For how long?"thought Anton. The baroness rose. "We are already obliged to trouble youagain, " said she; "we are engaged in a very painful occupation. " On thetable were all manner of ornaments, gold chains, brilliants, rings, necklaces, gathered into a heap. 

"We have been looking out all that we can dispense with, " said thebaroness, "and now pray you to undertake to sell these things for us. Ihave been told that some of them are of value, and as we are now in muchneed of money, we turn here for help. "

Anton looked in perplexity at the glittering heap. 

"Tell us, Wohlfart, " cried Lenore, anxiously, "is this necessary? can itbe of any use? Mamma has insisted upon setting apart for sale all ourornaments, and whatever plate is not in daily use. What I can give isnot worth talking of, but my mother's jewels are costly; many of themwere presents made to her in youth, which she shall not part with unlessyou say that it is necessary. "

"I fear, " said Anton, gravely, "that it will prove so. "

"Take them, " said the baroness to Anton; "I shall be calmer when I knowthat we have at least done what we could. "

"But do you wish to part with all?" inquired Anton, anxiously. "Muchthat is dear to you may have but little value in a jeweler's eyes. "

"I shall never wear an ornament again, " quietly replied the baroness. "Take them all;" and, holding her hands before her eyes, she turnedaway. 

"We are torturing my mother, " cried Lenore, hastily; "will you lock upall that is on the table, and get them out of the house as soon as youcan?"

"I can not undertake the charge of these valuables, " said Anton, "without taking some measures to decrease my own responsibility. Firstof all, I will in your presence make a short note of all you intrust tome. "

"What useless cruelty!" exclaimed Lenore. 

"It will not take long. "

Anton took out a few sheets from his pocket-book, and began to note downthe different articles. 

"You shall not see it done, mother, " said Lenore, drawing her motheraway, and then returning to watch Anton at his task. 

"These preparations for the market are horrible, " said she. "My mother'swhole life will be sold; some memory of hers is linked with every singlething. Look, Wohlfart, the princess gave her this diamond ornament whenshe married my father. "

"They are magnificent brilliants, " cried Anton, admiringly. 

"This ring was my grandfather's, and these are presents of poor papa's. Alas! no man can know how we love all these things. It was always afestival to me when mamma put on her diamonds. Now we come to mypossessions. They are not worth much. Do you think this bracelet goodgold?" She held out her hand as she spoke. 

"I do not know. "

"It shall go with the rest, " said Lenore, taking it off. "Yes, you are akind, good man, Wohlfart, " continued she, looking trustfully into histearful eyes; "do not forsake us. My brother has no experience, and ismore helpless than we are. It is a frightful position for me. Beforemamma I do all I can to be composed, else I could scream and weep thewhole day through. " She sank in a chair, still holding his hand. "DearWohlfart, do not forsake us. "

Anton bent over her, and looked with passionate emotion at the lovelyface that turned so trustfully to him in the midst of its tears. 

"I will be helpful to you when I can, " said he, in the fullness of hisheart. "I will be at hand whenever you need me. You have too good anopinion of my information and my faculties; I can be of less assistanceto you than you suppose, but what I can, that I will do in any and everypossible way. "

Their hands parted with a warm pressure; the affair was settled. 

The baroness now returned. "Our lawyer was with me this morning, " saidshe; "and now I must ask for your opinion on another subject. He tellsme that there is no prospect of preserving the baron's family estate. "

"At this time, when interest is high, and money difficult to get, none, "replied Anton. 

"And you, too, think that we must turn all our efforts toward preservingthe Polish property?"

"I do, " was the answer. 

"For that, also, money will be necessary. Perhaps I may be able throughmy relatives to intrust you with a small sum, which, with the help ofthat"--she pointed to the iron chest--"may suffice to cover the firstnecessary expenses. I do not, however, wish to sell the jewels here, anda journey to the residence would be necessary in order to procure thesum to which I have just alluded. The baron's lawyer has spoken mosthighly of your capacity for business. It is his wish which now decidesme to make a proposal to you. Will you for the next few years, or, atall events, until our greatest difficulties are over, devote your wholetime to our affairs? I have consulted my children, and they agree withme in believing that in your assistance lies our only hope of rescue. The baron, too, has come in to the plan. The question now is whetheryour circumstances allow you to give your support to our unfortunatefamily. We shall be grateful to you, whatever conditions you affix; andif you can find any way of making our great obligations to you apparentin the position you hold, pray impart it to me. "

Anton stood petrified. What the baroness required of him was separationfrom the firm, separation from his principal, and from Sabine! Had thisthought occurred to him before, when standing in Lenore's presence orbending over the baron's papers? At all events, now that the words werespoken, they shocked him. He looked at Lenore, who stood behind hermother with hands clasped in supplication. At length he replied, "Istand in a position which I can not leave without the consent of others. I was not prepared for this proposal, and beg to have time allowed mefor consideration. It is a step which will decide my whole future life. "

"I do not press you, " said the baroness; "I only request yourconsideration. Whatever your decision be, our warmest gratitude willstill be yours; if you are unable to uphold our feeble strength, I fearthat we shall find no one to do so. You will think of that, " she added, beseechingly. 

Anton hurried through the street with throbbing pulse. The noble lady'sglance of entreaty, Lenore's folded hands, beckoned him out of thegloomy counting-house into a sphere of greater liberty, into a newfuture, from whose depths bright images flashed out upon his fancy. Arequest had been frankly made, and he was strongly inclined to justifythe confidence that prompted it. Those ladies required an unwearied, self-sacrificing helper to save them from utter ruin, and if hefollowed his impulse he should be doing a good work--fulfilling a duty. 

In this mood he entered the merchant's dwelling. Alas! all that he sawaround him seemed to stretch out a hand to detain him. As he looked atthe warehouse, the good-humored faces of the porters, the chains of thegreat scales, the hieroglyphics of the worthy Pix, again he felt thatthis was the place that he belonged to. Sabine's dog kissed his hand, and ran before him to his room--his and Fink's room. Here the childishheart of the orphan boy had found a friend, kind companions, a home, adefinite and honorable life-purpose. Looking down through his window onall the long-familiar objects, he saw a light in Sabine's store-chamber. How often he had sought for that light, which brightened the whole greatbuilding, and brought a sense of comfort and cheerfulness even into hisroom. He now sprang up suddenly, and said to himself, "She shalldecide. "

Sabine started in amazement when Anton appeared before her. "I amirresistibly impelled to seek you, " cried he. "I have to decide upon myfuture life, and I feel undetermined, and unable to trust to my ownjudgment. You have always been a kind friend to me since the day of myarrival. I am accustomed to look up to you, and to think of you inconnection with all that interests me here. Let me hear your opinionfrom your own lips. The Baroness Rothsattel has to-day proposed to mepermanently to undertake the situation of confidential adviser andmanager of the baron's affairs. Shall I accept; or shall I remain here?I know not--tell me what is right both for myself and others. "

"Not I, " said Sabine, drawing back and growing very pale. "I can notventure to decide in the matter. Nor do you wish me to do so, Wohlfart, for you have already decided. "

Anton looked straight before him and was silent. 

"You have thought of leaving this house, and a wish to do so has sprungout of the thought. And I am to justify you, and approve your resolve!This is what you require of me, " continued she, bitterly. "But this, Wohlfart, I can not do, for I am sorry that you go away from us. "

She turned away from him and leaned on the back of a chair. 

"Oh, be not angry with me too!" said Anton; "that I can not bear. I havesuffered much of late. Mr. Schröter has suddenly withdrawn from me thefriendly regard that I long held my life's greatest treasure. I have notdeserved his coldness. What I have been doing has not been wrong, andit was done with his knowledge. I had been spoiled by his kindness; Ihave the more deeply felt his displeasure. My only comfort has been thatyou did not condemn me. And now, do not you be cold toward me, else Ishall be wretched forever. There is not a soul on earth to whom I canturn for affectionate comprehension of my difficulties. Had I a sister, I should seek her heart to-day. You do not know what to me, lonely as Iam, your smile, your kindly shake of the hand has been till now. Do notturn coldly from me, I beseech you. "

Sabine was silent. At length she inquired, still with averted face, "What draws you to those strangers; is it a joyful hope, is it sympathyalone? Give this question close consideration before you answer it toyourself at least. "

"What it is that makes it possible for me to leave this house, " saidAnton, "I do not myself know. If I can give a name to my motives, it isgratitude felt toward one. She was the first to speak kindly to thewandering boy on his way out into the world. I have admired her in thepeaceful brightness of her former life. I have often dreamed childishdreams about her. There was a time when a tender feeling for her filledmy whole heart, and I then believed myself forever the slave of herimage. But years bring changes, and I learned to look on men and on lifewith other eyes. Then I met her again, distressed, unhappy, despairing, and my compassion became overmastering. When I am away from her, I knowthat she is nothing to me; when I am with her, I feel only the spell ofher sorrow. Once, when I had to depart out of her circle like a culprit, she came to me, and before the whole scornful assembly she gave me herhand and acknowledged me her friend; and now she comes and asks for myhand to help her father. Can I refuse it? Is it wrong to feel as I do? Iknow not, and no one can tell me--no one but you alone. "

Sabine's head had sunk down to the back of the chair on which she bent. She now suddenly raised it, and with tearful eyes, and a voice full oflove and sorrow, cried, "Follow the voice that calls you. Go, Wohlfart, go. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

On a cold October day, two men were seen driving through the latticedgate of the town of Rosmin on toward the plain, which stretched outbefore them monotonous and boundless. Anton sat wrapped in his fur coat, his hat low on his forehead, and at his side was young Sturm, in an oldcavalry cloak, with his soldier's cap cocked cheerily on one side. Infront of them a farm-servant, squatted on a heap of straw, flogged onthe small horses. The wind swept the sand and straw from thestubble-fields, the road was a broad causeway without ditches or hedges, the horses had to wade alternately through puddles and deep sand. Yellowsand gleamed through the scanty herbage in all directions wherever afield-mouse had made her way to her nest or an active mole had done whathe could to diversify the unbroken plain. Wherever the ground sank, stagnant water lodged, and there hollow willow-trees stretched theircrippled arms in the air, their boughs flapping in the wind, and theirfaded leaves fluttering down into the muddy pool below. Here and therestood a small dwarf pine, a resting-place for the crows, who, scared bythe passing carriage, flew loudly croaking over the travelers' heads. There was no house to be seen on the road, no pedestrian, and noconveyance of any kind. 

Karl looked every now and then at his silent companion, and said atlast, pointing to the horses, "How rough their coats are, and how prettytheir gray mouse skins! I wonder how many of these beasties would go tomake up my sergeant's horse! When I took leave of my father, the old mansaid, 'Perhaps I shall pay you a visit, little one, when they light theChristmas-tree. ' 'You'll never be able, ' said I. 'Why not?' asked he. 'You'll never trust yourself in any post-chaise. ' Then the old boycried, 'Oho! post-chaises are always of a stout build; I shall be sureto trust myself in one. ' But now, Mr. Anton, I see that my father nevercan pay us a visit. "

"Why not?"

"It is possible that he may reach Rosmin; but, as soon as he sees thesehorses and this road, he will instantly turn back. 'Shall I trustmyself, ' he'll say, 'in a district where sand runs between one's legslike water, and where mice are put into harness? The ground is not firmenough for me. '"

"The horses are not the worst things here, " said Anton, absently. "Look!these go fast enough. "

"Yes, " replied Karl, "but they don't go like regular horses; theyentangle their legs like two cats playing in a parsley-bed. And whatthings they have for shoes--regular webbed hoofs, I declare, which noblacksmith can ever fit. "

"If we could only get on!" returned Anton; "the wind blows cold, and Iam shivering in spite of my fur. "

"You have slept but little the last few nights, sir, " said Karl. "Thewind blows here as if over a threshing-floor. The earth is not roundhereabouts as elsewhere, but flat as a cake. This is a complete desert;we have been driving for more than an hour, and there is not a villageto be seen. "

"A desert indeed, " sighed Anton; "let us hope it may improve. " Theyrelapsed into profound silence. At length the driver stopped near apool, unharnessed the horses, and led them to the water's edge, withoutnoticing the travelers. 

"What the deuce does this mean?" cried Karl, jumping down from thecarriage. 

"I am going to feed, " replied the servant, sulkily, in a foreign accent. 

"I am anxious to know how that will be done, " said Karl. "There is notthe shadow of a bag of provender. "

The horses, however, soon proved that they could live without corn; theystretched down their shaggy heads, and began to pull the grass and weedsat the edge of the pool, sometimes taking a draught of the dirty water. Meanwhile the servant drew a bundle from under his seat, settled himselfunder the lee of an alder-bush, and, taking his knife, cut his bread andcheese without even glancing at the travelers. 

"I say, Ignatius or Jacob, " cried Karl, sharply, "how long will thisbreakfast of yours last?"

"An hour, " replied the man, munching away. 

"And how far is it from here to the estate?"

"Six miles, or maybe more. "

"You can make nothing of him, " said Anton; "we must put up with thecustoms of the country;" and, leaving the carriage, they went to look onat the horses feeding. 

Anton is on his way to the Polish property. He is now the baron's agent. Anxious months have the last proved to him. The parting from hisprincipal and the firm had been painful in the extreme. For some timebefore it, indeed, Anton had found himself alone in the midst of hiscolleagues. The quiet Baumann still remained his friend, but the othersconsidered him a castaway. The merchant received his resignation withicy coldness; and even in the hour of parting, his hand lay impassive asmetal in Anton's grasp. Since then, our hero had undertaken severaljourneys to the capital and to creditors in the family's behalf, and nowhe was on his way to set the new estate in order, accompanied by Karl, whom he had induced to become the baron's bailiff. 

Ehrenthal had, by the authority conferred on him, taken possession ofthe property from the time of the sale by auction, and hired the Polishbailiff for the baron. There had been unfair dealings between them atthe time, and it was well known in Rosmin that the bailiff had sold offa good deal, and been guilty of all sorts of frauds since, so that Antonhad even now no prospect of a quiet life. 

"The hour is come when I may execute my commission, " cried Karl, gropingin the straw under the seat. He drew out a large japanned tin case, andcarried it to Anton. "Miss Sabine gave me this in charge for you. " Hethen joyously opened the lid, produced the materials for an excellentbreakfast, a bottle of wine, and a silver goblet. Anton took hold of thecase. 

"It has a very knowing look, " said Karl. "Miss Sabine planned itherself. "

Anton examined it on all sides, and placed it carefully on a tuft ofgrass; then he took up the goblet, and saw his initials engraved on it, and underneath the words, "To thy welfare. " Whereupon he forgot thebreakfast and all around him, and stood gazing at the goblet, lost inthought. 

"Do not forget the breakfast, sir, " suggested Karl, respectfully. 

"Sit down by me, my faithful friend; eat and drink with me. Leave offyour absurd politeness. We shall have but little, either of us, but whatwe have we will share like brothers. Take the bottle if you have noglass. "

"There's nothing like leather, " said Karl, taking a small leatherndrinking-cup out of his pocket. "As for what you have just said, it waskindly meant, and I thank you; but there must be subordination, if itwere but for the sake of the others; and so, sir, be kind enough to letme shake hands with you now, and then let things be as they were before. Only look at the horses, Mr. Anton. My faith! the creatures devourthistles. "

Again the horses were harnessed, again they threw out their short legsin the sand, and again the carriage rolled through the barrendistrict--first through an empty plain, next through a wretchedfir-wood, then past a row of low sand-hills, then over a tumble-downbridge crossing a small stream. 

"This is the property, " said the driver, turning round, and pointingwith his whip to a row of dirty thatched roofs that had just come intosight. 

Anton stood up to look for the group of trees in which the Hall might besupposed to stand. Nothing of the sort to be seen. The village wasdeficient in all that adorns the home of the poorest German peasant--noorchard, no hedged-in gardens, no lime-trees in the market-place. 

"This is wretched, " said he, sitting down again; "much worse than theytold us in Rosmin. "

"The village looks as if under a curse, " cried Karl; "no teams workingin the fields--not a cow or a sheep to be seen. "

The farm-servant flogged his horses into an irregular gallop, and sothey passed through the rows of mud huts which constituted the village, and arrived at the public house. Karl sprang from the carriage, openedthe tavern door, and called for the landlord. A Jew slowly rose from hisseat by the stove and came to the threshold. "Is the gendarme fromRosmin come?" He is gone into the village. "Which is the way to thefarm-yard?"

The landlord, an elderly man with an intelligent countenance, describedthe way in German and Polish, and remained standing at thedoor--bewildered, Karl declared, by the sight of two human beings. Thecarriage turned into a cross-road, planted on both sides with thickbushes, the remains of a fallen avenue. Over holes, stones, and puddles, it rattled on to a group of mud huts, which still had a remnant ofwhitewash upon them. "The barns and stables are empty, " cried Karl, "forI see gaps in the roofs large enough to drive our carriage through. "

Anton said no more; he was prepared for every thing. They drove througha break between the stables into the farm-yard, a large irregular space, surrounded on three sides by tumble-down buildings, and open to thefields on the fourth. A heap of _débris_ lay there--lime and rottentimber, the remains of a ruined barn. The yard was empty; no trace offarm implements or human labor to be seen. "Which is the inspector'shouse, " inquired Anton, in dismay. The driver looked round, and at lastmade up his mind that it was a small one-storied building, with strawthatch and dirty windows. 

At the noise of the wheels a man appeared on the threshold, and waitedphlegmatically till the travelers had dismounted, and were standingclose before him. He was a broad-shouldered fellow, with a bloated, brandy-drinking face, dressed in a jacket of shaggy cloth, while behindhim peered the muzzle of an equally shaggy dog, who snarled at thestrangers. "Are you the steward of this property?"

"I am, " replied the man, in broken German, without stirring from wherehe was. 

"And I am the agent of the new proprietor, " said Anton. 

"That does not concern me, " growled the shaggy man, turning sharp round, entering the house, and bolting the door within. 

Anton was thoroughly roused. "Break the window in, and help me to catchthe rascal, " cried he to Karl, who coolly seized a piece of wood, struckthe panes so as to make the rotten framework give way, and cleared theopening at one leap. Anton followed him. The room was empty, so was thenext, and in it an open window--the man was gone. 

"After him!" cried Karl, and dashed on in pursuit, while Anton lookedabout the house and out-buildings. He soon heard the barking of a dog, and saw Karl capture the fugitive. Hurrying to his help, he held the manfast, while, with a kick, Karl sent the dog flying. They then contrivedto force the steward back to the house, though he kept striking outviolently all the way. 

"Go to the tavern, and bring the gendarme and the landlord, " cried Antonto the driver, who, undisturbed by all that had been going on, hadmeanwhile unpacked the carriage. The man accordingly drove leisurelyoff, and the fugitive being got into the room, Karl found an old cloth, and with it bound his hands behind his back. "I beg your pardon, sir, "said he; "it is only for an hour or so, till the arrival of the Rosmingendarme, whom we have appointed to meet us. "

Anton then proceeded to examine the house, but there was nothing to befound but the merest necessaries; no books nor papers of any kind. Ithad doubtless been emptied already. A bundle projected from thecoat-pocket of the prisoner, which turned out to be receipts and legaldocuments in Polish. In time, the driver returned with the landlord andthe armed policeman. The landlord stood at the door in some perplexity, and the policeman explained in a few moments what remained to be done. "You must make a statement to the local judge, and give the man up tome. He shall go back in your carriage to Rosmin. You will do well to getrid of him, for this is a wild country, and it will be safer for you tohave him at Rosmin than here, where he has friends and accomplices. "

After a long search, a sheet of paper was found in a cupboard, thestatement made and submitted to the policeman, who shook his head alittle over the Polish composition, and the prisoner lifted into thecarriage, the gendarme taking his seat beside him, and saying to Anton, "I have long expected something of the kind. You may have often occasionto want me again. " The carriage then drove away, and thus the propertycame under Anton's administration. He felt as if cast on a desertisland. 

His portmanteau and traveling effects were leaning against a mud wall, and the Polish landlord was the only man who could give him and Karl anyinformation or advice in their forlorn condition. 

Now that the steward was fairly gone, the landlord grew morecommunicative, and showed himself serviceable and obliging. A longconversation ensued, and its purport was what Anton had apprehended fromthe warning given by the Commissary Walter and other Rosmin officials. The inspector had, during the last few weeks, done all he could in theway of spoliation, rendered daring by a report which had found its wayfrom the town to the village, that the present proprietor would never beable to take possession of the estate. At last Anton said, "What thatwretched man has done away with he will have to account for; our firstcare must be to preserve what is still to be found on the property. Youmust be our guide to-day. "

They then examined the empty buildings. Four horses and twoservants--they were gone into the wood--a few old plows, a pair ofharrows, two wagons, a britzska, a cellar full of potatoes, a fewbundles of hay, a little straw--the inventory did not take much time indrawing up. The buildings were all out of repair, not through age, butneglect. 

"Where is the dwelling-house?" inquired Anton. The landlord led the wayout of the yard to the meadow--a broad plain, gradually sloping down tothe level of the brook. It had been a great pasture. The cattle hadtrodden it down into holes; the snouts of greedy swine had rooted it up;gray molehills and rank tufts of grass rose on all sides. 

The landlord stretched out his hand. "There is the castle. This castleis famous throughout the whole country, " he added, reverentially; "nonobleman in the district has a stone house like that. All the gentryhere live in wood and mud buildings. Herr von Tarow, the richest ofthem, has but a poor dwelling. "

About three hundred yards from the last out-building rose a great brickedifice, with a black slate roof and a thick round tower. Its gloomywalls on this treeless pasture-land, without one trace of life around, rose beneath the cloudy sky like a phantom fortress which some evilspirit had evoked from the abyss--a station from which to blight all thesurrounding landscape. 

The strangers approached it. The castle had fallen into ruins before thebuilders had finished their task. The tower had stood there for ages. Itwas built of unhewn stone, and had small windows and loop-holes. Theformer lords of the land had looked down from its summit on the tops ofthe trees, which then stretched far into the plain. They had then ruledwith a rod of iron the serfs who cultivated their land, and toiled anddied for them. Many an arrow had sped through those loop-holes at theenemy storming below, and many a Tartar horse had been overthrown beforethose massive walls. Years ago, a despot of the district had, inexpiation of former sins, begun to add to the gray tower the walls of aholy monastery; but the monastery never got finished, and the uselesswalls had already stood there long, when the late count took it into hishead to convert them into a lordly dwelling for his race, and to raise ahouse unparalleled for magnificence in the whole country. 

The front of the house was added on to both sides of the tower, whichprojected in the middle. The intention had been to have a highterrace-road up to the castle, and the principal entrance had been madein the tower, and arched over; but the terrace never having been formed, the stone threshold of the main door was quite inaccessible without thehelp of ladders, and the wide opening was left. The window-spaces ofthe lower floor were merely closed up with boards, while on the secondstory were some window-frames of beautifully carved wood, in which largepanes had once been placed, but they had got broken. In other windowswere temporary frames of rough deal, with small panes of muddy glass letinto them. A company of jackdaws sat on the top of the tower, lookingdown in amazement on the strangers, and every now and then one flew off, screaming loudly, to contemplate the intruders from a new point of view. 

"A house for crows and bats, not for human beings, " said Anton. "Atleast, I see no way of getting into it. "

The landlord now took them round the building. Behind, where the twowings made a sort of horse-shoe, there were low entrances to the cellarsand offices; beneath which, again, were stables, great arched kitchens, and small cells for the serfs. A wooden staircase led to the upperstory. The door turned creaking on its hinges, and a narrow passage tookthem through a side wing to the front part of the house. There all wasat least magnificently planned. The circular entrance-hall--an archedroom of the old tower--was painted in mosaic, and through the greatdoorway-opening was seen a wide expanse of country. A broad staircase, worthy of a palace, led up to another round hall, with narrow windows, the second story of the tower. On each side lay suites of apartments:large, lofty, desolate rooms, with heavy oak folding-doors, and dirtyplastered walls, the ceiling made of fir branches arranged in squares;in some rooms colossal green tile stoves, in other rooms no stoves atall; in some, beautiful inlaid floors, in others rude deal boards. Animmense saloon, with two gigantic chimney-pieces, had merely aprovisional ceiling of old laths. The castle was fitted for a wildAsiatic household, for hangings of leather and of silk from France, forcostly woodwork from England, for massive silver services from Germanmines, for a proud master, numerous guests, and a troop of retainers tofill the halls and ante-rooms. The builder of the castle had looked backto the wealth of his wild ancestors when he devised the plan; he had hadhundreds of trees cut down in the woods, and his hereditary bondsmen hadkneaded many thousand bricks with their own hands and feet; but Time, the inexorable, had raised his finger against him, and none of his hopeshad been realized. His ruin first, and then his death, occurred duringthe progress of the building; and his son, brought up among strangers, had, as fast as one fool could, hurried on the ruin of his house. Nowthe walls of the Slavonic castle stood with doors and windows gapingwide, but no guest spoke his good wishes as he entered; only wild birdsflew in and out, and the marten crept over the floors. Useless andunsightly the walls stood there, threatening to crumble and fall, likethe race that had raised them up. 

Anton passed with rapid step from room to room, vainly hoping to findone in which he could even imagine the two ladies, who were lookingforward to this house as their asylum. He opened door after door, wentup and down creaking steps, disturbed the birds who had flown in throughthe open archway, and still clung to their last summer's nest; but hefound nothing save uninhabitable rooms, with dirty plastered walls, orwithout any plaster at all. Every where draughts, gaping doors, andwindows boarded up. Some oats had been shaken out in the large saloon;and a few rooms looked as if they might have been temporarily made useof, but a few old chairs and a rude table were all the furniture theycontained. 

At length Anton ascended the decayed staircase in the tower, and foundhimself on its summit. Thence he saw the whole pile of building belowhim, and looked far into the plain. To his left the sun sank down behindgray masses of cloud into the depths of the forest; to his right lay theirregular square of the farm-yard, and beyond it the untidy village;behind him ran the brook, with a strip of meadow-land on either side. Wild pear-trees, the delight of the Polish farmer, rose here and therein the fields, with their thick and branching crowns; and under each wasan oasis of grass and bushes, gayly colored by the fallen leaves. Thesetrees, the dwelling-places of countless birds, alone broke themonotonous surface of the plain--these, and at the verge of the horizon, on all sides, the dark forest mentioned above. The sky was gray, theground colorless, the trees and bushes that bordered the brook werebare, and the forest, with its promontories and bays, looked like a wallthat separated this spot of earth from the rest of humanity, fromcivilization, from every joy and charm of life. 

Anton's heart sank. "Poor Lenore! poor family!" he groaned aloud;"things look terrible, but they could be improved. With money and tasteevery thing is possible. This house might, without prodigious expense, be metamorphosed by the upholsterer into a gorgeous residence. It wouldbe easy to level the pasture-land around--to sow it with fine grass--tointersperse it with a few gayly-colored flower-beds--and to plant outthe village. Nothing is wanting to change the whole face of the districtbut capital, industry, and judgment. But how is the baron to procurethese? To make any thing of this place should be the task of some freshand active life, and the baron is broken down; and thousands of dollarswould be needed, and years would pass away before the soil would do morethan pay the expenses of its culture, or yield any interest whatever onthe capital sunk in it. "

Meanwhile Karl was contemplating two particular rooms in the upper storywith a knowing eye. "These take my fancy more than any of the others, "said he to the landlord; "they have plastered walls, floors, stoves--nay, even windows. To be sure, the panes are a good deal broken, but, till we can get better glass, paper is not to be despised. We willsettle ourselves here. Could you get me somebody who knows how to handlea broom and scrubbing-cloth? Good, you can; and now listen: try to bringme a few sheets of paper; I have got glue with me; we will first getsome wood, then I will heat the stove, melt my glue, and paper up brokenpanes. But, above all, help me to carry up our luggage from theyard--and let us be quick about it. "

His zeal communicated itself to the landlord; the luggage was got upstairs; Karl unpacked a case full of tools of every kind, and the hostran to call his maid from the public house. 

Meanwhile horses' hoofs rang on the court-yard, and some well-dressedmen stopped before the late steward's dwelling, and knocked loudly atthe closed door. At a call from Anton, Karl hurried up to them. 

"Good-morning, " said one, in rather labored German; "is the steward athome?"

"Where is the steward? where is Bratzky?" cried the others, impatient astheir prancing horses. 

"If you mean the former steward, " replied Karl, dryly, "he will not runaway from you though you do not find him here. "

"What do you mean?" inquired the nearest horseman; "I beg that you willexplain yourself. "

"If you wish to speak to Mr. Bratzky, you must take the trouble ofriding to the town. He is in custody. "

The horses reared, and their riders closed round Karl, while Polishejaculations were heard on all sides. "In custody! On what account?"

"Ask my master, " replied Karl, pointing to the doorway in the tower, where Anton stood. 

"Have I the pleasure of speaking to the new proprietor?" inquired one ofthe party, taking off his hat. Anton looked down in amazement. The voiceand face reminded him of a white-gloved gentleman whom he had met oncebefore in a critical hour. 

"I am the Baron Rothsattel's agent, " replied he. The horse was pulledback, and the rider spoke a few words to his companions, upon which anolder man with a fox-like face cried, "We are anxious to speak onprivate business with the late steward. We hear that he is in custody, and beg you will tell us why. "

"He tried to evade by flight the surrender of the property to me, and heis suspected of dishonest dealings. "

"Are his effects confiscated?" inquired one of the riders. 

"Why do you inquire?" returned Anton. 

"I beg your pardon, " said the other, "but the man happens accidentallyto have some papers that belong to me in his house, and it mightembarrass me if I could not get possession of them. "

"His effects are gone with him to town, " replied Anton. Once more therewas a consultation, and then the riders, bowing slightly, galloped offto the village, halted a few minutes at the public house, anddisappeared where the high road turned into the wood. 

"What can they want, Mr. Wohlfart?" inquired Karl. "That was a strangeflying visit. "

"Yes, indeed, " replied Anton; "I have reason to think it remarkable. IfI am not much mistaken, I have met one of the gentlemen before in verydifferent circumstances. Perhaps that fellow Bratzky knew how to makehimself friends through the mammon of unrighteousness. "

The evening now wrapped castle and forest in its dark mantle. Theservants returned with the horses from the wood. Karl led them intoAnton's presence, made them a short Polish oration, and received theminto the service of the new proprietor. Next came the landlord to lookafter them, bringing oats and a bundle of wood, and saying to Anton, "Irecommend you, sir, to be watchful during the night; the peasants sityonder in the bar, and discuss your arrival; there are bad men about, and I would not be sure that one of them might not stick a match intothe straw yonder, and burn down the farm-buildings for you. "

"I am sure enough that they will do nothing of the kind, " said Karl, throwing another log into the stove. "A fresh breeze is blowing right onto the village. No one would be such a fool as to set his own barns onfire. We shall take care to keep the wind in this point as long as weare here. Tell your people that. Have you brought me the potatoes Iasked for?"

Anton appointed the landlord to return the next morning, and thetravelers were left alone in the desolate house. 

"You need not heed that hint, Mr. Anton, " continued Karl. "All over theworld drunken rascals have a trick of threatening fire; and, after all, with reverence be it said, it would be no great harm. And now, Mr. Anton, that we are by ourselves, let us think as little as possibleabout this Polish affair--let us set to and be comfortable. "

"I'm all right, " said Anton, drawing a chair to the stove. The woodcrackled in the green tiles, and the red glare threw a warm light overthe floor, and flickered pleasantly on the walls. 

"The warmth does one good, " said Anton; "but do you not perceive smoke?"

"Of course, " replied Karl, who was boring round holes in the potatoes bythe firelight. "Even the best stoves will smoke at the beginning ofwinter, till they get accustomed to their work, and this great greenfellow has probably not seen fire for a generation, so it is not to beexpected that he should draw kindly at once. Be so good as to cut a bitof bread and hold it to the fire. I am getting our candles ready. " Hetook out a great packet of candles, stuck one into each potato, cut offthe lower half, and placed them on the table, and then produced thejapanned case. "This is inexhaustible, " said he; "it will last till theday after to-morrow. "

"That it will, " said Anton, cheerily. "I am wonderfully hungry. And nowlet us consider how we shall manage our housekeeping. What we absolutelywant we must get from the town; I will make a list at once. We will putout one candle, though--we must be economical. "

The evening was spent in plans. Karl discovered that he could make partof the necessary furniture out of the boxes and boards about, and thelaughter of the two companions sounded cheerfully through the rooms ofthe starost's dwelling. At last Anton proposed that they should go tobed. They shook down straw and hay, unbuckled their portmanteaus, andproduced some blankets and coverlets. Karl fastened a lock that he hadbrought with him into the room door, examined the loading of hiscarbine, took up his potato, and said, with a military salute, "At whattime does major general the agent wish to be called to-morrow?"

"You good fellow!" cried Anton, reaching out his hand from his strawbed. 

Karl went into the next room, which he had chosen for himself. Soon bothcandles were extinguished--the first signs of life which had shone foryears in the forsaken dwelling. But in the stove the little Kobolds ofthe castle lingered long over the newly-kindled fire; they hovered inthe smoke wreaths, they knocked at doors and windows in amazement at theproceedings of the strangers. At length they assembled in a corner ofthe old tower, and began to dispute as to whether or not the flameslighted this evening would continue to burn, and to cast henceforththeir cheerful glow on meadow, fields, and woods; and as they doubtedwhether the new order of things had strength enough to endure, the smokedrove the bats from their home in the chimney, and they came flappingdown stupefied on the summit of the tower, while the owls in itscrevices shook their round heads and hooted in the new era. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

He who has always trodden life's macadamized ways, hedged in by law, moulded by order, custom, form, handed down from generation togeneration habits a thousand years old, and who finds himself suddenlythrown among strangers, where law can but imperfectly protect him, andwhere he must assert by daily struggles his right to exist--such a onerealizes for the first time the full blessing of the holy circle wovenround each individual by his fellow-men, his family, his companions inlabor, his race, his country. Whether he lose or gain in foreign parts, he must needs change. If he is a weakling, he will sacrifice his own_manière d'être_ to the external influences around him; if he has themaking of a man in him, he will become one now. The possessions, perhapsthe prejudices, that he has grown up with, will wax dearer to him thanever; and much that once he looked upon as things of course, like airand sunshine, will become his most prized treasures. It is in foreigncountries that we first enjoy the dialect of home, and in absence thatwe learn how dear to us is our fatherland. 

Our Anton had now to find out what he possessed and what he wanted. 

The following morning they proceeded to view the entire property. Itconsisted of the mansion-house, with the lands and buildings adjacent, and of three farms. About half the land was arable, a small part laiddown in meadow; about half was wood, bordered with barren sand. Thecastle and the village lay about the middle of the great clearing; twoof the farms were at opposite points of the compass, east and west, andboth were hid by projections of the forest. The third farm lay towardthe south, and was entirely divided by a wood from the rest of theestate. It joined on to another Polish village, had its ownfarm-buildings, and had always been separately cultivated. It occupiedabout a quarter of the plain, had a distillery on it, and had beenrented for many years by a brandy-merchant, well to do. His lease hadbeen extended by Ehrenthal, but the sum he paid was low. However, hisoccupancy was at present a good thing for the property, as it insuredsome return for one portion of it, at least. The devastated wood wasunder the care of a forester. 

The first walk through the portion adjacent to the castle was as littlecheering as possible: the fields were, generally speaking, not preparedfor winter-sowing; and wherever the marks of the plow appeared, the landhad been taken possession of by the villagers, who regarded theneglected property as their perquisite, and looked morosely at theforeign settlers. 

For years they had done none of the work that their feudal tenurerequired of them, and the village bailiff plainly told Anton that thecommunity would resent any return to old customs. He pretended he didnot understand a word of German, and even Karl's eloquence failed toconciliate him. The soil itself, neglected and weedy as it was, turnedout generally better than Anton had expected, and the landlord boastedof his crops; but in the vicinity of the wood it was very poor, and inmany places quite unfit for culture. 

"This is a serious sort of day, " said Anton, putting up his pocket-book. "Harness the britzska; we will drive to see the cattle. "

The farm where the cattle were quartered lay to the west, about a mileand a half from the castle. A miserable stable and the cottage of afarm-servant was all they found there. The cows and a pair of draughtoxen were under his charge, and he lived there with his wife and ahalf-witted herdsman. None of these people understood much German, orinspired any confidence: the wife was a dirty woman, without shoes andstockings, whose milk-pails looked as if long unwashed. Thefarm-servant, and sometimes the herdsman, plowed with the yoke of oxenwherever they chose; the cattle fed on the meadow land. 

"Here is work for you, " said Anton; "examine the cattle, and see whatyou can find of winter provender. I will make an inventory of thebuilding and implements. "

Karl soon came to report. "Four-and-twenty milch cows, twelve heifers, and an old bull; about a dozen cows, at most, are in profit, the restmere grass-devourers: the whole of them are a poor set. Some foreigncows, probably Swiss ones, have been brought over and crossed with amuch larger breed, and the result is ugly enough. The best cows haveevidently been exchanged; for some wretched creatures are running about, the rest keeping aloof from them: they can't have been here long. As tofodder, there is hay enough for winter, and a few bundles of oat straw;no wheat straw at all. "

"The buildings are out of order too, " cried Anton, in return. "Drive nowto the distillery. I have carefully examined the conditions of thelease, and am better up in it than in most things. "

The carriage rolled over a shaky bridge that spanned the brook, thenthrough fields and an expanse of sand scantily covered with arenaceousplants, in whose roots a pine-seed had nestled here and there, stretching dwarf branches over the waste; then came the woods, with manya gap, where lay nothing but yellow sand, and on all sides stumpsovergrown with heath and brambles. Slowly the horses waded on. Neitherof the strangers spoke, as both were engaged in observing every treethat a fortunate chance had allowed to grow and spread better than therest. 

At length the prospect widened, and another plain lay before them, monotonous and forest-bounded like the rest. Before them rose a church. They drove past a wooden crucifix, and stopped at the court-yard of thefarm. The tenant had already heard of their arrival; and perhaps he wasbetter acquainted with the baron's circumstances than Anton could havewished, for he received them in a patronizing and self-sufficientmanner, hardly taking the trouble to lead them into an unoccupied room. His first question, was, "Do you really believe that Rothsattel will beable to take possession of the estate? There is much to be done on it, and, from all I hear, the poor man has not got the capital required. "

This cool demeanor exasperated Anton not a little; but he answered, withthe composure that habits of business give, "If you wish to ask mewhether the Baron Rothsattel will undertake the management of theestate, I have to say in reply that he will be all the better able to doso the more conscientiously his tenants and dependents perform theirduties. I am here at present to ascertain how far you have done this. Ihave authority given me, by the terms of your lease, to examine yourinventory. And if you value the baron's good-will, I recommend you totreat his representative more civilly. "

"The baron's good-will is perfectly immaterial to me, " said the inflatedtenant. "But, since you speak of authority, perhaps you will show meyour credentials. "

"Here they are, " said Anton, quietly drawing the document in questionfrom his pocket. 

The tenant read it carefully through, or at least pretended to do so, and rudely replied, "I am not very sure, after all, whether you have aright to look over my premises, but I have no objection to it; so go andinspect as much as you like. " And, putting on his cap, he turned toleave the room, but Anton at once barred the way, and said, in hisquiet, business voice, "I give you the choice of conducting me over yourpremises at once, or having an inventory drawn out by a lawyer. Thislast measure will occasion you unnecessary expense. I would besidesremind you that the good-will of the proprietor is necessary to everytenant who wishes for an extension of his lease, and that yours will beout in two years' time. It is no pleasure to me to spend two hours inyour society; but if you do not fulfill your contract, the baron will ofcourse take advantage of it to break your lease. I give you yourchoice. "

The tenant looked for a few minutes with a stupefied expression atAnton's resolute countenance, and at last said, "If you insist upon it, of course. I did not mean to offend. " He then reluctantly touched hishat, and led the way into the court-yard. 

Anton took out his tablets once more, and the survey began. 1. Dwelling-house: the roof out of order. 2. Cow-house: one side of thelower wall fallen; and so on. The survey was, on the whole, unsatisfactory; but Anton's business-like demeanor and Karl's martialaspect were not without their influence over the tenant, who graduallyrelaxed, and muttered out a few excuses. 

When Anton got into the carriage again, he said to him, "I give you fourweeks to rectify what we have found amiss, and at the end of that time Ishall call again. "

To which Karl added, "Will you have the kindness to raise your hat asyou now see me do? This is the right moment for the ceremony. That's it!You will learn the proper thing in time. Drive on, coachman. "

"When you return, " continued Karl to Anton, "this man will be asobsequious as possible. He has grown bumptious on the farm. "

"And the estate has grown the poorer because of him, " said Anton. "Now, then, for the new farm!"

A poor dwelling-house on one side, a long row of sheep-pens on theother, a stable, and a barn. 

"It is remarkable, " said Karl, looking at the buildings from a distance, "the thatch has no holes, and in the corner there is a stack of newstraw. By Jove! they have mended the roof. "

"Here is our last hope, " replied Anton. 

As the carriage drew up, the heads of a young woman and a flaxen-hairedchild appeared for a moment at the window, then rapidly retreated. 

"This farm is the jewel of the estate, " cried Karl, jumping over theside of the carriage. "There are actually signs of a dunghill here; andthere go a cock and hens--something like a cock too, with a tail like asickle! And there is a myrtle in the window. Hurra! here is a housewife!here is the fatherland! here are Germans!"

The woman came out--a neat figure--followed by the curly pate, who, atthe sight of strangers, put his fingers in his mouth, and crept behindhis mother's apron. 

Anton inquired for her husband. 

"He can see your carriage from the field; he will be here immediately, "said the wife, blushing. She invited them in, and hastily rubbed twochairs bright with her apron. 

The room was small, but whitewashed; the furniture painted red, but keptvery clean; the coffee-pot was simmering on the stove; a Black-forestclock ticked in the corner; on some hanging shelves stood two paintedChina figures, a few cups, and about a dozen books; and behind thelittle looking-glass on the wall there was a fly-flap, and a birch rodcarefully bound round with red ribbon. It was the first comfortable roomthat they had seen on the estate. 

"A song-book and a rod, " said Anton, good-naturedly. "I do believe youare a good woman. Come here, flaxen-hair. " He took the scared, stolidchild on his knee, and made him ride there--walk--trot--gallop--till thelittle fellow at last got courage to take his fingers out of his mouth. 

"He is used to that, " said his mother, much pleased. "It is just whathis father does when he is a good boy. "

"You have had a hard time of it here, " suggested Anton. 

"Ah! sir, " cried she, "when we heard that a German family had bought theestate, and that we had to keep things together for them, and thoughtthey would soon come and perhaps drive over here, we were as glad aschildren. My husband was all day just like one who has been in thepublic house, and I wept for joy. We thought that at last there would besome order, and we should know what we were working for. My husbandspoke seriously to the shepherd--he is from our part of the country--andthey both resolved that they would not allow the steward to sell anymore away. And so my husband told him. But weeks passed, and no onecame. We sent every day to the village to inquire, and my husband wentto Rosmin and saw the lawyer. But it seemed they were not coming afterall, and that the estate would be sold again. Then, a fortnight ago, thesteward came over with a strange butcher, and wanted my husband to givehim the wethers; but he refused. At that they threatened him, and wantedto force their way into the sheep-pens; but the shepherd and my husbandwere too much for them; so off they went cursing, and declaring theywould have the sheep yet. Since then a man has watched every night;there hangs a loaded gun which we have borrowed; and when the shepherd'sdog barks, I get up, and am dreadfully frightened about my husband andchild. There are dangerous men about here, sir, and that you will find. "

"I hope things will improve, " said Anton; "you lead a solitary lifehere. "

"It is solitary indeed, " said the woman, "for we hardly ever go to thevillage, and only sometimes on Sunday to the German village, where we goto church. But there is always something to be done about the house;and, " continued she, somewhat embarrassed, "I will just tell you all, and if you don't approve, we can give it up. I have dug a little spacebehind the barn, we have hedged it in, and made a garden of it, where Igrow what I want for cooking; and then, " with increased embarrassment, "there are the poultry and a dozen ducks; and if you won't be angry, thegeese on the stubble-fields, and, " wiping her eyes with her apron, "there is the cow and the calf. "

"Our calf!" cried the child, in ecstasy, slapping Anton's knees with hisfat hands. 

"If you do not approve of my having kept the cow for myself, " continuedthe weeping woman, "we will give it up. My husband and the shepherd havehad no wages since the last wool-shearing, and we have been obliged tobuy necessaries; but my husband has kept an account of every thing, andhe will show it you, that you may see that we are not dishonest people. "

"I hope it will so appear, " replied Anton, soothingly; "and now let ushave a look at your garden; you shall keep it, if possible. "

"There is not much in it, " said the woman, leading them to the inclosedspace where the beds were all prepared for their winter's rest. Shestooped down, and gathered the few flowers remaining, some asters, andher especial pride, some autumn violets. Tying them together, she gavethe nosegay to Anton, "because, " said she with a pleasant smile, "youare a German. "

A quick step was now heard in the yard, and in came the tenant withreddened cheeks, and made his bow to them. 

He was a fine young man, with a sensible countenance and a trustworthymanner. Anton spoke encouragingly, and he readily produced his accounts. 

"We will look over the stock now, " replied Anton; "the books I will takewith me. Come to me to-morrow at the castle, and we can arrange therest. "

"The horses are in the fields, " said the tenant; "I drive one plowmyself, and the shepherd's lad helps with the other. We have only fourhorses here; once there were twelve in the stable. We have of latecultivated little more than was necessary for ourselves and the cattle. There is a want of every thing. "

However, the survey turned out cheering on the whole; the buildingswere in tolerable repair, and the crops lately got in promised to keepthe flocks through the winter. Last of all, the farmer, with a pleasedsmile, opened a door in his dwelling-house, and pointed out a heap ofpease. "You have seen the straw and hay already, " he said, "but here arethe pease which I hid from the steward, thinking they belonged to you. Indeed, there was some selfishness in it, " continued he, candidly, "forwe were so placed that we got nothing, and I was obliged to think ofsome way of keeping the farm going in case the winter brought no help. "

"Very good, " said Anton, smiling; "I hope we shall understand each otherwell. And now to the sheep. Come with us, farmer. "

The carriage rolled slowly along the fields, the tenant eagerly pointingout their condition. Not the fourth part of the land belonging to thefarm was plowed; the rest had been in pasture for many years past. 

As they approached the flocks, the only living creatures of any worth onthe estate, Karl impatiently jumped out. 

The shepherd slowly came to meet the strangers, accompanied by his twodogs, one an old experienced character, who walked at the same pace ashis master, and looked with as much intelligence and discrimination atthe new authorities; the other a young fellow, a pupil, who vainlyattempted to maintain the aspect of calm dignity becoming hisresponsible calling, but kept running with youthful eagerness ahead ofhis master, and barking at the strangers, till a growl of rebuke fromhis wiser companion brought him back to propriety. The shepherd took offhis broad-brimmed hat with all civility, and waited to be addressed. Asa man of intuition and reflection, he perfectly knew who he saw beforehim, but it would have ill become one whose whole life had been spent inrestraining precipitation on the part of sheep and dogs to have evincedundue curiosity. 

The farmer introduced the strangers to him with a circular movement ofhis hand, and the shepherd made several bows in succession, to show thathe perfectly understood who they were. "A fine flock, shepherd, " saidAnton. 

"Five hundred and five-and-twenty head, " replied the shepherd. "Eighty-six of them lambs, forty fat wethers. " He looked round the flockfor a sheep, who deserved to be presented as a specimen, and suddenlystooping, caught up one by the hind legs, and exhibited the wool. Karlwas intent in the examination. They were great strong sheep, wellfitted for the country, and far exceeded, both in condition and wool, what might have been looked for. "If they get plenty of food, they givewool, " said the shepherd, proudly. "It is first-rate wool. "

A yearling was at that moment thoughtless enough to cough. The shepherdlooked disapprovingly at it, and said, "The whole flock is perfectlyhealthy. "

"How long have you been in service here?" inquired Anton. 

"Nine years, " was the reply. "When I came, the creatures were like thepoodles in town, all bare behind. It has taken trouble to bring themround. No one else has ever seen after them, but they have not fared theworse for that. If I could only always have had pea-straw for them, andthis winter, common pease for the mothers. "

"We must see what can be done, " said Anton; "but we shall have to besparing in our management this winter. "

"True, " said the shepherd; "but, however, this is good pasture. "

"I can well believe, " said Anton, smiling, "that your sheep have nothingto complain of. There are few fields here which your dog has not barkedover for years. I have been delighted to hear how bravely you havedefended the property of your new master. Have the people about oftenbehaved ill to you?"

"I can hardly say, sir, " replied the shepherd; "men are every wherealike--they are not to be depended on. I would rather bring up a collythan a man. " He leaned upon his staff, and looked with satisfaction uponhis dog, who, true to his post, had been barking round the flock, andnow came back to give his master's legs a confidential flap with histail. "Look at this dog! When I have had a dog in training for twoyears, he is either good or not. If not, I send him away, and have donewith him; if good, I can trust him as I do myself, so long as he lives. That boy yonder with the wethers I have had three years with me, and Ican never tell the hour that some confounded freak or other may not comeinto his head, or that, instead of driving my sheep to the right, he maynot run off to the left. That's why I say there's not much reliance tobe placed upon men. "

"And on whom do you rely in this world?" asked Anton. 

"First of all on myself, for I know myself; then on my dog Crambo, for Iknow him too, and, besides, I trust as I ought. " He looked up for amoment, then gave a low whistle, and Crambo again set out on his rounds. "And you, sir, " continued the shepherd, "shall you remain with thebaron?"

"I think so. "

"May I ask as what? You are neither steward nor bailiff, for you havenot yet looked at the wethers. The wethers should be sold; it's hightime for it. So may I ask what you are to the new landlord?"

"If you want a name, you may call me his accountant. "

"Accountant, " said the shepherd, thoughtfully; "then I am to discuss myallowance with you. "

"You shall do so the next time we meet. "

"There is no hurry, " said the shepherd; "but one likes to know how onestands. There is a pane broken in my room; the glazier will be coming tothe castle, and I hope, Mr. Accountant, you will remember me. "

Karl and the farmer now joined them. "To the forester's!" cried Anton tothe driver. 

"You mean to go to the forester's?" inquired the farmer. 

"To the forester's!" repeated the shepherd, drawing nearer. 

"Why does that surprise you?" inquired Anton from the carriage. 

"Only, " stammered out the farmer, "because the forester is a strangeman. If the baron himself were to come, he would not surrender. "

"Does he live in a fortress, then?" inquired Anton, laughing. 

"He locks himself up, " said the tenant, "and lets no one enter; he has away of his own. "

"He is a wild man of the woods, " said the shepherd, shaking his head. 

"The Poles say that he is a magician, " continued the farmer. 

"He can make himself invisible, " cried the shepherd. 

"Do you believe that?" asked Karl, much amazed. 

"Not I, but there are plenty in the village who do. "

"He is a good sort of man at the bottom, but he has his oddities, "affirmed the farmer. 

"I hope he will respect my position, " rejoined Anton; "it will be worsefor him if he does not. "

"It would be better that I should speak to the forester first, "suggested the tenant. "Will you allow me to drive thither with you? Heis on friendly terms with me. "

"With all my heart; take the reins, and we will leave the servant tomanage the plow till we set you down again on our way-back. And now thenfor this dangerous character. "

The carriage turned into a road bordered with young firs, and leadinginto the wood. The ground was again sandy, and the trees poor. They wenton over stories and stumps till at length the wood stopped altogether ata plantation apparently about fifteen years old: here the tenantfastened the reins round the trunk of a tree, and begged the gentlemento dismount. They walked on through a thicket of young trees, whose longspikes brushed their clothes as they passed, and filled the air with astrong resinous perfume. Beyond this the ground sank, green moss spreada soft carpet round, and a group of giant pines reared their dark crownshigh in the air: there stood the forester's house, a low wooden buildingsurrounded by a strong wooden fence, and further guarded by a triplehedge of young fir-trees. A little spring trickled under the fence, andgurgled among a few large stones, overshadowed by giant ferns. 

Altogether it was a picture that could not fail to please in thisdistrict of sand and heath. No one was to be seen about, and there wasnot a trace of a footstep on the moss: it was only the barking of a dogfrom within that announced the dwelling to be inhabited. They went roundthe hedge till they came to a narrow door, which was firmly bolted. 

"His bull-finch sits above the window, " said the tenant; "he is athome. "

"Call him, then, " desired Anton. 

"He knows already that we are here, " replied the man, pointing to a rowof small openings in the hedge; "look at his peep-holes. He is watchingus; but this is always his way. I must give him a signal, or he willnever open. " Accordingly, he put two fingers in his mouth, and whistledthree times, but there was no reply. "He is a cunning fellow, " said thetenant, perplexed, whistling again so shrilly that the dog's barkchanged into a howl, and the bull-finch began to flap his wings. 

At last a rough voice sounded on the other side of the fence. "Who thedeuce are you bringing with you?"

"Open, forester, " cried the tenant; "the new gentry are come. "

"Go to the devil with your gentry; I am sick of the whole race. "

The tenant looked in perplexity toward Anton. "Open the door, " said thelatter, authoritatively; "it will be better for you to do of your ownaccord what I can force you to do. "

"Force!" said the voice. "How will you manage that, pray?" The doublebarrel of a gun now made its appearance through a hole in the door, turning conveniently to one side, then the other. 

"Your gun will not help you, " was the reply; "we have that on our sidewhich will henceforth be stronger in this forest than brute force, andthat is law and our right. "

"Indeed!" asked the voice. "And who, then, are you?"

"I am the agent of the new proprietor, and command you to open thedoor. "

"Is your name Moses or Levi?" inquired the voice. "I will have nothingto do with an agent. Whoever comes to me as an agent, I set down for arogue. "

"A plague upon your hard head, " cried Karl, in a towering passion. "Howdare you speak so disrespectfully of my master, you crazy Jackbootsyou!"

"Jackboots!" said the voice. "I like that; that sounds more like fairdealing than any thing I have heard for a long time. " The bolts wereshot back, and the forester appeared at the door, which he shut behindhim. He was a short, broad-set man, with grizzled hair, and a long graybeard, which hung down on his breast; a pair of keen eyes shone out ofhis furrowed face; he wore a thick shaggy coat, out of which sun andrain had expelled every trace of color, carried his double-barreled gunin his hand, and looked defiance at the strangers. "Who is bullyinghere?" said he. 

"I am, " answered Karl, stepping forward; "and you shall get somethingbesides hard words if you continue in your insubordination. "

"What sort of a cap is that you wear?" asked the old man, looking hardat him. 

"Have you grown into a mere fungus here in your wood that you do notknow it?" replied Karl, settling his soldier's cap more firmly on hishead. 

"Hussar?" asked the forester. 

"Invalid, " was the reply. 

The old man pointed to a small strip of ribbon on his coat. "Militia, "said he; "1813 and 1814. "

Karl made a military salute. "All honor to you, old boy; but you are arough one, notwithstanding. "

"Well, you are not much like an invalid, " said the forester; "you lookwild enough, and know how to rap out an oath. So you are neithertradesman nor steward?" said he, turning to Anton. 

"Now do behave like a sensible man, " said the farmer. "This gentlemanhas been empowered to take possession of the estate, and to manage everything till the family come. You will get yourself into sad trouble withyour obstinate ways. "

"Indeed!" said the forester. "Don't be anxious about me; I shall managewell enough. So you are an agent, are you?" said he, turning to Anton. "Of late years I have had enough of agents; and I'll tell you what, " hewent on, coming a few steps nearer, "you'll find neither books noraccounts with me. This is the state of things: For five years I, as theforester in charge of this wood, have been quarreling with agents. Eachagent has put ever so much timber into his pocket, and at last thevillagers have come from all the country round and carried off whateverthey liked, and when I held my gun under their nose, they thrust arascally bit of paper under mine, in which, forsooth, they had got leavefrom the agent. I had nothing more to say, and so I have just taken careof myself. There is but little game, but what I have shot I have eaten, and have sold the skins--for one must live. It's five years since I havetouched a farthing of salary--I have paid myself. Every year I havetaken fifteen of these trees. As far as to the clearing yonder, the woodis ninety years old. I reckon that they will last me about three winterslonger. When the last is felled, I will shoot my dog, and choose out aquiet spot in the forest for myself. " He looked down darkly at his gun. "I have lived here thirty years; I have buried my wife and my childrenin the German church-yard, and I don't trouble myself about what is tobefall me now. So far as my dog's bark can be heard and my gun reach, the wood is in order; the rest belonged to the agent. That is myreckoning, and now you may do what you like with me;" and, much excited, he stamped the butt-end of his gun on the ground. 

"I shall reply to what I have just heard, " said Anton, "in the house androom which henceforth belongs to your master, the Baron Rothsattel. " Hestepped up to the door and laid his hands on its wooden bolt. "I takepossession of this in the name of the new proprietor. " Then opening it, he beckoned to the forester: "Keep back your dogs, and lead us in as youought. "

The old man made no opposition, but slowly preceded them, called downhis dogs, and opened the house door. 

Anton entered with his companions. "And now, forester, that you haveopened the house, " said he, "we will proceed to an arrangement at once. What has hitherto been done here by you can not be altered, and shallnot be discussed; but from this day forth you will receive your regularallowance, and matters must be put on a different footing. I now placethe forest, and all that belongs to the forest department, under yourcharge. Your duty now is to stand up for your master's rights, and fromthis time forward I make you responsible for them. I shall protect youas far as I can, and shall claim for you the protection of the law. Weshall be severe in prosecuting all who damage this wood any further. This estate shall be better managed henceforth, and your new masterexpects that you will help him to do so, as a faithful and obedient manshould. And there must be an end of this wild life of yours in the bush;we are fellow-countrymen, you know. You will come regularly to thecastle and report the state of things, and we will take care that youshall not feel desolate in your old days. If you purpose honestly tofulfill the requirements I have just been making, give me your hand onit. "

The forester had stood abashed, listening, cap off, to Anton's address, and he now took the hand offered to him, and said, "I do. "

"With this shake of the hand, then, " continued Anton, "I take you intothe service of the present proprietor. "

The forester held Anton's hand in both his, and at length exclaimed, "IfI live to see things improve on the estate, I shall rejoice. I will doall I can, but I tell you beforehand we shall have a hard fight for it. Owing to the agents and the rascally management, the people on theestate are become a pack of robbers, and I am afraid that my old gunwill often be obliged to have the last word of the argument. "

"We will neither do wrong nor suffer wrong, and we must take theconsequences, " was the earnest reply. "And now, forester, show us yourhouse, and then accompany us into the wood. "

Anton then went over the little building: it was entirely of rough wood. The light fell dimly through the small windows, and the brown walls andblackened beams increased the darkness, and gave the room a mysteriousaspect. It was difficult at first to distinguish the objects on thewalls: antlers, dogs' collars, huntsmen's horns, whips, and stuffedbirds. On the stove stood a small press with cooking apparatus. 

"I cook for myself, " said the forester, "and get what I want from thepublic house. "

There were several birdcages in the windows, and a constant trilling andchirping going on within them. Near the stove sat a raven, whose roughplumage, and the white feathers about his beak and wings, proved hisgreat age. He had drawn his head in between his shoulders, and seemedself-absorbed, but in reality his bright eye was observing everymovement of the strangers. 

Next came the bed-room, where several guns were hanging. A gratingbefore the window proved that this was the citadel of the house. 

"Where does that door lead to?" asked Anton, pointing to a trap-door inthe floor. 

"To a cellar, " replied the forester, with some embarrassment. 

"Is it arched?"

"I will take you down, if you will come alone. "

"Wait for us, " cried Anton to his companions in the room. 

The forester lit a lantern, carefully bolted the door, and went firstwith the light. 

"I had not thought, " said he, "that any eyes but mine would see mysecret in my lifetime. "

A few steps led them into a narrow vault, one side of which had beenbroken through, and a low subterranean passage made, supported by stemsof trees triangularly placed. 

"That is my run, " said the forester, holding the candle down, "and itleads into the young wood. It is more than forty yards long, and I was agreat while excavating it. This is the way I creep in and outunobserved; and I may thank it that I am here still, for this is why thestupid villagers believe me a sorcerer. When they have watched me gointo the house, and think they may steal in safely, I suddenly appearamong them. Two years ago a band of them broke into my house, and itwould have been all up with me but that I slunk out here like a badger. Do not betray to any one what I have just shown you. "

Anton promised that he would not, and they went back into the littleinclosure, where they found Karl occupied in fastening, between fourblocks that he had driven into the ground, the wooden trough of a youngfox. The fox, insensible to this delicate attention on the part of thehussar, snarled at him, rattled his chain, and tried all it could, underthe board that Karl had placed across its kennel, to get at his hands. 

"Do you want to kiss my hands, little red-head?" cried Karl, hammeringaway. "You are a pretty fellow! What a pair of soft truthful eyes youhave, to be sure! Now, there, it's done; jump backward and forward asmuch as you like. He does what's told him, forester; a good-naturedbeast--something of your own character, comrade. "

The forester laughed. "Do you know how to set about trapping a fox?"

"I should think so, " said Karl. 

"There are plenty more such fellows here, " continued the old man; "ifyou like, we will go after them next Sunday. "

And so they went together through the wood, all on the best termspossible. Anton called the forester to his side, and got muchinformation from him. Certainly, he had nothing very cheering to tell. Of wood fit for cutting there was hardly enough for the use of thefamily and tenants. The old system of plunder had done its worst here. As they reached the carriage, the forester respectfully touched his hat, and asked at what hour in the morning he should come to the castle. 

Anton rejoiced to have succeeded so well in concealing the feeling ofinsecurity which made his present position an irksome one to him. 

"You see, " said he to his faithful ally, as they both sat over the greentile stove at evening, "what disturbs me most is that I feel moreignorant and helpless than any of the servants about, and yet I have gotto maintain their respect. These two last days have taught me how littlemere good-will can do. Now, then, give me some sensible advice. Whatshall be our next step?"

"First sell off all the cattle that are out of profit, and instantlydismiss the good for nothing people who have them in charge. Bringcattle and horses to the farm-yard, that we may have them under our owneyes. What can be done in farming with our small means shall be doneregularly, not hurried over. We must buy straw and oats for the present. Till next year, when a regular bailiff will be wanted, give me thecharge of things; I shall not do much, to be sure, but more than any ofyour other people. "

It was already late, when a quick step was heard on the stairs. With agreat stable-lantern in his hand, and a face full of bad news, thelandlord made his appearance in Anton's room. "I wished to tell you, sir, what I have heard. A German from Kunau, who has just passedthrough, has brought word that Bratzky never got to Rosmin yesterday. "

"Never got there!" cried Anton, springing up. 

"About two miles from Rosmin, in the wood, four riders fell upon thecarriage. It was dark; the riders overpowered the gendarme and boundhim, took off Bratzky and all his things, mounted him on one of thehorses, and off with him into the bush. Two of them remained with thecarriage, and obliged the driver to turn out of the road into a thicket, and there they staid two whole hours, holding their loaded pistols atthe gendarme and the driver all the time. The driver said the horseswere gentlemen's horses, and that the riders spoke like gentry. Thegendarme was bruised, but otherwise unhurt, and they took your paperaway from him. "

Anton and Karl looked at each other significantly, and thought of theparty of the day before. 

"Where is the man who has brought the news?" asked Anton, snatching uphis hat. 

"He was in a hurry to get on before dark. To-morrow we shall hear more. Such a thing has not happened for years as mounted men falling upon acarriage with a gendarme in it. When a robbery has been committed, ithas always been on foot. "

"Did you know the riders who were in the village yesterday afternoon, and who were calling for the steward?" inquired Anton. 

The host cast a sly glance at him, and seemed reluctant to answer. 

"Nay, " continued Anton, "you must have known them all; they belonged tothis part of the country. "

"Why should not I know them?" replied the landlord, in someperturbation. "It was the rich Herr von Tarow himself with his guests. Apowerful man, Mr. Wohlfart, who has the command of the police on yourproperty too. And as to what he wanted with Bratzky? Bratzky, asinspector, has had to do with the police, and has often been employed bythe gentry in buying and selling horses, and in other ways too. If thehead of the police wanted to speak to the inspector, why should not he?The Von Tarows are a clever set, who know what they are about inspeaking and acting. " So far the landlord, with much fluency, but hiseyes and the expression of his countenance told a very different tale. 

"You have a suspicion, " cried Anton, looking fixedly at him. 

"God preserve me from all suspicion!" continued the landlord, horrifiedat the idea. "And Mr. Wohlfart, if you will allow me to tell you myopinion, why should you go and suspect any one either? You will haveenough to do on the property here, and will need the gentry round inmany ways. Why should you make enemies for no purpose? This is a countrywhere the gentlemen ride in parties, and then divide, put their headstogether, and then start off in different directions. He is wisest whodoes not trouble himself about them. "

When the landlord was gone, Anton said gloomily to Karl, "I am afraidthat, besides our trouble with the property, much of a different natureis going on around us, which all our skill will not be able to setright. "

This singular circumstance set the whole country in a ferment. Anton wasoften summoned to Rosmin in the course of the next few weeks, but hisdepositions led to no result, the authorities not succeeding indiscovering the offenders, or in getting hold of the abducted steward. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Our two colonists spent the next few weeks in such active pursuits, thatevery night, when they threw themselves upon their beds, they were quiteexhausted. 

Karl had been duly installed as bailiff, and held the reins ofmanagement with a firm hand, and Anton had committed the care of thehouse and kitchen to a hard-working woman, whom he found in one of theGerman settlements around. The most difficult matter had been toestablish tolerably satisfactory relations with the adjacent village;but Anton's calm decision had at all events prevented any outbreak ofopposition. One of his first measures had been to appeal, in all casesof breach of trust or dereliction of duty, to the proper authorities. Karl's cavalry cloak attracted a few men who had served; and throughthese, the most civilized part of the community, the settlers gainedsome influence over others. At length, several voluntarily offered tobecome servants at the castle, or day-laborers on the estate. 

Anton had written to the baroness, not disguising from her the state ofthe property, nor the unfriendly feeling of the district, and his ownanxiety about the family moving thither in the course of the nextwinter. He had asked whether she would not prefer to remain till springin the capital. In reply, he received a letter from Lenore, in which shetold him, on the part of her parents, that they abode by their formerresolve to leave the town, which had now become a painful residence tothem all. She therefore begged him to have the castle put into ahabitable condition as soon as possible. 

Anton called out to his ally, "They are actually coming. "

"They are, are they?" said Karl. "It is fortunate that we have heard ofworkmen--masons, joiners, locksmiths, glaziers, potters, and so on. Ifyou will allow me, I will at once send a messenger off to Rosmin. If Icould only get off this ugly brown paint from the door--it hides thebeautiful oak carving. But lye won't stir it. And then how many stovesshall we want?"

An important conversation now began. "We must leave the whole lowerfloor unoccupied, " Anton said, "closing up the windows with thickboards; but we shall have to put up a strong door in the hall, becauseone is constantly passing through it. These walls, too, can not remainas they are, and we have no one to trust to but the Rosmin mason. "

"Since that is the case, " said Karl, "I propose that we paint the wallsourselves. I am a dab-hand at marbling. "

"You are?" replied Anton, looking at him with some anxiety. "No; I thinkwe had better make all the rooms one color. What do you think of brown?"

"Hum--not bad, " said Karl. 

"I know it is a favorite color of Fräulein Lenore's. It must not be toodark, though, but a bright mixture of yellow, gray, red, and green, with, perhaps, a little black in it. "

"Aha!" said Karl, disconcerted; "a peculiar sort of brown, I suppose. "

"Of course, " continued Anton, eagerly drawing his chair nearer; "we willmix it ourselves. "

"That's my way, " said Karl; "but I tell you beforehand, these chalkcolors are the very deuce! You paint a blue, the next day you havewhite; you have the most beautiful orange in your brush, and when it hasdried on the wall it is a dirty yellow. "

"Between ourselves, " replied Anton, "we shall not succeed veryperfectly, but I think we shall manage to make things look tolerablycomfortable. "

The following day the hammering and painting began. The joiner and hismen set up a workshop on the lower floor; above, the great brush of thepainter kept unwearyingly passing and repassing over the walls, andwhite figures, with great aprons, carried buckets now up, now down. Asfor Karl, he seemed to have a dozen hands. Whenever he could get awayfrom the farm, he painted woodwork and walls with all sorts of brushes. He ran round with a foot-measure, drove in nails and hooks for curtains, and the very next moment there he was again in the field or the stable, but every where whistling his soldier's songs and urging on thelaborers. As the arrangements of the house progressed, his love ofbeautifying became more and more developed. He bought a quantity ofoil-paint, which he found excellent, and displayed a decided talent forthe art. He now ventured to give to several objects, which seemed to himqualified to receive it, the appearance of finely-polished wood, and, with the aid of a soft brush and a bunch of feathers, succeeded inproducing wonderful effects. He even carried his brush and hisbeautifying into the farm-yard, and teased Anton into consenting to ageneral whitewashing of the mud walls. "They will dry in this weatherjust as well as in summer, " said he. "My only regret is, that I can'twash the straw thatch. " To make up for that, however, he was determinedto give the two new potato-carts and the best plow a coating ofbeautiful blue oil-paint. "One must have something pleasant for the eyeto rest on here, " said he, by way of apology. "And it will pay foritself, for these Poles get on better with gayly-colored things. "

The castle was temporarily arranged, and the arrival of the familyexpected on a cold December day. The sky had carried out Karl's wishes, most effectually covering the earth with a pure white mantle, and hidingmany an eyesore from the expected party. The snow lay thick on pastureand sands, the summits of the pines wore white crowns, and the leaflessshrubs glittered with frost-crystals. The ugly straw thatches werewhitewashed to some purpose, the broken parapets of the bridge filledup. Each projection of the castle walls, the top of the tower, the wholeroof, was capped with dazzling white, while the red-brown walls stoodout in bold relief below. Within, it was a busy and exciting day. Wagonsof furniture and stores were unpacked, and all arranged as well as thehaste allowed. The farmer's wife and the housekeeper wove great garlandsof fir-branches, and decorated the hall and the room doors. The sun set, and the silver landscape turned to gold, till the rising moon suffusedit with a mysterious blue light. Several lamps were lit in the house, asmany candles as possible placed in the apartments, the stoves all burnedcheerily, and the fir-twigs filled the air with their fragrance. The gaycurtains were drawn, and the open suite of rooms looked so habitable, that Anton asked himself in amazement how the labors of a few weekscould have wrought such a change as this. Karl had placed pitch-pans onboth sides of the castle, and they shed a cheerful glow around. 

Meanwhile all the dependents assembled in the hall--the forester in anew green coat, the memorial of his battles on his breast, a deer-houndat his side, stood in military attitude next to the German farmer andthe shepherd. The housekeeper and the farmer's wife had put their bestribbons on their caps, and tripped to and fro in restless expectation. Karl, too, appeared in his hussar's frock. 

Meanwhile Anton went once more through the rooms, and listened for thecrack of the whip that should announce the baron's arrival. His ownheart beat: for him, too, a new era was about to begin. After all, hislife here had been a pleasant one enough hitherto: he and his trustyally had felt themselves the masters of the castle, and had got throughtheir anxieties cheerfully together. Now, however, Karl must take up hisquarters in the farm-yard, while Anton, according to the wish of thebaroness, was to occupy a room in the castle, so that he must come intodaily relations with the family, and he now asked himself of what naturethese would be. The baron was almost a stranger to him: how would hesuit this baron? And he was blind too--yes, blind. Lenore had writtenhim word that the surgeon gave no hope of the injured optic nerve everrecovering. This had been kept back from the sufferer, who comfortedhimself with the hope that time and skill might yet remove the darkcloud from his eyes. But Anton confided the truth to Karl, and wasobliged to tell all the dependents that the baron was at presentsuffering from his eyes, and obliged to wear a bandage over them; and heread upon the faces of all that they felt this was a misfortune for theproperty. And his heart beat unquietly, too, when he thought of Lenore, with whom he should now be brought into constant contact. How would sheand her mother treat him? He determined carefully to suppress what henow felt to have been idle claims, and so to behave from the first as toafford them no cause for mortifying his self-respect. And yet he couldnot help wondering whether they would treat him as a friend and anequal, or make him feel that he was a hired dependent. It was in vainthat he said to himself that his own feelings made the latterarrangement desirable; he could not check the delightful visions thatwould arise of life led with Lenore on equal terms. 

The crack of the whip was now heard in the village, and soon the familyand establishment arrived. The farm-servants, the landlord, and a few ofthe villagers were grouped around the pitch-pans. The farmers rushedforward to open the carriage-door, and as Lenore jumped out, and herface was seen, the women pressed nearer, and the men broke out into loudacclamations. All looked in eager expectation at the carriage. But thewelcome met with no return. The baron was got out with some difficulty, and with sunken head, supported by his wife and daughter, he toiled upthe steps. The pale face of the baroness from behind him had only a muteglance for the tenants and servants--only a short nod of recognition forAnton, who proceeded to lead them to their suite of rooms. 

"All very nice, Mr. Wohlfart, " said she, with quivering lips; and as heremained standing and waiting for his first orders, she dismissed himwith a wave of the hand, and the words, "I thank you. " When the door hadclosed upon Anton, the baron stood helpless in the strange room, and thebaroness broke out into loud weeping. Lenore leaned against the window, looking out into the snow-covered plain, with its black wall at thehorizon, and great tears rolled silently down her cheeks. It was with aheavy heart that Anton returned to tell the people assembled that thefamily were fatigued and overcome, and would not be seen by them tillthe morning. Karl had the carriage unpacked, and led the old cook, whowept like her mistress, into the underground kitchen. None of the familyreappeared that evening, and the light was soon put out in their rooms;but the pitch still glowed and flickered in the wind, and a black cloudrose above the window where the baron sat hiding his face in his hands. 

Such was the entrance of this family upon their new estate. 

"How beautifully Wohlfart has arranged every thing!" said Lenore to hermother the following day. 

"These high rooms are dreadful, " replied the baroness, wrapping hershawl around her; "and the monotonous brown of the walls makes themstill more desolate!"

"It is surely time to send and ask him to come here and speak to us?"suggested Lenore, timidly. 

"Your father is not yet in a mood to speak to him. "

"Do not leave my father alone with Wohlfart, " implored Lenore. "It wouldbe horrible if he were to treat him rudely. "

The baroness sighed. "We must accustom ourselves to pay to a stranger inour house a degree of attention and observance which will be irksomeboth to your father and to us. "

"How will you arrange about the housekeeping?" asked Lenore, again. "Wohlfart will, of course, have his meals with us?"

"Impossible!" said the baroness, firmly. "You know what a melancholything our dinner is. Your father is not yet calm enough to be able tobear the daily presence of a stranger. "

"Is he to eat with the servants, then?" asked Lenore, bitterly. 

"He will have his table laid in his own room, and on Sundays we shallalways invite him, and, if he is not disagreeable to your father, oftenin the evenings also. More would be troublesome to all parties. It isdesirable to reserve at first a comfortable amount of freedom. Yourfather's state will be sufficient excuse. "

She rang, and Anton was summoned. Lenore went to meet him, and withtearful eyes silently held out her hand. Anton was moved when he saw thetraces of suffering in her mother's face. The baroness prayed him to beseated, and in well-chosen words expressed her gratitude for all he haddone, and asked him both for information and advice. Then she went on tosay, "My husband wishes to speak to you. I earnestly beg you to rememberthat the baron is an invalid. He has suffered fearfully in mind andbody. He is never free from pain, and his helplessness distresses himinexpressibly. We are careful to avoid whatever may excite him, and yetwe can not avert dark hours, nay, days. You, sir, will be considerate ifhis gloomy mood should affect you disagreeably. Time, they say, healsall. I hope it will restore him to peace. "

Anton promised all possible consideration. 

"My husband will naturally wish to be placed in possession of all thefacts connected with this property, and yet I dread any painfulimpressions for him. Therefore, whenever you have any thing important tocommunicate, try to make the matter intelligible to me in the firstinstance. I may thus spare you much that is disagreeable. I shall havemy writing-table carried into one of the rooms near yours, and I shalldaily spend part of my mornings there. Lenore is her father's privatesecretary. And now, be kind enough to wait till I have announced yourvisit to the baron. "

The baroness left the room. Anton looked down gravely. Lenore went up tohim and said, as cheerfully as she could, "Brown walls, Wohlfart! myfavorite color. You are not glad we are come, you ungallant man!"

"Only on your own account, " replied Anton, pointing to the snowy plain. "Whenever I walked through the fields, I have always thought how lonelyyou would be here, and when I paced these great rooms of an evening, Ihave feared that your time would hang very heavily. The town is morethan six miles distant, and even there you will find but little; thewretched lending-library will hardly satisfy you. "

"I will draw, " said Lenore; "I will do fancy work. Alas! I shall find itdifficult, Mr. Wohlfart, for I am not skillful. I do not care for laceon either cuff or collar; but mamma, who is accustomed to have everything so beautiful, and in such order--oh, how sorry I am for mamma!"

Anton tried to comfort her. 

"We were obliged to leave the capital, " cried Lenore; "we should allhave perished if we had remained in that dreadful _entourage_. Our ownproperty in other hands, cold, distant faces on all sides, every wherefalse friends, smooth words, and a pity which maddened. I am delightedthat we are alone here. And even were we to suffer cold and hunger, Icould bear it better far than the shrugging of Madame Werner'sshoulders. I have learned to hate my fellow-creatures, " said she, vehemently. "When you have been with papa, I will come down, and thenyou must show me the house, the farm, and the village. I want to seewhere my poor pony is, and what the people about look like. "

The baroness now returned, and led Anton into her husband's room. Helpless and confused, the baron rose from his chair. Anton felt thedeepest compassion for him. He looked at his sunken face, bent figure, and the black bandage over his eyes. He warmly declared his ardent wishto be of use to him, and begged his indulgence if he had in any wayerred in judgment hitherto. Then he proceeded to tell him how he foundthe estate, and what had been done up to the present time. 

The baron heard the report almost in silence, only making a few shortobservations in return. But when Anton proceeded, with the utmostdelicacy indeed, but still with the precision of a man of business, tostate the obligations under which the baron at present lay, and hisinadequate means of fulfilling them, the nobleman writhed in his chairlike a victim on the rack. And Anton keenly felt how painful it mustneeds be to him to have a stranger thus introduced into his most secretaffairs--a stranger anxious to spare his feelings, it is true, but atevery moment betraying that anxiety, and so giving fresh offense. Thebaroness, who stood behind her husband, looked on nervously at theattempts he made to control his irritation, but at length she waved herhand so significantly that Anton had abruptly to break off his report. 

When he had left the room, the baron flung himself back in the utmostexcitement, and exclaimed, "You have set a trustee over me. " He wasperfectly beside himself, and the baroness vainly attempted to composehim. 

Such was Anton's entrance into the family. 

He too returned sadly to his room. From that moment he felt convincedthat it would hardly be possible to establish a good understandingbetween himself and the baron. He was accustomed, in matters ofbusiness, to express himself curtly, and to be promptly understood, andhe now foresaw long disquisitions on the part of the ladies, succeededprobably by no decision at all. Even his position with regard to themappeared uncertain. True, the baroness had treated him with the utmostgraciousness, but still as a stranger. He feared that she would continuethe great lady, giving just as much of her confidence as might be usefulto herself, but warding off all intimacy by a cold politeness. EvenLenore's friendly voice could not restore his equanimity. They went overthe premises silently and thoughtfully, like two men of business engagedin making an estimate. 

Such as these first days promised was Anton's life for the next fewmonths, anxious, monotonous, formal. He wrote, kept accounts, and atealone in his room, and when invited to join the family circle the partywas far from a cheerful one. The baron sat there like a lump of ice, acheck upon all free and animated conversation. 

Formerly Anton used to admire all the accessories of the family, thearrangement of their _salons_, and the elegant trifles around. Now, theself-same furniture stood in the drawing-room suite--even the littleforeign birds had survived their winter journey--the same carpets, thesame worsted-work, even the same perfume was there; but now the verybirds seemed to him rather bores than otherwise, and soon nothing aboutthe room interested him but the share he had himself had in putting itin order. 

Anton had brought with him a profound respect for the polished tone, theeasy conversation, and the graceful forms of social intercourse thatprevailed in the family circle. 

But, crushed and downcast as the Von Rothsattels now were, he could notexpect the same light-hearted grace that had captivated him at Frau vonBaldereck's parties. They had been torn away from their accustomedcircle; all the external influences, and the excitement which keep thespirits elastic, and help us to vanquish sorrow, were wanting now, andhe modestly confessed that he could afford no substitute for them. Butthere was more than this to disenchant him. When, after a silentevening, he returned to his own room, he often regretted that they tookno part in much that interested him; that their culture, in short, wasof a perfectly different order; and, before long, he took the liberty ofdoubting whether their culture was the better of the two. Almost all hisreading was new to them, and when they discussed the newspapers, hemarveled at their ignorance of foreign politics. History was by no meansa favorite study with the baron, and if, for example, he condemned theEnglish Constitution, he showed himself, at the same time, very littleacquainted with it. On another evening, it came out, to Anton'sdistress, that the family's views of the position of the island ofCeylon widely differed from those established by geographers. Thebaroness, who was fond of reading aloud, revered Chateaubriand, and readfashionable novels by lady writers. Anton found Atala unnatural, and thenovels insipid. In short, he soon discovered that those with whom helived contemplated the universe from a very different point of view tohis own. Unconsciously they measured all things by the scale of theirown class-interests. Whatever ministered to these found favor, howeverunbearable to mankind at large; whatever militated against them wasrejected, or at least pushed out of sight. Their opinions were oftenmild, sometimes even liberal, but they always seemed to wear aninvisible helmet, visor up, and to look through the narrow space on thedoings of common mortals; and whenever they saw any thing in these thatwas displeasing, but unalterable, they silently shut down the visor, and isolated themselves. The baron sometimes did this awkwardly, but hiswife understood to perfection how, by a bewitching turn of the hand, toshut out whatever was unwelcome. 

The family belonged to the German church in Neudorf; but there was nochoir there, and no pew near the altar. They would have had to sit inthe body of the church among the rustics: that was out of the question. So the baron set up a chapel in the castle, and sent every now and thenfor a minister. Anton seldom made his appearance at this domesticworship, preferring to ride to Neudorf, where he sat by the side of thebailiff among the country people. 

He had other vexations too. A wine-merchant's traveler forced his way onone occasion through sand and forest into the very study of the baron. He was an audacious fellow, with a great gift of the gab, and a devotedlover of races and steeple-chases. He brought with him a whole budget ofthe latest sporting intelligence, and bamboozled the baron into orderinga pipe of port wine. Anton looked at the empty purse, cursed the pipe, and hurried into the audience-chamber of the baroness. It required along feminine intrigue to effect the retraction of the order given. 

The baron was displeased with his carriage-horses, which were no longeryoung, and, besides, of a chestnut color. This last peculiarity might, indeed, have been supposed immaterial to him now, but it had been anannoyance for years, his family having always had a preference forroans; nay, was there not an old distich to the following effect:

"Who rides thus through the fray alone? I ween a noble knight, The red drops fall from his gallant roan, With red is the saddle dight. "

This was supposed to allude to some remote ancestor, and on this accountthe Rothsattels (red-saddles) prized roans above all other horseflesh;but, as the color is rare in handsome horses, the baron had never hadthe good luck to meet with them. Now, however, Fate willed that ahorse-dealer in the district should just bring round a pair. The blindman evinced a delight which much affected the ladies. He had themridden, and driven backward and forward, carefully felt them all over, took Karl's opinion as to their merits, and revolved a plan ofpleasantly surprising the baroness by their purchase. Karl ran toadvertise Anton of the impending danger, and he again entered theaudience-chamber, but on this occasion he met with no favorable hearing. The baroness, indeed, allowed that he was not wrong in theory, but stillshe implored him to let the baron have his own way. At length the newhorses were in all secrecy led to their stalls, and the purchaser gave, besides the chestnuts and all the money he had in his private purse, apromise of letting the horse-dealer have, after the next harvest, twohundred bushels of oats at an unreasonably low price. Anton and Karl, intheir zeal for the estate, were highly indignant at this when it firstcame to their knowledge months later. 

The forester had the misfortune not to be an especial favorite. Thebaroness disliked the abrupt manner of the old man, who, in hissolitude, had entirely lost the obsequiousness to which she wasaccustomed. One evening a plan was disclosed of giving him notice, andreplacing him by a younger man, who might be dressed in livery, andserve as a representative huntsman, the family having been used to afunctionary of this kind on their late estate. Anton had some difficultyin concealing his annoyance while stating that, in the disturbed stateof the district, the experienced man, who was feared by every scapegracearound, was of more use than a stranger. Lenore was on his side, and theplan was given up, with a look of resignation on the part of thebaroness, and an icy silence on that of her husband. Both henceforthendured the uncouth old man with outward composure, but with visorsdown. 

These were slight discords, indeed, such as must necessarily occur whenwe live with people whose habits of thought and action differ from ourown; but it was no sign of contentment that Anton kept constantlyrepeating this to himself. Not only did Karl suit him in many waysbetter than the family, but so did the forester, and the shepherd too;and he sometimes felt with pride that he was other than they were--thathe was one of the people. Lenore, too, was not what he had imagined her. He had always honored in her the lady of rank, and felt her cordialfriendship a favor; but now she ceased to impress him as a distinguishedperson. He intimately knew the pattern of all her cuffs and collars, andvery plainly saw a small rent in her dress which the careless girlherself was long in observing. He had read through the few books thatshe had brought with her, and had often, in conversation, oversteppedthe limits of her information. Her way of expressing herself no longerexcited his admiration, and he would have been less indignant than ofyore if his friend Fink had made inquiry as to her sense. She had lessinformation than another girl of his acquaintance, and her tastes werenot half so cultivated; but hers was a healthy, upright nature; she hadquick feelings and noble instincts, and oh! she was beautiful. That hehad always thought her, but his tender reverence long wrapped her imageround with a sacred halo. It was now, however, when he saw her daily inher simple morning dress, in the every-day moods of this working world, that he first felt the full spell of her blooming youth. Yet he wasoften dissatisfied with her too. One of the first days after her arrivalshe had anxiously inquired how she could make herself useful in thehouse, and he told her that her superintendence in the kitchen, andexact keeping of accounts, might be of very great use indeed. He hadruled an account-book for her, and had had the pleasure of teaching herhow to make entries in it. She threw herself warmly into the newpursuit, and ran into the kitchen ten times a day to see how Balbettewas getting on; but her calculations were not much to be depended upon, and after having for a week conscientiously labored at the task, somedays of sunshine came, and then she could not resist accompanying theforester on his rounds after game, or riding far beyond the boundary ofthe estate on her little pony, forgetting alike the cook and herbook-keeping. 

Again she purposed studying history and learning a little English underwas getting on; but her calculations were not much to be depended upon, and after having for a week conscientiously labored at the task, somedays of sunshine came, and then she could not resist accompanying theforester on his rounds after game, or riding far beyond the boundary ofthe estate on her little pony, forgetting alike the cook and herbook-keeping. 

Again she purposed studying history and learning a little English underAnton's superintendence. Anton was delighted. But she could notrecollect dates, found the pronunciation of English impossible, andsauntered off into the stable, or went into the room of the bailiff, whose mechanical achievements she could watch with the utmost interestfor hours at a time. One day, when Anton came to call her to her Englishlesson, he found her in Karl's room, a plane in her hand, working hardat the seat of a new sledge, and good-naturedly saying, "Don't take somuch trouble with me, Wohlfart; I can learn nothing: I have always beena dunce. "

The snow again lay thick on the ground, and millions of ice-crystalsglittered in the sunshine on bush and tree. Karl had two sledges inorder, one a double-seated one, the other a running sledge for the younglady, which, with her assistance, he had painted beautifully. 

At the next morning conference Anton had to announce to the baronessthat he must go in the afternoon to Tarow on some police business. 

"We know the Tarowskis from having met them at the Baths, " said thebaroness. "We were quite intimate while there with Frau von Tarowska andher daughter. I earnestly wish that the baron should have someacquaintance in the neighborhood. Perhaps I may be able to prevail uponhim to pay a visit with us to-day. At all events, we ladies will availourselves of your escort, and make an excursion thither. "

Anton gently reminded her of the vanished Bratzky and his ownsuspicions. 

"They are only suspicions, " said the baron, soothingly, "and there canbe no doubt that it is our duty to call. Indeed, I can not believe thatHerr von Tarowski had any thing to do with the man's disappearance. "

In the afternoon the two sledges were brought round. The baroness seatedherself with her husband in the larger one, and Lenore insisted upondriving her own. "Wohlfart shall sit behind me on the seat, " decidedshe. 

The baron whispered to his wife, "Wohlfart!"

"I can not allow you to drive alone, " calmly replied she. "Have noanxiety. He is in your service, besides; there is no great impropriety;and you and I shall be together. "

The little bells sounded merrily across the plain. Lenore sat in thehighest spirits in her little nutshell of a seat, and loudly urged onher horse. She often turned round, and her laughing face looked solovely under her dark cap that Anton's whole heart went out toward her. Her green veil fluttered in the wind, and brushed across his cheeks, hung over his face, and concealed the view. The next moment his breathmoved the ribbon round her neck, and he saw that only that slight silkencovering lay between his hand and her white throat and golden hair. Absorbed in this contemplation, he could hardly resist the delight ofgently passing his fur glove over her hood, when a hare jumped from itsform close to him, shaking its ears threateningly, and significantlyflinging its legs in the air. Anton understood the friendly hint, anddrew back the fur glove; and the hare, pleased to have done a good turn, galloped off over the plain. 

Our hero turned his thoughts into another direction. "This white roadbears no trace of man's presence, no slides, no footprints; there is nolife around to disturb the silent sleep of nature. We are travelerspenetrating into regions hitherto untrodden. One tree is like another, the snow expanse is boundless, the silence of the grave around, and thelaughing sunshine above. I wish we were going on thus the whole daythrough. "

"I am so glad to drive you for once, " said Lenore, bending back, andgiving him her hand. 

Anton so far forgot the hare as to imprint a kiss upon her glove. 

"It is Danish leather, " laughed Lenore; "do not give yourself thetrouble. "

"Here is a hole, " said Anton, prepared to renew the attempt. 

"You are very attentive to-day, " cried Lenore, slowly withdrawing herhand. "The mood suits you charmingly, Wohlfart. "

The fur glove was again stretched out to detain the hand withdrawn. Atthat moment two crows on the nearest tree began a violent dispute, screamed, croaked, and flew about Anton's head. 

"Begone, you wretched creatures!" thought Anton, in his excitement; "youshall not disturb me any more. "

But Lenore looked full and frankly at him. "I am not sure, either, thatyou ought to be so attentive, " said she, gravely. "You should not kissmy hand, for I have no wish to return the compliment, and what is rightfor the one must be right for the other. Huzza! my horse, forward!"

"I am curious to know how these Poles will receive us, " said Anton, resuming their former conversation. 

"They can not be otherwise than friendly, " returned Lenore. "We livedfor weeks with Frau von Tarowska, and took every excursion together. Shewas the most elegant of all the ladies at the Baths, and her daughters, too, made a great impression by their distinguished bearing. They arevery lovely and refined. "

"He has eyes, though, exactly like those of the forester's fox. I wouldnot trust him a yard out of my sight. "

"I have made myself very smart to-day, " laughed Lenore, again turninground; "for the girls are, as I said, lovely, and the Poles shall notsay that we Germans look ill beside them. How do you like my dress, Wohlfart?" She turned back the flap of her pelisse. 

"I shall admire no other half so much, " Anton replied. 

"You true-hearted Mr. Wohlfart!" cried Lenore, again reaching out herhand. Alas! the warning hare, the crows, would have been powerless tobreak the spell which attracted the fur glove to the Danish leather;something stronger must interfere. 

When Anton stretched out his hand for the third time, he marveled to seeit rise against his will, and describe a circle in the air, while hefound himself outstretched in the snow. Looking round in amazement, hesaw Lenore sitting by the overturned sledge, while the horse stoodstill, and laughed after his fashion. The lady had looked too much ather companion and too little at the way, and so they had been upset. Both jumped up lightly. Anton raised the sledge, and they were soongalloping onward once more. But the sledge-idyl was ended. Lenore lookedsteadily before her, and Anton occupied himself in shaking the snow outof his sleeves. 

The sledges turned into a spacious court. A long, one-storiedfarm-house, whitewashed, and roofed with shingles, looked upon thewooden stables. Anton sprang out, and asked a servant in livery for thedwelling of Herr von Tarowski. 

"This is the palace, " replied the Pole, with a low obeisance, andproceeded to help the ladies out of the sledges. Lenore and the baronessexchanged looks of amazement. They entered a dirty hall; several beardeddomestics rushed up to them, eagerly tore off their wraps, and threw alow door open. A numerous party was assembled in the large sitting-room. A tall figure in black silk came forward to meet them, and received themwith the best grace in the world. So did the daughters--slender girls, with their mother's eyes and manners. Several of the gentlemen wereintroduced--Herr von this, Herr von that, all elegant-looking men inevening dress. At last the master of the house came in, his cunning facebeaming with cordial hospitality, and his pair of fox's eyes lookingperfectly harmless. The reception was faultless--on all sides thepleasant ease of perfect self-possession. The baron and the ladies weretreated as welcome additions, and Anton too had his share of attention. His business was soon transacted, and Herr von Tarow smilingly remindedhim that they had met before. 

"That rogue of an inspector got off, after all, " said he; "but do not beuneasy, he will not escape his fate. "

"I hope not, " replied Anton; "nor yet his abettors. "

Herr von Tarow's eyes tried hard to look dove-like as he went on to say, "The fellow must be concealed somewhere about. "

"Possibly somewhere very near, " said Anton, casting a significant glanceat the mean-looking buildings around. 

Our hero looked in vain among the gentlemen present for the stranger hehad previously seen, and charitably attributed to him good reasons forwishing to remain unseen by German eyes. However, to make up for him, there was another gentleman of a striking aspect, who seemed to betreated with especial respect. "They come and go, assemble anddisperse, " thought Anton, "just as the landlord said; there is a wholeband of them to feel anxious about, not merely a few individuals. " Atthat moment the stranger came up and began a courteous conversation. However unstudied the speaker's manner might appear, yet Anton remarkedthat he led the conversation, with the view of extracting his opinionsand feelings as a German. This made him reserved; and the Pole, findinghim so, soon lost his interest in him, and turned to the ladies. 

Anton had now time to look about him. A Vienna piano-forte stood amidfurniture evidently made by the village carpenter, and near the sofa atattered carpet was spread over the black boards. The ladies sat onvelvet seats around a worn-out table. The mistress of the house and hergrown-up daughters had elegant Parisian toilettes; but a side door beingcasually opened, Anton caught a sight of some children running about inthe next room so scantily clothed that he heartily pitied them. They, however, did not seem to feel the cold, and were screaming and fightinglike little demons. 

A fine damask table-cloth was now laid on the unsteady table, and asilver tea-kettle put down. The conversation went on most pleasantly. Graceful French bon mots and animated exclamations in melodious Polishblended occasionally with an admixture of quiet German. The suddenbursts of laughter, the gestures and the eagerness, all showed Antonthat he was among foreigners. They spoke rapidly, and excitement shonein their eyes and reddened their cheeks. 

They were a more excitable people, more elastic, and more impressionablethan his countrymen. Anton remarked with amazement how perfectly Lenoreseemed in her element among them. Her face, too, grew flushed; shelaughed and gesticulated like the rest; and her eyes looked, he thought, boldly into the courteous faces of the gentlemen present. The samesmile, the same hearty, natural manner that she had enchanted him with, when alone, she now lavished upon strangers, who had acted as highwaymenagainst her father's interests. This displeased him to the utmost. Thenthe saloon, so incongruous in its arrangements, the carpet dirty andtorn, the children in the next room barefooted, and the master of thehouse the secret patron of a dishonest rogue, and perhaps worse still!Anton contented himself with coldly looking on, and said as little as hepossibly could. 

At last a young gentleman struck a few chords on the piano, and allsprang up and voted for a dance. The lady of the house rang, fourwild-looking men rushed into the room, snatched up the grand piano, andcarried it off. The whole party swept through the hall to an apartmentopposite. Anton was tempted to rub his eyes as he entered it. It was anempty room, with rough-cast walls, benches around them, and a frightfulold stove in a corner. In the middle, linen was hung on lines to dry. Anton could hardly suppose they meant to dance here; but the linen wastorn down by one servant in the twinkling of an eye, while another ranto the stove, and was equally expeditious in blowing up the fire, and ina very few moments six couples stood up for a quadrille. As there was alady wanting, a young count, with a black beard like velvet, and awondrously beautiful pair of blue eyes, bound his cambric handkerchiefround his arm, and with a graceful courtesy announced himself a lady. Hewas immediately led out by another gentleman. Their dancing, in spite ofits fashionable character, betrayed at times the fire and impetuosity oftheir race. Lenore threw herself into it heart and soul. 

Meanwhile the baroness was conversing with great animation with herhost, and Frau von Tarow made it her occupation to amuse the baron. Here, then, were all the social forms, the keen enjoyment of thepresent, which Anton had so often admired, but now they only excited acold smile. It did not seem to him creditable that a German familyshould be on terms of such intimacy with recent enemies--people who wereprobably at this very time plotting against them and their country. Accordingly, when the first dance was over, and Lenore, passing him, asked why he did not dance with her, he replied, "I am every momentexpecting to see Bratzky's face appear in some corner of the room. "

"We will not think of him at present, " returned Lenore, turning awayoffended. 

Dance followed dance, the heads of the young people swam, their curlshung down damp, and relaxed with their exertions. Another rush ofbearded domestics, and iced Champagne was brought in. The dancers tossedit off standing, and immediately a cry rose on all sides for a Polishmazurka--the national dance. Now, then, the dresses fluttered wide andhigh; the dancers positively flew along; the ladies were tossed likeballs from one partner's arm to another; and Lenore, alas! in the midstof it all. 

Anton stood near the distinguished Pole, carrying on a spiritlessconversation, and coldly listened to the praises the former liberallybestowed on the German dancer. The rapid movements and strong excitementthat were natural to the Polish girls made Lenore wild, and, Antonregretted to see, unfeminine; and his glance wandered away from her tothe rough walls, the dusty stove, in which an immense fagot was burning, and the ceiling, from which long gray cobwebs hung down. 

It was late before the baroness broke up the party. The furs werebrought in, the guests were wrapped therein, and the little bellssounded again cheerily over the snowy scene. But Anton was glad thatLenore now drove her father, and that he had to take care of thebaroness. Silently he guided the sledge, thinking all the while thatanother whom he knew would never have swung to and fro in the mazes ofthe mazurka beneath the fluttering cobwebs, and in the house of hercountry's foes. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Mr. Itzig was now regularly established in business. Whoever visited himpassed through a much-frequented hall, and went up a not entirely cleanstaircase, at the head of which was a white door, on which a great platerevealed the name of "V. Itzig. " This door was closed. It had a verymassive China handle, and was altogether much more suggestive andimposing than Ehrenthal's had been. Passing through this door, thevisitor entered an empty lobby, in which a shrewd youth spent the day ashalf porter, half errand-boy, and a spy besides. This youth differedfrom the original Itzig only by a species of shabby gentility in hisappearance. He wore his master's old clothes--shining silk waistcoats, and a coat a little too large for him. He showed, in short, that the newfirm was more advanced in matters of taste and toilette than the in manyrespects commonplace establishment of Ehrenthal. The visitor, advancingthrough the lobby, was received by Mr. Itzig in one of two small rooms, of which the first contained little furniture, but two strikinglyhandsome lamps--a temporary security for the unpaid interest of a noteof hand. The second was his sleeping apartment; in it were a simple bed, a long sofa, and a large round mirror, with a broad gilt frame, anacquisition from the secret stores of the worthy Pinkus. Itzig himselfwas marvelously changed, and on dark days, in his dimly-lighted office, he might really--looked at from a little distance--have almost passedfor a gentleman. His haggard face had filled out, his great freckles hadfaded away, and his red hair, through much pomade and skillful brushing, had grown darker and more manageable. He had still a preference forblack; but his clothes were new now, and fitted him better; for Mr. Itzig had acquired a taste for externals. He no longer grudged himselfgood food--nay, he even allowed himself wine. Yet, insignificant as hisnew establishment was, Itzig only used it at night and duringoffice-hours. His inclinations still led him to his old haunts at LöbelPinkus's. Thus he led a double life--that of a respectable man ofbusiness in his newly-painted office, beneath the glare of his solarlamps; and when in the caravanserai, which fitted his taste far better, a modest sort of life, with red woolen curtains, and a four-corneredchest for a sofa. Perhaps this shelter suited him so exactly, because ofhis uncontested influence over the master of the house. Pinkus, to hisshame be it spoken, had sunk into a mere tool of Veitel's, and his wife, too, was devoted in her allegiance to the rising man. 

On the present occasion Itzig sat carelessly on his sofa, and smoked apipe with an amber mouth-piece. He was completely the gentleman, andexpected a visitor of distinction. The bell rang, the servant flew tothe door, and a sharp voice was heard. Next there arose a dispute in thelobby, which moved Veitel to shut up his writing-table in all haste, andto put the key into his pocket. 

"Not at home, indeed! He is at home, you wretched greenhorn you!" criedthe sharp voice to the guardian of the door. Next some resisting bodywas heard to be thrust on one side. Veitel buried himself in an oldmortgage. The door opened, and Hippus appeared, red-faced and muchruffled. He had never looked more like an old raven. 

"So you deny yourself, do you? You tell that grub yonder to send awayold friends! Of course, you are become quite genteel, you fool! Did oneever meet with such barefaced ingratitude? Because the fellow hasswindled himself into two fine rooms, his former associates are nolonger good enough for him! But you have reckoned without your host, myboy, as far as I am concerned; I am not to be got rid of so easily. "

Veitel looked at the angry little man before him with an expression ofcountenance by no means friendly. 

"Why did you make a scene with the young man?" he said, coldly; "he hasdone nothing wrong. I was expecting a visitor on business, and I gaveorders to exclude all strangers. How could I know that you would becoming? Have we not settled that you should only visit me in theevening? Why do you disturb me during my business hours?"

"Your business hours, you young gosling, with your shell still hangingabout you!" cried Hippus, still more irate, and threw himself on thesofa. "Your business hours!" he continued, with infinite contempt; "anyhours are good enough for your business. "

"You are drunk again, Hippus, " answered Veitel, thoroughly roused. "Howoften have I told you that I will have nothing to do with you when youcome out of the spirit-shop?"

"Indeed!" cried Hippus; "you son of a witch, my visit is at all times anhonor to you. I drunk!" he hiccoughed out; "and with what, youjack-pudding you? How is a man to get drunk, " he screamed out, "when hehas not wherewithal to pay for a glass?"

"I knew that he was without money again, " said Veitel, in exasperation. "I gave you a dollar quite lately, but you are a perfect sponge. It is apity to waste a farthing upon you. "

"You will prove, though, that it is not at all a pity, " answered the oldman, tauntingly; "you will give me ten dollars here on the spot. "

"That I will not, " cried Veitel. "I am sick of supplying you. You knowour agreement; you are only to have money given you when you dosomething for me in return. And now you are not in a condition either toread or write. "

"I am always good enough for you and such as you, even if I had had aten times better breakfast, " said the old man, more calmly. "Give mewhat you have got for me to do. You are become a covetous rascal, butI'll put up with you. I will forgive your having denied yourself; I willforgive your having become a presumptuous ass--making a show with lampsthat were meant for your betters; and I will not deprive you of myadvice, provided, be it understood, I duly get my honorarium. And so wewill make peace, my son. Now tell me what deviltry you have in hand. "

Veitel pushed a thick parchment toward him, and said, "First of all, youmust look over that, write me out an abstract of it, and tell me whatyou think of it. It has been offered me for sale. Now, however, I amexpecting some one, so you must go into the other room, sit down at thetable, and get through your task. When it is done we will talk about themoney. "

Mr. Hippus took the heavy deed under his arm and steered toward thedoor. 

"To-day I am going to oblige you again, because you are a good boy, "said he, affectionately, lifting his hand to pat Veitel on the cheek. 

Veitel tolerated the caress, and was going to shut the door, when thedrunken old man turned round once more, and inquired with a cunningleer, "So you expect some one, my child? Whom do you expect, littleItzig? Is it a lad or a lady?"

"It is a money-matter, " said Veitel, shrugging his shoulders. 

"A money-matter!" repeated Hippus, with tender approbation of hisassociate. "Ay, you are great in them--an accomplished swindler. Trulyhe who gets money from you is lost; it were better for him to jump intothe water at once, though water is a despicable element, you confoundedlittle swindler you!" And, raising his head, he fixed his swimming eyesaffectionately on Veitel. 

"And yet you yourself are come to get money from me, " replied Veitel, with a forced smile. 

"Yes, I am determined, " said Hippus, stammering. "I am not flesh andblood! I am Hippus! I am Death!" and he tried to laugh intelligently. 

The door-bell rang. Veitel desired him to keep quiet, shut the door uponhim, took up his amber pipe, and awaited his visitor. 

A sword was heard to clatter in the lobby--a hussar officer came in. Eugene Rothsattel had become a little older since the last winter, hisfine face was more haggard, and he had a blue ring round his eyes. Heput on an appearance of indifference, which did not deceive Mr. Itzigfor a single second, for behind that mask his experienced glancedetected the fever peculiar to hard-pressed debtors. 

"Mr. Itzig?" inquired the officer de haut en bas. 

"Such is my name, " said Veitel, rising carelessly from the sofa. Eugenelooked at him uneasily. This was the very man against whom his fatherhad been warned, and now fate had driven him into the same snare. "Ihave to pay a debt in the course of the next few days to certainagents, " began the lieutenant, "gentlemen of your acquaintance. When Iproposed to hold a consultation with them, I was informed by both thatthey had sold their claims to you. "

"I bought them unwillingly, " replied Itzig. "I am not fond of having anything to do with military men. Here are two notes of hand, one foreleven hundred, and the other for eight hundred, making a total ofnineteen hundred dollars. Do you recognize these signatures as yours?"he coldly inquired, producing the documents; "and do you acknowledgenineteen hundred to be the sum borrowed by you?"

"I suppose it must be about that, " said the lieutenant, reluctantly. 

"I ask whether you acknowledge that to be the sum that you have to payme on these notes of hand?"

"In the devil's name, yes, " cried the lieutenant. "I own the debt, though I did not receive the half of it in cash. "

Veitel locked up the papers in his desk, and, with a shrug of hisshoulders, said ironically, "At all events, I have paid the whole sum tothe parties herein named. Accordingly, I shall summon you to pay meto-morrow and the next day. "

The officer was silent for a while, and a flush slowly overspread hissunken cheeks. At last, after a hard struggle, he began: "I beg of you, Mr. Itzig, to give me a little more time. "

Veitel took up his amber pipe and leisurely turned it round. "I can giveyou no further credit, " said he. 

"Come, Itzig, be reasonable, " said the officer, with forced familiarity. "I shall very probably soon be able to pay you. "

"You will have as little money in a few weeks' time as you have now, "replied Veitel, rudely. 

"I am ready to write an I. O. U. For a larger sum, if you will havepatience. "

"I never enter into any transactions of the kind, " lied Veitel. 

"I will procure you an acknowledgment of the debt from my father. "

"The Baron Rothsattel would obtain as little credit with me asyourself. "

The lieutenant angrily struck the floor with his sword: "And supposing Ido not pay?" he broke out; "you know that I am not legally compelled todo so. "

"I know, " quietly replied Veitel. "Will you pay to-morrow and the nextday?"

"I can not!" exclaimed Eugene, in despair. 

"Then take care of the coat on your back, " said Veitel, turning away. 

"Wohlfart was right to warn me against you, " cried Eugene, besidehimself. "You are an obdurate--" he suppressed the last word. 

"Speak your mind freely, " said Itzig; "no one hears you. Your words arelike the fire in my stove; it crackles now, in an hour it will be burnedto ashes. What you say to me in private, the people in the street willsay to you in three days' time if you do not pay. "

Eugene turned away with a curse. On reaching the door he stood still fora moment, then rushed down stairs. 

Veitel looked round triumphantly. "The son as well as the father! He, too, is safely noosed, " said he to himself; "he can never procure themoney. There is an end of the Rothsattels, and their Wohlfart will notbe able to sustain them. When I am married to Rosalie, Ehrenthal'smortgages will be mine. That will be the time, too, for finding thevanished notes of hand among my father-in-law's papers. Then I shallhave the baron completely in my power, and the estate will be mine. "

After this soliloquy he opened the door that had shut out Mr. Hippusfrom the distinguished visitor--the sunken from the sinking--and hefound the little advocate fast asleep over the deed. Itzig looked at himwith hearty contempt, and said, "He grows burdensome. He said he wasdeath; I wish he were dead, and I freed from him. " Then roughly shakingup the old man, he screamed out to him, "You are fit for nothing but tosleep; why must you come here to snore? Go home; I will give you thedeed when you are sober. "

The advocate accordingly reeled away, promising to return the followingafternoon. Itzig proceeded to brush his silk hat with enviabledexterity; he then put on his best coat, gave his hair its mostgraceful curve, and went to the house of his antagonist Ehrenthal. As heentered the hall he cast a shy glance at the office door, and hurried onto the staircase. But he stopped on the lowest step. "There he is, sitting again in the office, " said he, listening. "I hear him mutter; heoften mutters so when he is alone. I will venture in; perhaps I can makesomething of him. " So he stepped slowly to the door and listened again;then taking heart, he opened it suddenly. In the dimly-lighted room sata stooping figure in a leathern chair, a shapeless hat on its head. Thefigure kept constantly nodding, and muttering unintelligible words. Howchanged was Hirsch Ehrenthal in the course of the past year! When helast drove over the baron's estate, he was a stout, respectable-lookingman, a fresh, well-preserved man, who knew how to stick in hisbreast-pin to the best advantage, and cut a figure in ladies' eyes. Nowthe head that was constantly nodding in nervous debility was that of anold man, and the beard that hung down from his furrowed face had beenuntrimmed for weeks. He was a picture of that most lamentable decay, when the mind precedes the body on the way to second childhood. 

The agent stood at the door and looked in dismay at his former master. Then, advancing nearer, he said, "I wish to speak to you, Mr. Ehrenthal. "

The old man continued to nod his head, and answered in a tremblingvoice, "Hirsch Ehrenthal is my name; what have you to say to me?"

"I wish to speak to you on important business, " continued Itzig. 

"I hear, " returned Ehrenthal, without looking up; "if the business beimportant, why do you not speak?"

"Do you know me, Hirsch Ehrenthal?" said Itzig, bending down and raisinghis voice. 

The man in the leathern chair looked at him with languid eyes, and atlength recognized him. He got up in all haste, and stood, his head stillnodding, with a glance full of hatred and terror in his eyes. "What doyou want here in my office?" cried he, with a quivering voice. "How canyou come before me? Get out, man! get out!"

Itzig remained stationary. "Don't scream so; I am not doing any thing toyou; I only want to speak to you on important subjects, if you will becalm as a man of your years should be. "

"It is Itzig, " murmured the old man; "he wants to speak on importantsubjects, and I am to be calm. How can I be calm, " screamed he again, "when I see you before me? You are my enemy; you have ruined me here andruined me there; you have been to me like the evil spirit with thesword, on which hangs the drop of gall. I opened my mouth, you piercedme with your sword, the gall has reached my heart; I needs must tremblewhen I see you. "

"Be quiet, " said Itzig; "and when you are so, listen to me. "

"Is his name Itzig?" mumbled the old man to himself. "His name is Itzig, but the dogs bark at him as he walks through the streets. I will not seeyou, " he again exclaimed. "Get out! I loathe the sight of you: I wouldrather have to do with a spider than with you. "

To this Veitel replied in a resigned voice, "What has happened, Ehrenthal, has happened, and it's no use talking of it. You behavedunkindly to me, and I acted against you; both are true. "

"He ate every Sabbath at my table, " growled the old man. 

"If you remember that, " continued Itzig, "why, so will I. True, I haveeaten at your table, and on that account I am sorry to be on bad termswith you. I have always felt a great attachment to your family. "

"You have shown your attachment, young Itzig, " continued the old man. "You are he who came into my house, and killed me before I am laid in mygrave. "

"What nonsense are you talking?" continued Veitel, impatiently. "Why doyou always speak as if you were dead, and I the evil spirit with thesword? I am here, and I wish your prosperous life, and not your death. Iwill so contrive that you shall yet occupy a good position among ourpeople, and that they who pass you in the street shall again take offtheir hats to you, as they did before Hirsch Ehrenthal became childish. "

Ehrenthal mechanically took off his hat and sat down again. His hair hadgrown white. 

"There ought to be friendship between you and me, " continued Veitel, persuasively, "and your business ought to be as mine. I have sent to youmore than one man of our connection, and have told you my wishes throughhim, and Mrs. Ehrenthal, your wife, has told you them too. I am become aman who can rank with the best men of business; I can show you a safecapital larger than you imagine. Why should we not put our moneytogether? If you will give me your daughter Rosalie to wife, I shall beable to act for you as your son-in-law. "

Old Ehrenthal looked at the suitor with a glance in which something ofhis old cunning shone through his half-wittedness. "If you want mydaughter Rosalie, " replied he, "hear the only question I have to put:What will you give me if I give you Rosalie?"

"I will reckon it up to you at once, " cried Veitel. 

"You can reckon up a good deal, I dare say, " said Ehrenthal, decliningthe statement, "but I will only require one thing: if you can give meback my son Bernhard, you may have my daughter. If you can not bringBernhard out of the grave, so long as I have any voice left I shall say, 'Get out with you! get out of my office!' Get out!" screamed he, in asudden transport of rage, clenching both fists against the suitor. Veitel quietly retreated into the shadow cast by the door, the old mansunk down again on his chair, and threatened and muttered to himself. Itzig watched him till his words again became unintelligible, when heshrugged his shoulders and left the room. 

As he went up stairs to pay his visit to the ladies, he repeated themovement occasionally, to express his utter contempt of the poorimbecile below. He rang the bell, and was admitted by the untidy cookwith a familiar smile. 

Meanwhile Eugene drifted helplessly from one officer's room to another. He went to Feroni's; the oysters were flavorless, the Burgundy tastedlike ink. Again he paced up and down the streets, the sweat of anguishon his brow. At last he sat down in a confectioner's shop, tired todeath, and revolved every possible contingency. If Wohlfart were onlyhere! But there was no time to write to him. These agents had put himoff from day to day; it was only last night that they had both finallyreferred him to Mr. Itzig. But, though it was too late to write toAnton, might not this obliging friend have some acquaintance in thetown? In recommending young Sturm, Anton had told him that the futurebailiff's father was a safe man, not without substance. Perhaps he couldget money from the father of a hussar now in the service of his family, if, indeed, the old man had any money. That was the question. 

He turned to the Directory, and found John Sturm, porter, IslandStreet, No. 17. He drove thither in a drosky. A loud "Come in" was thereply to his hurried knock. The sore-pressed officer crossed thethreshold of the porter. Father Sturm sat alone with his can of beer, asmall daily paper in his hand. "A hussar!" cried he, remaining seatedthrough very astonishment. The officer, on his part, was astonished atthe colossal form now contemplating him, and both were silent. 

"To be sure!" said the giant. "A hussar of my Karl's regiment--the coatis the same, the epaulettes the same; you are welcome, comrade!" and herose. Then for the first time perceiving the metal of the epaulettes, heexclaimed, "As I live, an officer!"

"My name is Eugene von Rothsattel, " began the lieutenant. "I am anacquaintance of Mr. Wohlfart. "

"Of Mr. Wohlfart and of my son Karl, " said Sturm, eagerly; "sit down, sir; it is an exceeding pleasure and honor to me to see you. " He broughtout a chair, and thumped it down in his zeal so as to make the doorshake again. 

Eugene was going to sit down. "Not yet, " said Sturm; "I will first wipeit, that the uniform take no harm. Since my Karl went away, things are alittle dusty here. "

He wiped and polished up the chair for his visitor. "Now, sir, allow meto sit opposite you. You bring me tidings of my little fellow?"

"Only, " replied Eugene, "that he is well in health, and that my fathermuch values his services. "

"Indeed!" cried Sturm, smiling all over, and rapping on the table so asto create a small earthquake in the room. "I knew, sir, that your fatherthe baron would be satisfied with him; I would have given him a bond forthat on stamped paper. He was a clever lad, even when he was that high, "indicating with his hand a degree of smallness that belongs to no humanbeing, even in the earliest days of its visible life. 

"But can he do any thing?" he anxiously inquired, "in spite of--you knowwhat. " He held out his great fingers, and made confidential signs withthem. "First and middle finger--it was a great misfortune, sir. "

Eugene now called to mind the unlucky accident. "He has got over it, "said he, rather embarrassed at the part the paternal affections of thegiant made him play. "I came here to ask a favor. "

"A favor?" laughed Sturm; "ask away, young baron; that is a simplematter. Any one from the house where my Karl is bailiff has a right toask a favor from old Sturm. That is my view of the case. "

"Well, then, Mr. Sturm, to make a long story short, I am called upon tomake a heavy payment to-morrow, and I want the money for it. The debthas come upon me suddenly, and I have no time to communicate with myfather. I know no one in this town to whom I can turn with so muchconfidence as to the father of our bailiff. "

Sturm bent forward, and in his delight clapped the officer on the knee. "That was nobly said. You are a gentleman, who keeps to his own house, and does not go to strangers for what he can have from his own people. You want money? My Karl is bailiff at your father the baron's; my Karlhas some money, so it is all right. How much do you want? A hundreddollars? Two hundred dollars? The money is there. "

"I can hardly take courage, Mr. Sturm, to tell you the amount of thesum, " said Eugene, embarrassed; "it is nineteen hundred dollars. "

"Nineteen hundred dollars!" repeated the giant, in amazement; "that's acapital; that's a firm; that's what people call a fortune. "

"So it is, Mr. Sturm, " said Eugene, sadly. "And since you are sofriendly toward me, I must own to you that I am heartily grieved that itshould be so much. I am ready to give you a note of hand for it, and topay any interest you may like. "

"Do you know what, " said Sturm, after some cogitation, "we will saynothing about the interest; you can settle that with my Karl; but as tothe note of hand, that was a good thought of yours. A note of hand ispleasant, on account of the chances of life and death. You and I wouldhave no need of such a thing; but I may die before my time. That wouldnot matter, for you, who know of the transaction, would still be there. But then you might die, which, however, I have no fear of--quite thecontrary; but still such a thing might be, and then my Karl ought tohave your signature, so that he might come forward and say, 'My pooryoung master has written this, therefore pay. '"

"You will then have the kindness to lend me the money?"

"There is no kindness in it, " said Sturm; "it is but my duty, as thething is done regularly, and my dwarf is your bailiff. "

Eugene was moved as he looked at the giant's laughing face. "But, Mr. Sturm, I want the money to-morrow. "

"Of course, " replied Sturm, "that is just what suits me. Come, baron, this way. " He took up the candle, and led him into his bed-room. "Excusethings being so disorderly; but I am a lone man, and at my work all daylong. Look here, this is my money-box. " He drew out the iron chest. "Itis safe from thieves, " said he, with self-complacency, "for no one inthe town can stir it but I, and no one can open it, for the lock is themasterpiece of the father of my dear departed wife. Few besides me canlift the lid, and even if many of them came, they would find it tootough a job for them; so you may believe that the money is safe herefrom rogues, and swindlers, and the like, " said he, triumphantly. He wasabout to put the key into the lock. "Stop, " he suddenly cried; "one wordmore. I trust you, baron, as I do my Karl--that of course; but justanswer me this question: You really are the young baron?"

Now it was Eugene's turn to smile, and, putting his hand into hispocket, he said, "Here is my patent. "

"Ah! many thanks, " cried Sturm, carefully looking through the paper, andreverentially reading the names, then bowing, and giving it back withtwo fingers in the most respectful manner possible. 

"And here, " continued Eugene, "I happen to have a letter of Wohlfart'sin my pocket. "

"Of course, " cried Sturm, looking at the address, "that is his livinghand. "

"And here is his signature. "

"Your devoted Wohlfart, " read the giant; "and if he writes that, you maybe sure that it is true. So now the business is settled, " said he, opening the box. "Here is the money. So, then, nineteen hundreddollars!" He took five great rolls out of the chest, held themcomfortably in one hand, and gave them to Eugene. "Here are a thousand. "

Eugene tried in vain to hold them. 

"Just so, " said the porter; "I will bring them down to the carriage. Therest I must give you in promissory notes. These are worth a little lessthan a hundred dollars, as of course you know. "

"It does not signify, " said Eugene. 

"No, " said the giant. "It can be mentioned in the note of hand. And nowthe matter is all settled. " He closed the chest, and pushed it under thebed. 

Eugene re-entered the little parlor with a lightened heart. 

"Now, then, I will carry the money to the carriage, " cried Sturm. 

"The note of hand has yet to be written. "

"True, " nodded the giant; "we must do things in order. Just see, sir, whether you can write with my coarse pen. If I had known that I shouldhave such a visitor, I would have brought a better one with me from Mr. Schröter's. "

Eugene wrote out an acknowledgment, while Sturm sat by his can of beer, and looked at him in admiration. Then he accompanied him to thecarriage, and said at leave-taking, "Greet my little lad heartily, andMr. Wohlfart too. I have promised Karl to come to him at Christmas, onaccount of the Christmas-tree; but my health is no longer as good as itshould be. I am forty-nine past. "

A short time afterward, Eugene, writing to Anton, casually mentionedthat he had borrowed nineteen hundred dollars from father Sturm on anote of hand. "Try to arrange the matter for me, " said the letter; "ofcourse my father must know nothing of it. A good-hearted, foolishfellow, that old Sturm. Think of something nice for his son thehussar--something that I can bring him when I pay you a visit. "

Anton flung down the letter indignantly. "There is no helping them; theprincipal was right, " said he. "He has squandered the money in goldenbracelets for a mercenary danseuse, or at dice with his lawlesscomrades, and he now pays his usurer's bills with the hard earnings ofan honest working-man. "

He called Karl into his room. "I have often been sorry to have broughtyou into this confusion, but to-day I deeply feel how wrong it was. I amashamed to tell you what has happened. Young Rothsattel has takenadvantage of your father's good-heartedness to borrow from him nineteenhundred dollars!"

"Nineteen hundred dollars from my governor!" cried Karl. "Had my Goliathso much money to lend! He always pretended that he did not know how toeconomize. "

"Part of your inheritance is given away in return for a worthless noteof hand, and what makes it still more aggravating is the coolness of thethoughtless borrower. Have you, then, not heard of it from your father?"

"From him!" cried Karl; "I should think not. I am only sorry that youshould be so vexed. I implore you not to make any disturbance about it. You best know how many clouds hang over this house; do not increase theanxiety of these parents on my account. "

"To be silent in a case like this, " replied Anton, "would be to makeone's self an accomplice in an unfair transaction. You must immediatelywrite and tell your father not to be so obliging in future; the younggentleman is capable of going to him again. "

Anton's next step was to write Eugene a letter of serious remonstrance, in which he pointed out to him that the only way of giving Sturmtolerably good security would be the procuring the baron'sacknowledgment of his son's debt, and begged that he would lose no timein doing this. 

This letter written, Anton said to Karl, "If he does not confess to hisparents, I shall state the whole affair to the baron in his presence thevery next day after his arrival. Don't try to dissuade me; you are justlike your father. "

The consequence of this communication was, that Eugene left off writingto Anton, and that his next letter to his father contained a ratherunintelligible clause: "Wohlfart, " he said, "was a man to whom hecertainly had obligations; only the worst of that kind of people was, that they took advantage of these to adopt a dictatorial tone that wasunbearable; therefore it was best civilly to shake them off. "

This opinion was quite after the baron's own heart, and he warmlyapplauded it. "Eugene always takes the right view of the case, " said he;"and I too earnestly long for the day when I shall be able tosuperintend the property, and to dismiss our Mr. Wohlfart. "

The baroness, who had read the letter out to her husband, merelyreplied, "You would miss Wohlfart very much if he were to leave you. "

Lenore, however, was unable to suppress her displeasure; and, leavingthe room in silence, she went to look for Anton out of doors. 

"What are you and Eugene differing about?" she cried, as soon as she sawhim. 

"Has he been complaining of me to you?" inquired Anton, in return. 

"Not to me; but in his letter to my father he does not speak as he oughtof one who has been so kind to him. "

"Perhaps this is accidental--a fit of ill-humor that will pass off. "

"No, it is more, and I will know about it. "

"If it be more, you can only hear it from himself. "

"Then, Wohlfart, " cried Lenore, "Eugene has been doing something wrong, and you know of it. "

"Be that as it may, " returned Anton, gravely, "it is not my secret, elseI should not withhold it from you. I pray you to believe that I haveacted uprightly toward your brother. "

"What I believe little signifies, " cried Lenore. "I am to know nothing;I understand nothing; I can do nothing in this wretched world but grieveand fret when others are unjust to you. "

"I very often, " continued Anton, "feel the responsibility laid upon meby your father's indisposition a grievous burden. It is natural that heshould be annoyed with me when I have to communicate unwelcome facts. This can not be avoided. I have strength, however, to brave much that ispainful, so long as you and the baroness are unshaken in your convictionthat I always act in your interest so far as I understand it. "

"My mother knows what you are to us, " said Lenore. "She never, indeed, speaks of you to me, but I can read her glance when she looks at youacross the table. She has always known how to conceal her thoughts; howshe does so more than ever--yes, even to me. I seem to see her pureimage behind a white veil; and she is become so fragile, that often thetears rush to my eyes merely in looking at her. She always says what iskind and judicious, but she seems to have lost interest in most things;and though she smiles at what I say, I fancy that the effort gives herpain. "

"Yes, just so, " cried Anton mournfully. 

"She only lives to take care of my father. No one, not even herdaughter, knows what she inwardly suffers. She is like an angel, Wohlfart, who lingers on our earth reluctantly. I can be but little toher, that I feel. I am not helpful, and want all that makes my mother solovely--- the self-control, the calm bearing, the enchanting manner. Myfather is sick--my brother thoughtless--my mother, spite of all herlove, reserved toward me. Wohlfart, I am indeed alone. "

She leaned on the side of the well and wept. 

"Perhaps it will all be for your good, " said Anton, soothingly, from theother side the well. "Yours is an energetic nature, and I believe youcan feel very strongly. "

"I can be very angry, " chimed in Lenore through her tears, "and thenvery careless again. "

"You grew up without a care in prosperous circumstances, and your lifewas easy as a game. "

"My lessons were difficult enough, I am sure, " remonstrated Lenore. 

"I think that you were in danger of becoming a little wild and haughtyin character. "

"I am afraid I was so, " cried Lenore. 

"Now, you have had to bear heavy trials, and the present looks serioustoo; and if I may venture to say so, dear lady, I think you will findhere just what the baroness has acquired in the great world--dignity andself-control. I often think that you are changed already. "

"Was I, then, an unbearable little savage formerly?" asked Lenore, laughing in the midst of her tears, and looking at Anton with girlisharchness. 

He had hard work not to tell her how lovely she was at that moment; buthe valiantly conquered the inclination, and said, as coolly as he could, "Not so bad as that, dear lady. "

"And do you know what you are?" asked Lenore, playfully. "You are, asEugene writes, a little schoolmaster. "

"So that is what he has written!" cried Anton, enlightened. 

Lenore grew grave at once. "Do not let us speak of him. As soon as Iheard his letter, I came here to tell you that I trust you as I do noone on earth, if it be not my mother; that I shall always trust you aslong as I live; that nothing could shake my faith in you; that you arethe only friend that we have in our adversity; and that I could ask yourpardon on my knees when any one offends you in word or even thought. "

"Lenore, dear lady, " cried Anton, joyously, "say no more. "

"I will say, " continued Lenore, "how I admire the self-possession withwhich you follow your own way and manage the people, and that it is youalone who keep any order on the estate, or can bring it into a bettercondition. This has been upon my mind to say; and now, Wohlfart, youknow it. "

"I thank you, lady, " cried Anton; "such words make this a happy day. ButI am not so self-possessed and efficient as you think, and every day Ifeel more and more that I am not the person to be really of servicehere. If I ever wish that you were not the baron's daughter, but hisson, it is when I go over this property. "

"Yes, " said Lenore, "that is just the old regret. Our former bailiffused often to say the same. When I sit over my work, and see you and Mr. Sturm go out together, I get so hot, and I throw my useless frameaside. I can only spend, and understand nothing but buying lace; andeven that I don't understand well, according to mamma. However, you mustput up with the stupid Lenore as your good friend;" and she gave him herown true-hearted smile. 

"It is now many years since I have, in my inmost soul, felt yourfriendship to be a great blessing, " cried Anton, much moved. "It hasalways, up to this very hour, been one of my heart's best joys secretlyto feel myself your faithful friend. "

"And so it shall ever be between us, " said Lenore. "Now I am comfortableagain. And do not plague yourself any more about Eugene's foolish ways. Even I am not going to do so. "

Thus they parted like innocent children who find a pleasure in saying toeach other all that the passion of love would teach to conceal. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

The enmity between Pix and Specht raged fiercely as ever. Now, however, Specht stood no longer alone; the quartette was on his side; for Spechtwas wounded in feelings that the quartette respected, and oftencelebrated in song. Mr. Specht was in love. Certainly this was nothingnew to his excitable nature; on the contrary, his love was eternal, though its object often changed. Every lady of his acquaintance had, inher turn, been worshiped by him. Even the elderly cousin had been for atime the subject of his dreams. 

On this occasion, however, Mr. Specht's love had some solid foundation. He had discovered a young woman, a well-to-do householder, the widow ofa fur-merchant, with a round face and a pleasant pair of nut-brown eyes. He followed her to the theatre and in the public gardens, walked pasther windows as often as he could, and did all that in him lay to win herheart. 

He disturbed the quiet of her bereaved life by showers of anonymousnotes, in which he threatened to quit this sublunary scene if shedespised him. In the list of advertisements, among fresh caviare, shell-fish, and servants wanting places, there appeared, to theastonishment of the public, numerous poetical effusions, where Adèle, the name of the widow, was made prominent either in an acrostic, or elseby its component letters being printed in large capitals. At lengthSpecht had not been able to resist taking the quartette into hisconfidence on the subject. The two basses were amazed at such poeticalefforts having proceeded from their office. True, they had oftenridiculed them with others, while Specht inwardly groaned overcounting-house criticism; but now that they knew one of themselves tohave been the perpetrator, the esprit de corps awoke, and they notonly received his confessions kindly, but lent him their assistance inbribing the watchman in the widow's street, and serenading her, on whichoccasion a window had been seen to open, and something white to appearfor a few minutes. Specht was now at the summit of earthly felicity, andas that condition is not a reticent one, he imprudently extended hisconfidence to others of his colleagues, and so it was that the mattercame to the ears of Pix. 

And now there began in the local advertiser a most extraordinary game ofhide-and-seek. There were numerous insertions appointing a Mr. S. To arendezvous with one dear to him in every possible part of the town. Wherever the place, Specht regularly repaired to it, and never found herwhom he sought, but suffered from every variety of weather, was repulsedby stranger ladies, and had the end of a cigar thrown into his face by ashoemaker's apprentice, whom he mistook for his fair one in disguise. Ofcourse he, on his side, gave vent, through the same medium, to hiscomplaints and reproaches, which led to excuses and new appointments. But he never met the long-sought-for one. 

This went on for some weeks, and Specht fell into a state of excitementwhich even the basses found reprehensible. 

One morning Pix was standing as usual on the ground floor, when a plump, pretty lady, with nut-brown eyes, and enveloped in beautiful furs, entered the house, and in an irate tone of voice inquired for Mr. Schröter. 

Pix informed her that he was not then at home, adding, with the air andtone of a field-marshal, that he was his representative. 

After some reluctance to tell her tale to any other than Mr. Schröterhad been overcome by the polite decision of Mr. Pix, the lady preferredher complaint against one of the clerks in that office who persecutedher with letters and poems, and unworthily made her name public in thedaily papers. 

The whole thing flashed upon Pix at once. "Can you give me thegentleman's name?"

"I do not know his name, " said the widow; "he is tall and has curlyhair. "

"Gaunt in figure and a large nose, eh?" inquired Pix. "Very well, madam;from this day forth you shall have no further annoyance. I will beanswerable for that. "

"Still, " recommenced the lady in the furs, "I should wish Mr. Schröterhimself--"

"Better not, madam. The young man has behaved toward you in a manner forwhich I can find no adequate terms. Yet your kind heart will rememberthat he did not mean to offend. He wanted sense and tact, that was hisoffense. But he was really in earnest; and since I have had the honor toknow you, I find it natural. " He bowed. "I condemn him, as I saidbefore, but I find it natural. "

The pretty widow stood there embarrassed, and Pix proceeded to say thather forgiveness would be a source of happiness to the wholeestablishment. 

"I never meant to make the establishment responsible for theungentlemanlike behavior of one of its members. "

"I thank you with my whole heart for your gracious conduct, " said Pix, triumphantly, and then skillfully proceeded to lead the conversation tothe goods with which they were surrounded, pointing out thepeculiarities of different coffees, and stating that, although the firmhad left off retail dealings, yet that in her case they would, at anytime, be much flattered to receive an order, however small, and tofurnish her with the articles required at wholesale prices. 

The lady expressed her gratitude, and went away reconciled to the firm. 

Pix went into the office, and calling Specht aside, severelyremonstrated with him. Specht was at first speechless with terror. "Shebegan in the daily papers, " cried he, at length; "she first appointedthe theatre, then the promenade, then the tower to see the view, then--"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Pix, with virtuous indignation; "don't you seethat some scapegrace or other has been making a fool of you? The ladyhas been rendered very unhappy by your conduct. "

Specht wrung his hands. 

"I have done all I could to set her mind at rest, and have promised thatyou shall never again intrude upon her in any one way; so mind what youare about, or Mr. Schröter shall hear the whole story. "

While Specht, suffering inexpressibly, took counsel with his musicalfriends, Pix acted. A porter carried an immense packet to the widow'shouse that very evening, which Pix scrupulously charged to his ownaccount. That same evening he called to announce Specht's penitence, andpromises of never offending again. The following Sunday he took coffeeat the lady's house, and four weeks after he made her a proposal. Thiswas accepted, and Mr. Pix determined, in spite of moths and otherhinderances, to give a fresh impulse to the fur-trade, and to become itscentre. 

To his honor be it said, he felt bound to communicate the fact to Spechtbefore any one else, and to vouchsafe him a few words of consolation. "Fate has so willed it; be rational, Specht, and make up your mind. After all, it is one of your colleagues who is getting married; take myadvice, and fall in love as fast as you can with some one else. It willgive you no trouble at all. "

"So you think, " cried Specht, in despair. 

"I assure you it will not, if you set about it in earnest. We willremain good friends; you shall be my groom's-man, and you will soon findanother whose name will rhyme quite as well as Adèle. "

This consolation, however, proved unavailing at the time, and Specht, indignant at the treachery of his opponent, enjoyed at least themournful satisfaction of having the whole counting-house on his side, and hearing Pix universally condemned as a hard-hearted, selfish fellow. But time gradually poured its balsam into his heart; and the widowhappening to have a niece whose eyes were blue and whose hair wasgolden, Specht began by finding her youth interesting, then her mannersattractive, till one day he returned to his own room fully resolved tobe the nephew-in-law of Mr. Pix. 

The merchant sat one evening in his arm-chair, and seemed absorbed inhis own thoughts. At last, turning to his sister, he said, "Fink hasdisappeared again. "

Sabine let her work fall. "Disappeared! In America!"

"An agent of his father's was in our counting-house to-day. According towhat he told me, there has been a fresh difference between Fink and hisfather, and this time I fear Fink is more in the right of it than thefirm. He has suddenly given up the management of its affairs, has brokenup by his strong measures a great company founded by his uncle, hasrenounced his claim upon his inheritance, and has disappeared. Theuncertain reports that have come from New York say that he has gone tothe prairies of the interior. "

Sabine listened with intense interest, but she said not a word. Herbrother, too, was silent a while. "After all, there were noble elementsin his character, " said he, at length. "The present time requires energyand strength like his. Pix, too, is leaving us. He is to marry a widowwith means, and to set up for himself. I shall give his post to Balbus, but he will not replace him. "

"No, " said Sabine, anxiously. 

"This house is growing empty, " continued her brother, "and I feel thatmy strength is failing. These last years have been heavy ones. We getaccustomed to the faces, even to the weaknesses of our fellow-men. Noone thinks how bitter it often is to the head of a firm to sever the tiethat binds him to his coadjutors; and I was more used to Pix than tomost men: it is a great blow to me to lose him. And I am growing old. Iam growing old, and our house empty. You alone are left to me at thisgloomy time; and when I am called upon to leave you, you will remainbehind me desolate. My wife and my child are gone; I have been settingmy whole hopes upon your blooming youth; I have thought of your husbandand your children, my poor darling; but meanwhile I have grown old, andI see you at my side with a cheerful smile and a wounded heart--active, sympathizing, but alone; without great joys and without happy hopes. "

Sabine laid her head on her brother's shoulder, and wept silently. "Oneof those whom you have lost was dear to you, " said she, gently. 

"Do not speak or think of him, " replied her brother, darkly. "Even if hereturned from thence he would be lost to us. " He passed his hand overher head, took up his hat, and left the room. 

"Yet he himself is always thinking of Wohlfart, " cried the cousin fromher window-niche. "This very day he was cross-examining old Sturm aboutKarl and the property. I declare I don't understand the man. "

"I understand him, " sighed Sabine, and sat down again to her work. Thecousin pouted: "You and he are just alike; there is no speaking to youon certain subjects. " And she left the room. 

Sabine left the room. The fire crackled in the stove, the pendulum ofthe clock swung backward and forward monotonously. "Ever so! ever so!"it seemed to say. Those pictures of her parents had been looking calmlydown upon her, their last child, for many years. Her youth was passingaway silent, serious, still as those painted forms. Sabine bowed herhead and listened. Hush! little fairy steps in the corner of the room. Hark again! a merry laugh from a child's lip, and the steps trippednearer, and a curly head was laid on her knee, and two little armsstretched out lovingly to clasp her neck. She bent down and kissed theair, and listened again to those blessed sounds which swelled her heartwith rapture, and brought tears of joy to her eyes. Alas! she butgrasped at empty air, and nothing was real but the tears that fell intoher lap. 

So sat she long till twilight closed in. The vibrations of the pendulumseemed to fail, the fire grew low in the stove, the pictures dim on thewalls, the room dark and lonely. 

At that moment old Sturm's hammer was heard outside. Every stroke fellstrong, vigorous, decided. It sounded through court-yard and house. Sabine rose: "So it shall be, " cried she. "I have twice hoped andfeared, twice it has been an illusion, now it is over. My life is to bedevoted to him to whom I am all. I can not bring to him the husband hehoped for, and no band of children will twine their arms about his neck. Yes, things will go on with us as they have done hitherto, always moresilent, always more empty. But me shall he have, and my whole life. Mybrother, thou shalt never again feel with regret that thy life and mineare wanting in joyousness!"

She caught up her little key-basket, and hurried into her brother'sroom. Meanwhile the cousin was making up her mind to pay Mr. Baumann avisit. 

Between the cousin and Mr. Baumann there had long been a silentunderstanding, and fate now willed that he should be her neighbor at thedinner-table. When the cousin glanced back over her succession ofneighbors, she came to the conclusion that they had lost insprightliness what they had gained in moral worth. Fink was ratherprofane, but very amusing; Anton had a certain equipoise of goodness andpleasantness; Baumann was the best of them all, but also the mostsilent. Her conversation with him, though edifying enough, was neverexciting. On Mondays, indeed, they had a mutual interest in discussingthe Sunday's sermon, but there was another tie between them, and thatwas Anton. 

The good lady could not account for what she called his unnaturaldeparture. Whether the fault was that of the principal or the clerk, shecould not take upon herself to decide, but she was firmly convinced thatthe step was unnecessary, unwise, and injurious to all parties; and shehad done all toward bringing the wanderer back into the firm that tenderhints and feminine persuasions can do to counteract manly perversity. When first Anton left, she had taken every opportunity of mentioning andpraising him, both to the merchant and to Sabine; but she met with noencouragement. The merchant always answered dryly, sometimes rudely, andSabine invariably turned the subject or was silent. The cousin was not, however, to be taken in by that. Those embroidered curtains had let in aflood of light upon her mind, in which Sabine stood plainly revealed toher gaze. She knew that Mr. Baumann was the only one of his colleagueswith whom Anton kept up a correspondence, and to-day she resolved tocall him to her aid; therefore she took up the report of a benevolentsociety lent her by the future missionary, and, knocking at Mr. Baumann's door, handed it in to him. "Very good, " said she, on thethreshold; "Heaven will bless such a cause. Pray set me down as asubscriber for the future. " Mr. Baumann thanked her in the name of thepoor. The cousin went on. "What do you hear of late from your friendWohlfart? He seems to have vanished from the face of the earth; even oldSturm has nothing to say about him. "

"He has a great deal to do, " said the reticent Baumann. 

"Nay, I should think not more than here. If occupation was all hewanted, he might have remained where he was. "

"He has a difficult task to perform, and is doing a good work where heis, " cautiously continued Mr. Baumann. 

"Don't talk to me of your good work, " cried the cousin, entering, in herexcitement, and closing the door behind her. "He had a good work to dohere too. I beg your pardon, but really I never knew such a thing in allmy life. He runs away just when he was most wanted. And no excuse for iteither. If he had married or set up for himself, that would have been adifferent thing, for a man likes a business and a household of his own. That would have been God's will, and I should not have said a wordagainst it. But to run off from the counting-house after sheep and cows, and noblemen's families and Poles, when he was made so much of, and wassuch a favorite here! Do you know what I call that, Mr. Baumann?" saidshe, the bows on her cap shaking with her eagerness; "I call thatungrateful. And what are we to do here? This house is getting quitedesolate. Fink gone, Jordan gone, Wohlfart gone, Pix gone--you arealmost the only one remaining of the old set, and you can't do everything. "

"No, " said Baumann, embarrassed; "and I, too, am very awkwardly placed. I had fixed last autumn as the term of my stay here, and now spring iscoming on, and I have not followed the voice that calls me. "

"Stuff and nonsense!" cried the cousin, in horror, "you are not goingaway too?"

"I must, " said Baumann, looking down; "I have had letters from myEnglish brethren; they blame my lukewarmness. I fear I have done verywrong in not leaving you before; but when I looked at the heaps ofletters, and Mr. Schröter's anxious face, and thought what hard timesthese were, and that the house had lost most of its best hands, I waswithheld. I too wish that Wohlfart would return; he is wanted here. "

"He must return, " cried the cousin; "it is his Christian duty. Write andtell him so. Certainly we are not very cheerful here, " said she, confidentially; "he may have a pleasanter time of it yonder. The Polesare a merry, riotous set. "

"Alas!" replied Mr. Baumann, in the same confidential tone, "he does notlead a merry life. I am afraid he has a hard time of it there; hisletters are by no means cheerful. "

"You don't say so!" said the cousin, taking a chair. 

Baumann drew his near her and went on. 

"He writes anxiously; he takes a gloomy view of the times, and fearsfresh disturbances. "

"God forbid!" cried the good woman; "we have had enough of them. "

"He lives in an unsettled district, with bad men around, and the policeregulations seem to be quite inadequate. "

"There are fearful dens of robbers there, " chimed in the excited cousin. 

"And I fear, too, that his earnings are but small. At first I sent him afew trifles to which he is accustomed, such as tea and cigars, but inhis last letter he told me he was going to be economical, and to leavethem off. He must have very little money, " continued Baumann, shakinghis head; "not more than two hundred dollars. "

"He is in want, " cried the cousin; "actually he is. Poor Wohlfart! Whenyou next write, we will send him a chest of the Pekoe tea, and a coupleof our hams. "

"Hams to the country! I fancy there are more swine there than any thingelse. "

"But they don't belong to him, " cried she. "Listen to me, Mr. Baumann;it is your Christian duty to write to him at once, and tell him toreturn. The business wants him. I have the best reasons to know how muchmy cousin Schröter is silently feeling the loss of his best coadjutors, and how much he would rejoice to see Wohlfart back again. "

This was a pious fraud of the good lady's. 

"It does not appear so to me, " interpolated Baumann. 

"It was only to-day that my cousin Sabine said to her brother how dearWohlfart had been to us all, and how great a loss he was. If he hasduties yonder, he has duties here too, and these are the oldest. "

"I will write to him, " said Mr. Baumann; "but I fear, honored lady, thatit will be to no purpose, for, now that he himself is a loser by it, hewill never look back from the plow to which, for the sake of others, hehas put his hand. "

"He does not belong to the plow, but to the pen, " cried the cousin, irritably, "and his place lies here. And because he gets a good namehere, and drinks his tea comfortably, he does his duty none the less. And I tell you, too, Mr. Baumann, that I beg never to hear again of yourAfrican notions. "

Baumann smiled proudly. However, as soon as the cousin had left theroom, he obediently sat down and wrote off the whole conversation toAnton. 

The snow had melted away from the Polish estate; the brook had swollento a flood, the landscape still lay silent and colorless, but the sapbegan to circulate in the branches, and the buds on the bushes toappear. The ruinous bridge had been carried away by the winter torrents, and Anton was now superintending the building of a new one. Lenore satopposite him, and watched his measurements. "The winter is over, " criedshe; "spring is coming. I can already picture to myself green grass andtrees, and even the gloomy castle will look more cheerful in the brightspring sunshine than it does now. But I will sketch it for you just asit is, and it shall remind you of the first winter that we spent hereunder your protection. "

And Anton looked with shining eyes at the beautiful girl before him, and, with the pencil in his hand, sketched her profile on a new board. "You won't succeed, " said Lenore; "you always make my mouth too largeand my eyes too small. Give me the pencil; I can do better. Standstill. Look! that is your face--your good, true face; I know it byheart. Hurrah! the postman!" cried she, throwing away the pencil andhurrying to the castle. Anton followed her; for the postman and hisheavy bag were to the castle as a ship steering through the sandy deep, and bringing the world's good things to the dwellers on a lonely island. The man was soon relieved from his burden. Lenore gladly caught up thedrawing-paper that she had ordered from Rosmin. "Come, Wohlfart, we willlook out the best place for sketching the castle, and you shall hang upthe picture in your room instead of the old one, which saddens mewhenever I see it. Once you sketched our home, now I will sketch it foryou. I will take great pains, and you shall see what I can do. "

She had spoken joyously, but Anton had not heard a word she said. He hadtorn open Baumann's letter, and as he read it his face reddened withemotion. Slowly, thoughtfully, he turned away, went up to his room, andcame down no more. Lenore snatched up the envelope, which he haddropped. "Another letter from his friend in the firm!" said she, sadly;"whenever he hears from him, he becomes gloomy and cold toward me. " Shethrew away the envelope, and hurried to the stable to saddle her trustyfriend the pony. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

It was the weekly market in the little town of Rosmin. From timeimmemorial this had been an important festival to the country peoplearound. 

For five days of the week the peasant had to cultivate his plot, ofground, or to render feudal service to his landlord, and on Sunday hisheart was divided between the worship of the Virgin, his family, and thepublic house; but the market-day led him beyond the narrow confines ofhis fields into the busy world. There, amid strangers, he could feel andshow himself a shrewd man in buying and selling; he greetedacquaintances whom else he would never have met; saw new things andstrange people, and heard the news of other towns and districts. So ithad been even when the Slavonic race alone possessed the soil. Then thesite where Rosmin now stands was an open field, with perhaps a chapel ora few old trees, and the house of some sagacious landed proprietor, whosaw farther than the rest of his long-bearded countrymen. At that timethe German peddler used to cross the border with his wagon and hisattendants, and to display his stores under the protection of a crucifixor of a drawn Slavonic sword. These stores consisted of gayhandkerchiefs, stockings, necklaces of glass and coral, pictures ofsaints and ecclesiastical decorations, which were given in exchange forthe produce of the district--wolf-skins, honey, cattle, and corn. Incourse of time the handicraftsman followed the peddler, the Germanshoemaker, the tinsmith, and the saddler established themselves; thetents changed into strongly-built houses that stood around themarket-place. The foreign settlers bought land, bought privileges fromthe original lords of the soil, and copied in their statutes those ofGerman towns in general. In the woods and on the commons round, it wastold with wonder how rapidly those men of a foreign tongue had grown upinto a large community, and how every peasant who passed through theirgate must pay toll; nay, that even the nobleman, all-powerful as he was, must pay it as well. Several of the Poles around joined lots with thecitizens, and settled among them as mechanics or shopkeepers. This hadbeen the origin of Rosmin, as of many other German towns on foreignsoil, and these have remained what at first they were, the markets ofthe great plains, where Polish produce is still exchanged for theinventions of German industry, and the poor field-laborer brought intocontact with other men, with culture, liberty, and a civilized state. 

As we have before said, the market-day at Rosmin is a great day still. From early dawn hundreds of basket-carriages, filled with field-produce, move on toward the town, but the serf no longer whips on the used-upchargers of his master, but his own sturdy horse of German breed. Andwhen the light carriage of a nobleman rolls by, the peasant urges hishorse to a sharper trot, and only slightly touches his hat. Every wherethey are moving on toward the town: the children are driving their geesethither, and the women carrying their butter, fruit, and mushrooms, and, carefully concealed, a hare or two that has fallen a victim to theirhusbands' guns. Numbers of carts stand at the door of every inn, andcrowds are pushing in and out of every drinking-shop. In themarket-place the corn-wagons are closely ranged, and the whole widespace covered with well-filled sacks, and horses of every size andcolor; and a few brokers are winding their way, like so many eels, amongthe crowd, with samples of grain in each pocket, asking and answering intwo languages at once. Amid the white smock frocks of the Poles, andtheir hats adorned with a peacock's feather, the dark blue of the Germancolonists appears, together with soldiers from the next garrison, townspeople, agriculturists, and fine youths, sons of the nobility. Youmay see the gendarme yonder at the corner of the square, towering highon his tall horse; he, too, is excited to-day, and his voice soundsauthoritatively above all the confusion of the carts that have stoppedup the way. Every where the shops are opened wide, and small dealersspread out their wares on tables and barrels in front of the houses;there the bargains are deliberately made, and the enjoyment of shoppingis keenly felt. The last purchase over, the next move is into thetavern. There, cheeks get redder, gestures more animated, voices louder, friends embrace, or old foes try hard to pick a quarrel. Meanwhile menof business have to make the most of this day, when actions are broughtand taxes paid. Now it is that Mr. Löwenberg drives his best bargains, not only in swine, but in cows and wool; besides which, he lends money, and is the trusted agent of many a landed proprietor. So passes themarket-day, in ceaseless talking and enjoyment, earning and spending, rolling of carts and galloping of horses, till evening closes in, andthe housewife pulls her husband by the coat, remembering that theearthen mugs he carries are easily broken, and that the little childrenat home are beginning to cry out for their mother. Such has ever beenthe weekly market in the town of Rosmin. 

During the last winter the numbers attending it had not decreased, butthere was a degree of restlessness to be observed in many, particularlyin the gentry of the district. Strangers of military appearance oftenentered the principal wine-shop, and went into the back room, of whichthe door was at once shut. Youths wearing square red caps, andpeculiarly attired, walked in and out among the crowd, tapping onepeasant on the shoulder, calling another by name, and taking them into acorner apart. 

Wherever a soldier appeared, he was looked at as a character in amasquerade; many avoided him; many, Germans and Poles alike, made moreof him than ever. In the taverns, the people from the German villagessat apart, and the Poles on Herr von Tarow's estate drank and boughtmore than they were wont to do. The tenant of the new farm had beenunable, last market-day, to find a new scythe any where in the town, andthe forester had complained to Anton that he could not in any shop getpowder enough to last him more than a week. Something was in the wind, but no one would say what it was. 

It was market-day again at Rosmin, and Anton drove thither, accompaniedby a servant. It was one of the first spring days, and the sun shonebrightly, reminding him how gay the gardens must now be with earlyflowers, and that he and the ladies in the castle would see none thisyear, save a few, perhaps, from the little farm garden behind the barn. But, indeed, it was no time to care much for flowers; everywhere men'shearts were restless and excited, and much that had stood firm for yearsnow seemed to totter. A political hurricane was blowing over widedistricts; every day the newspapers related something unexpected andalarming; a time of commotion and universal insecurity seemed impending. Anton thought of the baron's circumstances, and what a misfortune itwould be to him should land fall in value, and money rise. He thought ofthe firm, of the place in the office which he secretly still consideredhis own, and of the letter written by Mr. Baumann, telling him howgloomy the principal looked, and how quarrelsome the clerks had become. 

He was roused out of his sorrowful reverie by a noise on the road. Anumber of gentlemen's carriages drove past him, Herr von Tarowskioccupying the first, and politely bowing as he passed. Anton wassurprised to see that his huntsman sat on the box as if they were goingto the chase. Three other carriages followed, heavily laden withgentlemen; and behind came a whole troop of mounted men, Von Tarow'sGerman steward among them. 

"Jasch, " cried Anton to the servant who drove him, "what was it that thegentlemen in the second carriage were so careful to hide as they droveby?"

"Guns, " said Jasch, shaking his head. 

This sunny day, after so long a period of snow and rain, naturallyattracted people from all sides of the town. Parties of them hurriedforward, but few women were among them, and there was a degree ofexcitement and animation prevailing that was in general only displayedwhen returning in the evening. Anton halted at the first public house onthe way, and told the driver to remain there with the horses. 

He himself walked rapidly on through the gate. The town was so crowdedthat the carts of grain could hardly make their way along. When Antonreached the market-place he was struck with the scene before him. On allsides heated faces, eager gestures, not a few in hunting costume, and astrange cockade on numerous caps. The crowd was densest before thewine-merchant's store; there the people trode on one another, staring upat the windows, from whence hung gayly-colored flags, the Polish colorsabove the rest. While Anton was looking with disquietude at the front ofthe house, the door was opened, and Herr von Tarow came out upon thestone steps, accompanied by a stranger with a scarf bound round him, inwhom Anton recognized the same Pole who had once threatened him with acourt-martial, and who had been inquiring for the steward a few monthsago. A young man sprang out of the crowd on to the lowest step, sayingsomething in Polish, and waving his hat. A loud shout rose in return, and then came a profound silence, during which Von Tarow spoke a fewwords, the import of which Anton could not catch, owing to the noise ofcarts and the pushing of the crowd. Next, the gentleman with the scarfmade a long oration, during which he was often interrupted by loudapplause. At the end of it, a deafening tumult arose. The house door wasthrown wide open, and the crowd swayed to and fro like the waves of thesea, some rushing off in another direction, and others running into thehouse, whence they hurried back with cockades on their caps and scythesin their hands. The number of the armed went on rapidly increasing, andsmall detachments of scythe-bearers, headed by men with guns, proceededto invest the market-place. 

Hearing the word of command given behind him, Anton turned, and saw afew men mounted and armed, who were ordering all the wagons to beremoved from the market-place. The noise and confusion increased, thepeasants dragging off their horses in all haste, the traders flying intothe houses with their stores, the shops being gradually closed. Themarket-place soon presented an ominous appearance. Anton was now sweptoff by the crowd to its opposite side, where the custom-house stood, made conspicuous from afar by the national escutcheon suspended near thewindows. That was now the point of attraction, and Anton saw from adistance a man plant a ladder against the wall, and hack away at theescutcheon till, amid profound silence, it fell to the ground. Soon, however a drunken rabble fell upon it with wild yells, and, tying a ropeabout it, ignominiously dragged it through the gutter and over thestones. 

Anton was beside himself. "Wretches!" cried he, running toward theoffenders. But a strong arm was thrown around him, and a broken voicesaid, "Stop, Mr. Wohlfart, this is their day; to-morrow will be ours. "Dashing away the unwelcome restraint, Anton saw the portly form of theNeudorf bailiff, and found himself surrounded by a number ofdark-looking figures. These were the blue-coated German farmers, theirfaces full of grief and anger. "Let me go!" cried Anton, in a phrensy. But again the heavy hand of the bailiff was laid on his shoulder, andtears were in the man's eyes as he said, "Spare your life, Mr. Wohlfart;it is all in vain; we have nothing but our fists, and we are theminority. " And, on the other side, his hand was grasped as if in a viceby the old forester, who stood there groaning and sobbing: "That ever Ishould live to see this day! Oh, the shame, the shame!" Again there rosea yell nearer them, and a voice cried, "Search the Germans; take theirarms from them; let no one leave the market-place!" Anton looked roundhim hastily. "This we will not stand, friends, to be trapped here in aGerman town, and to have our escutcheon outraged by those miscreants. "

A drum was heard at a distance. "It is the drum of the guard, " cried thebailiff; "the town militia are assembling: they have arms. "

"Perhaps all may not be lost yet, " cried Anton; "I know a few men whoare to be relied upon. Compose yourself, old friend, " said he to theforester. "The Germans from the country must be enlisted; no one knowsyet what we can do. We will, at all events, disperse in differentdirections, and reassemble at the fountain here. Let each go and callhis acquaintances together. No time is to be lost. You go in thatdirection, bailiff; you, smith of Kunau, come with me. " They divided;and Anton, followed by the forester and the smith, went once more roundthe market-place. Wherever they met a German there was a glance, ahurried hand-clasp, a whispered word--"The Germans assemble at thefountain;" and these spirited up the irresolute to join theircountrymen. 

Anton and his companions paused for a moment in the midst of the densecrowd around the wine-merchant's. About fifty men with scythes stoodbefore the house, near them a dozen more with guns; the doors werestill open, and people were still going in to get arms. Some younggentlemen were addressing the crowd, but Anton remarked that the Polishpeasants did not keep their ranks, and looked doubtfully at each other. While the forester and the smith were giving the sign to the Germans, ofwhom many were assembled, Anton rushed up to a little man in workinggarments, and, seizing him by the arm, said, "Locksmith Grobesch, youstanding here? Why do you not hasten to our meeting-place? You a citizenand one of the militia, will you put up with this insult?"

"Alas! Mr. Agent, " said the locksmith, taking Anton apart, "what amisfortune! Only think, I was hammering away in my workshop, and heardnothing of what was going on. One can't hear much at our work. Then mywife ran in--"

"Are you going to put up with this insult?" cried Anton, shaking himviolently. 

"God forbid, Mr. Wohlfart; I head a band of militia. While my wifelooked out my coat, I just ran over the way to see how many of themthere were. You are taller than I; how many are there carrying arms?"

"I count fifty scythes, " replied Anton, hurriedly. 

"It is not the scythes; they are a cowardly set; how many guns arethere?"

"A dozen before the door, and perhaps as many more in the house. "

"We have about thirty rifles, " said the little man, anxiously, "but wecan't count upon them all to-day. "

"Can you get us arms?" asked Anton. 

"But few, " said the locksmith, shaking his head. 

"There is a band of us Germans from the country, " said Anton, rapidly;"we will fight our way into the suburb as far as the Red Deer Inn, andthere I will keep the people together, and, for God's sake, send us apatrol to report the state of things, and the number of arms you canprocure. If we can eject the nobles, the others will run away at once. "

"But then the revenge these Poles will take!" said the locksmith. "Thetown will have to pay for it. "

"No such thing, my man. The military can be sent for to-morrow, if youbut help to eject these madmen to-day. Off with you; each momentincreases the danger. "

He drove the little man away, and hurried back to the fountain. Therethe Germans were assembled in small groups, and the Neudorf bailiffcame to meet him, crying, "There's no time to lose; the others arebeginning to notice us; there is a party of scythes forming yonderagainst us. "

"Follow me!" cried Anton, in a loud voice; "draw close; forward! let'sleave the town. "

The forester sprang from side to side, marshaling the men; Anton and thebailiff led the way. As they reached the corner of the market-place, scythes were crossed; and the leader of the party cocked his gun, andsaid theatrically, "Why do you wish to leave, my fine sir? Take arms, yepeople; to-day is the day of liberty!"

He said no more, for the forester, springing forward, gave him such anastounding box on the ear that he reeled and fell, his gun dropping fromhis hand. A loud cry arose; the forester caught up the gun, and thescythe-bearers, taken by surprise, were dashed aside, their scythestaken from them, and broken on the pavement. Thus the German bandreached the gates, and there, too, the enemy yielded, and the dense masspassed on unmolested till they reached the inn appointed. There thebailiff, urged on by Anton, addressed the people:

"There is a plot against the government. There is a plot against usGermans. Our armed enemies are few, and we have just seen that we canmanage them. Let every orderly man remain here, and help the citizens todrive out the strangers. The town militia will send us word how we canbest do this, therefore remain together, countrymen!"

At these words, many cried "We will! we will!" but many, too, grewfearful, and stole away home. Those who remained looked out for arms asbest they could, taking up pitchforks, bars of iron, wooden cudgels, orwhatever else lay ready to hand. 

"I came here to buy powder and shot, " said the forester to Anton. "Now Ihave a gun, and I will fire my very last charge, if we can only revengethe insult they have offered to our eagle. "

Meanwhile the hours passed as usual at the castle, and it was now aboutnoon. The baron, accompanied by his wife, walked in the sunshine, grumbling because the molehills against which his foot tripped were notyet leveled. This led him to the conclusion that there was no relianceto be placed upon hired dependents of any kind; and that Wohlfart wasthe most forgetful of his class. On this theme he enlarged with a kindof gloomy satisfaction, the baroness only contradicting him as far asshe could without putting him out of temper. At last he sat down on achair that one of the servants carried after him, and quietly listenedto his daughter, who was discussing with Karl the best site for a smallplantation. No one thought of mischief, and each one was occupied withthings immediately around him. 

Then came the rumor of some great disaster, flying on wings of evil omenover the wide plain. It swooped down on the baron's oasis, heavilyfluttered over pines and wild pear-trees, corn-fields and meadows, tillit reached the castle. At first it was indistinct, like a little cloudon a sunny sky; but soon it grew, it darkened the air, it brooded withits black pinions over all hearts--it made the blood stand still in theveins, and filled the eyes with burning tears. 

In the middle of his work, Karl suddenly looked up, and said in dismay, "That was a shot. "

Lenore started, then laughed at her own terror. "I did not hear it, "said she; "perhaps it was the forester. "

"The forester is gone to town, " replied Karl, gravely. 

"Then it is some confounded poacher in the wood, " cried the baron, angrily. 

"It was a cannon shot, " maintained the positive Karl. 

"That is impossible, " said the baron; but he himself listened withintense attention; "there are no cannon for many miles round. "

The next moment a voice sounded out from the farm-yard, "There is a firein Rosmin. "

Karl looked at his young lady, threw down his spade, and ran toward thefarm-yard. Lenore followed him. 

"Who said that there was a fire in Rosmin?" he inquired. Not one wouldown that he had, but all ran in dismay to the high road, though the townwas six miles off, and no view of it was to be had from thence. 

"Many scared women have been running along toward Neudorf, " said oneservant; and another added, "There must be mischief going on in Rosmin, for we can see the smoke rise above the wood. " All thought, indeed, thatthey did perceive a dark cloud in that direction, Karl as well as therest. 

"The nobles are all there to-day, " cried one. "They have set the town onfire. " Another professed to have heard from a man in the fields thatthis was to be a serious day for landed proprietors; then, lookingaskance at Karl, he added, "Many things may yet happen before evening. "Next came the landlord, exclaiming, "If this day were but over!" andKarl returned, "Would that it were!" yet no one knew exactly why. 

From that hour, fresh messengers of ill succeeded each other. "Thesoldiers and the Poles are fighting, " said one. "Kunau is on fire too, "cried some women who had been working in the fields. At last came thefarmer's wife, running up to Lenore. "My husband sends me because hewon't leave the farm on a day like this. He wishes to know whether youhave any tidings of the forester; there is murder going on in the town, and people say the forester is shooting away in the midst of it all. "

"Who says so?" asked the baron. 

"One who came running across the fields told it to my husband; and itmust be true that there is an uproar in the town, for when the foresterwent thither he had no gun. "

Thus the dark rumor spread. Karl had much difficulty in getting the menout again to their plowing. Lenore meantime went up to the tower withhim, but they could not be positive whether or not there was smoke inthe direction of Rosmin. They had scarcely got down, when one of thefarmer's servants came back with his horses to say that a man from thenext district had told him, as he galloped past, that Rosmin was filledwith men bearing red flags, and armed with scythes; and that all theGermans in the country were to be shot. The baroness wrung her hands andbegan to weep, and her husband lost all the self-command he had soughtto exercise. He burst out into loud complaints against Wohlfart for notbeing on the spot on a day like this, and gave Karl a dozencontradictory orders in quick succession. Lenore could not endure hersuspense within the castle walls, but kept as much as she could withKarl, in whose trusty face she found more comfort than in any thingelse. Both looked constantly along the high road to see if a carriage ora messenger were coming. 

"He is peaceable, " said she to Karl, hoping for confirmation from him. "Surely he would never expose himself to such fearful risk. "

But Karl shook his head. "There is no trusting to that. If things in thetown are as people say, Mr. Anton will not be the last to take a hand inthem. He will not think of himself. "

"No, that he will not, " cried Lenore, wringing her hands. 

So the day passed. Karl sternly insisted upon keeping all the servantstogether, he himself shouldering his carbine, not knowing why, andsaddling a horse to tie it up again in the stable. At evening thelandlord came running to the castle, accompanied by a servant from thedistillery. As soon as he saw the young lady, the good-natured mancalled out, "Here are tidings, dreadful tidings, of Mr. Wohlfart. "

Lenore ran forward, and the servant began to give a confused report ofthe horrors of the day in Rosmin. He had seen the Poles and Germansabout to fire at each other in the market-place, and Anton was marchingat the head of the latter. 

"I knew that, " cried Karl, proudly. 

The servant went on to say that he had run off just as all the Poles hadtaken aim at the gentleman. Whether he were alive or dead, he could notexactly say, owing to his terror at the time, but he fully believed thatthe gentleman must be dead. 

Lenore leaned against the wall, Karl tore his hair in distraction. "Saddle the pony, " said Lenore, in a smothered voice. 

"You are not thinking of going yourself at night through the wood allthe way to the town?" cried Karl. 

The brave girl hurried toward the stable without answering him; Karlbarred the way. "You must not. The baroness would die with anxiety aboutyou, and what could you do among those raging men yonder?"

Lenore stood still. "Then go for him, " said she, half unconscious;"bring him to us, alive or dead. "

"Can I leave you alone on a day like this?" cried Karl, beside himself. 

Lenore snatched his carbine from him. "Go, if you love him. I will mountguard in your stead. "

Karl rushed to the farm-yard, got out his horse, and galloped off alongthe Rosmin road. The sound of the horse's hoofs soon died away, and allwas still. Lenore paced up and down before the castle walls; her friendwas in mortal peril, perhaps lost; and the fault was hers, for she hadbrought him hither. She called to mind in her despair all that he hadbeen to her and to her parents. To live on in this solitude without himseemed impossible. Her mother sent for her, her father called to her outof the window, but she paid no attention. Every other feeling was mergedin the realization of the pure and sincere attachment that had existedbetween her and him she had lost. 

To return to Rosmin, Anton and his party had remained for about half anhour in expectation before the Red Deer. The frightened market-peoplekept pouring by, on their way to their village homes; many of them, indeed, passed on, but many, too, remained with their countrymen, andeven several Poles went up to Anton and asked whether they could be ofuse to him. At length came the locksmith, by a back way, in his greenuniform and epaulette, followed by some of the town militia. 

Anton rushed up to see how things were going on. 

"There are eighteen of us, " said the locksmith, "all safe men. Thepeople in the market-place are dispersing, and those in the wine-storeare not much stronger than before. Our captain is as brave as a lion. Ifyou will help him, he is prepared to try a bold stroke. We can get intoLöwenberg's house from behind. I made the lock on the back door myself. If we manage cleverly, we can surprise the leaders of the insurrection, and take them and their arms. "

"We must attack them both in front and in the rear, " replied Anton. "Then we shall be sure of them. "

"Yes, " said the locksmith, a little crestfallen, "if you and your partywill attack them in front. "

"We have no arms, " cried Anton. "I will go with you, and so will theforester and a few more, perhaps; but an unarmed band against scythesand a dozen guns is out of the question. "

"Look you, now, " said the worthy locksmith; "it comes hard to us, too. Those who have just left wives and children in their first alarm are notmuch inclined to make targets of themselves. Our people are full ofgood-will, but those men yonder are desperate, and therefore let us getin quietly from behind. If we can surprise them, there will be the lessbloodshed, and that's the chief thing. I have got no arms, only a swordfor you. "

The party accordingly set off in silence, the locksmith leading the way. "Our men are assembled in the captain's house, " said he; "we can enterit through the garden without being seen. "

At length, having got over hedges and ditches, they found themselves inthe court-yard of a dyer. 

"Wait here, " said the locksmith, with some disquietude. "The dyer is oneof us militiamen. His house door opens upon the back street, which takesinto Löwenberg's court-yard: I am going to the captain. "

The party had only a few minutes to wait before they were joined by themilitia. The captain, a portly butcher, requested Anton to join forcesand walk by his side. They moved on to the back entrance of Löwenberg'shouse, saw that the gate was neither locked nor guarded, and the courtempty. They halted for a moment, and the forester proposed his plan. 

"We are more than are wanted in the house, " said he. "Hard by there is abroad cross-street leading to the market. Let me have the drummer, a fewof the militia, and half of the country people. We will run to themarket-place and invest the opening of the cross-street, shoutingloudly. Those in front of the house will be diverted thither: meanwhile, you can force an entrance and take them prisoners. As soon as you hearthe drum, let the captain rush through the court into the house and makefast the door. "

"I approve the plan, " said the burly captain, his blood thoroughly up;"only be quick about it. "

The forester took six of the militia, beckoned to the bailiff and tosome of the country people, and went quietly down the side street. Soonthe beating of a drum was heard, and loud hurrahs. At that signal allrushed through the court, the captain and Anton waving their swords, andfound themselves inside the house before any one was aware of them, forall were looking out at door and window on the other side. 

"Hurrah!" cried the captain; "we have them, " catching hold of one of thegentlemen. "Not one shall escape. Close the door!" he cried, and he heldhis victim fast by the collar like a cow by its horns. Ten strong menclosed and locked the house door, so that all the more zealous of theenemy who were standing on the steps found themselves shut out. Nextsome of the band rushed up stairs, and the others spread themselves overthe ground floor. All the conspirators on that floor, however, jumpedout through the window, so that the Germans took nothing but a list ofnames, a quantity of scythes, and half a dozen guns belonging to thenobles. These the locksmith caught up, and ran, together with Anton anda few others, to join the forester's detachment, which they found in acritical position. 

The beat of the drums and the shouting, together with the attack madesimultaneously upon the house, had thrown the enemy into confusion. Themen with scythes were standing about in disorder, while the bearer ofthe scarf, himself unarmed, was busy trying to rally them. On the otherhand, all such as had guns--stewards, huntsmen, and a few young men ofrank, had marched against the forester's party. Both bands halted withweapons raised, kept back for a moment by the thought of the fearfulconsequences that must follow the word of command. At that moment, Antonand the valiant locksmith joined them, and the guns they brought weredispensed quick as lightning. A bloody conflict on the pavement nowseemed unavoidable. 

Just then a loud voice sounded from the window of the wine-store. "Brothers, we have them. Here is the prisoner. It is Herr von Tarowhimself. " All lowered their guns and listened. The captain showed hisprisoner, who made no fruitless struggles to escape from his awkwardsituation, "And now, " went on the orator, "listen to my words: all thewindows of this house are invested; all the streets are invested; and assoon as I lift my finger you'll all be shot down dead. "

"Hurrah, captain!" cried a voice from a house in the middle of themarket-place, while the shopkeeper dwelling there projected his duck-gunfrom one of the windows of the first floor, the apothecary andpost-master soon doing the same. 

"Good-morning, gentlemen, " cried the butcher, pleasantly, to theseunexpected recruits. "You see, good people, that your resistance isvain, so throw away your scythes, or you are all dead men. " A number ofscythes clattered on the pavement. 

"And as for you, gentlemen, " continued the captain, "you shall beallowed to depart unmolested, if you give up your arms; but if any ofyou make any resistance, this man's blood be upon your heads. " Sosaying, he caught hold of Tarowski by the head, and, holding it out ofthe window, drew a great knife. Throwing down its sheath into thestreet, he waved it so ferociously round the prisoner's head that theworthy butcher seemed for the moment transformed into a very cannibal. 

Then the forester cried, "Hurrah! we have them! March, my friends. " Thedrummer thundered away, and the Germans charged. The Poles fell intodisorder, some random shots were fired on both sides, then the rebelstook to flight, pursued by their enemies. Many sought refuge in thehouses, others ran out of the town; while, on the other hand, armedcitizens began to present themselves, and the dilatory members of themilitia corps now joined the rest. The captain made over his prisoner toa few trusty men, and, waving off the congratulations that poured inupon him, cried, "Duty before all. We have now to lock and invest thegates. Where is the captain of our allies?"

Anton stepped forward. "Comrade, " said the butcher, with a militarysalute, "I propose that we muster our men and appoint the watches. "

This was done, and those belonging to Rosmin were proud of theirnumbers. The national arms, washed clean and decorated by many busyfeminine hands with the first flowers of the town gardens, were solemnlyraised to their former place, all the men marching by them andpresenting arms, while patriotic acclamations were raised by hundreds ofthroats. 

Anton stood on one side, and when he saw the spring flowers on theescutcheon, he remembered having doubted in the morning whether heshould see any flowers that year. Now their colors were gleaming outbrightly on the shield of his fatherland. But what a day this had beento him!

Much against his will, he was summoned to the council convened to takemeasures for the public safety. Ere long he had a pen in his hand, andwas writing, at the long green table, a report of the events of the dayto the authorities. Prompt steps were taken: messengers were sent off tothe next military station; the houses of the suspected searched; such ofthe country people as were willing to remain till the evening billetedin different houses. Patrols were sent out in all directions, a fewprisoners examined, and information as to the state of the surroundingdistrict collected. Discouraging tidings poured in on all sides. Bandsof Poles from several villages round were said to be marching on thetown. An insurrection had been successful in the next circle, and thetown was in the hands of a set of Polish youths. There were tales ofplunder, and of incendiarism too, and fearful rumors of an intendedgeneral massacre of the Germans. The faces of the men of Rosmin grewlong again; their present triumph gave way to fears for the future. Sometimid souls were for making a compromise with Herr von Tarow, but thewarlike spirit of the majority prevailed, and it was determined to passthe night under arms, and hold the town against all invaders till themilitary should arrive. 

By this time it was evening. Anton, alarmed at the numerous reports ofplundering going on in the open country, left the town council, and sentthe bailiff to collect all the Germans of their immediate district tomarch home together. When they reached the wooden bridge at theextremity of the suburb, the townsmen who had accompanied them thitherwith beat of drum and loud hurrahs took a brotherly leave of theircountry allies. 

"Your carriage is the last that shall pass to-day, " said the locksmith;"we will break up the pavement of the bridge, and station a sentinelhere. I thank you in the name of the town and of the militia. If badtimes come, as we have reason to fear, we Germans will ever holdtogether. "

"That shall be our rallying cry, " called out the bailiff; and all thecountry people shouted their assent. 

On their homeward way Anton and his associates fell into earnestconversation. All felt elated at the part they had that day played, butno one attempted to disguise from himself that this was but a beginningof evils. "What is to become of us in the country?" said the bailiff. "The men in the town have their stout walls, and live close together;but we are exposed to the revenge of every rascal; and if half a dozenvagabonds with guns come into the village, it is all over with us. "

"True, " said Anton, "we can not guard ourselves against large troops, and each individual must just take the chances of war; but large troops, under regular command, are not what we have most to fear. The worst arebands of rabble, who get together to burn and plunder, and henceforth wemust take measures to defend ourselves against these. Stay at hometo-morrow, bailiff, and you, smith of Kunau, and send for the otherGermans round, on whom we can depend. I will ride over to-morrow morningearly, and we will hold a consultation. "

By this time they had reached the cross-way, and there the two divisionsparted, and hurried home in different directions. 

Anton got into the carriage, and took the forester with him, to helpwatch the castle through the night. In the middle of the wood they werestopped by a loud cry of "Halt! who goes there?"

"Karl!" exclaimed Anton, joyfully. 

"Hurrah! hurrah! he is alive, " cried Karl, in ecstasy. "Are you unhurttoo?"

"That I am; what news from the castle?"

Now began a rapid interchange of question and answer. "To think that Iwas not with you!" cried Karl, again and again. 

Arrived at the castle, a bright form flew up to the carriage. "You, lady!" cried Anton, springing out. 

"Dear Wohlfart!" cried Lenore, seizing both his hands. 

For a moment she hid her face on his shoulder, and her tears fell fast. Anton grasped her hand firmly, while he said, "A fearful time is coming. I have thought of you all day. "

"Now that we have you again, " said Lenore, "I can bear it all; but comeat once to my father; he is dying with impatience. " She drew him up thestairs. 

The baron opened the door, and cried out, "What news do you bring?"

"News of war, baron, " replied Anton, gravely; "the most hideous of allwars--war between neighbor and neighbor. The country is in open revolt. "

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The baron's estate lay in a corner of the Rosmin circle. Behind theforest, to the north, was the German village of Neudorf, and fartheroff, to the east, that of Kunau. 

Both these spots were separated by a wide expanse of sand and heath fromany Polish proprietors, Herr von Tarow being the nearest. To the westand south of the estate the country was inhabited by a mixed population;but the Germans there were strong, rich freeholders and large farmershaving settled among the Slavonic race. Beyond Kunau and Neudorf, to thenorth, there was a Polish district peopled by small freeholders, for themost part in very reduced circumstances, and over head and ears in debt. 

"It is on that side that our greatest danger lies, " said the baron toAnton on the morning after the memorable market-day. "The villagers areour natural outposts. If you can induce the people to establish asystematic watch, let it be on the north; we will then try to maintain aregular communication with them. Do not forget the beacons and places ofrendezvous. As you are already on such friendly terms with the rustics, you will be able to manage that part of the business best. Meanwhile, Ishall drive, accompanied by young Sturm, to the next circle, and try tocome to the same understanding with the landed gentry there. "

Accordingly, Anton rode off to Neudorf. There he found that fresh eviltidings had arrived in the night; some German villages had beensurprised by armed bands, the houses searched for arms, and many youngpeople dragged away. No one was working in the fields at Neudorf. Themen sat in the bar of the public house, or stood about without anypurpose, every hour expecting an attack. 

Anton's horse was immediately surrounded by a dense crowd, and in a fewminutes the bailiff had gathered the whole population together. Antonproceeded to state what might be done to guard the village against thedanger of a sudden surprise; for instance, he advised the calling out ofa regular peasant militia, sentinels on the road along the border, patrols, a rallying-place in the village, and other precautions whichthe baron had pointed out. "In this way, " said he, "you will be able toprocure our help in a short time, to defend yourselves against a weakfoe, or to summon the military to your aid against a strong. In this wayyou will save your wives and children, your household goods, and, perhaps, your cattle from plunder and ill treatment. It will be no smalllabor, indeed, to keep watch thus night and day, but your village is alarge one. Perhaps these measures will soon be enjoined by thegovernment, but it is safer for all not to wait for that. "

His pressing representations and the authority of the intelligentbailiff brought the community to a unanimous resolve. The young men ofthe village took up the matter eagerly, many professing themselves readyto buy a gun; and the women began to pack up their most valuable effectsin chests and bundles. 

From Neudorf, Anton went on to Kunau, where similar regulations weremade; and finally it was arranged that the young men of both villagesshould come every Sunday afternoon to the baron's estate to be drilled. 

When Anton returned to the castle, the existing means of defense on theestate itself had to be taken into consideration. A martial feverprevailed in the German colony: all were affected by it, even the mostpeaceful: the shepherd and his dog Crambo, who had, by night patrols, sentinels, and other disturbances, been worked up to such a state ofexcitement that he took to flying at the legs of all strangers--an acthe had often rebuked in his young associate. All thoughts turned onweapons of warfare and means of defense. Alas! the mood of mind was allthat could be desired, but the forces were very small. To make up forthat, the staff was a distinguished one. First of all, there was thebaron--an invalid, it is true, but great in theory; then Karl and theforester, as respective leaders of the cavalry and infantry; while Antonwas not to be despised in the commissariat and fortification department. 

The baron now left his room each day to hold a council of war. Hesuperintended the drill, heard reports from surrounding districts, andsent off messengers to the German circles. A remnant of military ardorlit up his face. He good-humoredly rallied the baroness about her fears, spoke words of encouragement to his German tenantry, and threatened tohave all the evil-disposed in the village locked up at once, and kept onbread and water. It was touching to all to see how the blind man stooderect, musket in hand, to show certain niceties of manipulation to theforester, and then bent his ear down to ascertain whether the latter hadthoroughly acquired them. Even Anton put on something of a martialpanoply. He stuck a cockade in his cap; his voice assumed a tone ofmilitary severity, and ever since the Rosmin day he took to wearing animmense pair of water-proof boots, and his step fell heavy on the stair. He would have laughed at himself if any one had asked for what purposehe gave this particular outward expression to his state of mind; but noone did ask. It seemed natural and congruous to all, and especially toKarl, who never himself appeared but in such remnants of his dressuniform as he had carefully preserved, and who curled his mustache, andsang military songs all day long. As the greatest danger was to beapprehended from the lawless in their own village, he summoned all themen who had once served, and, with the aid of the forester, who wasrespected as a magician, made an impressive speech, addressed them ascomrades, drew his sword, and cried, "We military men will keep orderamong the boors here. " Then ordering a few quarts of brandy, he sangwild martial songs in chorus with them, gave them new cockades, andconstituted them a species of militia. Thus, for a time at least, hegained a hold over the better part of the population, and heard throughthem of any conspiracy that was carried on in the tavern. 

When the whole force of the estate was mustered before the castle walls, the men stared in amazement at each other. They had all beenmetamorphosed by the last few days. The agent looked like a wild manfrom some outlandish swamp, where he daily stood up to the hips inwater. Those from the new farm resembled forms of a vanished era. Theforester, with his close-cut hair, long beard, and weather-beaten coat, looked an old mercenary of Wallenstein's army, who had been asleep inthe forest depths for two hundred years, and now reappeared on thestage, violence and cruelty being again in the ascendant. The shepherdmarched next to him, resembling a pious Hussite, with the broad brim ofhis round hat hanging low on his shoulders, a stout leathern girdleround his loins, and in his hand a long crook, to which he had fasteneda bright steel point. His phlegmatic face and thoughtful eyes made himas strong a contrast as possible to the forester. All in all, the armedforce of the estate did not amount to more than twenty men;consequently, it was very difficult to maintain any regular system ofwatching, either in the castle or the village. Each individual, it wasplain, would have to make the greatest efforts, but none of themcomplained. 

The next step was to see to the securing of the castle--to protect itfrom any nocturnal assault in the rear. Anton had a strong wooden fencerun up from one wing to another. Thus a tolerably large court-yard wasinclosed, and an open shed was roughly built on to the walls, to shelterfugitives and horses, if need were. The windows of the lower story werealso strongly boarded; and as all the entrances were on this side of thehouse, strangers were allowed as little ingress as possible. The wellthat supplied the castle lay outside the fence, between the farm-yardand the castle: on which account, a large water-butt was made and filledeach morning. 

Next came tidings from Rosmin. The locksmith appeared, after beingrepeatedly sent for, to strengthen bolts and bars. He brought with himmilitary greetings from the militia, and the fact that a company ofinfantry had entered the town. "But there are but few of them, " said he, "and we militiamen have severe duty. "

"And what have you done with your prisoners?" inquired Anton. 

The locksmith scratched his ear and twitched his cap as he answered in acrestfallen tone: "So you have not yet heard? The very first night camea message from the enemy to the effect that if we did not give up thenobleman at once, they would march upon us with their whole force andset fire to our barns. I opposed the measure, and so did our captain;but every one who had a barn raised an outcry, and the end of it wasthat the town had to come to terms with Von Tarow. He gave his word thathe and his would undertake nothing further against us, and then we tookhim over the bridge and let him go. "

"So he is free, false man that he is!" cried Anton, in indignation. 

"Yes, indeed, " said the locksmith; "he is on his estate again, and has anumber of young gentlemen about him. They ride with their cockades overthe fields just as they did before. Tarowski is a cunning man, who canopen every castle door with a stroke of a pen, and get on with everyone. There's no reaching him. "

Of course, farming suffered from these warlike preparations. Antoninsisted, indeed, upon what was absolutely necessary being done, but hefelt that a time was come when anxiety about individual profit and lossvanished before graver terrors. The rumors, which grew daily morethreatening, kept him, and those around him, in ever-increasingexcitement; and at last they fell into a habitual state of feverishsuspense, in which the future was looked forward to with recklessindifference, and the discomforts of the present endured as matter ofcourse. 

But more strongly than on any of the men around did this general feverseize upon Lenore. Since the day that she had waited for the absentAnton, she had seemed to begin a new life. Her mother mourned anddespaired, but the daughter's young heart beat high against the storm, and the excitement was to her a wild enjoyment, to which she gaveherself up, heart and soul. She was out of doors the whole day long, whatever the weather, and at the tavern door as often as the worstdrunkard in the village, for each day the landlord and his wife hadsomething new to tell her. Ever since Karl had mounted his hussar coat, she treated him with the familiarity of a comrade, and when he held aconsultation with the forester, her fair head was put together withtheirs. The three spent many an hour in council of war in Karl's room orin the farm-yard, the men listening with reverence to her courageoussuggestions, and requesting her opinion as to whether Ignatz, Gottlieb, or Blasius from the village deserved to be trusted with a gun. It was invain that the baroness remonstrated with her martial daughter; in vainthat Anton tried to check her ardor; for, the greater his own, the morethe mood displeased him in the young lady. Again, she struck him as toovehement and bold; nor did he disguise his views. Upon that she subsideda little, and tried to conceal her warlike tendencies from him, but theydid not really abate. She would have dearly liked to go with him toNeudorf and Kunau, to play at soldiers there, but Anton, once made sohappy by her company, protested so strongly against the step that theyoung lady had to turn back at the end of the village. 

However, on the day when the first drill of the men belonging to theestate was to take place, Lenore came out with a soldier's cap and alight sword, took her pony out of the stable, and said to Anton, "Ishall exercise with you. "

"Pray do nothing of the kind, " replied he. 

"Indeed I will, " replied Lenore, saucily. "You want men, and I can do asgood service as if I were one. "

"But, dear young lady, it is so singular!"

"It is indifferent to me whether people think it singular or not. I amstrong; I can go through a good deal; I shall not be tired. "

"But before the servants, " remonstrated Anton. "You are letting yourselfdown before the servants and the country people. "

"That is my own concern, " replied Lenore, doggedly; "do not oppose me; Iam determined, and that is enough. "

Anton shrugged his shoulders, and was obliged to acquiesce. Lenore rodenext to Karl, and went through all the exercises as well as a lady'ssaddle allowed; but Anton, who was one of the infantry, looked over fromhis post at the bright face with dissatisfaction. She had never pleasedhim so little. Yet, as she sprang forward with the rest, wheeled herhorse round, waved her sword, her bright hair floating in the wind, hereyes beaming with courage, she was enchantingly beautiful. But whatwould have charmed him in mere play seemed unfeminine now that thisdrilling had become a matter of life and death; and as soon as it wasover, and Lenore came up to him with glowing cheeks, waiting that heshould address her, he was silent, and she had to laugh and say to him, "You look so morose, sir; do you know that the expression is veryunbecoming?"

"I am not pleased at your being so willful, " replied Anton. Lenoreturned away without a word, gave her horse to a servant, and walked backin dudgeon to the castle. 

Since that time she took no share in the drilling, indeed, but she wasalways present when the men assembled, and looked on longingly from alittle distance; and when Anton was away, she would ride off in secretwith Karl to the other villages, or walk alone through woods and fields, armed with a pocket pistol, and delighted if she could stop andcross-question any wayfarer. 

Anton remonstrated with her on that subject too. 

"The district is disturbed, " he said. "How easily some rascal or othermight do you an injury! If not a stranger, it might be some one from ourown village. "

"I am not afraid, " Lenore would reply, "and the men of our village willdo me no harm. " And, in fact, she knew how to manage them better thanAnton or any one else. She alone was always reverentially saluted, evenby the rudest among them; and whenever her tall figure was seen in thevillage street, the men bowed down to the ground, and the women ran tothe windows and looked admiringly after her. And she had the pleasure, too, of hearing them tell her so in Anton's hearing. One Sunday evening, Karl, the forester, and the shepherd sat watching in the farm-yard whilethe peasants were assembled drinking in the tavern, Sunday being themost dangerous day for those in the castle. Karl had furnished a roomfor military purposes in the late bailiff's house. Thither Lenoreherself now carried a bottle of rum and some lemons, that the sentinelsmight brew themselves some punch. The shepherd and the forester grinnedfrom ear to ear at the attention. Karl placed a chair for the younglady, the forester began to tell a tale of terror from the neighboringdistrict, and in a few minutes Lenore was sitting with them, exchangingviews on the course of events. Just as the punch was ready, and shepoured it into two glasses and a mug, in came Anton. She did not exactlywant him just then, but, however, he found no fault, and merely turnedand beckoned to a stranger to come in. A slender youth in a blue coat, with bright woolen epaulettes, a soldier's cap in his hand, and widelinen trowsers pushed into his boots, proudly entered the room. As soonas he saw the lady, he was at her knees, and then he stood before herwith downcast eyes, cap in hand. Karl went up to him: "Now then, Blasius, what news from the tavern?"

"Oh, nothing, " replied the youth, in the melodious cadence with whichthe Pole speaks broken German. "Peasant sits, and drinks, and is merry. "

"Are there strangers there? Has any one come from Tarow?"

"No one, " said Blasius. "No one is there; but the host's niece is cometo him, Rebecca, the Jewish maiden. " Meanwhile he looked steadfastly atLenore, as though it were to her that he had to deliver his report. 

Lenore stepped to the table, poured out a glass of punch, and gave it tothe youth, who received it with delight, quaffed it, set down the glass, and bent again at the lady's knee with a grace that a prince might haveenvied. 

"You need never fear, " cried he. "No one in the village will harm you;if any one offended you, we would kill him at once. "

Lenore blushed and said, looking at Anton the while, "You know I have nofear, at all events of you;" and Karl dismissed the messenger withorders to return in an hour. As he left the room, Lenore said to Anton, "How graceful his bearing is!"

"He was in the Guards, " replied Anton, "and is not the worst lad in thevillage; but I pray you not to rely too much upon the chivalry of theworthy Blasius and his friends. I was uneasy about you again all theafternoon, and sent your maid to meet you on the Rosmin road; for atraveling apprentice came running to the castle, frightened out of hissenses, saying that he had been detained by an armed lady, and obligedto produce his passport. According to his story, the lady had amonstrous dog, as large as a cow, with her, and he complained that heraspect was awful. The poor man was positively beside himself. "

"He was a craven, " said Lenore, contemptuously. "As soon as he saw mewith the pony he ran off, scared by his own bad conscience. Then Icalled after him, and threatened him with my pocket pistol. "

In this manner the dwellers on the baron's estate daily awaited theoutbreak of the insurrection on their own oasis. Meanwhile it spreadlike a conflagration over the whole province. Wherever the Poles werethickly congregated, the flames leaped up fiercely. On the borders, theyflared unsteadily here and there, like fire in green wood. In manyplaces they seemed quenched for a long time, then suddenly broke outagain. 

One Sunday afternoon there was to be a great drill of the united forces. The men of Neudorf and Kunau came with their flags--the foot-soldiersfirst, the mounted behind--the small band of cavalry from the castleriding to meet them, led by Karl, together with some men on foot, atwhose head marched the forester, the generalissimo of all the troops. Even Anton was under his command. When Lenore saw them set out, sheordered her pony to be saddled. 

"I will look on, " said she to Anton. 

"But only look on, dear lady!" said the latter, imploringly. 

"Don't tutor me, " cried Lenore. 

The drilling-ground was at the edge of the wood. The forester hadcontrived, through ancient recollections, and after manifoldconsultations with the baron, to bring his men into good order; and Karlled his squadron with an ardor that might well make amends for lack ofskill. For a long time they had marched, countermarched, performedvarious evolutions, and fired at a mark. The mock artillery echoedcheerfully through the forest. Lenore had looked on from a distance, butat last she could not resist the pleasure of taking part in the cavalryexercise, and, trotting on to their head, she whispered to Karl, "Justfor a minute or two. "

"What if Mr. Wohlfart see you?" whispered Karl, in reply. 

"He will not see, " was Lenore's laughing answer, as she took her placein the ranks. 

The youths looked in amazement at the slender figure which trotted attheir side. Owing to the admiration she excited, many performed theirparts ill, and Karl had much fault to find. 

"The young lady does it best, " cried a Neudorf man during a pause, andall took off their hats and cheered her loudly. 

Lenore bowed low, and made her pony curvet gayly. But her amusement wassoon interrupted, for up came Anton. "It is really too bad, " whisperedhe, angry in good earnest. "You expose yourself to familiarobservations, which are not ill meant, but which would still offend you. This is no place for the display of your horsemanship. "

"You grudge me every pleasure, " replied Lenore, much aggrieved, and rodeaway. 

When she found herself alone, she let her pony prance and caracole undera great pear-tree, and inwardly chafed against Anton. "How rudely hespoke to me!" thought she. "My father is right; he is very prosaic. WhenI saw him first, I was on this pony too, but then I pleased him better;we were both children then, but his manner was more respectful thannow. " The thought flashed across her mind how bright, fair, and pleasanther life was then, and how bitter now; and while she dreamed over thecontrast, she let the pony cut caper after caper. 

"Not bad, but a little more of the curb, Fräulein Lenore, " cried asonorous voice near her. Lenore looked round in amazement. A tallslight figure leaned against the tree, arms crossed, and a satiricalsmile playing over the fine features. The stranger advanced and took offhis hat. "Hard work for the old gentleman, " said he, pointing to thepony. "I hope you remember me. "

Lenore looked at him as at an apparition, and at last, in her confusion, slipped down from her saddle. A vision out of the past had risenpalpably before her; the cool smile, the aristocratic figure, the easyself-possession of this man, belonged to the old days she had just beenthinking of. 

"Herr von Fink!" she cried, in some embarrassment. "How delightedWohlfart will be to see you again!"

"I have already been contemplating him from afar, " replied Fink, "anddid I not know by certain infallible tokens that he it is whom I beholdwading in uniform through the sand, I should not have believed itpossible. "

"Come to him at once, " cried Lenore. "Your arrival is the greatestpleasure that he could have. "

Accordingly, Fink went with her to the place where the men were engagedin shooting at a mark. Fink stepped behind Anton, and laid his hand onhis shoulder. "Good-day, Anton, " said he. 

Turning round in amazement, Anton threw himself on his friend's breast. There was a rapid interchange of hasty questions and short answers. 

"Where do you come from, welcome wanderer?" cried Anton, at length. 

"From over there, " replied Fink, pointing to the horizon. "I have onlybeen a few weeks in the country. The last letter I got from you wasdated last autumn. Thanks to it, I knew pretty well where to look foryou. In the prevailing confusion, I consider it a remarkable piece ofluck to have found you. There's Master Karl, too, " cried he, as Karlsprang forward with a shout of delight. "Now we have half the firmassembled, and we might begin offhand to play at counting-house work;but you seem to have a different way of amusing yourselves here. " Thenturning to Lenore, he continued, "I have already presented myself to thebaron, and heard from your lady mother where to find the martial youngspirits. And now I have to implore your intercession. I have someacquaintance with this man, and would willingly spend a few days withhim, but I am well aware how inconsiderate it would be to tax yourhospitable home at a time like this with the reception of a stranger. But yet, for his sake--he is a good fellow, on the whole--allow me toremain long enough clearly to understand the façon of the prodigiousboots which the boy has drawn over his knees. "

Lenore replied in the same strain: "My father will look upon your visitas a great pleasure; a kind friend is doubly valuable at a time likethis. I go at once to desire a servant to place all Mr. Wohlfart's bootsin your apartment, that you may be able to study their façon at yourleisure. " She bowed, and went off in the direction of the castle, leading her pony by the bridle. 

Fink looked after her and cried, "By Jove! she is become a beauty; herbearing is faultless--nay, she even knows how to walk. I have no longera shadow of doubt as to her having plenty of sense. " Then, putting hisarm into Anton's, he led him off to the shade of the wild pear-tree, andthen, shaking him heartily by the hand, exclaimed, "I say again, wellmet, my trusty friend. Understand that I have not yet got over myastonishment. If any one had told me that I should find you painted redand black like a wild Indian, a battle-axe in your hand, and a fringe ofscalp-locks round your loins, I should naturally have declared him mad. But you--born, as it would seem, to tread in the footsteps of yourforefathers--to find you on this desolate heath, with thoughts of murderin your breast, and, as I live, without a neckcloth! If we two arechanged, you, at all events, are not the least so. Perhaps, however, youare pleased with your change. "

"You know how I came here?" replied Anton. 

"I should think so, " said Fink. "I have not forgotten thedancing-lessons. "

Anton's brow grew clouded. 

"Forgive me, " continued Fink, laughing, "and allow something to an oldfriend. "

"You are mistaken, " replied Anton, earnestly, "if you believe that anything of passion has brought me here. I have become connected with thebaron's family through a series of accidents. " Fink smiled. "I confessthat these would not have affected me had I not been susceptible ofcertain influences. But I may venture to say that I am accidentally inmy present responsible situation. At a time when the baron was verypainfully circumstanced, I was fixed upon by his family as one who atall events had the will to be of use to them. They expressed a wish toengage my services for a time. When I accepted their proposal, I did soafter an inward conflict that I have no right to disclose to you. "

"All that is very good, " replied Fink; "but when the merchant buys a gunand a sword, he must at least know why he makes those purchases; andtherefore forgive me the point-blank question, What do you mean to dohere?"

"To remain as long as I feel myself essential, and then to look out aplace in a merchant's office, " said Anton. 

"At our old principal's?" asked Fink, hastily. 

"There or elsewhere. "

"The deuce!" cried Fink. "That does not seem a very direct course, noran open confession either; but one must not ask too much from you in thefirst hour of meeting. I will be more unreserved and candid to you. Ihave worked myself free over there; and thank you for your letter, andthe advice your wisdom gave. I did as you suggested, made use of thenewspapers to explode my Western Land Association. Of course, I flewwith it into the air. I bought half a dozen pens with a thousanddollars, and had the New York gazettes and others continually filledwith the most appalling reports of the good for nothingness of thecompany. I had myself and my partners cursed in every possible key. Thismade a sensation. Brother Jonathan's attention was caught; all ourrivals fell upon us at once. I had the pleasure of seeing myself and myassociates portrayed in a dozen newspapers as bloodthirsty swindlers andscoundrels--all for my good money too. It was a wild game. In a monththe Western Land Company was so down that no dog would have taken acrust of bread from it. Then came my co-directors and offered to buy meout, that they might be rid of me. You may fancy how glad I was. For therest, I bought my freedom dear, and have left the reputation behind meof being the devil himself. Never mind, I am free at all events. And nowI have sought you out for two reasons; first, to see and chat with you;next, seriously to discuss my future life; and I may as well say at oncethat I wish you to share it. I have missed you sadly every day. I do notknow what I find in you, for, in point of fact, you are but a dryfellow, and more contradictious than often suits me. But, in spite ofall, I felt a certain longing for you all the time I was away. I havecome to an understanding with my father, not without hot discussion andsubsequent coolness. And now I repeat my former offer--come with me. Over the waters to England, across the seas, any where and every where. We will together ponder and decide upon what to undertake. We are bothfree now, and the world is open to us. "

Anton threw his arm round his friend's neck. "My dear Fritz, " cried he, "we will suppose that I have expressed all that your noble proposalcauses me to feel. But you see, for the present, I have duties here. "

"According to your own most official statement, I presume that they willnot last forever, " rejoined Fink. 

"That is true; but still we are not on equal terms. See, " said Anton, stretching out his hand, "barren as this landscape is, and disagreeablethe majority of its inhabitants, yet I look upon them with differenteyes to yours. You are much more a citizen of the world than I, andwould feel no great interest in the life of the state of which thisplain and your friend are component parts, however small. "

"No, indeed, " said Fink, looking in amazement at Anton. "I have no greatinterest in it, and all that I now see and hear makes the state, afragment of which you so complacently style yourself, appear to me anything but respectable. "

"I, however, am of a different opinion, " broke in Anton. "No one who isnot compelled to do so should leave this country at the present time. "

"What do I hear?" cried Fink, in amazement. 

"Look you, " continued Anton; "in one wild hour I discovered how my heartclung to this country. Since then, I know why I am here. For the timebeing, all law and order is dissolved; I carry arms in self-defense, andso do hundreds like me in the midst of a foreign race. Whatever may haveled me individually here, I stand here now as one of the conquerors who, in the behalf of free labor and civilization, have usurped the dominionof the country from a weaker race. There is an old warfare between usand the Slavonic tribes; and we feel with pride that culture, industry, and credit are on our side. Whatever the Polish proprietors around usmay now be--and there are many rich and intelligent men amongthem--every dollar that they can spend, they have made, directly orindirectly, by German intelligence. Their wild flocks are improved byour breeds; we erect the machinery that fills their spirit-casks; theacceptance their promissory notes and lands have hitherto obtained restsupon German credit and German confidence. The very arms they use againstus are made in our factories or sold by our firms. It is not by acunning policy, but peacefully through our own industry, that we havewon our real empire over this country, and, therefore, he who standshere as one of the conquering nation, plays a coward's part if heforsakes his post at the present time. "

"You take a very high tone on foreign ground, " replied Fink; "and yourown soil is trembling under your feet. "

"Who has joined this province to Germany?" asked Anton, withoutstretched hand. 

"The princes of your race, I admit, " said Fink. 

"And who has conquered the great district in which I was born?" inquiredAnton, farther. 

"One who was a man indeed. "

"It was a bold agriculturist, " cried Anton; "he and others of his race. By force or cunning, by treaty or invasion, in one way or other, theygot possession of the land at a time when, in the rest of Germany, almost every thing was effete and dead. They managed their land likebold men and good farmers, as they were. They have combined decayed ordispersed races into a state; they have made their home the centralpoint for millions, and, out of the raw material of countlessinsignificant sovereignties, have created a living power. "

"All that has been, " said Fink; "that was the work of a pastgeneration. "

"They labored for themselves, indeed, while creating us, " agreed Anton, "but now we have come into being, and a new German nation has arisen. Now we demand of them that they acknowledge our young life. It will bedifficult to them to do this, just because they are accustomed toconsider their collective lands as the domain of their sword. Who cansay when the conflict between us and them will be ended? Perhaps we maylong have to curse the ugly apparitions it will evoke. But, end as itwill, I am convinced, as I am of the light of day, that the state whichthey have constructed will not fall back again into its original chaos. If you had lived much among the lower classes, as I have done of lateyears, you would believe me. We are still poor as a nation--our strengthis still small; but every year we are working our way upward, every yearour intelligence, well-being, and fellow-feeling increases. At thismoment we here, on the border, feel like brothers. Those in the interiormay quarrel, but we are one, and our cause is pure. "

"Well done, " said Fink, nodding approval; "that was spoken like athorough German. The wintrier the time, the greener the hope. From allthis, Master Wohlfart, I perceive that you have no inclination atpresent to go with me. "

"I can not, " answered Anton, with emotion; "do not be angry with mebecause of it. "

"Hear me, " laughed Fink; "we have changed parts since our separation. When I left you a few years ago, I was like the wild ass in the desert, who scents a far-off fountain. I hoped to emerge out my prosy life withyou into green pastures, and all I found was a nasty swamp. And now Icome back to you wearied out, and find you playing a bold game withfate. You have more life about you than you had. I can't say that ofmyself. Perhaps the reason may be that you have had a home; I never had. However, we have had enough of wisdom; come and instruct me in your modeof warfare. Let me have a look at your squatters, and show me, if youcan, a square foot of ground on this charming property in which one doesnot sink up to one's knees in sand. "

Meanwhile preparations were going on at the castle for the stranger. Thebaron made one servant ascertain that there was a sufficiency of red andwhite wine in the cellar, and scolded another for not having had thebroken harness repaired. The baroness ordered a dress to be taken outwhich she had not worn since her arrival; and Lenore thought with secretanxiety about the haughty aristocrat, who had struck her as so imposingat the time of the dancing-lessons, and whose image had often risenbefore her since then. 

Below stairs the excitement was no less, for, excepting a few passingcallers on business, this was the first visitor. The faithful cookdetermined to venture upon an artistic dish, but in this wretchedcountry the materials were not to be had. She thought of killing a fewfowls out of the farm-yard; but that measure was violently opposed bySuska, a little Pole, Lenore's confidential maid, who wept over thedetermined character of the cook, and threatened to call the young lady, till the former came to her senses, and sent off a barefooted boy to theforester's in all haste to ask for something out of the common way. Asudden onslaught was made upon spiders and dust; and a room got readynear Anton's, into which Lenore's little sofa, her mother's arm-chair, and carpet, were carried, to keep up the family dignity. 

Fink, little guessing the disturbance his arrival occasioned, saunteredover the fields with Anton in a more cheerful mood than he had known forlong. He spoke of his experiences, of the refinements in money-making, and the giant growth of the New World; and Anton heard with delight adeep abhorrence of the iniquities in which he had been involved breakout in the midst of his jokes. 

"Life is on an immense scale over there, it is true, " said he, "but itwas in its whirl that I first learned to appreciate the blessings of thefatherland. "

While thus talking, they returned to the castle to change their dress. Anton had merely time to glance in amazement at the arrangements ofFink's bed-room before they were summoned to the baroness. Now that theanxieties about domestic arrangements were over, and the lamps shedtheir mild radiance through the room, the family felt themselvescheerfully excited by the visit of this man of fashion. Once more, as ofyore, there was the easy tone of light surface-talk, the delicateattention which gives to each the sense of contributing to another'senjoyment, the old forms, perhaps the old subjects of conversation. AndFink solved the problem ever offered by a new circle to a guest with thereadiness which the rogue had always at his command when he chose. Hegave to each and all the impression that he thoroughly enjoyed theirsociety. He treated the baron with respectful familiarity, the baronesswith deference, Lenore with straightforward openness. He seemed to takepleasure in addressing her, and soon overcame her embarrassment. Thefamily felt that he was one of themselves; there was a freemasonrybetween them. Even Anton wondered how it came about that Fink, thenewly-arrived guest, appeared the old friend of the house, and he thestranger; and again something of the reverence arose within him which, as a youth, he had always felt for the elegant, distinguished, andexclusive. But this was a mere shadow passing over his better judgment. 

When Fink rose to retire, the baron declared with genuine cordiality howgladly he would have him remain their guest; and when he was gone, thebaroness remarked how well the English style of dress became him, andwhat a distinguished-looking man he was. Lenore made no remark upon him, but she was more talkative than she had been for a long time past. Sheaccompanied her mother to her bed-room, sat down by the bedside of theweary one, and began merrily to chat away, not, indeed, about theirguest, but about many subjects of former interest, till her motherkissed her brow, and said, "That will do, my child; go to bed, and donot dream. "

Fink stretched himself comfortably on the sofa. "This Lenore is aglorious woman, " cried he, in ecstasy; "simple, open--none of the sillyenthusiasm of your German girls about her. Sit an hour with me, as ofold, Anton Wohlfart, baronial rent-receiver in a Slavonic Sahara! I say, you are in such a romantic position, that my hair still bristles withamazement. You have often stood by me in my scrapes of former days as myrational guardian angel; now you are yourself in the midst of madness;and, as I at present enjoy the advantage of being in my right mind, myconscience forbids me to leave you in such confusion. "

"Fritz, dear friend!" cried Anton, joyfully. 

"Well, then, " said Fink, "you see that I wish to remain with you for awhile. Now I want you to consider how this is to be done. You can easilymanage it with the ladies; but the baron?"

"You have heard, " replied Anton, "that he esteems it a fortunate chancewhich brings a knight like you to this lonely castle; only"--he lookeddoubtfully around the room--"you must learn to put up with many things. "

"Hmm--I understand, " said Fink; "you are become economical. "

"Just so, " said Anton. "If I could fill sacks with the yellow sand ofthe forest, and sell it as wheat, I should have to sell many and manysacks before I could put even a small capital into our purse. "

"Where you have pushed yourself in as purse-bearer, I could well supposethe purse an empty one, " said Fink, dryly. 

"Yes, " replied Anton, "my strong-box is an old dressing-case, and, Iassure you, it could hold more than it does. I often feel anunconquerable envy of Mr. Purzel and his chalk in the counting-house. Could I but once have the good fortune to behold a row of gray linenbags! As to bank-notes and a portfolio of stocks, I dare not even thinkof them. "

Fink whistled a march. "Poor lad, " said he. "Yet there is a large estateand a regular farm-establishment, which must either bring in or takeout. What do you live upon, then?"

"That is one of the mysteries of the ladies, which I hardly dare todisclose. Our horses munch diamonds. "

Fink shrugged his shoulders. "But is it possible that Rothsattel canhave come to this?"

Anton then sketched, with some reserve, the baron's circumstances, speaking enthusiastically, at the same time, of the noble resignationof the baroness, and the healthy energy of Lenore. 

"I see, " said Fink, "that things are still worse than I supposed. How isit possible that you can carry on such a farm? The birds of the air arerich compared to you. "

"As things are, " continued Anton, "we may contrive to struggle on tillquieter times--till the judicial sale of the family estate. Thecreditors will not press now, and lawyers are almost without work. Thebaron can not manage this estate without a large capital, but neithercan he give it up at present without forfeiting the little that its salemay hereafter bring; and, besides, the family have no other roof overtheir heads. All my endeavors, during the last week, to persuade them toleave this province, have been in vain. They are desperately resolved toawait their fate here. The baron's pride objects to a return to hisformer neighborhood, and the ladies will not leave him. "

"Then at least send them to the neighboring town, and do not expose themto the assault of every drunken band of boors. "

"I have done what I could; I am powerless in this respect, " repliedAnton, gloomily. 

"Then, my son, allow me to tell you that your warlike apparatus is notvery encouraging. With the dozen or two that you can collect, you willhardly keep off an invasion of rascals. You can not even defend thepremises with that handful, to say nothing of covering the ladies'escape. Have you no prospect of procuring any soldiers?"

"None, " replied Anton. 

"A thoroughly comfortable, cheerful prospect!" cried Fink. "And, inspite of it, you have sown your fields, and the little farm works on. Ihave heard from Karl how it looked when you came, and what improvementsyou have made; you have managed capitally. No American, no man of anyother country, would have done the same; in a desperate case, commend meto the German. But the ladies and your infant establishment must bebetter protected. Hire twenty able-bodied men; they will guard thehouse. "

"You forget that we are as little able to feed twenty idle mouths as isthe owl on the tower. "

"Let them work!" cried Fink; "you have here land enough to employ ahundred hands. Have you no swamps to drain, or ditches to dig? There isa row of wretched puddles yonder. "

"That is work for another season, " replied Anton, "the ground is too wetnow. "

"Have a hundred acres of forest sown or planted. Does the brook hold outin the summer?"

"I hear that it does, " replied Anton. 

"Then turn it to some account. "

"Do not forget, " said Anton, smiling, "how difficult it would be to getgood workmen with military abilities to come just now into ourill-renowned district. "

"To the devil with your objections!" cried Fink; "send Karl into aGerman district, and he will hire you plenty of people. "

"You have already heard that we have no money. The baron is not in aposition to carry on greater improvements, with increased expenditure. "

"Let me do it, then, " replied Fink; "you can repay me when you areable. "

"It is doubtful whether we should ever be able. "

"Well, then, he need never know what the men cost. "

"He is blind, " replied Anton, with a slight tone of reproach; "and I amin his service, and bound to lay all my accounts before him. Certainly, he might accept a loan from you after a few scruples, for his views ofhis circumstances vary with his moods. But the ladies have no suchillusions. Your presence would be an hourly humiliation to them, if theywere conscious of owing additional comforts to your means. "

"And yet they have accepted the greater sacrifice that you have made forthem, " said Fink, gravely. 

"Perhaps they consider that my humble services entail on me nosacrifice, " replied Anton, blushing. "They are accustomed to me as thebaron's agent. But you are their guest, and their self-respect willendeavor to conceal from you, as much as possible, the difficulties oftheir position. To make your apartment habitable, they have plunderedtheir own; the very sofa on which you lie is from the young lady'sbed-room. "

Fink looked eagerly at the sofa, and settled himself on it again. "As itdoes not suit me, " said he, "to travel off immediately, you will havethe goodness to point out to me some way of living here with propriety. Tell me, offhand, something about the mortgages, and the prospects ofthe estate; assume for the moment that I am to be the unfortunatepurchaser of this Paradise. "

Anton made the statement required. 

"That, at all events, is not so desperate, " said Fink. "Now hear myproposal; you can not go on as at present; this restricted establishmentis too undesirable for all parties, most of all for you. The propertymay be fearfully devastated, but still it seems to me possible to makesomething of it. Whether you are the people to do so or not, I will notdecide; though if you, Anton, are willing to devote some years of yourlife to it, and to sacrifice yourself still further to the interests ofothers, it is not impossible that, in more tranquil times, you maysucceed in procuring the necessary capital. Meantime I will advance--sayfifteen thousand dollars, and the baron will give me a mortgage for thatsum. This loan will not much diminish your income, and it will make iteasier for you to get over this bad year. "

Anton rose and paced up and down uneasily. 

"It won't do, " cried he, at length; "we can not accept your generousproposal. Look you, Fritz: a year ago, before I knew the man as well asI do now, I was intensely anxious to lead our principal to take aninterest in the baron's affairs, and if you had made me this offer then, I should have been delighted; but now I should consider it unjust to youand to the ladies to accept your proposal. "

"Shall the sofa out of Lenore's bed-room be defiled by the tobacco-ashesof your guests? I do it now; later it will be done by the Polishscythe-bearers. "

"We must go through with it, " replied Anton, mournfully. 

"Headstrong boy!" cried Fink; "you shall not get rid of me thus. And nowoff with you, stiff-necked Tony!"

After this conversation, Fink did not allude further to his projectedloan, but he had several confidential conversations in the course of thefollowing day with Karl, and when evening came, he said to the baron, "May I request you to lend me your horse to-morrow? He is an oldacquaintance of mine. I should like to ride over your property. Do notbe angry with me, dear lady, if I fail to make my appearance at dinner. "

"He is rich; he is come here to buy, " said the baron to himself. "ThisWohlfart has told his friend that there is a bargain to be made in thisquarter. The speculation is beginning; I must be cautious. "

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

It was a sunny morning in April--one of those genial growing days thatexpand the leaf-bud on the trees, and quicken the throbs of the humanheart. Lenore went with hat and parasol out into the farm-yard, andwalked through the cow-houses. The horned creatures looked full at herwith their large eyes, and raised their broad damp noses, some of themlowing in expectation of receiving something good at her hands. 

"Is Mr. Wohlfart here?" asked Lenore of the bailiff, who was hurrying byto the stable. 

"He is in the castle, my lady. "

"His guest is with him, I suppose?" she further inquired. 

"Herr von Fink rode off this morning early to Neudorf. He can't rest inthe house, and is always happiest on horseback. He should have been ahussar. "

When Lenore heard in which direction Herr von Fink had ridden, shewalked slowly in a different one to avoid meeting him, and crossed thebrook and the fields to the wood. She gazed at the blue sky and revivingearth. The winter wheat and the green grass looked so cheerful that herheart laughed within her. The spring had breathed on the willows alongthe brook; the yellow branches were full of sap, and the first leavesbursting out. Even the sand did not annoy her to-day. She steppedrapidly through the expanse of it that girdled the forest, and hurriedon through the firs to the cottage. The whole wood was alive with humand cry. Wherever a group of other trees rose amid the firs, the loudchirp of the chaffinch was heard, or the eager twitter of some littlenewly-wedded birds, disputing about the position of their nest. Thebeetle in his black cuirass droned around the buds of the chestnut; attimes a wild bee, newly wakened from its winter sleep, came humming by;even brown butterflies fluttered over the bushes, and, wherever theground sunk into hollows, these were gay with the white and yellow starsof the anemone and the primrose. Lenore took off her straw hat, and letthe mild breeze play about her temples, while she drew in long draughtsof forest fragrance. She often stopped and listened to the soundsaround her--contemplated the tender leaves of the trees, stroked thewhite bark of the birch, stood by the rippling fountain before theforester's house, and caressed the little firs in the hedge, which stoodas close and regular as the bristles in a brush. She thought she hadnever seen the forest so cheerful before. The dogs barked furiously; sheheard the fox rattle his chain, and looked up at the bull-finch, whojumped to and fro in his cage, and tried to bark like his superiors. 

"Hush, Hector! hush Bergmann!" cried Lenore, knocking at the door. Theloud barking changed into a friendly welcome. As she opened the door, Bergmann, the otter-hound, came straddling toward her, wagging his tailimmoderately, and Hector made a succession of audacious leaps, whileeven the fox crept back into its kennel, laid its nose on its trough, and looked slyly at her. But she saw a horse's head on the other side ofthe hedge; he that she had meant to avoid was actually here. For amoment she remained irresolute, and was going to turn away, when theforester came out. Now, then, retreat was impossible, and she followedhim in. Fink stood in the middle of the room, in the full light of therays which fell through the small panes. He advanced politely. "I cameto make acquaintance, " said he, pointing to the forester; "and here I amadmiring your stout-hearted vassal and his comfortable home. " Theforester placed a chair; Lenore could but take it. Fink leaned againstthe brown wall, and looked at her with undisguised admiration. "You area wonderful contrast to this old boy and to the whole room, " said he, glancing round. "Pray make no sign with your parasol; all these stuffedcreatures only wait your command to come to life again, and laythemselves at your feet. Look at the heron yonder, raising its headalready. "

"It is only the effect of the sunshine, " said the forester, comfortingly. 

Lenore laughed. "We know what that means, " cried Fink; "you are in theplot; you are the gnome of this queen. If there be no magic here, let mesleep out the rest of my days. One wave of that wand, and the beams ofthis great bird-cage will open, and you fly with your whole suite outinto the sunshine. Doubtless your palace is on the summit of thefir-trees without; there are the pleasant halls in which your thronestands, mighty mistress of this place, fair-haired goddess of Spring!"

"My comfort is, " said Lenore, somewhat confused, "that it is not I whooccasion these ideas, but the pleasure you take in the ideas themselves. I only chance to be the unworthy subject of your fancy. You are a poet. "

"Fie!" cried Fink; "how can you detract from me so much! I a poet!Except a few merry sailors' songs, I do not know a single piece ofpoetry by heart. The only lines I care for are some fragments of the oldschool; for example, 'Hurrah! Hurrah! hop, hop, hop, ' in a poem which, if I am not mistaken, bears your name. And even to these classic lines Ihave to object that they rather represent the material trot of acart-horse than the course of a phantom steed. But we must not be tooexact with these pen-and-ink gentry. Well, then, with this singleexception, you will find no poetry in me, except a few of the greatSchiller's striking lines: Potz Blitz, das ist ja die Gustel vonBlasewitz. There's much truth in that passage. "

"You are making fun of me, " said Lenore, somewhat offended. 

"Indeed I am not, " asseverated Fink. "How can any one make or read poemsin these days of ours, when we are constantly living them? Since I havebeen back in the old country, scarce an hour passes without my seeing orhearing something that will be celebrated by knights of the pen ahundred years hence. Glorious material here for art of every kind! If Ihad the misfortune to be a poet, I should now be obliged to rush out ina fit of inspiration, hide myself in the kennel, and, at a safe distancefrom all exciting causes, write a passionate sonnet, while the fox keptbiting my heels. But, as I am no poet, I prefer to enjoy the beautifulwhen it is before me, to putting it into rhyme. " And again he lookedadmiringly at the lady. 

"Lenore!" cried a harsh voice from a corner of the room. Lenore and Finklooked in amazement at each other. 

"He has learned it, " said the forester, pointing to the raven; "in ageneral way he has left off learning, and sits there sulking with everyone, but still he has learned that. "

The raven sitting on the stove bent down his head, cast a shrewd glanceat both the guests, kept moving his beak as though speaking to himself, and alternately nodding and shaking his head. 

"The birds already begin to speak, " cried Fink, going up to the raven;"the ceiling will soon fly off, and I shall be left alone with Hectorand Bergmann. Now, sorcerer, does the water boil?"

The forester looked into the stove. "It boils famously, " he said; "butwhat is to be done next?"

"We will ask the lady to help us, " replied Fink. "I have, " said he, turning to Lenore, "already been with your family trapper as far as thedistillery and back, and I have brought what always serves me on mytravels for breakfast and dinner. " He took out a few tablets ofchocolate. "We will concoct something like a beverage with this, if youdo not disdain to lend us your aid. I propose that we try to mix thiswith water as well as we can. It would be charming of you to vouchsafean opinion as to how we ought to set about it. "

"Have you a grater or a mortar?" inquired Lenore, laughing. 

"I have neither of those machines, " replied the forester. 

"A hammer, then, " suggested Fink, "and a clean sheet of paper. "

The hammer was soon brought, but the paper was only found after a longsearch. Fink undertook to pound the chocolate, the forester broughtfresh water from the spring, Lenore washed out some cups, and Finkhammered away with all his heart. "This is antediluvian paper, " said he, "thick as parchment; it must have lain for some centuries in this magichut. " Lenore shook the chocolate powder into the saucepan, and stirredit. Then they all three sat down, and much enjoyed the result of theirhandiwork. 

The golden sunbeams shone fuller into the room, lighting up the brightform of the beautiful girl, and the fine face of the man opposite her;then they fell upon the wall, and decked the head of the heron and thewings of the hawk. The raven came to the end of his soliloquy, andfluttered from his seat, hopping about the lady's feet, and croaking outagain, "Lenore! Lenore!"

Lenore now conversed at her ease with the stranger, and the foresterevery now and then threw in a suitable remark. They spoke of thedistrict and its inhabitants. 

"Wherever I have met Poles in foreign lands, I have got on very wellwith them, " said Fink. "I am sorry that these disturbances prevent onevisiting them in their own homes; for, certainly, one best learns toknow men from seeing them there. "

"It must be delightful to see so many different scenes and people, "cried Lenore. 

"It is only at first that the difference strikes you. When one hasobserved them a while, one comes to the conclusion that they are everywhere much alike: a little diversity in the color of the skin and otherdetails; but love and hate, laughter and tears, these the traveler findsevery where, and every where these are the same. About twenty weeks agoI was half a hemisphere off, in the log hut of an American, on a barrenprairie. It was just the same as here. We sat at a stout rustic tablelike this, and my host was as like this old gentleman as one egg is toanother, and the light of the winter sun fell in just the same waythrough the small window. But if men have so little to distinguish them, women are still more alike in essentials. They only differ in onetrifling particular. "

"And what is that?" asked the forester. 

"They are rather more or less neat, " said Fink, carelessly; "that is thewhole difference. "

Lenore rose, offended at his tone more than at his words. 

"It is time that I should return, " said she, coldly, tying on her strawhat. 

"When you rose, all the brightness left the room, " cried Fink. 

"It is only a cloud passing over the sun, " said the forester, going tothe window; "that causes the shadow. "

"Nonsense, " replied Fink; "it is the straw hat hiding the lady's hairthat does it; the light comes from those golden locks. "

They left the house, the forester locked the door, and each went off indifferent directions. 

Lenore hurried home; the linnet sang, the thrush whistled, but she didnot heed them. She blamed herself for having crossed the threshold ofthe forester's house, and yet she could not turn away her thoughts fromit. The stranger made her feel uneasy and insecure. Was he thus daringbecause nothing was sacred to him, or was it only through his extremeself-possession and self-dependence? Ought she to be angry with him, ordid her sense of awkwardness only arise from the folly of aninexperienced girl? These questions she kept constantly asking herself, but, alas! she found no answer. 

When Anton wanted to send a message that evening to the shepherd, neither Karl nor any other messenger was to be found, so he wenthimself. He was not a little surprised to see in one of the farthestfields through which he had to go his friend Fink on horseback, and theGerman farmer and Karl busily occupied near him. Fink was gallopingalong short distances, the others placing black and white pegs in theground, and taking them out again. And then Karl looked through a smalltelescope that he rested on his peg. "Five-and-twenty paces, " criedFink. 

"Two inches fall, " screamed back Karl. 

"Five-and-twenty, two, " said the farmer, making an entry in hispocket-book. 

"So you have come, have you?" cried Fink, laughing, to his friend. "Waita moment; we shall soon have done. " Again a certain number of leaps, observations through the telescope, and entries in the pocket-book; thenthe men collected their pegs, and Fink rapidly cast up the figures inthe farmer's book. Then giving it back with a smile, he said, "Come onwith me, Anton, I have something to show you. Place yourself by thebrook, with your face to the north. There the brook forms a straightline from west to east, the border of the wood a semicircle. Wood andbrook together define the segment of a circle. "

"That is evident, " said Anton. 

"In olden times the brook ran differently, " continued Fink. "It sweptalong the curve of the wood, and its old bed is still visible. If youwalk along the ancient water-course toward the west, you come to thepoint where the old channel diverges from the new. It is the point wherea wretched bridge crosses the brook, and the water in its present bedhas a fall of more than a foot, strong enough to turn the best millgoing. The ruins of some buildings stand near it. "

"I know the place well enough, " said Anton. 

"Below the village, the old channel bends down to the new. Itencompasses a wide plain, more than five hundred acres, if I can trustthe paces of this horse. The whole of this ground slopes down from theold channel to the new. There are a few acres of meadow, and sometolerable arable land. The most part is sand and rough pasture, theworst part of the estate, as I hear. "

"I allow all that, " said Anton, with some curiosity. 

"Now mark me. If you lead back the brook to its old channel, and forceit to run along the bow instead of forming the arc of that bow, thewater that now runs to waste will irrigate the whole plain of fivehundred acres, and change the barren sand into green meadows. "

"You are a sharp fellow, " cried Anton, excited at the discovery. 

"These acres, well irrigated, would yield a ton of hay an acre;consequently, each acre would bring in a clear profit of five dollars, or, in other words, the five hundred acres would give a yearly income oftwo thousand five hundred, and to bring this about would require anoutlay of fifteen thousand dollars at the very outside. This, Anton, waswhat I had to say to you. "

Anton stood there amazed. There was no doubt that Fink's calculationswere not made at random either as to outlay or return, and theadvantageous prospect which such a measure opened out occupied him somuch that he walked on for some time in silence. "You show me water andpastures in the desert, " said he, at length. "This is cruel of you, forthe baron is not in a condition to carry out this improvement. Fifteenthousand dollars!"

"Perhaps ten might do, " said Fink, sarcastically. "I have drawn thiscastle in the air for you, to punish you for your stiff-neckedness theother evening. Now let us speak of something else. "

At night the baron, with an important air, summoned his wife and Lenoreto a conference in his room. He sat up in his arm-chair, and said, witha greater degree of satisfaction than he had for a long time evinced, "It was easy to discover that this visit of Fink's was not exactlyaccidental, nor occasioned by his friendship for Mr. Wohlfart, as theyoung men both made it appear: you two pretended to be wiser than I; butI was right after all, and the visit concerns us more nearly than ouragent. "

The baroness cast a terrified glance at her daughter, but Lenore's eyeswere so fully fixed on her father that her mother was comforted. 

"And what do you suppose has brought this gentleman here?" continued thebaron. 

Lenore shook her head, and said at last, "Father, Herr von Fink has longbeen most intimate with Wohlfart, and they have not seen each other forsome years. How natural that Fink should take advantage of his slightacquaintance with us to spend a few weeks with his dearest friend! Whyshould we seek any other reason for his presence?"

"You speak as young people always do. Men are less influenced by idealimpressions, and more ruled by their own interest, than your juvenilewisdom apprehends. "

"Interest!" said the baroness. 

"What is there surprising in it?" continued the baron. "Both aretradespeople. Fink knows enough of the charms of business to lose noopportunity of making a good bargain. I will tell you why he is comehere. Our excellent Wohlfart has written to him stating, 'Here is anestate, and this estate has an owner who is at present unable tooverlook its management himself. There is something to be made here. Youhave money, therefore come; I am your friend; some of the profits willnaturally fall to my share. '"

The baroness gazed steadfastly at her husband, but Lenore sprang up andcried, with all the energy of a deeply-wounded heart, "Father, I willnot hear you speak thus of a man who has never shown us any thing butthe most unselfish devotion. His friendship for us is such as to enablehim to bear with boundless patience the privations of this lonely place, and the disagreeables of his present position. "

"His friendship?" said the baron; "I never laid claim to so great adistinction. "

"We have done so, though, " cried Lenore, impetuously. "At a time when mymother found no one else to stand by us, Wohlfart faithfully clung to usstill. From the day that my brother brought him to us till this veryhour, he has acted for you and cared for us. "

"Very well, " admitted the baron; "I find no fault with his activity. Iwillingly allow that he keeps the accounts in good order, and is veryindustrious in return for a small salary. If you understood men'smotives better, you would hear me more patiently. After all, there is noharm in what he has done. I want capital, and am, as you know, a gooddeal embarrassed besides. What should prevent proposals being made to mewhich would advantage others and do me no injury?"

"For God's sake, father, what proposals do you mean? It is false thatWohlfart has any other interest at heart but yours. "

The baroness beckoned to her daughter to be silent. "If Fink wishes topurchase the estate, " said she, "I shall hail his resolve as ablessing--the greatest blessing, beloved Oscar, that could happen to younow. "

"We are not talking of buying, " replied the baron. "I shall think twicebefore I give away the estate in such a hurry under the presentcircumstances. Fink's proposal is of a different kind; he wishes tobecome my tenant. "

Lenore sank down speechless in her chair. 

"He wishes to rent from me five hundred acres of level ground, in orderto convert them into profitable meadows. I do not deny that he hasspoken openly and fairly on the subject. He has proved to me in figureshow great his gains would be, and offered to pay the first year's rentat once--nay, more, he has offered to give up his tenancy in five years, and make over the meadows to me, provided I repay him the expensesincurred. "

"Gracious Heaven!" cried Lenore; "you have surely refused this generousproposal. "

"I have required time for deliberation, " replied the baron, complacently. "The offer is, as I have already said, not exactlydisadvantageous to myself; at the same time, it might be imprudent toconcede such advantages to a stranger, when, in a year or so, I might beable to carry out this improvement on my own account. "

"You will never be able to do so, my poor, my beloved husband, " criedthe baroness, weeping, and throwing her arms about the baron's neck, while he sank down annihilated, and laid his head on her breast like alittle child. 

"I must know whether Wohlfart knows of this proposal, and what he saysto it, " cried Lenore, decidedly; "and, if you allow me, father, I willat once send for him. " As the baron did not reply, she rang the bell forthe servant, and left the room to meet him at the door. 

Fink sat, meanwhile, in Anton's room, amusing himself with rallying hisfriend. "Since you have given up smoking, your good angel has desertedyou, after having so torn his hair at your stiff-neckedness that therehe is now sitting bewigged among the angel choir. As for you, yourpunishment is to be the having your soul sewed up in a turnip-leaf, anddaily smoked by the smallest imps in the pit. "

"Have you been a member of some pious fraternity in America, that youare so well acquainted with the proceedings of the spiritual world?"inquired Anton, looking up from his account-book. 

"Silence!" said Fink; "formerly there were, at least, occasional hourswhen you could trifle too, but now you are always carrying on youreverlasting book-keeping, and, by Tantalus, all for nothing--for nothingat all!"

The servant entered, and summoned Anton to the baron. 

As the latter left the room, Fink called out, "Apropos; I have offeredto rent the five hundred acres from the baron at two dollars and halfthe acre--the land to be made over in five years' time on repayment ofthe capital expended, either in money or by a mortgage. Off with you, myboy!"

When Anton entered the baron's apartment, he found the baroness at herhusband's side, his hand in hers, while Lenore walked restlessly up anddown the room. "Have you heard of the offer that Herr von Fink has madeto my father?" asked she. 

"He has this moment told me of it, " replied Anton. The baron made aface. 

"And is it your opinion that my father ought to accept the offer?"

Anton was silent. "It is an advantageous one for the estate, " said he, at length, with considerable effort. "The outlay of capital is essentialto its improvement. "

"I don't want to be told that, " replied Lenore, impatiently, "but toknow whether you, as our friend, advise us to accept this offer?"

"I do not, " said Anton. 

"I knew that you would say so, " cried Lenore, stepping behind herfather's chair. 

"You do not; and wherefore, if you please?" inquired the baron. 

"The present time, which makes all things uncertain, seems to me littlefitted for so bold a speculation; besides which, I believe Fink to beinfluenced by motives which do him honor, but which would render itpainful to the baron to accept his offer. "

"You will allow me to be the judge of what I ought or ought not toaccept, " said the baron. "As a mere question of business, this measurewould be advantageous to both parties. "

"That I must allow, " said Anton. 

"And as to the views that people may take of political prospects, thatis merely a personal matter. He who does not allow his undertakings tobe interfered with is more praise-worthy than he who, through a vaguefear, postpones advantageous measures. "

"That, too, I allow. "

"Would this undertaking lead to Herr von Fink permanently taking up hisabode in our neighborhood?" asked the baroness. 

"I do not think so; he would make over the task to a farmer, and histemperament is sure to send him wandering off again. As to his motives, I can but surmise. I believe them to be mainly the respect and regard hefeels for your family, and possibly the wish to have some right toremain with you in these unquiet times. The very danger that would makethis country undesirable to others has a charm for him. "

"And would you not be glad to retain your friend with you?" inquired thebaroness further. 

"Till to-day I had no hope of it, " answered Anton. "Formerly, my taskused to be that of holding him back from precipitate resolves, and fromstaking much upon a sudden fancy. "

"You consider, then, " said the baron, "that your friend has beenprecipitate in his proposal to me?"

"His proposal is a bold one, so far as he himself is concerned, "returned Anton, significantly; "and there is something in it, baron, which does not satisfy me on your account, though I should find adifficulty in defining it. "

"Thank you, " said the baron; "we will discuss the subject no further;there is no hurry about it. " Anton bowed and left the room. 

Lenore stood silently at the window, repeating to herself his lastwords, "I should find a difficulty in defining it, " while a crowd ofpainful thoughts and forebodings rushed through her mind. She was angrywith her father's weakness, and indignant with Fink for presuming tooffer them assistance. Whether his offer were accepted or not, theirrelations to their guest were changed by it. They were indebted to him. He was no longer a stranger. He had intruded into their private griefs. She thought of the curl of his lip, of the contraction of his eyebrows;she fancied she heard him laughing at her father and at her. He hadentered their house in his offhand way, and now carelessly seized thereins, and meant to direct their fortunes as he liked. Perhaps herparents might owe their deliverance to one of his arbitrary caprices. This morning she could feel at her ease with him, brilliant man of theworld as he was; they were on equal terms, but how should they meethenceforth? Her pride rebelled against one whose influence she sosensibly felt. She determined to treat him coldly; she made castles inthe air as to how he would speak, and how she would reply, and her fancykept flying round the image of the stranger as the scared mother-birddoes around the enemy of her nest. 

"And what will you do, Oscar?" inquired the baroness. 

"My father can not accept, " cried Lenore, energetically. 

"What is your opinion?" said the baron, turning to his wife. 

"Choose what will soonest set you free from this estate--from the care, the gloom, the insecurity which are secretly preying on you. Let us goto some distant land, where men's passions are less hideously developed. Let us go far away; we shall be more peaceful in the narrowestcircumstances than we are here. "

"Thus, then, you advise the acceptance of his offer, " said the baron. "He who rents a part will soon undertake the whole. "

"And pay us a pension!" cried Lenore. 

"You are a foolish girl, " said her father. "You both excite yourselves, which is unnecessary. The offer is too important to be refused oraccepted offhand. I will weigh the matter more narrowly. Your Wohlfartwill have plenty of time to examine the conditions, " added he, moregood-humoredly. 

"Listen, dear father, to what Wohlfart has already spoken, and respectwhat he keeps back. "

"Yes, yes, he shall be listened to, " said the baron. "And nowgood-night, both of you. I will reconsider the matter. "

"He will accept, " said Lenore to her mother; "he will accept, becauseWohlfart has dissuaded him, and because the other offers him readymoney. Mother, why did you not say that we could never look the strangerin the face if he gave us alms in our very house?"

"I have no longer any pride or any hope, " replied her mother, in a lowvoice. 

As Anton slowly re-entered his room, Fink called out cheerfully, "Howgoes it, man of business? Am I to be tenant, or will the baron himselfundertake the matter? He would like it dearly. In that case, I lay claimto compensation--free room for myself and my horse as long as they playat war hereabouts. "

"He will accept your offer, " replied Anton, "though I advised him not. "

"You did!" cried Fink. "Yes, indeed, it's just like you. When a drowningmouse clings to a raft, you make it a long speech on the imperativenature of moral obligations, and hurl it back into the water. "

"You are not so innocent as a raft, " said Anton, laughing. 

"Hear me, " continued Fink; "I have no superfluous sentimentality; but inthis particular case I should not consider it friendly in you to wish toedify me by a lecture. Is it then so unpleasant to have me to help youthrough these confounded times?"

"I have known you long enough, you rogue, " said Anton, "to feel surethat your friendship for me has had a good deal to do with your offer. "

"Indeed!" said Fink, sarcastically; "and how much, pray? It is a goodfor nothing age: however virtuously one may act, one is so dissectedthat virtue turns to egotism under the knife of malice. "

Anton stroked his cheek. "I do not dissect, " said he. "You have made agenerous offer, and I am not discontented with you, but with myself. Inmy first delight at your arrival, I disclosed more about the baron'scircumstances and the ladies' anxieties than was right. I myselfintroduced you into the mysteries of the family, and you have used theknowledge you acquired from me in your own dexterous way. It is I whohave entangled you with the affairs of this family, and your capitalwith this disturbed country. That all this should have happened sosuddenly is against my every feeling, and I am amazed at my ownincaution in having brought it about. "

"Of course, " laughed Fink, "it is your sweetest enjoyment to be anxiousabout those around you. "

"It has twice happened to me, " continued Anton, "whose caution you sooften laugh at, to speak unguardedly to strangers about thecircumstances of this family. The first time that I asked help for theRothsattels it was refused me, and this, more than any thing else, ledme out of the counting-house hither; and now that my second indiscretionhas procured the help I did not ask, what will the consequences be?"

"To lead you hence back into the counting-house, " laughed Fink. "Did oneever see such a subtle Hamlet in jack-boots? If I could only find outwhether you secretly desire or fear such a logical conclusion!" Thendrawing a piece of money from his pocket, he said, "Heads or tails, Anton? Blonde or brunette? Let us throw. "

"You are no longer in Tennessee, you soul-seller!" laughed Anton againsthis will. 

"It should have been an honorable game, " said Fink, coolly. "I meant togive you the choice. Remember that hereafter. "

CHAPTER XXXV. 

The baron accepted. Indeed, it was difficult to resist Fink's offer:even Anton acknowledged that. But the baron did not come to this resolvein a straightforward way. His mind underwent many oscillations. It wasdisagreeable to him to let a stranger make so considerable a profit outof lands of his; and when he had confessed with a sigh that it wasimpossible to prevent this, it was further disagreeable to him that Finkshould have ventured upon such a proposition as this the third day afterhis arrival; and he felt that Lenore's continued opposition waswell-grounded. At these times he saw himself poor, dependent, underAnton's management, and was imbittered almost to the point of giving upthe plan. But, after such divergences, he always came back to the mainpoint--his own interest. He knew well how great a help the rent paidbeforehand would be during the current year, and he foresaw that theoutlay of capital would, in the course of a few years, double the valueof the estate. Then he could not but admit to himself that, at thepresent disturbed time, Fink would be a desirable associate. However, hepreserved a rigid silence toward his wife and daughter; good-naturedlythrew back Lenore's attempts to bring him to a decision; and was moredignified than usual in bearing during this period of deliberation. 

After a few days he called his old servant, and said, in strictconfidence, "Find out, John, when Mr. Wohlfart goes out, and Herr vonFink remains alone in his room, and then go to the latter and announceme to him. "

The baron being accordingly privately introduced into Fink's apartment, told him in a friendly way that he accepted his offer, and left it tohim to get the contract drawn up by the Rosmin attorney. 

"All right, " said Fink, shaking hands with him; "but have you reflected, baron, that your kind consent obliges me to claim your hospitality forweeks, if not months? for I consider my presence desirable, at allevents till the farming operations are fairly set going. "

"I shall be delighted, " replied the baron, "if you will put up with ourunsettled establishment. I shall take the liberty of setting apart somerooms for you. If you have a servant to whom you are accustomed, praysend for him. "

"I want no servant, " said Fink, "if you will desire your John to keep myroom in order; but I have something better from which I don't like to belong parted--a fine half-blood, which is at present standing in myfather's stable. "

"Would it not be possible to have the horse sent over here?"

"If you would allow it, " said Fink, "I shall be very grateful to you. "

Thus the two concluded their treaty in perfect amity, and the baron leftthe room with the comfortable impression of having made a cleverbargain. 

"The matter is settled, " said Fink to Anton, on the return of thelatter. "Make no lamentations, for the mischief is done. I shall settlemyself in two rooms in a corner of this wing, and see to the furnishingof them myself. To-morrow I am off to Rosmin, and farther still. I am onthe scent of an experienced man who can overlook the undertaking, and Ishall bring him and a few laborers back with me. Can you spare me ourKarl for a week or so?"

"He is not easily spared; but, since it must be so, I will do what I canto replace him. You must leave me abundant instructions. "

The next morning Fink rode away, accompanied by the hussar, and thingsreturned to their old course. The drill went on regularly; patrols weresent around as before; frightful reports were greedily listened to andrepeated. Sometimes small detachments of military appeared, and theofficers were welcome guests at the castle, telling as they did of thestrife going on beyond the forest, and comforting the ladies by boldassurances that the insurrection would soon be put down. Anton was theonly one who felt the heavy burden on the family funds that theirentertainment involved. 

Nearly a fortnight had passed away, and Fink and Karl were still absent. One sunny day, Lenore was busy enlarging her plantation, where aboutfifty young firs and birches already made some show. In her straw hat, asmall spade in her hand, she seemed so lovely to Anton as he washurrying by that he could not resist standing still to look at her. 

"I have you, then, at last, faithless sir, " cried Lenore; "for a wholeweek you have never given my trees a thought; I have been obliged towater them all alone. There is your spade, so come at once and help meto dig. "

Anton obediently took the spade and valiantly began to turn up the sods. 

"I have seen some young junipers in the wood; perhaps you can make useof them, " said he. 

"Yes; on the edge of the plantation, " answered Lenore, appeased. 

"I have had more to do these last days than usual, " continued he. "Wemiss Karl every where. "

Lenore struck her spade deep in the ground, and bent down to examine theupturned earth. "Has not your friend written to you yet?" inquired she, in a tone of indifference. 

"I hardly know what to think of his silence, " said Anton; "the mails arenot interrupted, and other letters come. I almost fear that somemisfortune may have happened to the travelers. "

Lenore shook her head. "Can you imagine any misfortune happening to Herrvon Fink?" inquired she, digging away. 

"It is, indeed, difficult to imagine, " said Anton, laughing; "he doesnot look as if he would easily allow any ill luck to settle down uponhim. "

"I should think not, " replied Lenore, curtly. 

Anton was silent for a while. "It is singular that we should not yethave talked over the change that Fink's remaining here will occasion, "said he, at length, not without some constraint, for he had a vagueconsciousness that a certain degree of embarrassment had risen up onLenore's side as well as his own--a light shadow on the bright grass, cast no one knows from whence. "Are you, too, satisfied with his sojournhere?"

Lenore turned away and twisted a twig in her fingers. "Are yousatisfied?" asked she, in return. 

"For my part, " said Anton, "I may well be pleased with the presence ofmy friend. "

"Then I am so too, " replied Lenore, looking up; "but it really isstrange that Mr. Sturm should not have written either. Perhaps, "exclaimed she, "they will never return. "

"I can answer for Karl, " said Anton. 

"But the other? He looks as changeable as a cloud. "

"He is not that, " replied Anton; "if he has difficulties to contendwith, all the energy of his nature awakes; he is only bored by whatgives him no trouble. "

Lenore was silent, and dug on more zealously than ever. Just then a humof cheerful voices sounded from the farm-yard, and the laborers ran fromtheir dinner to the road. "Mr. Sturm is coming, " cried one of them tothe diggers. A stately procession was seen moving through the villagetoward the castle. First of all came half a dozen men all dressed alike, in gray jackets, wearing broad-brimmed felt hats set on one side, anddecorated with a green sprig, a light gun on their shoulder, and asailor's cutlass at their sides. Behind them came a series of loadedwagons: the first full of shovels, spades, rakes, and wheelbarrowssymmetrically arranged; the latter laden with sacks of meal, chests, bundles of clothes, and household furniture. The procession was closedby a number of men dressed like those above described. As they nearedthe castle, Karl and a stranger sprang down from the last wagon; theformer placed himself at the head of the procession, had the wagonsdriven to the front of the castle, arranged the men in two rows, andmade them present arms. Last of all came Fink galloping up. 

"Welcome!" cried Anton to his friend. 

"You are bringing an army and ammunition, " laughed Lenore, greeting him. "Do you always march with such heavy baggage?"

"I bring a corps that will henceforth be in your service, " replied Fink, jumping down. "They seem decent folk, " said he, turning to Anton; "but Ihad some trouble to collect them. Hands are scarce just now, and yetnothing gets done. We have been drumming and bribing in your countrylike recruiting sergeants. These fellows would hardly have been got heremerely to work; the gray jackets and the chasseurs' caps settled thematter. Some of them have served already, and your hussar knows how tokeep them together as well as any born general. "

The baron and his lady now entered the court. The laborers, at Karl'sbidding, raised a loud hurrah, and then strolled off to the side of thecastle and lay down in the sunshine. 

"Here are your pioneers, my chief, " said Fink to the baron; "since yourkindness allows me to be your inmate for some time to come, I have now aright to do something toward the security of your castle. The conditionof this province is serious. Even in Rosmin they do not feel safe for asingle day; and your imbodying a militia has not escaped the enemy, andcalled attention to your house. "

"It is an honor to me, " interposed the baron, "to be obnoxious to therebels. "

"No doubt, " politely chimed in Fink. "But this is only an additionalmotive to your friends to watch over your and your family's personalsafety. As yet you are hardly strong enough to defend the castle from anassault of the rascals immediately around. The dozen laborers that Ibring will form a guard for your house; they have arms, and partly knowhow to use them. I have bound them to the performance of certainmilitary functions which will help to keep them in order. They can worka few hours less daily, and exercise during the interval, patrol, and, in so far as you, baron, may think it desirable, keep up a regularcorrespondence with the neighboring districts. Of course their supportand payment is my affair, and I have accordingly provided for it. I wishto run up a slight building for them on the land they are to cultivate, but just now it will be well to keep them as near the castle aspossible, and therefore I have to ask you for temporary quarters for allthese as well as for myself. "

"Just as you like, dear Fink, " cried the baron, carried away by theyoung man's enterprising spirit; "all the room we have is at yourdisposal. "

"Then allow me to suggest, " said Anton, "that a room in the lower storyshould be fitted up as a guard-room. There arms and implements can besafely kept, and some of the men might nightly take up their quartersthere. The rest must be billeted in the farm-yard. In this way they willget accustomed to consider the castle their place of rendezvous. "

"Capital, " said Fink, "so that the disturbance thus caused does notprove an annoyance to the ladies. "

"The wife and daughter of an old soldier will gratefully submit to anymeasures taken for their safety, " replied the baron, with dignity. 

Accordingly, the new colony began to settle by universal consent. Thewagons were unloaded, the manager and his men accommodated for themoment in the farm buildings. 

The first thing they did was to free the furniture from its wrappings ofstraw and canvas, and to carry it into the apartments of their newmaster. 

The castle servants stood round and looked with curiosity at its simplestyle. One article, however, excited such loud admiration, that Lenorejoined the group of gazers. It was a small sofa of singular aspect. Thelegs and arms were made of the feet of some great beast of prey, andthe cushions were covered with the bright yellow skin, all dotted overwith regular black spots. At the back and on the bolsters were threelarge jaguars' heads, and the framework, instead of wood, was ofbeautifully carved ivory. 

"How exquisite!" exclaimed Lenore. 

"If the thing does not displease you, " said Fink, coolly, "I propose anexchange. There is a small sofa in my room, on which I rest socomfortably that I should like to keep it there. Will you allow yourpeople to carry off this monster to some other room in the castle, andto leave me that sofa instead?"

Lenore could find no reply, and bowed a silent consent; and yet she wasdissatisfied with herself for not having at once declined such anexchange. When she returned to her room, she found the jaguar-sofaalready there. That vexed her still further. She called Suska and theman-servant, and desired them to move it elsewhere; but they so loudlyprotested that the beautiful creature was nowhere more in keeping thanin their young lady's chamber, that Lenore, to avoid observation, sentthem away and put up with the exchange. Thus it came to pass that herfair form rested on the jaguar-skins that Fink had shot in the farforests of the West. 

The next day the new undertaking began. The manager went with hisapparatus to the land in question, and the men had their work portionedout to them. Karl hunted out day-laborers from the German and Polishdistricts around, and even found a few in the village ready to help, sothat in a few days there were fifty hands employed. It must be ownedthat things did not go on altogether undisturbed; the laborers came lessregularly than might have been wished, but still the work progressed, for Fink as well as Karl well understood keeping men in order--the oneby his haughty energy, the other by the invariable good-humor with whichhe praised or blamed. The forester came assiduously from his forest toconduct the military exercises, the castle was nightly watched, andpatrols regularly sent to the villages around. A warlike spirit spreadfrom the castle over the whole district. A strong esprit de corps soonsprang up among the broadbrims, which made discipline easy, and after afew days Fink was besieged with petitioners for a like uniform, and agun, and the privilege of being taken into his service. 

"The guard-room is ready, " said Fink to Anton; "but you must have holesfor muskets cut in the shutters of the lower story windows. " Thus thetroublous time was endured with fresh spirit. The stranger-guest gave anew impulse to each individual life; the very farm-servants felt hisinfluence, and the forester was proud to do the honors of his wood tosuch a gentleman. Fink was a good deal in the woods with Anton, who, aswell as Karl, soon fell into the habit of asking his advice. He boughttwo strong cart-horses--for his own use, he said--but he cleverlycontrived that they should work on the baron's farm, and laughed atAnton's scruples. The latter was happy to have his friend near him. Somewhat of their former pleasant life had returned--of those eveningswhen the two youths had chatted, as only youths can, sometimes in merechildish folly, sometimes gravely on the highest subjects. Fink hadchanged in many respects. He had become more quiet, or, as Antonexpressed it in counting-house phrase, more solid; but he was moreinclined than ever to make use of men for his own varying interests, andto look down upon them as mere instruments. His physical strength wasunabated. After having stood all morning superintending hisworkmen--after having wandered all through the wood with the forester, ridden, spite of Anton's remonstrances, far into the disturbed districtsto seek information or establish relations there, and inspected on hisreturn all the sentry-posts on the estate, there he was at the tea-tableof the baroness, a lively companion, with such inexhaustible funds ofconversation that Anton had often to remind him by signs that thestrength of the lady of the house was not equal to his own. As for thebaron, Fink had completely subjugated him. He never showed the leastdeference to the sarcastic humor which had become habitual to theunfortunate nobleman, never allowed him a bitter observation againstWohlfart or Lenore, or any one else, without making him at once sensibleof its injustice. Consequently, the baron learned to exercise greatself-control in his presence. On the other hand, Fink took pains to givehim many a pleasure. He helped him to play a rubber of whist, initiatedLenore in the game, and gradually drew in Wohlfart as the fourth. 

This had the effect of pleasantly whiling away many a weary hour for thebaron; of making Wohlfart one of the family circle, and keeping him up, so that Fink might, if so minded, drink a glass of Cognac punch andenjoy his last cigar in his company. The ladies of the house alone didnot seem to feel the cheering influence of Fink's presence. Thebaroness fell sick; it was no violent ailment, yet it came suddenly. That very afternoon she had spoken cheerfully to Anton, and taken fromhim some letters which the postman had brought for her husband, but inthe evening she did not make her appearance at the tea-table, though thebaron himself treated her indisposition as trifling. She complained ofnothing but weakness, and the doctor, who ventured from Rosmin to thecastle, could not give her malady a name. She smilingly rejected allmedicine, and said it was her firm conviction that the exhaustion wouldpass away. That she might not detain her husband and daughter in hersick-room, she often expressed a wish to join the family circle, but shewas not able to sit up on the sofa, and lay resting her head on thepillows. Thus she was still the silent companion of the others. Her eyeswould dwell uneasily upon the baron, or searchingly upon Lenore, as theysat at the whist-table, and then she would close them and seem to rest, as if from some great exertion. 

Anton looked with sincere sympathy at the invalid. Whenever there was apause in the game, he took the opportunity of quietly stepping to thesofa and asking her commands. It was a pleasure to him to hand her evena glass of water, or take a message for her. He gazed with admiration atthe delicate face, which, pale and thin as it was, retained all itsbeauty of outline. There was a silent understanding between the two. Shespoke, indeed, less to him than to the rest; for while she oftenaddressed her husband in a cheerful tone, or followed Fink's livelynarratives with looks and gestures of interest, she did not take thetrouble of hiding her weakness from Anton. Alone with him, she wouldcollapse or gaze absently straight before her; but when she did look athim, it was with the calm confidence with which we are inspired by anold friend from whom we have no longer any secrets. Perhaps this arosefrom the baroness being able fully to appreciate his worth--perhaps, too, it arose from her never having looked at him in any other lightthan that of an obliging domestic since he first promised his services;but had this view of hers been discernible to our hero, it would in noway have shaken his allegiance to the noble lady. She seemed to himperfect, just as she was--a picture that rejoiced the heart of all whocame within its influence. He could not get rid of the impression thatsome external cause, perhaps one of those letters he had himself givenher, was answerable for the change in her health; for one of them wasdirected in a trembling hand, and had an unpleasant look about it, whichhad made Anton instinctively feel that it contained bad news. Oneevening, while the others were at the card-table, the invalid's headsunk down from the silken cushions; Anton having arranged them morecomfortably, she looked at him gratefully, and told him in a whisper howweak she was. "I wish to speak with you once more alone, " continued she, after a pause; "not now, but the time will come;" and then she lookedupward with an expression of anguish that filled Anton's heart withpainful fears. 

Neither the baron nor Lenore, however, shared his anxiety. 

"Mamma has often suffered from similar attacks of weakness before, " saidthe latter. "The summer is her best cure, and I hope every thing fromwarmer weather. "

But indeed Lenore was too preoccupied to be a good judge of what wasgoing on around her. She too was changed. Many an evening she would sitmute at the tea-table, and start if addressed; at other times she wouldbe immoderately lively. She avoided Fink; she avoided Anton too, and wasreserved in manner to both. Her blooming health appeared disturbed; hermother would often send her out of doors from her own sick-room; andthen she would have her pony saddled, and ride round and round the wood, till the indignant pony would take her home without her finding it out. Anton saw this change with silent sorrow. He was deeply conscious howdifferent Lenore's relation to him had become, but he did not speak ofthis to her, and kept his feelings to himself. 

It was a sultry afternoon in May. Dark thunder-clouds hung over theforest, and the sun threw its burning rays on the parched land, when thepatrol which had been sent to Kunau came hurrying back to the guard-roomto say that there were strange men lurking in the Kunau woods, and thatthe villagers wished to know what was to be done. Fink gave the alarm tohis laborers, and sent a message to the forester and to the new farm. While the men carried the implements into the castle, and thefarm-servants rode home with teams and prepared for a sally, a horsemancame from Kunau to say that a band of Poles had broken into a court-yardin the village, and that the peasants requested help. All were now inthe cheerful excitement which an alarm occasions when it promisesadventures. 

"Keep some of the workmen back, " said Fink to Anton, "and guard thecastle and village. I will send the forester with his little militia toKunau, and ride over thither myself first of all, with Karl and theservants. "

He sprang to the stable and saddled his own horse, while Karl wasgetting ready that of the baron for himself. 

"Look at the clouds, Herr von Fink, " said Karl. "Take your cloak withyou; we shall have a tremendous shower. "

Fink called accordingly for his plaid, and the little band galloped offtoward Kunau. When they entered the forest they remarked how stiflingthe atmosphere was. Even the rapid pace of their horses brought with itno relief. 

"Look how restless the beasts are, " said Karl. "My horse pricks hisears. There is something in the wood. "

They stopped for a moment. "I hear a horse's tread, and a rustling amongthe branches. "

The horse that Karl rode stretched out his neck and neighed loudly. 

"It is an acquaintance--one of our own number, " said Fink, looking atthe animal. The branches of the young trees parted, and Lenore, mountedon her pony, sprang out and barred the way. "Halt! who goes there?"cried she, laughing. 

"Hurrah! the young lady!" exclaimed Karl. 

"The password?" cried Lenore, in true martial style. 

Fink rode up, saluted her, and whispered, "Potz Blitz, das ist ja dieGustel von Blasewitz. "

Lenore blushed and laughed. "All right, " said she; "I shall ride withyou. "

"Of course, " cried Fink; "only let's go on. "

The pony exerted himself to keep up with the tall horse of the stranger, and thus they reached Kunau and stopped at the rendezvous, where thevillage militia was assembled; and its commander, the smith, met theriders with an anxious face. 

"Those hidden in our wood, " cried he, "are an accursed set--armed Poles. This very day, in broad noonlight, a band of the men, carrying guns, came to Leonard's farm, which lies out there by the wood, invested thedoors and gate, while their leader and some of the men marched into theroom where the farmer and his family were sitting, and demanded moneyand the calf out of the stable. He was a blackguard fellow, with a longgun, a peacock feather in his cap, and a red scarf around his loins, like a thorough Klopice. The farmer refused to give up his money, atwhich they took aim at him; and his wife, in terror, ran to the closet, and threw all the money they had at the rascals. Next, they carried awaythe geese from the yard, and went off with their booty into the wood, leaving four rogues armed with guns to mount guard, and prevent any onegetting off the premises till they were far enough. Next, two of thethieves discharged their guns into the roof, and then all ran away. Thethatch took fire, but fortunately we got it put out. "

"Hours have passed since then, " cried Fink; "the rogues are over themountains by this time. "

"I do not think so, " replied the smith. "I at once sent off Leonard tothe border with our mounted men, that they might watch whether thethieves crept out of the wood or not, and a woman who crossed it twohours ago saw Poles there. They had some beast with them too, but thewoman was too much terrified to know whether it was a calf or a dog; ifit were a calf, the hungry wolves would rather eat it than carry itfarther. I have just come from Neudorf; the men there are assembled likeourselves. We might make a search through the forest if your peoplewould help us, and if you would show us the way. " "Good, " said Fink;"let us set about it. " He then sent a message to the forester to theeffect that those in the castle should set out on the search from theirside, and discussed with the smith the best way of disposing the Kunaumen. He next dispatched Karl and the servants to join the Kunau horsemenon the opposite side of the wood. "Don't stand upon ceremony with therascals, " he called out after Karl, with a significant tap on hispistols. "Now, then, " said he to the smith, "I will go to Neudorf. Whenyou have searched your half of the wood, wait for us; you shall then bejoined by the Neudorf detachment. "

The Kunau men set off accordingly to avenge the robbery committed. Fink, accompanied by Lenore, rode off to the neighboring village. On the waythither, he said, "At Neudorf we must part, lady. " Lenore was silent. 

Fink glanced sidelong at her. "I don't think, " said he, "that the rogueswill do us the pleasure of awaiting our approach; and if they are mindedto run off, the evening is closing in, and we shall hardly hinder them;but the chase will be good practice for our people, and therefore wemust make the most of it. "

"Then I will go with you to the wood, " said Lenore, resolutely. 

"That is hardly necessary, " replied Fink. "True, I fear no risk for you, but fatigue, and probably rain. "

"Let me go with you!" prayed Lenore, looking up at him. "I have givenyou sensible advice; what more can be demanded from any one?"

"Between ourselves, I am rejoiced to find you so spirited. Gallop then, comrade!"

Arrived at Neudorf, Fink left the horses in the bailiff's stable, andled the band of villagers to the borders of the wood. There theydeployed into a cordon, and the march now began; Fink walked withLenore at the head of the right wing, which, according to the plan laiddown, would be the first to join the Kunau detachment. All went silentlyonward, and looked with keen glance from tree to tree. As they gotfarther into the wood, there was a rustling in the tops of the trees, and looking through them, a leaden-colored sky was seen; but below, thesultriness was undisturbed, the birds sat supinely on the branches, andthe beetles had crept into the heather. 

"The very sky is on the side of these rogues, " said Fink, pointing outthe clouds to his companion; "it is getting so dark up there that inhalf an hour's time we shall not be able to see ten yards before us. "

The forest now thickened and the light decreased. Lenore had somedifficulty in discerning the men before her. The ground grew swampy, andshe sank up to her ankles. "If only no cold be caught, " laughed Fink. "None will, " replied she, cheerfully; but the forest expedition nolonger appeared to her the easy matter it had done an hour before. 

The man nearest to Fink stood still, his whispered word of command ranalong the whole chain, and all stopped to wait for the Kunau men. Thesky grew still blacker, the wood still darker. The thunder began to rollin the distance, hollow and muffled, beneath the fir-wood arches. Atfirst the rain sounded only on the tree-tops, but soon large, heavydrops came down, till at length all view was shut out by the sheets ofwater that fell. Each individual was isolated by darkness and rain, andwhen the men called to each other, they were hardly audible. 

At that moment Lenore, as she looked at Fink, caught her foot in theroot of a tree, and suppressing a cry of anguish, sank on one knee. Finkhastened to her. 

"I can go no farther, " said she, conquering her pain; "leave me here, Ibeseech you, and call for me on your return. "

"To leave you in this condition, " cried Fink, "would be barbarity, compared to which cannibalism is a harmless recreation. You will be goodenough to put up with my proximity. But first of all allow me to leadyou out of this shower-bath to some spot where the rain is lessaudacious; and, besides, I have, already lost sight of our men; not oneof the worthy fellows' broad shoulders can I now discern. " He raisedLenore, who tried to use the injured foot, but the pain extorted anothercry of agony. She tottered, and leaned against Fink's shoulder. Windinghis plaid about her, he lifted her from the ground, and carried her, asone carries a child, underneath some fir-trees, whose thick branchesspread over a small dry space. Any one stooping might find tolerableshelter there. 

"I must set you down here, dear lady, " said Fink, carefully placingLenore on the ground. "I will keep watch before your green tent, andturn my back to you, that you may bind your wet handkerchief round thenaughty ankle. "

Lenore squeezed herself in under the fir canopy. Fink stood leaningagainst the trunk of a tree. 

"Is nothing broken?" said he; "can you move the foot?"

"It hurts me, " said Lenore, "but I can move it. "

"That is well, " said Fink, looking straight before him; "now bind thehandkerchief round it; I hope that in ten minutes you will be able tostand. Wrap yourself up well in the large plaid; it will keep you warm;else my comrade will catch a fever, and that would be paying too dearfor the chase after the stolen calf. Have you arranged the bandage?"

"Yes, " said Lenore. 

"Then allow me to wrap you up. " It was in vain that she protested; Finkwound the large shawl round and round her, and tied it behind in a firmknot. "Now you may sit in the wood like the gray manikin. "

"Leave me a little breathing space, " implored Lenore. 

"There, then, " said Fink; "now you will be comfortable. "

Indeed, Lenore soon began to feel a genial warmth, and sat silent in hershady nook, distressed at the singular position in which she foundherself. Meanwhile Fink had again taken up his post against thetree-trunk, and chivalrously kept aloof. After a time Lenore called outof her hiding-place, "Are you there still, comrade mine?"

"Do you take me for a traitor who forsakes his tent-companion?" returnedFink. 

"It is quite dry here, " continued Lenore, "only that a drop falls nowand then upon my nose; but you, poor you, will be wet through out there. What fearful rain!"

"Does this rain terrify you?" inquired Fink, shrugging his shoulders. "It is but a weak infant, this. If it can break off a twig from a tree, it thinks it has done wonders. Commend me to the rain of warmerclimates. Drops like apples--nay, not drops at all, streams as thick asmy arm! The water rushes down from the clouds like a cataract. Nostanding, for the ground swims away beneath one's feet: no takingshelter under a tree, for the wind breaks the thickest trunks likestraw. One runs to his house, which is not farther off, perhaps, thanfrom here to that good for nothing stump that hurt your foot, and thehouse has vanished, leaving in its place a hole, a stream, and a heap ofwell-washed stones. Perhaps, too, the earth may begin to shake a little, and to raise waves like those of the sea in a storm. That is a rainwhich is worth seeing. Clothes that have been wet through by it neverrecover; what was once a great-coat is, after a whole week's drying, nothing more than a black and shapeless mass--in aspect and texture liketo a morel. If one chances to be wearing such a coat, it sticks on fastenough indeed, but it never can be got off except by the help of apenknife, and in narrow strips, peeled away as one peels an apple!"

Lenore could not help laughing in spite of pain. "I should much like tohave experience of such a rain as that, " said she. 

"I am unselfish in not wishing to see you in such a plight, " repliedFink. "Ladies fare worst of all. All that constitutes their toilettevanishes entirely in torrents such as these. Do you know the costume ofthe Venus of Milo?"

"No, " said Lenore, distressed. 

"All women caught in a tropical rain look exactly like that lady, andthe men like scarecrows. Nay, sometimes it happens that human beings arebeaten down flat as penny-pieces, with a knob in the middle, which, oncloser examination, proves to be a human head, and mournfully calls outto passers-by, 'Oh, my fellow-beings, this is what comes of going outwithout an umbrella!'"

Again Lenore could not help laughing. "My foot no longer hurts me somuch; I believe that I could walk. "

"That you shall not do, " replied Fink. "The rain has not abated, and itis so dark that one can hardly see one's outstretched hand. "

"Then do me the kindness of going to look for the others. I am betternow, and I crouch here like a roe, hidden alike from rain and robbers. "

"It won't do, " rejoined Fink from his tree. 

"I implore you to do so, " cried Lenore, anxiously, stretching out herhands from the plaid. "Leave me now alone. " Fink turned round, seizedher hand, pressed it to his lips, and silently hurried off in thedirection the men had taken. 

Lenore now sat alone beneath the fir-tree. The rain still rushed down, and the thunder rolled above her, and at times a sudden flash showed herthe two long rows of trunks, looking like the yellow pillars of anunfinished building, a black roof over them. At such moments the forestseemed like an enchanted castle, rising out of the earth and sinkinginto nothingness again. Mysterious tones, such as fill the woods bynight, sounded through the rain. Over her head there was a knocking atregular intervals, as if some wicked wood-sprite were seeking admittanceto her shelter, which made her start, and ask herself whether itproceeded from a spectre or the branch of a tree. Farther off was heardthe vehement croaking of some crow whose nest had been flooded, andwhose first sleep was disturbed. Close to her there was ghastlylaughter. "Hee, hee! hoo, hoo!" and again Lenore started. Was it amalicious forest kobold, or only a night-owl? Nature spoke around her ina hundred melancholy tones. Lenore sometimes enjoyed, and sometimestrembled at the wild charm of this solitude. Other thoughts, too, passedthrough her mind: she blamed herself for having foolishly stolen out tojoin an undertaking that made such a result as this possible; shepictured to herself how they were seeking for her at home; and, aboveall, wondered what he who had just left her, at her earnest request, wasthinking of her in his inmost heart. Pushing back the plaid, shelistened, but there was not a human voice to be heard; nothing but thefall of the rain and the sighing of the wood. But near her somethingmoved. At first she heard it indistinctly, then plainly as in leaps itcame closer, and presently she felt something press against her plaid. Terrified, she cautiously reached out her hand, and touched the wet skinof a hare, who, scared from its form by the incessant rain, now soughtshelter like herself. She held her breath not to disturb her littlecompanion, and for a while the two cowered side by side. 

Then shots sounded afar off through the rain and thunder. Lenorestarted, and the hare bounded away. Yonder there were men fighting;yonder, blood was being poured out on the dark ground. A scream washeard--a fierce, ominous scream, then all was still. "Was he in danger?"she asked herself; yet she felt no fear, and shook her head under herplaid, sure that, even if he were, no danger would reach him: the gunaimed at him would strike some broken branch, the knife drawn againsthim would break like a splinter before it struck him, the man who rushedon him would stumble and fall before he could touch that haughty head. He was above all danger, above all fear; he knew neither care nor grief;alas! he did not feel like other men. His head was lifted freely, hiseyes were clear and bright when all others were cast in terror down toearth. No difficulty affrighted, no hinderance stopped him. With a merewave of his hand he could remove what crushed other men. Such was he. And this man had seen her weak, precipitate, and helpless; it was herown fault that he had now a right to assume a transient intimacy. Shetrembled lest he should presume upon this right by a glance, apresumptuous smile, a passing word. In this way her heart kept beatingand her thoughts fluttering for long hours. 

The storm passed off. Instead of torrents there was small rain, and adull gray succeeded to the black darkness and the fiery flashes. Lenorecould now trace the trunk of the nearest trees. The feeling ofsolitariness oppressed her more and more. Just then she heard again thedistant sound of human voices, call and counter-call grew louder, andthe bailiff's voice cried, "They went beyond the quarry; look yonder, you Neudorf men. " The steps of the speakers drew near, and Karl, makinga speaking trumpet of his hands, shouted with all his might, "Halloa, hillo hoa, Fräulein Lenore!"

"Here I am, " cried a female voice at his very feet. 

Karl started back in amazement, and joyfully called out, "Found!" Thepeasants surrounded Lenore's shelter. 

"Our young lady is here!" cried a youth of Neudorf, and hurraed in hisdelight as though he were at a wedding. 

Lenore rose; her foot still pained her; but, leaning on Karl's arm, sheexerted herself bravely to walk. Meanwhile the young men broke down afew poles, and laid fir branches across them. In spite of herresistance, Lenore was constrained to seat herself upon the rude litter, while some ran on to the bailiff's stable to get her horse ready forher. 

"Have you found the thieves?" inquired Lenore from Karl, who walked ather side. 

"Two of them, " replied he. "The calf had been killed; we have got itsskin and part of its flesh. The geese were hanging up on a bough, withtheir necks wrung, but the rascals had divided the money. We found verylittle of it on our prisoners. "

"Those we have caught are Tarow men, " said the bailiff, anxiously; "theworst in the village. And yet I wish they were any where but here, forthere are some desperately revengeful fellows yonder. "

"I heard shots, " inquired Lenore, further; "was any harm done?"

"Not to us, " answered Karl. "In their foolhardiness they made a fire, not much beyond the border where our riders formed a cordon. Theembers were glimmering in spite of the rain, and thus they betrayedthemselves. We dismounted, crept near, and surprised them. They firedtheir guns and ran into the bush. There the darkness swallowed them up. It was a long time before the party on foot could join us, and but forthe shots and the noise they would never have found us out. Herr vonFink described to us the place where we should meet with you. He istaking the prisoners with him to the estate, and to-morrow we will sendthem farther. "

"But to think that Herr von Fink should have left you thus alone in thewood!" said the worthy bailiff: "that was a bold stroke indeed. "

"I begged him not to remain behind, " cried Lenore, casting down her eyesin spite of the darkness. 

Half way to the village Lenore's pony was brought to meet them. AtNeudorf, Karl got back the baron's horse and accompanied his young ladyto the castle. It was very late before they arrived. Lenore's longabsence had excited her mother's alarm, and put the baron fearfully outof temper. She escaped from his cross-questioning as fast as she could, and hurried to her room. An hour later, Fink, with the forester, cameback from Kunau, bringing both the prisoners, who walked haughtily, withtheir hands bound, and carried their peacock's feathers as high asthough they were leading the dance in a tavern. 

"You shall pay for this, " said one of them in Polish to his escort, andclenched his fettered fists. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The rain still continued. It had ceased indeed in the morning, but onlyto begin again with double energy. The laborers had gone early to thefield, but they soon returned. They were now sitting silently in theguard-room of the castle, drying their wet garments at the stove. 

The baron sat in the arm-chair, listening to old John, who read him thenewspaper that had reached the castle on the previous day. Themonotonous voice of the domestic announced nothing but unwelcome news;the rain-drops rattled on the panes, and the wind rushed howling roundthe corner of the house in discordant accompaniment. 

Anton was busy at his desk. Before him lay a letter from CommissaryHorn, announcing that the judicial sale of the family estate was fixedfor the middle of next winter; and that, since the advertisement of thisdefinite period, several mortgages on the property had passed from onehand to another, bought up, as he feared, by one speculator, whodisguised himself under different names. Accordingly, Anton reflected ingloomy mood upon the hazardous position of the baron. 

In the neighboring room Fink was keeping the ladies company, thebaroness lying back on the sofa cushions, covered by a shawl ofLenore's. She gazed in silence straight before her, but when herdaughter came up with some tender inquiry, she nodded smilingly at her, and spoke a few cheering words. Lenore was sitting in the windowoccupied with some light work, and listening with rapture to the jestsby which Fink brightened the otherwise mournful room. To-day, in spiteof the rain, he was in the wildest spirits. From time to time Lenore'sringing laugh reached Anton through the massive door, and then he forgotsale and mortgage, looked with clouded brow at the door, and felt, notwithout bitterness, that a new struggle was approaching both for thefamily and for himself. 

Without, as we have already said, the rain poured and the storm raged. The wind from the forest wailed to the castle. The old firs creaked, andceaselessly bent down their branches toward the building. Around thepear-trees in the meadows leaves and white blossoms fluttered timidly toearth. The storm angrily stripped them off, and crushed them, low withhis rain, howling the while. "Down with your smiling pomp! to-day allbelonging to the castle shall wear mourning. " Then the fierce spiritflew from the trees to the castle walls; it shook the flag-staff on thetower; it hurled the rain in slanting torrents against the windows; itgroaned in the chimneys and thundered at the doors. It took advantage ofevery opening to cry, "Guard your house!" And this it did for hourstogether, but those within understood not its speech. 

Neither did any one heed the horseman who was urging his weary horsethrough the village to the castle. At last the knocker outside the gatewas heard, the strokes sounded impatient, and loud voices resounded inthe court-yard and on the stairs. Anton opened the door; an armed man, dripping with wet and stained with mud, entered the room. 

"It is you!" cried Anton, in amazement. 

"They are coming, " said Karl, looking cautiously round; "prepare for it;this time it is our turn. "

"The enemy?" rapidly asked Anton. "How strong is the band?"

"It was not a band that I saw, " replied Karl, seriously; "it was an armyof about a thousand scythe-bearers, and at least a hundred horsemen attheir head. I hear that they have orders to enlist all Poles and disarmall Germans. "

Anton opened the door of the next room and made a sign to Fink. 

"Ah!" cried Fink, as he cast a look on Karl, "he who brings half thehighway into the room with him has no good tidings to tell. From whichside comes the enemy, sergeant?"

"From the Neudorf birch wood straight down upon us. Our villagers areassembled in the tavern drinking and quarreling. "

"No beacon-fires have been seen--no tidings have come from theneighboring villages, " cried Anton at the window. "Have the Germans atNeudorf and Kunau been fast asleep, then?"

"They were taken by surprise, " continued the messenger of ill. "Theirwatch saw the enemy yesterday evening half a mile beyond Neudorf, goingdown the high road toward Rosmin. When they had passed the turning toNeudorf, the villagers took heart again, but their horsemen followed theenemy till the last scythe-bearers were out of sight. In the night, however, the whole troop turned back; this morning they fell upon thevillage, and wrought sad havoc there. The bailiff is lying on the straw, covered with wounds, and a prisoner; the guard-house is burned down; butfor this heavy rain we should see the smoke. At this present moment theenemy has divided. They are making the round of all the German villages:one party has gone off to Kunau, one to our new farm, the largest is onits way hither. "

"How much time have we to prepare for these gentry?" asked Fink. 

"In weather like this, the infantry will take an hour to get here. "

"Is the forester warned?" asked Anton; "and do those at the new farmknow?"

"There was no time to apprise them. The farm is farther from Neudorfthan the estate, and I might have been too late getting here. I lit ourbeacon, but in rain like this, neither fire nor smoke is visible, andall signals are useless. "

"If they have not looked out for themselves, " said Fink, decidedly, "wecan do no more for them. "

"The forester is a fox, " replied Karl; "no one will catch him; but as tothe farmer and his young wife, Heaven have mercy on them!"

"Save our people!" cried a supplicating voice close to Fink. Lenorestood in the room, pale, with folded hands. 

Anton hurried to the door through which she had silently entered. "Thebaroness!" cried he, anxiously. 

"She has heard nothing as yet, " hurriedly replied Lenore. "Send to thefarm; help our people!"

Fink caught up his cap. "Bring out my horse, " said he to Karl. 

"You can't be spared now, " said Anton, barring the way. "I will takeyour horse. "

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Wohlfart, " interpolated Karl; "if I may rideHerr von Fink's horse, I shall be quite able to make it out. "

"So be it, then, " decided Fink; "send hither the forester and any manyou can beat up; the women, horses, and children you can dispatch to theforest. Let the farmer go with all his cattle into the thicket as far ashe can, and keep a look-out on the castle from the old firs near thesand-pit. As for you, keep on my horse, which I shall, alas! have tomake over to you for some days to come; ride off to Rosmin, and seekout the nearest detachment of our soldiers; tell them we implore them tocome to our aid, and, if possible, to bring cavalry with them. "

"Our red-caps are about three miles beyond Rosmin, " said Karl, turningto go. "The Kunau smith called that out to me as I rode by. "

"Bring any military you can. I'll write a line to the commanding officerwhile you are saddling the horse. "

Karl made a military salute, and hurried down stairs, Anton with him. While he was fastening the girths, Anton said, "As you pass by, call outto the men in the farm-yard that I will be with them at once. Poorfellow, you have hardly had any breakfast to-day, and there is littleprospect of your getting any thing for some hours to come. " He ran backto the house, got a bottle of wine, some bread, and the remnant of aham, stuffed them into a bag, and, together with Fink's letter, gavethem to the hussar just as he was setting off. 

"Thanks, " said Karl, seizing Anton's hand; "you think of every one. ButI've one thing to ask: think of yourself too, Mr. Wohlfart; this Polishset, here and yonder, are not worth your risking your life; there aresome at home with whom it would go hard if any thing happened to you. "

Anton shook his hand heartily. "Good-by, Karl. I'll do my duty. Don'tforget to send us the forester, and, above all, rescue the farmer'swife. Lead the military hither through the wood. "

"No fear, " said Karl, cheerily; "this gallant bay shall find out howmuch a stout-hearted trooper can get through. "

With these words he waved his cap, and vanished behind thefarm-buildings. 

Anton bolted the gate, then hurried to the guard-room, and rang thealarm-bell, giving orders to the superintendent to let in the men, toinvest the back door, and not to admit any one without questioning them, not even fugitives. 

"Eat heartily and drink moderately; we shall have enough to do to-day, "he cried. 

Meanwhile Fink stood at the table in Anton's room, loading the guns, while Lenore reached him whatever he needed. She was pale, but her eyesglowed with an excitement which did not escape Anton as he entered. "Leave this serious game to us alone, " said he, beseechingly. 

"It is the home of my parents that you defend, " cried she. "My father isunable to act at your head. You shall not expose your lives for oursakes without my sharing your danger. "

"Forgive me, " replied Anton; "your first duty most undoubtedly is toprepare the baroness, and not to leave her during the next few hours. "

"My mother! my poor mother!" cried Lenore, clasping her hands, layingdown the powder-flask, and hurrying to the neighboring room. 

"I have set all the men eating, " said Anton to Fink. "From this momentyou must take the command. "

"Good, " replied Fink. "Here are your arms; this double-barrel is light;one barrel loaded with ball, the other with slugs. The bag of bullets isunder your bed. "

"You think of standing a siege, then?" inquired Anton. 

"We must either not seek to defend ourselves at all, but surrender atthe friendly discretion of the approaching band, or we must hold out toour last bullet. We are all prepared for the latter course; perhapssurrender would be the wiser, but I own it does not suit my taste. Asthere is a master of the house, however, still extant, he may decide; goto the baron. "

Anton hurried through the passage to the other wing. Even when at adistance he could hear the chairs knocked about in the baron's room. There was an angry "Come in, " and he entered. The baron was standing inthe middle of the room, highly excited. "I hear, " said he, "that thereis something going on. I must consider it an unpardonable want ofattention that I have not been apprised of it. "

"Your pardon, baron, " replied Anton; "we only heard a few minutes agothat a band of the enemy's cavalry and scythe-bearers was moving ontoward your property. We sent off a messenger in all speed to thenearest military station, then bolted the door, and now we wait yourorders. "

"Send me Herr von Fink, " replied the baron, authoritatively. 

"He is at this moment in the guard-room. "

"I beg that he will take the trouble of coming to me at once, " cried theangry nobleman. "I can not discuss military matters with you. Fink is agentleman, and half a soldier; I will give all necessary instructions tohim. What are you waiting for?" rudely continued he. "Do you youngpeople suppose that you are to trifle with me because I have themisfortune to be blind? He at least whom I feed and pay shall respect mycommands. "

"Father!" cried Lenore, on the threshold, looking imploringly at Anton. 

"You are right, baron, " replied Anton; "I crave your forgiveness forhaving in the hurry of the moment forgotten my first duty. I will sendHerr von Fink here at once. " Then hastening off, he made his friendacquainted with the baron's angry mood. 

"He is a fool, " said Fink. 

"Go up at once, " urged Anton; "the ladies must not suffer from histemper. " Then throwing on a laborer's jacket, he sprang out through thedoor into the rain and to the back farm-yard. 

There he found a dreary scene of confusion. German families from theneighboring villages had taken refuge in the guard-house, and sat therewith their children, and some of their goods and chattels round them. There were about twenty persons lying on the floor--men, women, andchildren, the women lamenting, the children weeping, the men lookinggloomily down. Several of them belonged to the village militia, and somehad their guns with them. Their little carts stood in the yard. Servants, horses, cows, were all running against each other. Antoncalled the superintendent to his assistance. 

He next made over the farm-horses and the cattle to the most trustworthyof the servants, and to the German dairy-maid. Calling aside the headservant, a resolute kind of man, he described to him a place in thethicket, not far from the sand-pit, where man and beast might lieconcealed, and be in some degree protected from the weather. Thither theman was to drive the cattle, and to keep a sharp look-out for thebailiff, who was to have the management of the wood-party. Next hedesired the maid to leave a cow behind, opened the gate himself, and sawthem all set out toward the forest. 

"What are we to do with the horses of the baron and of Herr von Fink?"hurriedly asked the superintendent. 

"They must be brought, together with some of the vehicles, into thecourt-yard, come what will. Who knows whether we shall not have to fly, after all?"

Accordingly, Anton had Karl's newly-painted carts laden with sacks ofpotatoes, meal, oats, and as much hay as they could hold. He had thegreat water-butt brought in too, and filled to the brim with freshwater. The skies were still pouring down bucketfuls, and the servantshad to load in the drenching rain. All was confusion; and weeping andcursing, in German and Polish, was heard on every side. As Antonapproached the fugitives, the screams of the women grew louder, the mensurrounded him and began to relate their disasters, the children clungabout his knees: it was a mournful spectacle. Anton did what he could tocomfort them. "Above all, be quiet; we will protect you as well as wecan. I hope the military may come to our aid, meanwhile you will be safein the castle. You have been faithful to us in this season of distress;as long as we have bread you shall not want. "

After a quarter of an hour of extreme exertion Anton returned to thecastle. The servants drove the carts to the back door, the troop offugitives followed. People still poured in from the German villagesaround, and soon the smith of Kunau, with some of his near neighbors, stood at the castle gate. The whole party was now got into order, thehorses unharnessed, the carts unloaded. The women and children were ledby Anton into two rooms on the lower floor, which, were dark indeed, butfar more comfortable than the guard-house in the soaked fields. Thebringing in the horses was the most troublesome part of the matter;about a dozen of them had to crowd up beneath an open shed, poorlyprotected from rain or bullets. The water-butt was placed in the middleof the yard, and the potato-carts pushed up to the paling, to serve, incase of need, as a position for the guard. Next, all the men capable ofbearing arms were assembled by the smith, and, besides Fink's laborersand four servants, fifteen German peasants were mustered, the largernumber of them armed. Their footsteps sounded heavy in the longpassages, and joining the laborers in the hall, the whole force was seenat once, Fink in his hunting-coat walking quietly up and down before hisown corps. Anton now went up to him and gave in his report. 

"You bring us men, " replied Fink; "that is all very well; but we did notwant a whole clan of women and children into the bargain; the castle isas full as a bee-hive--more than sixty mouths; to say nothing of a dozenhorses; spite of your potato-carts, we shall have to gnaw the stonesbefore twenty-four hours are over. "

"Could I leave them outside?" asked Anton, dryly. 

"They would have been just as safe in the wood as here, " said Fink, witha shrug. 

"Possibly, " replied Anton; "but to send off people to the forest in rainlike this, without provisions, and in deadly terror, would have beenbarbarity for which I could not be responsible. Besides, do you think weshould have got the men without their wives and children?"

"At all events, we can make use of the men, " concluded Fink, "and youmay manage the commissariat as you can. "

Fink next gave arms to those who wanted them, and divided the forcesinto four sections, one for the yard, two for the upper and lowerstories, and one as a reserve in the guard-room. Next he had an exactreport of the enemy given him by the Kunau smith and others. MeantimeAnton had rushed to the underground kitchen, where he gave theprovisions in charge of the superintendent, and caused wood and water tobe carried in by the baron's servants. A sack of potatoes and one ofmeal were placed near the hearth, and the great caldron put on the fire. 

As he went out, he confided to the cook that a cow had been taken intothe stable, that, at all events, the family might not be without milk atthis doleful time. Old Barbette wrung her hands in anguish. "Alas! Mr. Wohlfart, what a frightful thing it is!" cried she; "the balls will beflying about in my kitchen. "

"Heaven forbid!" said Anton; "the window is much too deep for that. Noone can reach you; cook away in peace; the people are famished; I willsend two of the stranger women down to help you. "

"Who could eat in such danger as this?" cried she. 

"We will all eat, " said Anton, comfortingly. 

"Will you have soup or potato-broth?" inquired Barbette, feverishlybrandishing her spoon in her despair. 

"Both, my good woman. "

The cook held him back. "But, Mr. Wohlfart, there are no eggs for thefamily; indeed, there is not an egg in the whole house. Mercy on us! tothink of this misfortune happening to-day, of all days. What will thebaron say when he has no fresh egg this evening?"

"The devil take the eggs!" cried Anton, impatiently; "we must not be soparticular to-day. "

As he returned, Fink called to him, "All is ready; we may now quietlyawait their arrival. I am going to the tower, and taking a few goodshots with me. If any thing happens, I am to be found there. "

And again the hall was empty and the house quiet. The sentinels stoodsilently watching the edge of the forest; the rest of the men sattalking in a low voice in the guard-room; but the noise was unceasing inthe apartment where the children were, and a constant communication waskept up between the kitchen and the occupied rooms in the lower story. Anton walked to and fro in restless suspense from the house to thecourt, and back again to his own room, where he tied the baron's paperstogether; then through the passages and to the guard-room. In this wayone quarter of an hour after another passed, till at length Lenore camefrom her mother's room crying, "This uncertainty is intolerable!"

"And we have no tidings from the farm either, " replied Anton, anxiously;"but the rain is over, and whatever happens to-day will happen insunshine. The clouds are breaking yonder, and the blue sky is seenthrough them. How is the baroness?"

"She is calm, " said Lenore, "and prepared for every thing. "

Both walked silently up and down the hall. At last Lenore went up toAnton, and passionately exclaimed, "Wohlfart, it is horrible to me tothink of you in a position such as this for our sakes. "

"Is this position, then, so terrible?" asked Anton, with, a mournfulsmile. 

"You do not perhaps feel it so, " said Lenore, "but you are sacrificingfor us far more than we deserve. We are ungrateful to you; you would behappier elsewhere. "

She placed herself at the window, and wept bitterly. 

Anton tried to soothe her. "If, " said he, "you allude to the hastyexpressions of the baron, you need not pity me on that account. You knowwhat we have formerly said on that subject. "

"It is not that alone, " cried Lenore, weeping. 

Anton knew as well as she did that it was not that alone, and felt thata confession lay in the words. "Be it what it may, " said he, cheerfully, "why should you grudge me the pleasure of an adventure? Certainly I aman inexperienced soldier, but it seems that our enemies will not give memuch opportunity of doing them any harm to-day. "

"No one thanks you for all that you bear for our sakes. No one!" criedLenore. 

"No one?" repeated Anton. "Have I not a friend here who is only too muchinclined to overrate the little I am able to do? Lenore, you havepermitted me to draw nearer to you than would have been possible underordinary circumstances. Do you reckon it nothing that I should have wonsome of a brother's privileges with regard to you?"

Lenore fervently seized and pressed his hand. "Even I have beendifferent to you of late to what I should have been. I am very unhappy, "cried she, passionately. "I can not tell to any human being what Ifeel--not to my mother--not to you either. I have lost all confidenceand all control. " She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. 

"Lenore!" cried her father, impatiently, from his apartment. 

"This is no time for explanations, " said she, more calmly. "When we havegot over this day, I will try hard to be stronger than I am now. Help mein this, Wohlfart. "

She hurried away to the baron's room. Anton remained behind, lost in sadthoughts. Meanwhile the bright sunshine streamed down on the court-yard, the men left the guard-room and stood on the threshold; even the womenmade their way out of their dark retreat, and had to be scolded backagain. 

"Who knows whether they have not overlooked the castle?" said one; "orif they have courage to attack us?" suggested another; while a sagacioustailor proved, by a clever résumé of the different reports received, that all the Polish frocks were by this time far beyond Rosmin. Yet, eagerly as each asserted that the danger must now be over, all listenedanxiously to the step of the sentinels, and looked constantly to thetower, to see if any signal were given thence. Even Anton found thesuspense unbearable, and at length he too betook himself to the tower. Here the whole staff was assembled. The blind baron sat in hisarm-chair, behind him stood Lenore's tall figure shading his eyes withher parasol; four riflemen sat in the broad embrasures; and Fink, perched on the wall, hung down his legs into space, and puffed the blueclouds of a cigar into the wind. 

"Nothing to be seen?" asked Anton. 

"Nothing, " replied Fink, "except a drunken band of our villagers, whoare moving off on the Tarow road. " He pointed to a dark mass justvanishing into the wood. "It is very well that we have got rid of therabble. They are afraid of the gray-jackets, and are off to plunderelsewhere. Every hour's delay is a gain, since we reckon that at bestthere is no help to be looked for till to-morrow. Now those gentlemenbehind the wood are not interesting enough to wish for a visit oftwenty-four hours from them. This is a grand spot, Baron Rothsattel, "continued Fink. "Certainly there's not much to be seen--some fir woods, your fields, and plenty of sand; but it is a glorious station to defend, because it is so bare all round the castle--without tree or bank. Yoursentimentalists, indeed, might pronounce it an uninteresting view. Butwhat I consider splendid is this: with the exception of the nearestbarn, which is about three hundred yards off in a straight line, thereis no shelter better than that of a molehill for one of the enemy'sskirmishers. Far as a rifle-ball can range, we are monarchs of the plainbelow; only there is a thicket in the way yonder--a plantation, Ibelieve, of Fräulein Lenore's. "

"I acknowledge myself guilty, " said Lenore. 

"Very well, " replied Fink, carelessly; "then you shall pay the cost ifwe are hit. Half a dozen riflemen might lurk safely there. "

"It is Lenore's favorite spot, " said the baron, apologetically; "she hasa grass-plot there; it is the only place outside the wall where she cansit in the open air. "

"Indeed!" said Fink; "that's a different thing;" and, looking round forLenore, he saw she had disappeared. The next moment the yard gateopened, and Lenore, followed by a few laborers, hurried to theplantation. 

"What are you going to do?" cried Fink from his height. 

Lenore signified by a gesture that she was going to have the treesremoved; and, seizing a young fir, she exerted all her strength touproot it. The men followed her example. In a few moments the youngplantation was done away with. Then Lenore herself caught up a spade, and began to level the grassy mound. 

Now Anton had planted these trees with the young lady. Both hadthoroughly enjoyed the improvement. Since then, Lenore had gone theredaily, and each of the little trees had been to her a personal friend. When, therefore, Anton saw it all annihilated, he could not help sayingsomewhat coldly, "That feeble plantation would have done us little harm;surely you have caused useless devastation. "

"Why, " replied Fink, "the lady has acted like a prudent commandant of afortress, the first display of whose talents always consists in levelingabout the building, and a plantation can be made again any spring day. Carry off the wood to the farm-yard, " cried he to the men; "tear downthe wooden inclosure of the well, bring the boards to the yard, and hidethe well's mouth. "

When Lenore returned to her place behind her father's chair, Fink noddedto her like an elder comrade to a younger, took up his telescope, andagain explored the border of the forest. 

And thus the party spent another hour. No one was inclined to speak, andFink's occasional jests fell on unfruitful ground. Anton went down tokeep the people in order, but something soon impelled him to return tothe battlements, and watch the forest with the rest. At last, after alonger silence than usual, Fink, throwing away his cigar, observed, "Itis getting late, and we pay our guests too much honor by expecting themwith such silent devotion. When the news came of their march, Wohlfartand I were both wanted in the house; and as Karl is breaking my poorhorse's legs at a distance, we sent no one to reconnoitre. Now we payfor that sin of omission; we sit here prisoners, and our men are gettingtired before the enemy comes. It is essential that one of us shouldmount and away to bring in further tidings. This stillness is unnatural:not a creature to be seen in the fields, not one on the roads. It seemsodd to me, too, that for the last two hours no refugees should havearrived from the forest; and, besides, the very smoke of Neudorf hasdisappeared. "

Anton silently turned away. "Go, my son, " said Fink; "take one of themost trustworthy of our men with you; look how things are going on inour village, and beware of the pine wood. Stay a moment; I will take oneother look through the telescope. " He looked long, examined each tree, and at last laid down the glass. "There is nothing to be seen, " said he, thoughtfully. "If the gentry we are expecting carried any thing besidesscythes, we should be compelled to believe there is some witchcraft atwork. But now all is uncertainty. Beware of the woods. "

Anton left the tower, called the superintendent and two servants, hadthe baron's horse and two of the swiftest farm-horses got ready, and thegate opened by the Kunau smith. All was silent and peaceful. The fowlsthat Karl had bought a few weeks before were scratching away on thedunghill; the pigeons were cooing on the thatch; a little dog, belongingto the smith, had constituted himself the guardian of the forsakenbuildings, and barked suspiciously at the riding party. 

They trotted away through the village, and stopped at the tavern. Thebar was empty. Anton called for the landlord. After a while the man cameto the door, looking pale and frightened, and clasped his hands when hesaw Anton. "Just God! Mr. Wohlfart, to think of your still being in thecountry! I believed that you and the family had fled to Rosmin or to theheart of our troops long ago. Heavens! this is a misfortune! Bratzy hasbeen here, and has been stirring up the people against the family in thecastle, and against the Germans every where; but he could not bring themto attack the castle; so the greatest part of the villagers have goneoff to the Poles at Tarow. Those that have remained behind haveconcealed themselves; and here I am, burying what I may want to carryoff in a hurry. "

"Where are the enemy now?" inquired Anton. 

"I do not know, " cried the landlord; "but I know that they are a greathost, and that they have with them lancers in uniform. "

"Do you know whether the wood is safe toward Neudorf?"

"How can it be safe? No one has come from Neudorf here for severalhours. If the way were open, half the village would now be here in myinn or at the castle. "

"You are right. Will you wait here for the band that is coming?"inquired Anton, ready to start. "You would be safer in the castle. "

"Who knows!" cried the host. "I can not leave; if I do, my whole placewill be laid waste. "

"But your women?" asked Anton, holding in his horse. 

"I must have people to help me, " wailed the distracted man. "As they areyoung, they must just endure it. There is Rebecca, my sister's child:she belongs to a family that understands business. She knows how to dealwith the peasants; she knows how to get money from them, even when theyare dead drunk. Rebecca, " cried he; "Mr. Wohlfart asks whether you willgo to the castle, to be safe from these wild men. "

The face of Rebecca, surrounded with red hair, now emerged from thecellar. 

"What have I to do with the castle, uncle?" cried she, resolutely. "Whodo you call wild men? Our peasants are the wildest men in the wholecountry; if I can get on with them, I shall get on with any. My aunt hasquite lost her wits, and there must be some one here who knows how todeal with guests. I am much obliged to you, kind sir, but I am notafraid; the gentlemen who are with the party will not let any harmhappen to me. "

"Forward, my men!" cried Anton. They galloped farther on through thevillage; all the doors were closed, but a woman's face was seen here andthere looking through the small windows after the riders. In this waythey came along the broad highway till they got near the wood. 

One of the servants now said to Anton, "There is a young plantation onthe left as you enter the wood, where a hundred men might lie in ambushwithout our seeing them, and if there, they would soon snuff us out, orcut off our way to the castle. "

"You are right, " said Anton. "We will ride along the field till we havegot behind the plantation, where the trees stand singly, and we canventure in and out. From thence we can explore the plantation on foot. "They turned accordingly off the road, and crossed the fields, keepingtheir horses out of the range of shot from the wood. Now Anton bade themdismount, gave the bridles into the superintendent's keeping, andcautiously advanced. "Fire into the wood, " ordered Anton, "and then runback to your horses as hard as you can. "

The shots rattled through the plantation, and were answered in a fewmoments by an irregular fire and a loud yell. The balls whistled overAnton's head, but the distance was great, and the men got back to theirhorses without injury. "Gallop! we know enough. They had not the wisdomto keep quiet. " The little band flew along the highway, the loud criesof their pursuers sounding behind them. They arrived breathless at thecastle, where they found all in alarm. Fink met them at the entrance. 

"You were right, " cried Anton: "they are lying in ambush no doubt thesemany hours, perhaps in hopes of surprising you, or both of us, indeed, on the way to Neudorf. They would then have got the castle without astruggle. "

"How many of them may there be?" asked Fink. 

"Indeed, we had no time to count them, " replied Anton. "No doubt, only adetachment has advanced so far; the greater number are behind in thewood. "

"We have roused them, " replied Fink; "now we may expect their visit. Itis better for our people to receive them before sunset than in thenight. "

"They come, " cried Lenore's voice from the tower. 

The two friends hurried to the platform. As Anton looked over thebattlements the sun was preparing to set. The golden sky turned thegreen of the woods to bronze. Forth from the forest came, in orderlyprocession toward the village, a troop of horsemen, about half asquadron, followed by more than a hundred men on foot, the nearest ofthem armed with muskets, the others carrying scythes. The lovely eveninglight suffused the figures on the tower. A cockchafer hummed merrily atAnton's ear, and, high in air, the lark was chanting his evening lay. Meanwhile the danger was approaching. It came nearer and nearer alongthe winding way, a dark, long-drawn-out mass, unheard as yet, butplainly seen. 

Still the cockchafer kept on humming, and the lark soared higher in itsrapturous song. At length the procession disappeared behind the firstcottages in the village. These were moments of breathless silence. Alllooked steadfastly at the place where the enemy would emerge into sight. Lenore stood next to Anton, her left hand clutched a gun, and her rightkept unconsciously moving the bullets in a sportsman's pouch. As soon asthe horsemen appeared in the middle of the village, Fink caught up hiscap, and said gravely, "Now, gentlemen, to our posts! You, Anton, bekind enough to lead the baron down stairs. " As Anton supported the blindman down the steps, he pointed back at Lenore, who remained motionless, gazing at the advancing enemy. "And you too, dear lady, " continued Fink, "I pray you to think of your own safety. "

"I am safest here, " replied Lenore, firmly, letting her gun drop on theflags. "You will not require me to hide my head in the sofa-cushionswhen you are about to risk your life. "

Fink looked with intense admiration at her beautiful face, and said, "Ihave no objection to make. If you are resolved to take up your stationon this platform, you are as safe as any where in the castle. "

"I will be cautious, " replied Lenore, waving him off. 

"And you, my boys, " said Fink, "hide behind the walls; take care not tolet a shoulder or the top of your cap be seen, and do not fire before Isound an alarm with this. You will hear it plainly up here. " He took outa broad whistle of foreign aspect. "Good-by till we meet again, " saidhe, looking at Lenore with a beaming glance. 

"Till we meet again, " answered Lenore, raising her arm and looking afterhim till the door closed behind him. 

Fink found the baron in the hall. The poor nobleman was reduced to amost pitiable state of mind by the excitement of the day and the senseof his own uselessness at a time when he felt action the rightfulprivilege of his station. In his earlier years he had ever met personaldanger in the most intrepid manner. How much his strength was brokennow plainly appeared in his unsuccessful attempts to maintain hisself-control. His hands were restlessly outstretched as though seekingsome weapon, and painful groans forced themselves through his lips. 

"My kind host and friend, " said Fink, addressing him, "as yourindisposition makes it inconvenient to you to deal with these strangers, I crave permission to do so in your stead. "

"You have carte blanche, dear Fink, " replied the baron, in a hoarsevoice; "in fact, the state of my eyes is not such as to allow me to hopethat I can be of any use. A miserable cripple!" cried he, and coveredhis face with his hands. 

Fink turned away with his usual shrug, opened a slide in the oaken doorwhich had been intended to lead to the unfinished terrace, and lookedout. 

"Permit me, " said Anton to the baron, "to lead you to a place where youmay not be unnecessarily exposed to the balls. "

"Do not trouble yourself about me, young man, " said the baron; "I am ofless consequence to-day than the poorest day-laborer who has taken uparms for my sake. "

"Have you any thing more to say to me?" asked Anton of Fink, as he tookup his gun. 

"Nothing, " replied the latter, with a smile, "except to beg that youwill not forget your usual caution if you come to a hand-to-handscuffle. Good luck to you!" He stretched out his hand. Anton grasped it, and hurried to the court. 

"The enemy are passing their opinion upon your farming just now, " saidFink to the baron; "we shall have the gentlemen here in a few minutes;there they come, cavalry and infantry. They stop at the barn; a party ofriders advance; it is the staff. There are some handsome young fellowsamong them, and a couple of beautiful horses; they ride beyond the rangeof our fire, all round the castle. They are seeking an entrance; weshall soon hear the knocker at the back door. "

All was silent. "Strange, " said Fink. "It is surely the custom of war, before the assault, to summon the besieged to surrender; but there comethe officers from their circuit round the castle back to their infantry. Has Wohlfart inspired them with such terror that they have fled awayventre à terre?"

The ring of horses' hoofs and the hollow march of the infantry were nowheard. 

"Zounds!" said Fink; "the whole corps marches as if on parade up to thecastle front. If they mean to storm your fortress on this side, theyhave the most remarkable conceptions of the nature of a strong place. They draw up against us at a distance of five hundred yards. Theinfantry in the middle, the horsemen at both sides: quite a Roman orderof battle. Julius Caesar over again, I declare. Look! they have adrummer; the fellow advances; the row you hear is the beat of drums. Ahha! the leader rides forward. He comes on, and halts just before ourdoor. Politeness demands that we should inquire what he wants. " Finkpushed back the heavy bolts of the door; it opened; he stepped out onthe threshold covering the entrance, and carrying his double-barrelcarelessly in his hand. When the horseman saw the slender figure inhunting costume standing so quietly before him, he reined in his horseand touched his hat, which Fink acknowledged by a slight bow. 

"I wish to speak to the proprietor of this estate, " said the horseman. 

"You must put up with me, " replied Fink; "I represent him. "

"Tell him, then, that we have some orders of the government to carry outin his house, " cried the rider. 

"Would your chivalry permit me to ask what government has been frivolousenough to give you a message for the Baron Rothsattel? From what I hear, the views taken in this country about government in general are a littledisturbed. "

"The Polish Central Committee is your as well as my government, " repliedthe rider. 

"You are very good-natured in allowing a Central Committee to dispose ofyour heads; you will allow us, however, to hold a different opinion onthis particular point. "

"You see that we have the means to enforce obedience to the orders ofgovernment, and I advise you not by opposition to provoke us to useforce. "

"I thank you for this advice, and should be still more obliged if, inyour zeal for your duty, you would not forget that the ground on whichyou stand is not public, but private property, and that strange horsesare only allowed to exercise thereon by the consent of the proprietor, which, so far as I know, you have not obtained. "

"We have had words enough, sir, " cried the rider, impatiently; "if youare really authorized to represent the proprietor, I require you toopen this castle to us without delay, and to deliver up your arms. "

"Alas!" replied Fink, "I am under the unpleasant necessity of refusingyour request. I would add a hope that you, together with the gentry inshabby boots ranged behind you there, will leave this place as soon aspossible. My young folk are just going to see whether they can hit themolehills under your feet. We should be sorry if the bare toes of yourcompanions were to be hurt. Begone, sir!" cried he, suddenly changinghis careless tone to one of such vehement anger and scorn that thePole's horse reared, and he himself laid his hand on the pistols at hisholster. 

During this conversation the rest of the horsemen and the infantry haddrawn nearer to catch the words. 

More than once a barrel had been lowered, but they had always beenpushed back by a few riders in advance of the ranks. At Fink's lastwords, a wild-looking figure in an old frieze jacket took aim, a shotwas heard, and the bullet flew past Fink's cheek, and struck the doorbehind him. At the same moment a suppressed scream was heard, a flashseen on the top of the tower, and the luckless marksman fell to theground. The man who had conducted the parley turned his horse, theassailants all fell back, and Fink closed the door. As he turned round, Lenore stood on the first flight of the stairs, the recently-dischargedgun in her hand, her large eyes fixed wildly upon him. "Are youwounded?" cried she, beside herself. 

"Not at all, my faithful comrade, " cried Fink. 

Lenore threw away the gun, and sank at her father's feet, hiding herface on his knees. Her father bent over her, took her head in his hands, and the nervous agitation of the last few hours brought on a convulsivefit of sobbing. His daughter passionately clasped his trembling frame, and silently held him in her arms. There they were, a broken-downexistence, and one in which the warm glow of youthful life was burstinginto flame. 

Fink looked out of the window; the enemy had retired beyond range offire, and were, as it seemed, holding a consultation. Suddenly hestepped up to Lenore, and, laying his hand on her arm, said, "I thankyou, dear lady, for having so promptly punished that rascal. And now Ibeg you to leave this room with your father. We shall do better ifanxiety on your account does not withdraw our eyes from the enemy. "Lenore shrunk back at his touch, and a warm blush overspread her cheekand brow. 

"We will go, " she said, with downcast eyes. "Come, my father. " She thenled the baron up stairs to her mother's room. There she heroicallystrove to compose herself, sat down by the couch of the invalid, and didnot go near Fink again the whole evening. 

"Now, then, we are by ourselves, " cried Fink to the sentinels; "shortdistances, and a steady aim! If they storm this stone building, theyshall get nothing by it but bloody pates. "

Accordingly, there he stood with his companions, and looked with keeneye at the ranks of their assailants. There was a great stir among them. Some detachments went off to the village; the horsemen rode up and down;there was evidently something afloat. At last a party brought some thickboards and a row of empty carts. The upper parts of them were liftedoff, and the lower placed in a row, the poles away from the castle, thehind wheels toward it. Next, boards were nailed together, and made intopent-houses, which being fastened to the back of the carts, projected afew feet beyond them, and afforded a tolerable shelter for five or sixmen. 

"Ask Mr. Wohlfart to come here, " cried Fink to one of his riflemen. 

"There has been shooting, " said Anton, as he entered the hall; "is anyone wounded?"

"This thick door, and one of the rabble yonder, " replied Fink. "Withoutany order, they replied to the first shot from the tower. "

"There is not an enemy to be seen in the court. A troop of horsemen cameto the gate; one ventured up to the palings, and tried to look through. But when I started up behind them, they all took to flight in terror. "

"Look there, " said Fink; "they are amusing themselves in making smallbarricades. As long as this evening light allows us to see, the dangeris not great. But in the night, those huts on wheels may come a littletoo near. "

"The sky keeps clear, " said Anton; "there will be a bright starlight. "

"If I only knew, " said Fink, "why they have had the madness to attackthe strongest side of our fortress! It can only be that your peacefulvisage has had the effect of the Gorgon's head upon them. Henceforth youwill be described as a scarecrow in all Slavonic fights. "

It was dark when the hammering away at the carts ceased. A word ofcommand was heard. The officers summoned a few men by name to the poles, and six movable roofs rolled on rapidly to about thirty yards from thefront of the castle. 

"Now for it, " cried Fink. "Remain here and look to the lower story. " Hesprang up the steps; the long row of front rooms was opened; one couldsee from one end of the house to the other. "Mind your heads, " cried heto the sentinels. Immediately came an irregular fire against the windowsof the upper story, the leaden shower rattling through the panes, theglass clattering on the floor. Fink took out his whistle; a shrill soundvibrated loudly through the house, and was responded to by the salvos ofthe besieged from both stories and from the tower. 

And now followed an irregular fire from both sides. The besieged had theadvantage--their aim was truer, and they were better concealed thanthose without. 

During the brief pauses, Fink's voice was to be heard crying, "Steady, men; keep close. " He was every where; his light step, the clear tones ofhis voice, his wild jests from time to time, kept up the spirits of all. They filled Lenore's soul with a thrill of rapture; she hardly felt thefull terrors of her situation; nor did the convulsive starts of herfather, nor her mother's low groans, lead her to despair, for the wordsof the man she loved sounded like a message of salvation in her ear. 

For about an hour the battle raged around the walls. The great buildingrose dark in the pale starlight; no light, no form was to be seen fromwithout; only the flashes that from time to time shone out from a cornerof the windows announced to those outside that there was life within. Hewho walked through the rooms could discover a dark shape here and therebehind a pillar, could see eyes glowing with excitement, and a head bentto observe the foe. True, none of the men there assembled were used tothis bloody work; they had been gathered from the plow, the workshop, from every species of peaceful industry; and painful excitement, feverish suspense, protracted during the whole day, was visible in theaspect of the strongest among them. 

Yet Anton remarked with a gloomy satisfaction how calm he himself was, and how brave the men in general. They were busy, they were at work, and, even in the midst of their deadly occupation, the strength andenergy were evident which all active labor gives to man. After the firstshots, those on the front side loaded as composedly as though they wereat their every-day toil. The face of the farm-servant hardly looked moreanxious than when he walked between his oxen in the field, and theskillful tailor handled his gun with as much indifference as he wouldhis smoothing-iron. It was only the reserve guard who were restless; notfrom fear, but from dissatisfaction with their own inactivity. At timesa bold fellow would steal into the house, behind Anton's back, in orderto have a chance of firing off his gun in front, and Anton was obligedto place the superintendent at the court-door to prevent this courageousway of desertion. 

"Only once, Mr. Wohlfart; do let me have one shot at them!" urgentlypleaded a young fellow from Neudorf. 

"Wait, " replied Anton, loading; "your turn will come; in an hour youwill relieve the others here. "

Meanwhile the stars rose higher, and the shots became fewer as bothparties grew weary. 

"Our people are the strongest, " said Anton to his friend; "the men inthe court are not to be kept back any longer. "

"It is all little better than shooting in the dark, " replied Fink;"true, they make it matter of conscience to take good aim, but it isgenerally a mere accident if their balls take effect. Nothing hashappened to our side but a few slight wounds, and I believe thosewithout have not suffered more. "

The rolling of wheels was now heard. "Listen! they are drawing backtheir war-chariots. " The firing ceased, and the whole line disappearedin the darkness. "Leave off, " continued Fink; "and, Anton, if you haveany thing to drink, give it, for these have shown themselves brave men. Then let us quietly await the renewal of the siege. "

Anton accordingly had some refreshments distributed to the men, and wentthrough the whole house, dismissing them, and examining the rooms fromthe cellar upward. As he drew near the women's rooms on the lower story, he heard, even at a distance, a lamentable chaos of voices. Entering, hefound the bare walls dimly lighted, the floor covered with straw, onwhich crouched women and children. The women expressed their terror byevery kind of passionate gesture, many ceaselessly imploring the help ofHeaven, without any alleviation of their intense misery; others staringstraight before them, stunned by the horrors of the night; in short, thepleasantest impression was that made by the children, who, having howledwith all their might, had no further care. In the midst of all thiswretchedness, these little ones lay, their heads resting on a bundle ofclothes, their small hands clenched, sleeping as quietly as in theirbeds at home, while one young woman sat in a corner rocking her sleepinginfant in her arms, apparently forgetful of all besides. At last, stillwatching the child, she came up to Anton, and asked how her husband wasfaring. 

Meanwhile the enemy made large fires, and part of their soldiery satnear them, and were seen to boil their coffee. There was greatdisturbance, too, in the village; men were heard shouting and ordering, lights were seen in all directions, and there was rapid coming and goingalong the streets. 

"That does not look like a truce, " cried Anton. 

At that moment a loud knock was heard at the back door; the friendslooked at each other, and rushed down to the court. 

"Rothsattel and roebucks, " whispered a voice, improvising a password. 

"The forester!" cried Anton, pushing back the bars and letting the oldman in. 

"Shut the gate, " said the forester; "they are close on my track. Good-evening to you all; I am come to inquire whether you can make anyuse of me?"

"Get into the house, " cried Anton, "and tell us all. "

"Every thing is as quiet in the forest as in the church, " said theforester; "the cattle are lying in the quarry, and the shepherd, too, isthere with his creatures. The farmer keeps watch. I crept, in the dark, into the village to reconnoitre, and now come to warn you. As they havenot made much of their guns, the rascals are going to try fire. Theyhave got together all the grease and tar in the village, they have takenall the women's shavings, and whenever they found an oil lamp, theypoured it over bundles of rushes. "

"They mean to burn the yard gate?" asked Fink. 

The forester made a face. "Not the yard gate; they have a deadly fear ofthat, because you have artillery-wagons and a cannon in the yard. "

"Artillery!" cried both friends, in amazement. 

"Yes, " nodded the forester; "through the chinks of the planks they haveseen blue carts, horses, and a gun-carriage. "

"Karl's new potato-carts, the plow, and the water-butt!" cried Anton. 

"No doubt, " replied the forester. "On my way here I peeped into the innyard, and waited for some one that I knew. Then Rebecca ran by me witha basket; I whistled, and called her out behind the stable. 'Are youthere, old Swede?' said the wild thing. 'Take care that your head be notset on fire. I have no time to talk with you; I must attend to thegentlemen; they want coffee. ' 'Why not Champagne?' said I. 'No doubt thegentlemen are very polite, you pretty creature, ' said I; for one getsover women with flowery speeches. 'You are an ugly fellow yourself, 'said the girl, laughing at me; 'get away with you!' 'They won't hurtyou, my little Rebecca, ' said I, stroking her cheeks. 'What's that toyou, old sorcerer?' said the little toad; 'if I were to scream, thewhole roomful would come to my aid. ' 'Don't be so contradictious, mychild, ' said I; 'be a good girl, fill another bottle, and bring it outhere. One must do something for one's friends in bad times. ' Then shesnatched the bottle out of my hand, telling me to wait, and ran off withher basket. After a while she returned with the bottle quite full, forshe is a good creature at heart, and as she gave it me, she cried, 'Ifyou see the young gentlemen in the castle, tell them that the folks herehave a great dread of their artillery; they have been asking me whetherit was true that they had cannon. I told them I was quite sure that wasthe name of a great thing I had often seen on the property. ' Then Islunk off again, and crept along the ditch, past fellows with scythes, who are mounting guard behind our farm-yard. When I was about a hundredyards from them, I tore away, and they swore after me. That's how thingsstand. "

"That notion of theirs about fire is uncomfortable, " said Fink; "if theyunderstand the thing, they may smoke us out like badgers. "

"The threshold is stone, and this thick door is high above the ground, "said the forester. 

"I am not afraid of the flames, but of the smoke and glare, " repliedFink; "if they light up our windows, our men will aim still worse. Onegood thing for us is that the gentlemen on the English saddles, who headthe enemy, have never stormed any but a petticoat fortress before. Wewill bring all our men to the front, and leave only two or threesentinels behind; we will trust Rebecca's story. "

Fresh cartridges were given out, and a fresh detachment stationed at thewindows, additional men were placed in the halls of the upper and lowerstory, and on the platform of the tower, Anton commanding up stairs, thesmith below, and the forester remaining with a small body in reserve. All these arrangements were just made in time, for a loud hum was heardat a distance, together with shouts of command, the march of anadvancing body, and the rumbling of carts. 

"Keep your guns at full cock, " cried Fink, "and fire only at those whopress in at the door. "

The wheeled pent-houses moved on as before, a Polish order was given, and a rapid fire began on the part of the enemy, exclusively directed tothe important door and the windows near it. The balls thundered on theoaken planks and on the masonry, and more than one found its way throughthe window openings, and struck the ceiling above the heads of thegarrison. Fink cried to the forester, "You shall run a risk, old man;take your people to the back door, open it, creep round close to thehouse, and drive away those fellows behind the three carts to the left, who have ventured too near; get close to them; you can knock them allover if you aim true; the carts have no covering; you can be back beforethe fellows run out from behind. Be quick and cautious; with thiswhistle I will give the signal for your rushing out from the shadow ofthe walls. "

The forester collected his men and hurried to the court. Fink ran upstairs to Anton. The enemy's fire grew still more frequent. "This timeit is grim earnest, " said Anton. "Our people, too, are getting excited. "

"Here comes the real danger, " cried Fink, pointing through a loop-holein the wall to a high shapeless mass which slowly approached. It was aharvest-wagon, loaded to an immense height and breadth, and propelled byinvisible hands to the front of the castle. "A fire-ship! there are theyellow straw bundles on the top. Their plan is evident; they aresteering it against the door. Now, then, we must shoot well; not one ofthe fellows who mount it must get back safe. " He sprang up the stairs, and cried to those stationed on the tower, "Every thing now depends uponyou; as soon as you see the men who are pushing the wagon onward, fire!wherever you can see a head, or even a leg, fire! Every one of them mustdie!" The wagon came nearer. Fink raised his own rifle twice, took aim, and twice laid it down. The wagon load was so high that it wasimpossible to see those who propelled it. These were moments of painfulsuspense on both sides; even the enemy's fire ceased; every eye wasfixed on the fearful vehicle which was to bring the bitter conflict to afatal close. At length the backs of the hindmost men at the pole cameinto sight. Two flashes from Fink's rifle, two yells, the wagon stoodstill; those who were pushing it crowded closer. Two dark bodies lay onthe ground. Fink loaded again, a wild smile playing round his lips. Araging fire upon the tower was the answer given by the foe. One of themen on the tower was shot in the breast; his gun fell down over thewall; he sank at Fink's feet. Fink merely glanced at him, and rammed hissecond bullet down. At that moment some figures rushed out of thedarkness to the wagon. A spirited shout was heard, and the machine wasonce more set in motion. "Brave fellows!" muttered Fink; "they aredoomed to death. " Other forms were now visible at the end of the pole. Fink again took aim. Again a cry of anguish; but the wagon moved on. Itwas not more than thirty yards from the door; the moment was indeedcritical. The shrill sound of the whistle was heard through the night;from the windows of the upper story flew the fiery salvo, and from theleft side of the house rose a loud cry. The forester made a sally, acrowd of dark figures rushed against the pent-house that stood nearestto the corner of the castle; for a moment there was a scuffle, then someshots fired, and the conquered foe fled from their shelter to the openplain. For the third time the deadly double-barrel flashed from thetower, and struck the pole of the wagon, and the men who were propellingit, seized with a sudden panic, retreated from its cover into thesheltering darkness. But this did not avail them. From the tower and thewindows of the upper story bullets pursued them, and more than one fell. Behind them rose a cry of rage, and a dark line rapidly advanced toreceive the fugitives. A universal fire against the house began. Thenthe enemy retreated rapidly as they had advanced, carrying the woundedand the carts back with them. The fire-ship alone, a dark mass, stillstood a few yards from the door. The firing ceased, and an uncomfortablesilence succeeded to the deadly conflict. 

In the hall of the upper story Anton and Fink met, and were immediatelyjoined by the forester. Each of the friends silently sought toascertain, in the dim light, whether the other stood before himunharmed. "Capitally done, forester, " cried Fink. "Demand to be admittedto the baron, and give in your report. "

"And request Fräulein Lenore to give you linen for dressings; we havehad losses, " said Anton, mournfully, as he pointed to the floor, wheretwo men sat leaning against the wall and groaning. 

"Here comes a third, " replied Fink, as a dark shape was slowly carrieddown stairs from the tower. "I fear the man is dead; he lay at my feetlike a log. "

"Who is it?" inquired Anton, shuddering. 

"Barowsky, the tailor, " whispered one of the bearers. 

"What a fearful night!" cried Anton, turning away. 

"We must not think of that now, " said Fink. "Human life is only valuablewhen one is ready to surrender it on a fitting opportunity. The greatpoint is, that we have shaken off that fiery millstone from our throats. It is not impossible that the wretches may yet succeed in kindling it;but it will not do much harm at its present distance. "

At that moment a bright light shone through the loop-holes of the tower. All rushed to the window. A dazzling light flamed up from the oppositeside of the wagon, and a sudden impetus hurled the heavy mass againstthe wall of the house. A single man sprang back from the wagon; a dozenguns were pointed at him at once. 

"Stop!" cried Fink, in a piercing voice. "It is too late. Spare him; heis a fine fellow; the mischief is done. "

"Merci, Monsieur; au revoir!" said a voice from below; and the mansprang uninjured into the darkness. 

In a moment the wagon was in a blaze, and from the straw and rushes withwhich it was laden on the top, the yellow flames rose crackling, whilefirebrands flew in all directions. The house was suddenly illuminated:masses of smoke burst through the shattered windows. 

"That is powder, " cried Fink. "Steady, steady, my men! We will keep theenemy off if they force an entrance. You, Anton, see whether you can putout the fire. "

"Water!" cried the men; "the window-frame has caught!" Without, therewere fresh orders shouted out. The drums beat; and, with a wild cry oftriumph, a cordon of skirmishers neared the house. The fire of thebesiegers began once more, in order to impede the quenching of theflames. Water was brought from the great butt in the yard, and poured onthe burning window-frames--a dangerous task enough; for the front of thehouse was lighted up, and the ever-advancing skirmishers aimed at everyfigure as it became visible. The besieged glanced anxiously at theflames, and returned the fire of their opponents unsteadily. Even thesentinels in the court looked more behind than before them. Thedisorder became general. The moment of greatest danger had come. Allseemed lost. 

Next a man called down from the tower, "They are bringing short laddersfrom the village; we can see the axes in their hands. "

"They will get over the palings, and break in the windows of the lowerstory, " cried the men to each other, in utmost alarm. 

The forester rushed to the court. Fink carried off a few men with him tothe side of the house on which the men with ladders were advancing. Allwere in confusion. Even Fink's threatening voice no longer took effectupon them. 

At that moment some men, with bars of iron in their hands, were seenhurrying in from the court-yard to the hall door. "Make way!" cried astalwart figure; "this is blacksmith's work!" The man pushed back thebolts of the door. The opening was filled by the burning wagon. Spite ofsmoke and flames, the smith leaped upon its burning frame. "Help me, youhares!" screamed he, in angry tones. 

"He is right, " cried Anton. "Onward, my men!"

Boards and poles were brought, and the men unweariedly pressed onwardthrough the smoke, and pushed and heaved away at the glowing mass. Atlength the smith succeeded in throwing down some of the sheaves. Onecould now get a glance of the dark sky, and the smoke was less stifling. 

"Now we have it!" cried he, triumphantly; and bundle after bundle fellto the ground, and burned harmlessly away. The wagon was more and morequickly unloaded, blazing feather-beds and billets of wood falling withother things. 

Anton had the door half closed as the enemy's bullets passed through theflames, and the men had to use their levers from the side. Thewagon-ladders fell down, burned to charcoal; and with a shout oftriumph, all the levers were applied at once, and the fragments of thewagon pushed a few yards from the door, which was quickly locked againfrom inside; while the men, black as imps, and with clothes burned, loudly congratulated each other. 

"Such nights as these make strong friendships, " cried the smith, ingreat delight, as he shook Anton's hand, which was little less blackthan his own. 

Meanwhile the axes of the besiegers were hacking away at several windowsof the lower story, the loosened boards creaked, and Fink's voice washeard saying, "Knock them down with the butt-ends!"

Anton and the forester now betook themselves upon the window throughwhich the besiegers sought to enter. But the worst was over there too. Fink came to meet them, the bloody axe of an insurgent in his hand, and, flinging it away, he cried to Anton and his party, "Put new boards intothe windows. I hope the butchery is at an end. "

A few more salvos from without, and single shots from within, and allwas still in the castle and in the field. The walls still glowed a whilein the firelight, but it faded and faded away. The wind rose and droveaway the smoke curling round the windows from the burning fragmentsbefore the door. The pure night air filled the corridors and the hallsonce more, and the starlight shone quietly on the sunken eyes and palefaces of the garrison. On both sides the energies of the combatants wereexhausted. 

"What hour of the night is it?" asked Fink, going up to Anton, who waswatching the movements of the enemy through the loop-holes of the wall. 

"Past midnight, " replied Anton. 

They went up to the tower and looked about them. The fields around thecastle were empty. 

"They have laid themselves down to sleep, " said Fink. "Even the firesbelow are out, and but few isolated voices sound from the village. Thoseshadows all round the house alone tell us that we are besieged. We havesome hours of peace before us; and as we shall hardly get sleeping-timeto-morrow, our people must avail themselves of the present. Leave onlythe necessary sentinels, and let the posts be relieved in two hours. Ifyou have no objection, I shall go to bed too. Let me be called as soonas any thing is stirring outside. You will take very good care of thenight-posts, that I know. " So saying, Fink turned away and went to hisroom, where he threw himself on his bed, and in a few moments was fastasleep. 

Anton hurried to the guard-room, arranged the posts with the forester, and fixed the order in which they were to be relieved. 

"I shall not be sleepy, " said the old man; "firstly, because of my age;next, from my habits as a huntsman. I will, if you allow, arrange theposts, and look after things in general. "

Once more Anton went round the court and the stables. Here, too, quietwas restored: only the horses restlessly stamped their hoofs on the hardground. Anton gently opened the door of the women's rooms, in the secondof which the wounded had been laid. As he entered, he saw Lenore on astool near the straw beds, two of the stranger women at her feet. Hebent down over the couch of the wounded: the colorless face anddisordered hair of the unfortunate men looked ghastly on the whitepillows which Lenore had snatched from her own bed. 

"How fares it with you?" whispered Anton. 

"We have tried to bind up the wounds, " replied Lenore. "The forestersays that there is hope of both. "

"Then, " continued Anton, "leave them in charge of the women, and availyourself of these hours of rest. "

"Do not speak to me of rest, " said Lenore, rising. "We are in thechamber of death. " She took him by the hand, and led him to the oppositecorner, drew aside a dark cloak, and pointed to a human form beneath it. "He is dead!" said she, with a hollow voice. "As I raised him with thesehands, he died. His blood is on my clothes; and it is not the only bloodthat has been spilled to-day. It was I, " she wildly cried, convulsivelypressing Anton's hand, "it was I who began this blood-shedding. How I amto bear this curse, I know not; how I am to live on after this day, Iknow not. If I have henceforth a place in this world, it is in thisroom. Leave me here, Wohlfart, and think no more about me. "

She turned away and resumed her seat on the stool by the side of thestraw bed. Anton drew the cloak over the dead, and silently left theroom. He went next to the guard-room and took up his gun. "I am going tothe tower, forester, " said he. 

"Each has his own way, " muttered the old man. "The other is wiser--hesleeps. But it will be cold up there; this one shall not be without awrap. " He sent a man up with a villager's cloak, and ordered him toremain with the gentleman. 

Anton told the man to lie down and sleep, and wrapped himself up in thewarm covering. Then he sat in silence, resting his head against the wallover which Lenore had leaned as she fired, and his thoughts flew overthe plain--from the gloomy present to the uncertain future. He lookedbeyond the circle of the enemy's sentinels, and over the darker boundaryof the fir woods, which kept him prisoner here, and bound him tocircumstances which appeared to him strange and improbable, as though heread them in a book. His wearied mind contemplated his own fate asthough it were that of a stranger, and he could now calmly look downinto the depths of his own spirit, which the stormy alternations of theday had hitherto hid from him. He saw his former life pass in reviewbefore him: the figure of the noble lady on the balcony of her castle;the beautiful girl in her skiff, surrounded by her swans; the waxlightsin the dancing-saloon; the mournful hour when the baroness had placedher jewels in his hands--each of those moments when Lenore's eyes hadlovingly met his own. All those seasons now returned to his mind, and heplainly discerned the glamour that she had cast around him. All that hadchained his fancy, warped his judgment, and flattered his self-love, nowappeared to him an illusion. 

It had been an error of his childish spirit which vanity had fostered. Alas! the brilliant mirage had long been dissipated in which the life ofthe aristocratic family seemed great, noble, enviable to the pooraccountant's son. Another feeling had replaced it, and a purer--a tenderfriendship for the only one in that circle who had retained her strengthwhen the others sank. Now, she too parted from him. He felt this was, and must be so more and more. He felt this now without pain, as natural, as inevitable. And further, he felt that he was thus free from the tiesthat detained him here. He raised his head, and looked over the woodsinto the distance. He blamed himself, first, that this loss did notgrieve him more, and, next, that he was conscious of a loss. Had there, then, been a silent hope at the bottom of his heart? Had he thought towin the beauteous girl to share his future life? had he dreamed ofbecoming a member of the family by whom he was employed? If he hadoccasionally been weak enough to do this, he now condemned himself. 

He had not always felt rightly; he had secretly cherished many a selfishthought when looking at Lenore. That had been wrong, and it served himright that he now stood alone among strangers, in relations that painedhim because they were indefinite, and in a position from which his ownresolve could not free him at present, could hardly free him for sometime to come. 

And yet he felt himself free. "I shall do my duty, and only think of herhappiness, " said he, aloud. But her happiness? He thought ofFink--thought of the character of his friend, which always impressed, but often angered him. Would he love her in return, and would he allowhimself to be bound? "Poor Lenore!" he sighed. 

In this way Anton stood till the bright aspect of the northern horizonpassed over to the east, and thence a pale gray spread over the sky, thechilly forerunner of the rising sun. Then Anton looked once more at thelandscape round him. He could hardly count the enemy's sentinels, whosurrounded the castle in pairs, and here and there a scythe shone in thebrightening light. Bending down, he woke the man, who had gone to sleepon the flags stained by his comrade's blood; then he went to theguard-room, threw himself on the straw that the forester carefully shookdown for him, and fell asleep just as the lark soared from the dewyground, by its joyous call to summon forth the sun. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

After an hour the forester woke the sleeper. Anton started up and lookedround, stupefied at the unfamiliar scene. 

"It is almost a sin to disturb you, " said the good old man; "all isquiet outside, only the enemy's cavalry have gone off to Rosmin. "

"Gone off!" cried Anton; "then we are free. "

"Except for the foot-folks, " said the forester, "and they are still twoto one of us. They hold us fast. And I have something else to say. Thereis no more water in the butt. Our men have drunk half of it, the restwas thrown on the fire. For my part, I can do without it, but the castleis full of men, and they will hardly get through the day without adrink. "

Anton sprang up. "This is a melancholy good-morning, my old friend. "

"The well is broken, " continued the old man; "but how if we were to sendsome of the women to the brook? The sentinels would not do much to thewomen; perhaps they would not prevent them from getting a few bucketfulsof water. "

"A few buckets would not do much for us, " replied Anton. 

"They would raise the spirits, " said the old man; "they would have to beshared. Were Rebecca here, she would get us the water. We must try whatwe can do with the others. Those confounded fellows are not bad towomen, if they be but bold. If you approve, I will see what I can makeof some of our girls. "

The forester called down to the kitchen--"Suska!" The young Pole sprangup stairs. 

"Listen to me, Suska, " said the forester, anxiously; "when, the baronawakes, he will call for his hot water; all the water in the castle isdone; we have beer and schnapps enough, indeed, but what Christian canwash his hands in beer? so take the buckets, and get us water. Run downto the brook; you will get on very well with your countrymen. Don't staytoo long chattering, or we shall get a scolding. And, I say, just askour neighbors why they stand there still with their lances; theirhorsemen have gone away; we have no objection to their moving off too. "

The girl willingly caught up the buckets, the forester opening the yarddoor for her, and down she went to the water. Anton watched her inanxious suspense. She got to the brook without any hinderance, andwithout troubling herself about the sentinels, who were some twentyyards off, and who looked with much curiosity at her. At length one ofthe men with scythes went up to her. The girl put down her buckets, crossed her arms, and both began a peaceful conversation. Then the Poletook up the buckets, filled them with water, and gave them to the girl, who slowly returned to the castle, the forester opening the gate forher, and saying, in a caressing tone, "Bravo, Susan! what did thesentinel say to you?"

"Stupid things, " replied she, blushing. "He told me that I must open thedoor for him and his comrades when they return to the castle. "

"As if that were all?" said the forester, slyly. "So they mean to returnto the castle?"

"To be sure they do, " said the girl. "Their horsemen are gone to meetthe soldiers from Rosmin. When they return, the man said they would allrun together to the castle. "

"We shall hardly admit them, " replied the forester. "None shall enterthe gate but your sweetheart yonder. You have, I suppose, promised himadmittance, if he comes alone and late?"

"No!" answered Susan, indignantly; "but I dared not be uncivil. "

"Perhaps we may try it once more, " suggested the forester, glancing atAnton. 

"I don't think it, " replied the latter. "An officer is riding round theposts, and the poor fellow will get a rough return for his gallantry. Come, and let us divide our little store. Half of this first bucket forthe family--half for us men; let the other make a breakfast for thewomen and children. "

Anton himself poured the water into the different vessels, and appointedthe smith to guard it. While so doing, he said to the forester, "This isthe hardest task that we have had as yet. I do not know how we are tohold out during the day. "

"Many things may happen, " replied the forester, consolingly. 

A bright spring day now began; the sun rose cloudlessly behind thefarm-yard, and soon warmed the mist that hung around the walls; thepeople sought out the sunny corner of the court; the men sat in littlegroups with their wives and children, and all seemed in good heart. Anton went in and out among them. "We must have patience tillnoon--perhaps till the afternoon; then our troops will come. "

"If those fellows yonder do no more than at present, " replied the smith, "we may be easy enough. They stand there like so many wooden posts. "

"They lost their courage yesterday, " said another, contemptuously. 

"It was a mere straw-fire; the smith threw it down, and they havenothing to follow it up with, " cried a third. 

The smith folded his arms and smiled proudly, his wife looking at himwith delight. 

Next the upper story began to show symptoms of life. The baron rang anddemanded a report. Anton went up to give it him, then entered Fink'sroom and woke his friend, who was still fast asleep. 

"Good-morning, Tony, " cried Fink, comfortably stretching himself. "Ishall be down in a moment. If you can send me a little water throughsome of your connections, I shall be very grateful to you. "

"I will get you a bottle of wine from the cellar, " replied Anton; "youmust wash in wine to-day. "

"Ha!" cried Fink, "is it come to that? At all events, it is not Portwine, I hope. "

"We have but a few bottles of either kind, " continued Anton. 

"You are a bird of ill omen, " said Fink, looking for his boots. "Youhave doubtless the more beer in your cellars. "

"Just enough to give the garrison one draught. A small cask of brandy isour chief treasure. "

Fink whistled the Hessian march. "You will own, my son, that yourtenderness for the women and children was somewhat sentimental. Ialready see you, in my mind's eye, with your shirt sleeves tucked up, killing the lean cow, and, with your old conscientiousness, administering mouthfuls to the famished household--you in themiddle--fifty gaping mouths around you. Be sure that you prepare a dozenbirch rods; in a few hours the screams of the hungry children will riseto heaven, and, in spite of your philanthropy, you will be obliged toscourge the whole troop of them. Otherwise, I think we managed prettywell yesterday. I have had a famous sleep, and so things must take theirchance another day. Now let's go and have a look at the enemy. "

The two friends mounted to the tower. Anton reported what he had heard. Fink carefully explored the sentries' posts and the line of road tilllost in the wood. "Our situation is too quiet to be comfortable, " saidhe, shutting up the glass. 

"They mean to starve us out, " said Anton, gravely. 

"I give them credit for that clever notion; and they do not judge ill, for, between ourselves, I have strong doubts whether we have any reliefto hope for. "

"We may depend upon Karl, " said Anton. 

"And upon my bay too, " replied Fink; "but it is very possible that mypoor Blackfoot may have the misfortune to be carrying the carcass of oneof the insurgents at this very moment; and whether the youth Karl maynot have fallen into the hands of one of the bands who, no doubt, swarmthroughout the country; whether he ever found our soldiers; whether theychose to march to our aid; whether, in short, they will have the senseto come in time; and whether they are strong enough, after all, todisperse the troop gone out to meet them--these, my boy, are allquestions which may reasonably be put, and I, for one, dare not answerthem hopefully. "

"We might attempt a sally, but it would be bloody work, " said Anton. 

"Pooh!" said Fink; "it would be useless, which is worse. We mightdisperse one set of them, and another would be there in an hour;nothing but having a strong party to relieve us can get us out of thescrape. As long as we keep within these walls we are strong; on the openfield, encumbered with women and children, a dozen horsemen might rideus down. "

"We must wait, then, " said Anton, gloomily. 

"Well said, after all. The whole of human wisdom consists in neverputting to one's self or to others questions which nobody can answer. The affair threatens to be tedious. "

The friends came down again, and hour after hour passed--weary hours ofleaden inactivity. First Anton, then Fink, looked through the glass atthe opening into the wood. There was little to be seen; patrols came andwent; armed peasants entered the village, and were dispatched indifferent directions; the sentinels were regularly inspected andrelieved every two hours; the besiegers were busy in searching anddisarming the surrounding villages, in order to make a more vigorousassault than ever on the castle. 

The Germans were pent up in their fortress like a wild beast in hislair, and the huntsmen waited with calm confidence for the time whenhunger, or else fire, should complete their conquest. 

Meanwhile Fink tried to employ his people; made the men clean andbrighten their arms, and himself inspected them all; next, powder andlead were given out, bullets cast, and cartridges made. Anton showed thewomen how to clean the house and the court, as well as they could, without water. All this had the good effect of keeping the prisonersoccupied for a few hours. 

The sun rose higher, and the breeze wafted the peaceful chime of bellsfrom the nearest village. 

"Our breakfast will be sparing enough, " said Anton to his comrades. "Thepotatoes are roasted in the ashes, meat and bacon are finished; the cookcan not bake, for we are again without water. "

"As long as we have the milch-cow in the stable, " replied Fink, "westill possess a treasure which we can display to the hungry ones. Next, we have the mice in the castle, and, finally, our boots. He who has beencondemned to eat beefsteaks in this country ought not to findboot-leather a tough diet. "

The forester interrupted them. "A single horseman is coming from thefarm-yard to the castle with a woman behind him. I lay any thing it isRebecca. "

The horseman approached the front door, waving a white handkerchief, halting near the burnt fragments of the great wagon, and looking at thewindows of the upper story. It was the envoy of the preceding day. 

"We will not be so unpolite as to keep the gentleman waiting, " saidFink, pushing back the bolts, and appearing unarmed on the threshold. The Pole silently bowed; Fink raised his cap. 

"I told you yesterday evening, " began the former, "that I should havethe pleasure of seeing you again. "

"Ah!" replied Fink; "you, then, were the gentleman who occasioned allthat smoke? It was a pity to spoil the wagon. "

"You prevented your men from firing on me yesterday, " continued thePole, in German, spoken with a hard foreign accent. "I am grateful toyou for it, and anxious to prove myself so. I hear that there are ladiesin the castle; this girl brings them milk. We know that you are withoutwater, and I should not wish the ladies to be inconvenienced by ourconflict. "

"Jackanapes!" muttered the forester. 

"If you will permit me to give you a few bottles of wine in exchange foryour milk, " replied Fink, "I will accept your present with thanks. Ipresume you have no superfluity of this commodity at your command. "

"Very good, " said the Pole, smiling. Rebecca hurried with her pitcher tothe yard gate, gave in the milk, and received the wine from the growlingforester. The Pole continued: "Even if you be well supplied with wine, it can not serve instead of water. Your garrison is numerous, and wehear that you have many women and children in the house. "

"I should consider it no hardship, " replied Fink, "for these women andchildren to drink wine, as well as we men, till you do us the favorwhich I yesterday requested, of leaving this estate and the brook yonderaltogether. "

"Do not hope it, sir, " said the Pole, gravely; "we shall employ all ourstrength to disarm you; we know now that you have no artillery, and itwould be at any time in our power to force an entrance. But you haveheld out like brave men, and we do not wish to go further than isabsolutely necessary. "

"Prudent and sensible, " replied Fink. 

"Therefore I make you a proposal which need not offend yourself-respect. You have no relief to hope for. Between your soldiers andthis village there is a strong body of our troops. A collision of thearmies is expected in the course of the next few days at no greatdistance from here, and your generals are, therefore, unable to detachany number of men. I am telling you no news; you know this as well as I;therefore I promise to you and to all within these walls a safe-conduct, if you will give up the castle and your fire-arms. We are ready toescort you and the ladies in any direction that you may wish, as far asour occupation of the country extends. "

Fink replied more seriously than he had hitherto done, "May I ask who itis whose word of honor would be pledged to me?"

"Colonel Zlotowsky, " replied the horseman, with a slight bow. 

"Your offer, sir, " returned Fink, "demands our thanks. I have no doubtof its sincerity, and will assume that you have influence enough overyour companions to carry it out. But, as I am not the master of thishouse, I must communicate your proposal to him. "

"I will wait, " replied the Pole, retreating to a distance of aboutthirty yards, and stopping opposite the door. 

Fink closed it, and said to Anton, "Let us go to the baron at once. Whatshould you think best?"

"To hold out, " replied Anton. 

They found the baron in his room, his head resting on his hands, hisface distorted, a picture of distress and nervous agitation. Fink toldhim of the Pole's offer, and begged for his decision. 

The baron replied, "I have perhaps suffered more hitherto than any ofthe brave men who have risked their lives in this house. It is ahorrible feeling to be obliged to sit still when honor summons one tothe foremost ranks. But, for this very reason, I have no right todictate to you. He who is incapable of fighting has no right to decidewhen the fighting shall cease; nay, I have hardly a right to tell you myviews, because I fear that they may influence your high-hearted minds;besides which, unfortunately, I do not know the men who defend me; I cannot judge of their mood or of their strength. I confidently leave everything to you, and place the fate of my nearest and dearest in yourhands. May Heaven reward you for what you do for me. Yet not for me--forGod's sake, not for me--the sacrifice would be too great, " cried he, inutmost excitement, raising his folded hands and sightless eyes toheaven; "think of nothing but the cause that we defend. "

"Since you repose so generous a trust in us, " said Fink, with chivalrousbearing, "we are resolved to hold your castle so long as we have thevery least hope of relief. Meanwhile there are serious contingencies tobe anticipated; our men may refuse to fight longer, or the enemy mayforce an entrance. "

"My wife and daughter beg, as I do also, that you will not consider themat a time like this. Go, gentlemen, " cried the baron, with outstretchedarms; "the honor of an old soldier is in your hands. "

Both bowed low before the blind man, and left the room. "After all, there is honor in the man, " said Fink, nodding as he went along. Then heopened the door and the officer rode up. 

"The Baron Rothsattel thanks you for your proposal; but he is resolvedto defend his house, and the property of those who have trusted to him, to the very utmost. We can not accept your offer. "

"Take, then, the consequences, " cried the officer, "and theresponsibility of all that must ensue. "

"I will take the responsibility, " said Fink; "but I have still onerequest to make from you. Besides the wives and children of the countrypeople, there are two ladies in the castle, the wife and daughter of theBaron Rothsattel; if an accident should enable you to occupy this house, I recommend these defenseless ones to the protection of your honor. "

"I am a Pole!" cried the officer, proudly rising in his stirrups. Thentaking off his hat, he galloped back to the farm-yard. 

"He looks a bold fellow, " said Fink, turning to the men who had gatheredround him from the guard-room; "but, my friends, when one has the choiceof trusting to an enemy's promises or to this little iron barrel, Ialways think it best to rely upon what we have in our hand. "

He shook his rifle as he spoke. 

"The Pole promises safe-conduct, " continued Fink, "because he knows thatin a couple of hours his band will be dispersed by our soldiers. Weshould be a good bite for him with our thirty guns. And then, if ourcavalry came, and instead of us, who sent for them, found the house fullof that rabble yonder, they would send a rattling curse after us, and weshould be disgraced forever. "

"I wonder whether he meant fair?" inquired one of the men, doubtingly. 

Fink took him confidentially by the lappet of his coat. "I do believe, my boy, that he meant fair; but I ask you how far one could calculateupon the discipline of those men? We should not get much beyond the woodyonder before another party would overtake us, and the women and ourproperty would be maltreated before our eyes; and so I calculate weshall do the best to show them our teeth. "

Warm approbation followed this speech, and a few hurrahs were raised forthe young gentlemen in the castle. 

"We thank you, " said Fink; "and now all of you to your posts, my men, for it may chance that you will get a few cracks on your heads again. That will keep them quiet for an hour or two, " said he, turning toAnton. "I don't expect an attack by day, but it is better for them tostand at their posts than to be putting their heads together. It wasunlucky that they should have heard the negotiations. "

But even the severe discipline which Fink maintained did not avail toward off the depression which fell upon the little garrison as the daywore on. The Pole's proposal had been heard by many; even the women hadin their curiosity opened their door and pushed into the hall. Quietly, gradually, fear began to take possession of the men's hearts, and, contagious as a disease, it spread from one to the other. It broke out, too, in the women's apartments. Suddenly some of them felt a greatdesire for water, complaining of thirst, first timidly, then louder, pressing against the door of the kitchen, and beginning to sob aloud. Not long after, all the children took to screaming for water, and manywho, under other circumstances, would not have thought about drinking atall, now felt themselves unspeakably wretched. 

Anton had the last bottle of wine brought out of the cellar, cut thelast loaf and soaked it in the wine, giving a piece to each, assuringthem that it was the best remedy against thirst, and that if one held itin the mouth, he would be quite unable to drink water, even if paid forit. This expedient answered for a time, but terror found other avenuesby which to enter. Many began to consider whether they would have lostany thing in giving up an old gun, and gaining thereby their liberty, and the right to go where they would. This view of things was loudlycombated by the forester, who placed himself in the midst of theguard-room, and resolutely replied: "I tell you, Gottlieb Fitzner, andyou, you stout Bökel, that the giving away our guns would be a meretrifle to any of us; the only thing is, that any one of you to whomthis vile thought could occur would be a low, mean, cowardly scoundrel, who would make me sick whenever I saw him. " To which proposition Fitznerand Bökel eagerly acceded, and Bökel declared that, for his part, hecould stand such a fellow just as little as the forester himself; sothat danger was averted. But the unemployed sentinels were engaged inanxious conversation. The castle forces were contrasted with those ofthe enemy, and finally the slight nature of the palings in the yardbecame the leading object of a searching criticism. It was clear thatthe next attack would be directed against them, and the moststout-hearted admitted that they could offer little resistance. Even thefaithful smith shook them with his strong hand, and by no means admiredthe manner in which they were nailed together. 

In the middle of the day these attacks of timidity were not actuallydangerous, for the greatest portion of the men were waiting ready armedfor the enemy's approach. But as the sun began to decline without anyattack, and without the sentinels on the top of the tower announcing anyprospect of relief, inactivity and exhaustion combined to increase theuniversal distress. Their dinner had been unsatisfying: potatoes burntto a cinder, and a little salt; no wonder that they should again beginto be thirsty, and that the women should return and complain to Antonthat his expedient had only availed for a very short time. Among themen, too, fear, hunger, and thirst spread fast from one story toanother. Anton had served out a double ration of brandy, but that didnot avail. Several of the men became, not rebellious, but weaker andmore depressed. Fink looked with contemptuous smile at these symptoms ofa condition of which his elastic spirit and iron nerves had noexperience; but Anton, to whom all came with petitions and laments, feltthe whole distress of these hours. Something must be done to helpefficiently, or all was lost. Accordingly, he went into the court-yard, determined to sacrifice the cow. He walked up to her, stroked her neck:"Lizzie, my poor beast, you must go, " said he. As he led her out, hiseye fell upon the empty water-butt, and a happy thought flashed acrosshim. The yard was only raised a few feet above the brook. The wholedistrict was full of springs; it was probable that, if dug for here, water might be found, and it would be an easy thing for the garrison todig a well. If the earth excavated were pushed up against the palings, their strength would be considerably increased, and, what was the chiefthing, the work would set all idle hands going, and might last forhours, nay, days. He knew, indeed, from former attempts, that the waterimmediately about the castle was muddy, and in ordinary timesundrinkable, but that did not signify to-day. Anton looked up at thesun; there was not a minute to be lost. He called the superintendentinto the court, and the latter joyfully agreeing to the proposal--allthe unoccupied hands about the castle, and the women and childrentoo--the laborers' implements were produced, and in a few minutes tenmen with spades and rakes were occupied in digging a large hole in themiddle of the court, while the women and children heaped the thrown-upearth against the palings. Some men, and such of the women as were to behad, were summoned by Anton to the slaughter of the poor cow, who wasonce more exhibited before she fell a victim to the exigencies of theday. Soon all were in full employment. The well-mouth, which was farwider than would have been required for an ordinary shaft, deepenedvisibly, and a wall rose inside the palings, which seemed the work offriendly underground gnomes. The people worked as they had never intheir life done before; the men's spades emulated each other; littlebare legs sprang actively over the ground; wooden shoes and slippersleft deep traces in the mound of earth. Each wanted to work; there weremore hands than space in which to move them. All sadness and anxietywere over and gone. Jests were bandied about. Even Fink came to look on, and said to Anton, "You are a missionary, and you know how to promotethe spiritual good of your people. "

"They work!" replied Anton, with greater cheerfulness than he had feltfor the last four-and-twenty hours. 

The well had now become so deep that it became necessary to have aladder to descend by; the ground got damper and damper, till the menworked in a perfect swamp. The mud had to be taken out in buckets; butthe people were more eager than ever, and the buckets flew from hand tohand, while all laughed like little children at the mud-sprinkling theirimpatience got. The mud wall rose rapidly above the palings, and woodand stones were thrown in to consolidate it. Anton could hardly get thelittle doorway kept open. Meanwhile there was restless agitation amongthe enemy. Horsemen rode rapidly along the line of sentries, and watchedthe progress of the new fortification: from time to time, one wouldventure nearer than the rest, then withdraw as soon as the foresterraised his gun above the wall. Thus hour after hour passed; the sun sankdown, and the red light of evening suffused the sky. But those in thecourt-yard took no heed of it, for at the bottom of the well the menwere standing up to their waists in water. It was a yellow, dirty liquidenough; but the people stared down the hole as though streams of goldwere flowing there. At last, when the twilight shadows lay dark on itsmouth, Anton ordered the diggers to leave the well. A coarse sheet wasbrought, and laid over the water-butt, and the water strained throughit. 

"My horses first, " cried one of the servants, snatching a bucketful forthe thirsting animals. 

"When it has settled a little, it will be as good as river-water, "exclaimed the smith, in delight. 

As for the diggers, they were never tired of tasting, and eachtriumphantly corroborated the worthy man's assertion. Meanwhile, Antonhad fresh palings driven into the mud rampart, and the strong planks ofthe potato-carts securely fastened to them. At nightfall all wasfinished. The women kept straining water into the butt. Great joints ofmeat were taken to the kitchen, where a brisk fire was crackling away, and the cheerful hopes of an excellent supper rose in the hearts of thebesieged. 

Then the drums of the enemy were again heard, and the shrill call ofFink's whistle vibrated through the castle. For a moment the men in thecourt-yard stood still; they had, during the last few hours, thoughtlittle about the foe; then all rushed into the guard-room and caught uptheir arms. The lower story was doubly occupied. The forester hurriedoff with a strong detachment to the court-yard, and clambered up the newwall. 

"The crisis approaches, " whispered Fink to Anton; "in the course of thelast few hours strong parties have come into the village, and just now atroop of horsemen has joined them. We shall not be able to hold out fora second night. They will attack on both sides at once, and with thehelp of short ladders they will soon make their way into the castle. Andthat they know, for you may see that every band that leaves the villageis armed with axes and ladders. Let us meet our inevitable doom withspirit; the praise is yours if we are beaten like men and not likecowards. I have been with the baron; he and the ladies are prepared;they will all remain together in his room. If you have a few words tospare when one of the Messieurs of the party walks in over you, remindhim of the ladies. God willing, Anton, I'll take the court-yardside--you the front. "

"It seems to me impossible, " cried Anton, "that we should be beaten. Ihave never had so good a hope as in this very hour. "

"Hope of relief!" said Fink, shrugging his shoulders, and pointingthrough the window at the enemy. "If it comes in an hour's time it comestoo late. Since Rebecca's cannon exploded, we are in the hands of thefoe as soon as they choose to storm in earnest. And they will choose. One must not indulge in illusions that glow no longer than a cigar. Giveme your hand, my dear fellow, and farewell. "

He pressed Anton's hand, and a proud smile beamed again over his face. So stood the friends, each looking affectionately at the face of theother, uncertain whether he should ever behold it again. "Farewell!"cried Fink, taking up his rifle as their hands parted; but all at oncehe seemed rooted to the ground, and intently listened, for above thedrums of the foe and the tramp of their approach a clear sound rangthrough the night air, a merry pealing fanfare, and in reply to itthere came from the village the regular beat of a drum of the line, thena loud discharge of artillery, and a distant hurrah. 

"They come!" was the cry on all sides; "our soldiers come!"

The forester rushed into the hall. "The red-caps!" he screamed out. "They are riding up along the brook to the bridge, and the infantry arestorming the village from behind. "

"Now our side!" cried Fink; "prepare for a sally!"

The bolts were shot back; the whole garrison was out in a moment; andAnton could hardly get the superintendent and a few of the servants toreturn and take care of the house. The forester rapidly marshaled themen into order while Fink looked at the position of the combatants. Thecolumns of infantry advanced through the village. The ceaselessdischarges showed how inveterate the fight was; but the soldiery slowlyapproached, the enemy yielded, a few fugitives had already run out ofthe farm-yard. Meanwhile a detachment of hussars crossed the brookopposite the castle, driving small parties of the besiegers before them. Fink led his men round the house, and stationed them at the corner thatlay nearest to the village. "Patience!" cried he; "and when I lead youon, don't forget your password, or you will be ridden and trodden downin the dark like the others. "

It was with the greatest difficulty that the men were kept in rank, suchwas their impatience. 

A single horseman now came riding toward them. "Hurrah! Rothsattel!"cried he, while still at a distance. 

"Sturm!" called out a dozen voices; and Anton sprang forward to greethis ally. 

"We have them, " said Karl. "They had occupied the Rosmin high road, butI led our men by by-paths through the woods. "

A dark mass was visible at the end of the village, with riders inadvance. The enemy halted and assembled in the farm-yard. 

"Now for it!" cried Fink. 

The garrison marched at a quick pace over the meadow, placed themselvessideways near the first barn, and a salvo from five-and-twenty gunsburst upon the flank of the enemy, who fell into confusion and fledacross the plain. Again the trumpet sounded, behind them the hussarscame galloping up, and cut down those that still kept their ground. Karljoined them, and vanished in the fray. The enemy were thus driven intothe fields. 

The Polish cavalry now sprang forward from the village, at their headthe spokesman of the morning, who with loud shouts urged his men againstthe hussars. 

"Rothsattel!" cried a youthful voice close to Anton, and, heading adetachment of hussars, a tall, slight officer rushed against the Poles. Fink raised his rifle and aimed at the Polish colonel. 

"Thanks!" cried he, reeling on his horse, firing his pistol with hislast breath at the breast of the hussar who was riding him down. Thehussar fell from his horse, and the Pole's charger galloped away withhis master's lifeless body. 

In a few minutes more the vicinity of the castle was cleared of allfoes. Night concealed the fugitives, and the trees of the forest spreadtheir sheltering branches over the sons of the soil. In smalldetachments, the conquerors followed the last remnant of the enemy'stroops. 

Before the castle, Anton knelt on the ground and supported the head ofthe prostrate horseman on his arm. With tears in his eyes, he lookedfrom the dying man up to his friend, who stood on one side with a groupof sympathizing officers. Their triumph was rendered a mute one, thepeasants surrounding the spot in solemn silence. The motionless form wasslowly carried on their crossed hands to the castle. 

The baron stood on the hall steps with his daughter, ready to greet thewelcome guests. As soon as Lenore saw the wounded officer, she rusheddown among the bearers, by whom the body was silently laid at thebaron's feet, and sank to the ground with a scream. 

"Who is it?" groaned the blind man, groping in the air. No one answeredhim; all drew back in terror. 

"Father!" murmured the wounded youth, and a stream of blood gushed fromhis mouth. 

"My son! my son!" cried the baron, in agony, and his knees sank underhim. 

The youth had left his garrison to join the troops which were to bestationed near his parents. He had succeeded in exchanging into anotherregiment, and in accompanying the squadron sent to his father'sassistance. He wished to give his father a happy surprise, and, with theraising of the siege, he brought them his bleeding breast into theirhouse, and death into their hearts. 

A mournful silence lay upon the high Slavonic castle. The storm hadraged itself to rest; the white blossoms floated silently down from thegreat fruit-trees in the fields, and lay pure and spotless on the groundlike a white shroud. Where are ye, airy schemes of the blind man, whichhe has so striven, suffered, and sinned to realize? Listen, poor father;hold your breath and listen. All is still in the castle, still in theforest, and yet you can not hear the one sound of which you ever thoughtamid your parchments and your plans--the heart-throb of your only son, the first heir of the house of Rothsattel!

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Days of sorrow now passed over the castle, hard to endure by every onewho dwelt within its walls. Disease lurked in the family like canker ina flower. Since the dark hour when the dying son had been carried intohis father's presence, the baron had never left his room. His smallmeasure of remaining strength had been broken; grief consumed mind andbody. He would sit silently brooding throughout the livelong day, andneither the entreaties of Lenore nor the companionship of his wifeavailed to rouse him. When the fatal tidings were first communicated tothe baroness, Anton had feared that the fragile thread that bound her tothe earth would burst, and for weeks Lenore never left her side; but, tothe astonishment of all, she rallied, her husband's state so claimingher care that her own sorrows and weakness seemed to pass away. Sheappeared stronger than before, and solely occupied with tending herhusband: she was able to sit up for hours beside his chair. It is truethat the doctor used to shake his head privately, and to tell Anton thatthis sudden improvement was not be trusted. As for Lenore, for the firstfew weeks after her brother's death she was invisible to all; and now, whenever she emerged from the sick-room, it was to answer inquiries forthe invalids, or to send, through Anton, messages to the doctor. 

Meanwhile, beyond the walls, a stormy spring had passed, succeeded by anunsettled summer. True, the property had no longer to dread the horrorsof civil war, but the burdens that the times imposed fell heavy on theestablishment. Daily the blast of trumpet and beat of drum washeard--castle and village alike had their complement of soldiers tosupport, and these were frequently exchanged. Anton had enough to do toprovide for man and horse. The slender resources of the estate were soonexhausted, and, but for Fink's laborers, they never could have got on. Then there were all manner of interruptions to the work of the farm. More than one acre had been trodden down at the time of the siege. Themen had become bewildered by passing events, and had lost their relishfor regular employment. But, on the whole, order was maintained, and theplans laid down early in the spring were being carried out. Theirrigation of the meadow-land prospered still better; the number of grayjackets went on increasing; and this body-guard of Herr von Fink wereacknowledged throughout the district as a stout set, with whom it waswell to be on good terms. Fink himself was often away. Having made andrenewed the acquaintance of several officers, he threw himself heart andsoul into military matters, and shared as a volunteer in the encounterin which the insurgents had been defeated. His defense of the castle hadmade him a marked man: he was equally hated and admired by the twoconflicting parties. 

Weeks had passed away since the relief of the castle, when Lenoreappeared at the house door, before which Anton and the forester wereholding a consultation. She looked across the court-yard, where a pumpnow stood, and over the palings, from which the earth had been clearedaway, to the landscape, now bright with the fresh green of early summer. At last she said with a sigh, "Summer is come, Wohlfart, and we have notnoticed it!"

Anton looked anxiously at her pale face. "It is delightful now in thewoods, " said he. "I was at the forester's yesterday, and since the rainthe trees and flowers are in full beauty. If you would but agree to goout!"

Lenore shook her head. "What do I signify?" said she, bitterly. 

"At least hear the news which the forester has just brought, " continuedAnton. "The man you shot was the wretched Bratzky. You did not kill him. If you have reproached yourself on that score, I can set your mind atrest. "

"God be praised!" cried Lenore, folding her hands. 

"That night when the forester came to us, he thought he had seen therascal sitting in the bar with his arm tied up. Yesterday he was takenprisoner to Rosmin. "

"Ay!" said the forester; "a bullet does a fellow like him no harm; heaims higher than that;" and he laid his own hand on his throat with asignificant gesture. 

"This has weighed on me day and night, " whispered Lenore to Anton; "Ihave looked on myself as one under a curse. I have had the most fearfuldreams and visions of the man as he fell, hands clenched, and the bloodgushing from his shoulder. Oh, Wohlfart, what have we gone through!" Andshe leaned against the door, and fixed her tearless eyes on the ground. 

A horse's hoof rung on the pavement. Fink's bay was led out. 

"Where is he going?" hurriedly asked Lenore. 

"I do not know, " replied Anton; "he has been a great deal out of late; Isee nothing of him the whole day long. "

"What is he doing here with us?" said Lenore; "this unhappy house is noplace for him. "

"If he would only be careful, " said the forester. "The Tarow people aremad at him; they have sworn to send a bullet after him, and he alwaysrides alone, and late at night. "

"It is in vain to warn him, " added Anton. "Do be rational for once, Fritz, " cried he, as his friend came out; "do not go riding alone, or, at least, not through the Tarow estate. "

Fink shrugged his shoulders. "Ah! so our Fräulein is here! It is so longsince we have had the pleasure of seeing you, that our time has hungrather heavy on our hands. "

"Listen to the advice of your friends, " replied Lenore, anxiously, "andbeware of dangerous men. "

"Why?" returned Fink; "there is no straightforward danger to apprehend;and in times like these, there is no guarding against every stupid devilwho may lurk behind a tree; that would be taking too much trouble. "

"If not for your own sake, think of the anxiety of your friends, "implored Lenore. 

"Have I still friends?" asked Fink, laughing; "I often fancy they havebecome faithless. My friends belong to the class who perfectlyunderstand the duty of composure. Our worthy Wohlfart, perchance, willput an extra handkerchief in his pocket, and wear his most solemn mienif the game goes against me; and another companion in arms will consoleherself still more readily. Out with my horse!" cried he, swinginghimself on the saddle, and with a slight bow galloping away. 

"There he goes, straight to Tarow, " said the forester, striking his headas he watched Fink disappear. 

Lenore returned in silence to her parents' room. 

But late at night, long after the castle lights were all put out, acurtain was drawn back, and a woman listened anxiously for the sound ofhorses' hoofs. Hour after hour passed away, and it was morning beforethe window closed as a rider halted at the door, and, whistling a tune, himself took his horse to the stable. After a night of watching, Lenorehid her aching head in her pillows. 

Thus months passed away. At length the baron, leaning upon hisdaughter's arm and on a staff, ventured out into the open air, to sitsilently in the shadow cast by the castle walls, or to listen for everytrifle which might afford possible scope for fault-finding. At thesetimes his dependents in general would go a good deal out of their way toavoid him, and as Anton never did this, he was not unfrequently theirscapegoat. Every day the baron had to hear, in return for hiscross-questioning, "Mr. Wohlfart ordered this, " or "Mr. Wohlfart forbadethat. " He eagerly found out what orders were given by Anton, that hemight countermand, and all the bitterness and disappointmentaccumulated in the spirit of the unfortunate nobleman were concentratedin an impotent hatred to his agent. 

Fink, for his part, took little heed of the baron, merely contractinghis brows when he observed his quarrelsomeness toward Anton, and neversaying more than "he can not help it. "

Karl was the one who got on best with the baron, never calling him anything but captain, and making an audible military salute whenever he hadany thing to say, and this pleased the blind man. Indeed, the firsttoken of sympathy for others which the baron evinced was elicited by thebailiff. A garden chair had been warped by the sun, and seemed on thepoint of coming to pieces. Karl, as he passed by, took it up, and withhis clenched fist hammered it together. "You are not striking with yourright hand, I hope, my good Sturm?" inquired the baron. 

"Just as it happens, captain, " replied Karl. 

"You should not do so, " remonstrated the invalid. "An injury like yoursshould make you careful; very often the pain returns after long years;you can not be sure that this may not be your case in after-life. "

"A short life and a merry one, captain, " replied Karl; "I do not lookforward. "

"That is a very useful fellow, " said the baron to his daughter. 

The corn ripened, the green fields turned to gold, the cheerful soundsof harvest began. When the first loaded wagon rolled into the farm-yard, Anton stood by the barn and watched the sheaves put in. He was joined byLenore, who inquired, "What of the harvest?"

"As far as we could contrive to sow this year, the returns have not beenbad. At least, Karl seems pleased with the crop, which exceeds ourcalculations, " cheerfully returned Anton. 

"Then you have one pleasure, Wohlfart, " said Lenore. 

"It is a pleasure for all on the farm; look at the steady activity ofthe men. Even the idle work well to day. But what pleases me most isyour question; you have been so estranged from the farm, and all thatconcerns the property. "

"Not from you, my friend, " said Lenore, looking down. 

"You must be ill!" eagerly continued Anton. "If I dared, I could scoldyou for having thought so little about your own health all this time;your pony is become quite stiff. Karl has often been obliged to use it, that it might not lose the use of its limbs. "

"It may go like the rest, " cried Lenore; "I shall never mount it again. Have pity upon me, Wohlfart! I often feel as if I should lose my senses;every thing in the world has become indifferent to me. "

"Why so savage, Fräulein?" said a mocking voice behind her. Lenorestarted and turned round. Fink, who had been absent more than a week, had joined them. "See that you send off Blasius, " said he to Anton, without taking any further notice of Lenore. "The rascal has been drunkagain; he flogs the horses till the poor beasts are covered with wales. I have a great mind to give them the satisfaction of seeing him punishedbefore their eyes. "

"Have patience till after the harvest, " replied Anton; "we can not sparehim now. "

"Is he not a good-natured man in other respects?" timidly suggestedLenore. 

"Good-nature is a convenient name for every thing that is morbid, "replied Fink. "We call it good-nature in men and sensibility in women. "He looked at Lenore. "How has the poor pony sinned, that you will neverride him more?"

Lenore blushed as she replied, "I find that riding gives me headache. "

"Indeed!" said Fink, tauntingly; "you once had the advantage of beingless delicate. I do not think this lachrymose mood is suitable for you;you will not lose your headache thus. "

Lenore, quite subdued, turned to Anton: "Have the newspapers arrived? Icame to ask for them for my father. "

"The footman has taken them to the baroness's room. "

Lenore turned away with a slight inclination, and went back to thecastle. 

Fink looked after her and said to Anton, "Black does not become her; sheis much faded. Hers is one of those faces which only please when theyare full and blooming. "

Anton cast a dark glance at his friend. "Your behavior toward her hasbeen so strange for the last few weeks, that I have often felt indignantat it. I do not know what your purpose may be, but you treat her with anonchalance which does not offend her alone. "

"But you too, Master Wohlfart, eh?" asked Fink, looking Anton full inthe face. "I was not aware that you were this lady's duenna too. "

"This tone will not avail you, " replied Anton, more quietly. "I do rightto remind you that you are behaving worse than ungently toward a noblecreature who has now a double claim upon the tender consideration of usall. "

"Be good enough to pay her that consideration yourself, and don'ttrouble yourself about me and my manner, " returned Fink, dryly. 

"Fritz, " cried Anton, "I do not understand you. It is true, you areinconsiderate. "

"Have you found me so?" interpolated Fink. 

"No, " replied Anton. "Whatever you have been to others, to me you havealways shown yourself generous and sympathizing; but for this veryreason it pains me inexpressibly that you should have thus changedtoward Lenore. "

"Leave that to me, " returned Fink; "every one has his own way of tamingbirds. Let me just add, that if your Fräulein Lenore be not soon shakenout of this sickly way of life, she will be utterly ruined. The ponyalone will not do it, I know; but you, my son, and your melancholysympathy, won't do it either; and so we will just let things take theircourse. I am going to Rosmin to-day; have you any commands?"

This conversation, although it led to no estrangement between thefriends, was never forgotten by Anton, who silently resented Fink'sdictatorial tone, and anxiously watched his bearing toward Lenore, whomFink never sought nor avoided, but simply treated as a stranger. 

Anton himself had some unpleasant experiences to go through. Much as heavoided communicating what was unwelcome to the baron, there was onething he could no longer spare him, and that was the settlement of hisson's debts. Soon after Eugene's death, numberless letters, with billsinclosed, had arrived at the castle, been given by Lenore to Anton, andthen by him all made over, Sturm's note of hand included, to CouncilorHorn, whose opinion and advice he craved to have respecting them. Thisopinion had now arrived. The lawyer did not disguise that the note ofhand given by young Rothsattel to the porter was so informal that itamounted to nothing more than a mere receipt, and did not in any waybind the baron to pay the debt. Indeed, the sum was so great thatimmediate payment was out of the question. Then Anton himself had lentthe young prodigal more than eight hundred dollars. As he drew outEugene's note of hand from among his papers, he looked long at thehandwriting of the dead. That was the sum by which his imprudence hadpurchased a share in the fate of this noble family. And what had thispurchase brought him? He had then thought it a fine thing to help hisaristocratic friend out of his embarrassments; now, he saw that he hadonly abetted his downward course. He gloomily locked up his own note ofhand in his desk again, and with a heavy heart prepared for aconversation with the baron. 

At the first mention of his son, the baron fell into a state of painfulexcitement; and when Anton, in the flow of his narrative, chanced tocall the departed by his Christian name, the father's pent-up angerfound a vent. He interrupted Anton by sharply saying, "I forbid you touse that familiar appellation in speaking of my son. Living or dead, heis still Herr von Rothsattel as far as you are concerned. " Anton repliedwith great self-command, "Herr Eugene von Rothsattel had contracteddebts to the amount of about four thousand dollars. "

"That is impossible!" broke in the baron. 

"The accredited copies of notes of hand and bills of exchange whichCouncilor Horn has procured, place the matter beyond doubt. With regardto the largest debt, one of nineteen hundred dollars, the certainty isthe more complete, as the lender, the father of the bailiff Sturm, happens to be a man of peculiar uprightness. A letter to me from thedeparted expressly acknowledges this obligation. "

"Then you knew of this debt, " cried the baron, with increasing anger, "and you have kept it back from me! Is this your much-vaunted fidelity?"

It was in vain that Anton sought to explain the circumstances of thecase. The baron had lost all self-control. "I have long ago found out, "said he, "how self-willed your whole line of conduct is. You takeadvantage of my situation to get the disposition of all my means; youmake debts, you allow debts to be made, you draw money, you charge it tomy account, just as you see fit. "

"Say no more, baron, " cried Anton. "It is only compassion for yourhelplessness which at this moment prevents me from answering you as youdeserve. How great that compassion is, you may infer from the fact thatI will endeavor to forget your words, and still ask you for yourdecision: will you or will you not acknowledge your late son's debts, and give legal security to the porter Sturm, or to his son, yourbailiff?"

"I will do nothing, " cried the baron, beside himself, "that you requireof me in so peremptory and pretentious a tone. "

"Then it is useless to speak to you any longer. I implore you, baron, toreconsider the affair before you pronounce your final decision. I shallhave the honor of receiving your ultimatum this evening, and I hope thatere then your sense of honor will have triumphed over a mood to which Ishould not wish a second time to expose myself. "

With these words he left, and heard the poor baron upsetting chairs andtables in his wrath. Scarcely had he reached his room when theconfidential servant appeared, and asked for the deeds andaccount-books, which had hitherto been kept in Anton's room. Silentlythe latter made them over to the affrighted domestic. 

He was dismissed, then--rudely and summarily dismissed; his uprightnessquestioned: this breach was final. It was a bitter hour. Even now, whileindignantly pacing up and down, he felt that this insult offered him wasa punishment. True, his aim had been pure, and his actions blameless;but the enthusiastic feelings which had led him hither had not availedto establish proper relations between him and the baron--those ofemployer and employed. It was not the freewill, the rational choice ofboth, that had brought them together, but the pressure of mysteriouscircumstances and his own youthful romance. And thus he had claimsbeyond what his situation gave him, and by these the baron was oppressedand cumbered. 

These reflections were interrupted by Lenore's sudden entrance. "Mymother wishes to speak to you, " she cried. "What will you do, Wohlfart?"

"I must go, " said Anton, gravely. "To leave you thus, with your futureso uncertain, is what I never could have believed possible. There wasbut one thing which could have induced me to part from you before I hadmade over the property into stronger hands. And this one thing is cometo pass. "

"Go!" cried Lenore, in utmost excitement. "All is crumbling around us;there is no help to be looked for; even you can not save us; go, andfree your life from that of our sinking family. "

When Anton joined the baroness, he found her lying on the sofa. "Sitdown beside me, Mr. Wohlfart, " whispered she. "The hour is come in whichI must impart what, to spare myself, I have reserved for the hour whenwe speak most openly to each other--the last hour spent together. Thebaron's illness has so affected him that he no longer appreciates yourfaithful help--nay, your presence aggravates his unhappy state. He hasso hurt your feelings that reconciliation is become impossible. Evencould you forget, we should consider the sacrifice you would be makingfar too great. "

"I purpose leaving the property on an early day, " replied Anton. 

"I can not, " continued the baroness, "atone for my husband's offensestoward you, but I wish to give you an opportunity of revenging yourselfin a manner worthy of you. The baron has attacked your honor; therevenge that I, his wife, offer you, is to assist him to retrieve hisown. "

Hitherto the baroness had spoken fluently, as was her wont in society;now she stopped, and seemed to lack words. 

"Years ago, " she said, "he pledged his word of honor, and--and broke itin a moment of desperation. The proof of this is probably in the handsof some low man, who will use this knowledge to ruin him. That I shouldcommunicate this to you at a time like this will show you the light inwhich I regard your connection with our house. If it be possible torestore his peace of mind, you, I know, will do it. " She drew a letterfrom under the pillow, and placed it in Anton's hand. 

Anton took it to the window, and saw with surprise that it was inEhrenthal's handwriting. He had to read it twice before he could masterits contents. In a lucid interval the imbecile had happened to recallhis former dealings with the nobleman, and wrote to remind him of thestolen notes of hand, to demand his money, and to threaten the baron. The letter was full, besides, of laments over his own weakness, and thewickedness of others; and what its confusion left unexplained wascleared up by the copy of a note of hand--probably from the draught ofone agreed upon by the baron and Ehrenthal, for the letter mentioned theexistence of the original, and threatened to use it against the baron. 

Folding up the letter, Anton said, "The threats which Ehrenthal connectswith the copy inclosed need not disturb you, baroness, for the note ofhand seems to have no signature, and the sum which it represents is asmall one. "

"And do you believe that it is a true statement?" asked the baroness. 

"I do, " was the reply. "This letter explains to me much that hitherto Inever could understand. "

"I know that it is true, " whispered the baroness, in so low a voice thatAnton scarcely heard it, while a faint blush overspread her face. "Andyou, Mr. Wohlfart, will you endeavor to get back the stolen papers forus?"

"I will, " replied Anton, earnestly. "But my hopes are small. The baronhas no existing claim upon these missing documents. They belong toEhrenthal, and an understanding with him is necessary in the firstinstance. It will be difficult to bring about. And again, I veryimperfectly understand the circumstances, and must request you to tryand inform me of all you can connected with the robbery. "

"I will endeavor to write to you, " said the baroness. "You can draw up alist of the questions you wish answered, and I will do so as well as Ican. Whatever may be the result of your efforts, I now thank you withall my soul. Our house will never pay the debt it owes you. If theblessing of a dying woman can shed a brightness over your future, takeit with you on your way. "

Anton rose. 

"We shall not meet again, " said the invalid; "this is our finalleave-taking. Farewell, Wohlfart! this is the last time I shall see youon earth. " She held out her hand. He bent over it, and, deeply moved, quitted the room. 

Yes, she deserved to be called a noble lady. Her nature was noble, herinsight into the character of others clear, and her mode of recompensingAnton's zeal dignified--very dignified. In her eyes, at least, he hadalways worn a powdered wig and silver knee-buckles. 

In the evening Fink's step was heard in the corridor, and, enteringAnton's room, he cried, "Halloo, Anton, what's up now? John slinks aboutas if he had broken the great china vase; and when old Barbette saw me, she began to wring her hands. "

"I must leave this house, my friend, " returned Anton, gloomily. "I havehad a painful scene with the baron to-day. " He then proceeded to relateit, and concluded by saying, "The position of this family was never sodesperate as now. They need the command of twenty thousand dollars toavert new misfortunes. "

Fink threw himself into a chair. "First of all, " said he, "I hope youavailed yourself as little as possible of this fine opportunity of beingangry. We won't waste words over the scene; the baron is notaccountable; and between ourselves, I am not surprised. I have seen allsummer that you could not retain your romantic connection with thisfamily. On the other hand, it is plain that you are indispensable asfather-confessor to the ladies, and confidential man of business to allthe people around. And I need not tell you that your sudden departurecuts up many a plan of mine. But now for the question, What will youdo?"

"I shall return as soon as possible to our own capital, " replied Anton. "There I shall be engaged for some time in the interest of theRothsattels. My official relations to them cease from this very day, andas soon as the baron's family estate is sold, I shall consider my moralobligations to them canceled. "

"Good!" said Fink; "that's all right. If you ever set pen to paper againon their behalf, it can only be from a sense of compassion. Anotherpoint is that Rothsattel has brought a curse upon himself by his folly, for without you things can't go on as they do for another month. Now, then, Master Anton, comes the question, What will be done here?"

"I have thought of that the whole day, " returned Anton, "and I do notknow. There is only one possible plan, and that is, that you shouldundertake that part of my office which Karl can not fill. "

"Thank you, " said Fink, "both for your good opinion and your friendlyoffer. You have been, excuse me, a good-natured fool. I am not of thatstamp. In a week's time I should be under the unpleasant necessity ofmaltreating the baron. Have you no other plan to propose?"

"None, " cried Anton. "If you do not with all your heart and soulundertake the management of the property, all that we have effectedduring the last year will be undone, and our German colony will go toruin. "

"It will, " said Fink. 

"And you, Fritz, " continued Anton, "have, through your intimacy with me, become involved in its fate, and are thus in danger of losing too. "

"Spoken like a book!" said Fink. "You run off and leave me here tied andbound. I'll tell you what--wait for me here; I will first of all speak afew words to Lenore. "

"What are you going to do?" cried Anton, holding him fast. 

"Not to make love, " replied Fink, laughing. "You may rely upon that, myboy!" He rang the bell, and requested an interview with Fräulein Lenorein the drawing-room. 

When Lenore entered with eyes red from weeping, and only maintaining hercomposure by a strong effort, he politely advanced and led her to thesofa. 

"I abstain from commenting upon what has passed to-day, " began he. "Wewill assume that my friend's presence in the capital will be moredesirable for your family interests than his stay here. From all I hear, this is really the case. Wohlfart leaves the day after to-morrow. "

Lenore hid her face in her hands. 

Fink coldly continued: "Meanwhile, my own interests require that Ishould attend to them. I have spent several months here, and acquired ashare in this estate. For this reason, I request you to be the bearer ofa message from me to your father: I am prepared to purchase this estatefrom the baron. "

Lenore started and rose up, wringing her hands, and exclaiming, "For thesecond time!"

"Be kind enough quietly to hear me, " continued Fink. "I by no meansintend to play toward the baron the part of angel of deliverance. I haveless of the angelic nature about me than our patient Anton, and feel inno way inclined to make any offer to your father that will not advancemy own interest. Let us look upon each other as opponents, and myproposal, as it really is, prompted by self-love. My offer, then, is asfollows: The price of this estate, if reckoned at a sum that wouldsecure the baron from loss, would amount to more than a hundred andsixty thousand dollars. I offer him the outside of what I consider itspresent worth--that is, I will accept all its liabilities, and pay thebaron twenty thousand dollars in the course of twenty-four hours. Tillnext Easter, I should wish to leave the castle in your hands, and toremain here as your guest, if this could be arranged withoutinconvenience. In point of fact, I should generally be absent, and in noway burdensome to you. "

Lenore looked wistfully in his face, which was at this moment hard asthat of a genuine Yankee; the remnant of her composure gave way, and sheburst into tears. 

Fink quietly leaned back in his chair, and, without heeding her, continued: "You see I offer you a loss, probably that of half of yourinheritance. The baron has been so precipitate in investing his capitalin this property that his family must needs suffer, for the market-priceof it, in its present state, would assuredly not exceed my offer. Ishould be acting dishonorably if I disguised from you that, properlycultivated, it would probably be worth twice as much in a few years'time, but not, I am firmly convinced, under the baron's management. HadAnton remained, it might have been possible, but that hope is over. Iwill not conceal from you either that Wohlfart has even proposed to meto occupy his situation. "

Lenore, in the midst of her sobs, here made a deprecating gesture. 

"I am glad, " continued Fink, "that we are of the same mind on thatsubject. I considered the proposal quite out of place, and rejected itat once. " He then stopped, and looked searchingly at the girl beforehim, whose heart was torn by his words. He spoke harshly to her, he forwhose smile, whose kindly glance she would have done any thing. Hementioned her father with ill-concealed contempt; his language was thatof a hard egotist; and yet his offer seemed a blessing in her helplesscondition, and with the second-sight of a loving heart she divined ameaning in it that she did not fully understand, but which shone intoher abyss of sorrow like a distant ray of hope. However he might phraseit, this offer proceeded from no ordinary motives; and her convulsivesobs giving way to quiet tears, she tried to rise from the sofa, butsank to the floor near his chair, the very picture of sorrowfulsubmission. "You do not deceive me, " murmured she; "do with us what youwill. "

A proud smile passed over Fink's face as he bent over her, wound his armround her head, pressed a kiss on her hair, and said, "My comrade, Iwill that you should be free. " Lenore's head fell on his breast; shewept, softly supported by his arm; at last taking her hand, he pressedit tenderly. "Henceforth let us understand each other. You shall befree, Lenore, both as regards me and all others. You are losing one whohas shown you the self-sacrificing tenderness of a brother, and I amglad that he is leaving you. I do not yet ask you whether you will sharemy fate as my wife, for you are not now free to answer as your heartdictates. Your pride shall not say me nay, and your 'yes' shall notlessen your self-respect. When the curse that lies on your house is doneaway with, and you are free to remain with or leave me, your decisionshall be made. Till then, an honorable friendship, comrade mine!"

And now Fink went on in another voice: "Let us think of nothing but ourproperty; dry up those tears, which I am not fond of seeing in your blueeyes, and impart the business half of my proposal to your father andmother. If not before, I request an answer by this time to-morrow. "

Lenore went to the door, then returned, and silently offered him herhand. 

Slowly Fink returned to his friend's room. "Do you remember, Anton, "asked he, "what you told me of your patriotism the day of my arrivalhere?"

"We have often spoken on the subject since then. "

"It made an impression on me, " continued Fink. "This property shall notfall again under a Bratzky's sceptre. I shall buy it if the baronconsents. "

Anton started. "And Lenore?"

"She will share her parents' fate; we have just settled that. " He thentold his friend the offer he had made. 

"Now I hope that all will end well, " cried Anton. "We shall see. "

"What a purgatory for the sinner up stairs! I am glad I don't hear hisgroans!" said Fink. 

The following morning the servant brought each of the friends a letterfrom the baron's room; the one of apology and thanks to Anton, the otherof acceptance to Fink. These they read, and then silently exchanged. 

"So the matter is settled, " cried Fink, at length. "I have run half overthe world, and every where found something to object to; and now I burymyself in this sand-hole, where I must kindle a nightly fire to scarethe Polish wolf. As for you, Anton, raise your head and look before you, for if I have found a home, you are going to where the best part of yourheart is; and so, my boy, let's go over your instructions once more. Your first commission is to find certain stolen papers. Think, too, ofthe second. Do what you can to secure to the family the little they havesaved in this quarter, and see that their old estate, when sold byauction, is bid up to a price that will cover all mortgages. You mustgo, I see, and I do not ask you to remain at present, but you know that, under all circumstances, my home is yours. And now, one thing more. Ishould be sorry to lose the bailiff; employ your eloquence to induceyour trusty Sancho to remain here, at least over the winter. "

"No one knows as yet that I am leaving, " replied Anton; "he must be thefirst to hear it. I am going to him. "

The dirty dwelling which Mr. Bratzky once occupied had changed, underKarl's management, to a comfortable abode, which had only one drawback, that of being too full of useful things, and smelling strongly of glue. Often and often Anton had sat in it to rest and refresh himself byKarl's cheery ways, and as he glanced at each familiar object, his heartsank at the prospect of leaving his faithful, unexacting ally. Leaningagainst the joiner's table in the window, he said, "Put your accountsby, Karl, and let us have a serious word or two. "

"Now for it, " cried Karl; "something has been brewing for a long while, and I see by your face that the crisis is come. "

"I am going away, my friend. "

Karl let his pen fall, and silently stared at the grave face oppositehim. 

"Fink undertakes the management of the property, which he has justbought. "

"Hurrah!" cried Karl; "if Herr von Fink be the man, why, all's right! Igive you joy, with all my heart, " said he, shaking Anton's hand, "thatthings have turned out thus. In the spring I had other foolish notions. But it's all regular and right now, and our farming is safe too. "

"I hope so, " said Anton, smiling. 

"But you?" continued Karl, his face growing suddenly grave. 

"I go back to our capital, where I have some business to do for thebaron, and then I shall look out for a stool in an office. "

"And here we have worked together for a year, " said Karl, sadly; "youhave had all the pains, and another will have the profits. "

"I go back to my proper place. But it is of your future, not mine, dearKarl, that I am now come to speak. "

"Of course, I go back with you, " cried Karl. 

"I come to implore you not to do so. Could we set up together, we wouldnever part; but I am not in a position for this. I must seek anothersituation. Part of the little I possessed is gone; I leave no richerthan I came; so we should have to separate when we got home. "

Karl looked down and meditated. "Mr. Anton, " said he, "I hardly dare tospeak of what I do not understand. You have often told me that my oldgovernor is an owl who sits on money-bags. How would it do, " stammeredhe, in embarrassment, working away at the chair with one of his tools, "that if what is in the iron chest be not too little for you, you shouldtake it; and if any thing can be made of it--it is very presumptuous ofme--perhaps I might be useful to you as a partner. It is only an idea, and you must not be offended. "

Anton, much moved, replied: "Look you, Karl, your offer is just likeyour generous self, but I should do wrong to accept it. The money isyour father's; and even if he gave his consent, as I believe he would, such a plan would involve great risk. At all events, his substance wouldbe better invested in your own calling than in one you might enter intoout of love for me; so it is better for you, my friend, that we part. "

Karl snatched his pocket-handkerchief, and blew his nose violentlybefore he asked, "And you won't make use of the money? You would be sureto give us good interest?"

"Impossible, " replied Anton. 

"Then I'll go back to my father, and hide my head in some hayloft abouthome, " cried Karl, in high dudgeon. 

"That you must not do, " said Anton. "You have become better acquaintedwith the property than any other; it were a sin to throw that knowledgeaway. Fink wants a man like you; the farm can not possibly spare youtill next summer. When we came here, it was not to benefit ourselves, but to improve the land. My work is over; you are in the midst of yours, and you will sin against yourself and your task if you forsake it now. "

Karl hung his head. 

"One thing that used to distress me was the meagre salary that theestate could afford you; that will be changed now. "

"Don't let us speak of that, " said Karl, proudly. 

"We ought to speak of it, " returned Anton, "for a man does wrong when hedevotes the best gifts he has to an occupation that does not adequatelyrepay him. 'Tis an unnatural life; and good results can scarcely beexpected, take my word for that. I therefore beg you to remain, at leasttill next summer, when, owing to the extended scale of farmingoperations, an experienced inspector may occupy your post. "

"Then, " said Karl, "may I go?"

"Fink would always like to keep you; but should you leave him, remember, Karl, our frequent conversations during the past year. You have becomeaccustomed to a life among strangers, and have all a colonist's claimsto a new soil. If higher duties do not urge you home, your place is toremain here as one of us. If you leave this estate, buy land from thePoles. You, with the plowshare in your hand, will be still a Germansoldier, for the boundary of our tongue and our customs is gaining uponour enemies. " So saying, he pointed to the east. 

Karl reached out his hand, and said, "I remain. "

When Anton left the bailiff he found Lenore at the door. "I am waitingfor you, " cried she; "come with me, Wohlfart; while you remain here, youbelong to me. "

"If your words were less friendly, " replied Anton, "I might fancy thatyou were secretly glad to get rid of me, for I have not seen you socheerful for a long time. Head erect, rosy cheeks; even the black dresshas vanished. "

"This is the dress I wore when we drove together in the sledge, and youadmired it then. I am vain, " cried she, with a mournful smile. "I wishthat the impression you carry away with you of me should be a pleasantone. Anton, friend of my youth, what a mystery it is that, on the veryfirst day free from care that I have known for years, we must part. Theestate is sold, and I breathe again. What a life it has been of lateyears! always anxious, oppressed, humbled by friend and foe; always indebt, either for money or services: it was fearful. Not as far as youwere concerned, Wohlfart. You are my childhood's friend; and if you werein trouble of any kind, it would be happiness to me if you would callme, and say, 'Now I want you; now come to me, wild Lenore. ' I will bewild no longer. I will think of all you have said to me. " Thus she ranon in her excitement, her eyes beaming. She hung on his arm, which shehad never done before, and drew him in and out of every building in thefarm-yard. "Come, Wohlfart, let us take a last walk through the farmwhich was once ours. We bought this cow with the white star together, "cried she; "you asked for my opinion of her, and that pleased me much. "

Anton nodded. "We neither of us were very sure about it, and Karl had todecide. "

"What do you mean? You paid for her, and I gave her her first hay, consequently she belongs to us both. Just look at this lovely blackcalf. Mr. Sturm threatens to paint its ears red, that it may look aperfect little demon. " She knelt down beside it, stroked and hugged it, then suddenly starting up, she cried, "I don't know why I should make somuch of it; it is mine no longer; it belongs to somebody else. " Yetthere was mirth in her tone of pretended regret. "Come to the pony now, "she said; "my poor little fellow! He has grown old since the day when Irode after you through our garden. "

Anton caressed the favorite, who turned his head now to him, now toLenore. 

"Do you know how it happened that I met you on the pony?" said Lenore toAnton over its back. "It was no accident. I had seen you sitting underthe shrubs. I can tell you so to-day; and I had thought, 'Heavens! whata handsome youth! I will have a good look at him. ' And that's how ithappened as it did. "

"Yes, " said Anton; "then came the strawberries, then the lake. I stoodthere and swallowed the strawberries, and was rather inclined to tears;but through it all my heart was full of delight in you, who rose beforeme so fair and majestic. I see you still in fluttering muslin garments, with short sleeves, a golden bracelet on your white arm. "

"Where is the bracelet gone?" asked Lenore, gravely, leaning her head onthe pony's mane. "You sold it, you naughty Wohlfart!" The tears stood inher eyes, and she stretched out both hands to him over the pony's back. "Anton, we could not remain children. My heart's friend, farewell!Adieu, girlish dreams! adieu, bright spring-time! I must now learn to gothrough the world without my guardian. I will not disgrace you, " shecontinued, more calmly. "I will always be steady, and a goodhousekeeper. And I will be economical. I will keep the book with threelong lines down its sides once more, and put every thing down. We shallneed to be saving even in trifles, Wohlfart. Alas! poor mother!" And shewrung her hands, and looked sad again. 

"Come out into the country, " suggested Anton; "if you like it, let us gointo the woods. "

"Not to the woods, not to the forester's, " said Lenore, solemnly, "butto the new farm; I will go with you. "

They walked across the fields. "You must lead me to-day, " said Lenore. "I will not give you up. "

"Lenore, you will make our parting very painful to me. "

"Will it be painful to you?" cried Lenore, much pleased. Thenimmediately afterward, shaking her head, "No, Wohlfart, not so; you haveoften longed in secret to be far away from me. "

Anton looked at her with surprise. 

"I know, " cried she, confidentially pressing his arm, "I know it verywell. Even when you were with me your heart was not always with me too. Often it was, that day in the sledge, for instance; but oftener you werethinking of others, when you got certain letters, that you always readin the greatest hurry. What was the gentleman's name?" asked she. 

"Baumann, " innocently replied Anton. 

"Caught!" cried Lenore, again pressing his arm. "Do you know that thatmade me very unhappy for a long time? I was a foolish child. We aregrown wise, Wohlfart; we are free people now, and therefore we can goabout arm in arm. Oh, you dear friend!"

Arrived at the farm, Lenore said to the farmer's wife, "He is leavingus. He has told me that his first pleasure here was the nosegay that yougathered for him. I have no flowers myself; they don't flourish with me. The only garden on the estate is here, behind your house. "

The good woman tied up a small nosegay, gave it to Anton with acourtesy, and sadly said, "It is just the same as a year ago. "

"But he is going, " cried Lenore, and, turning away, her tears began toflow. 

Anton now shook hands heartily with the farmer and the shepherd: "Thinkkindly of me, worthy friends. "

"We have always had kindness from you, " cried the farmer's wife. 

"And fodder for man and beast, " said the shepherd, taking off his hat;"and, above all, consideration and order. "

"Your future is secured, " said Anton; "you will have a master who hasmore in his power than I had. " Finally, Anton kissed the farmer'scurly-headed boy, and gave him a keepsake. The boy clung to his coat, and would not let him go. 

On their return, Anton said, "What makes our parting easier to me is thefuture fate of the property. And I have a prevision that all that stillseems uncertain in your life will be happily settled ere long. "

Lenore walked in silence by his side; at length she asked, "May I speakto you of the present owner of this estate? I should like to know howyou became his friend. "

"By not putting up with a wrong he did me. Our intimacy has remainedunshaken, because, while I willingly gave way to him in trifles, Ialways abode by my own convictions in graver matters. He has a highrespect for strength and independence, and might easily becometyrannical if he encountered weakness of judgment and will. "

"How can a woman be firm and self-reliant with such a one as he?" saidLenore, cast down. 

"No doubt, " replied Anton, thoughtfully, "this must be much moredifficult for a woman who passionately loves him. Every thing that lookslike temper or self-will he will rudely break down, and will not sparethe conquered; but if opposed by a worthy and modest nature, he willrespect it. And if I were ever called upon to give his future wife acounsel, it would be this, that she should carefully guard againstwhatever might pass for bold or free in woman. The very thing that mightmake a stranger agreeable, because easily establishing a familiarfooting between them, is just what he would least esteem in her. "

Lenore clung closer to Anton as he spoke, and bent her head. Theyreturned in silence to the castle. 

In the afternoon Anton went once more over the estate with Karl forcompanion. Hitherto he had always felt that he was living in a strangeland; now, when about to leave it, this seemed a home. Wherever helooked, he saw objects that had for a whole year engaged his attention. He had bought the wheat with which this field was sown; he had orderedthe plow with which that servant was plowing; here he had roofed-in abarn; there he had improved a ruinous bridge. Like all who enter upon anew field of labor, he had had numberless plans, hopes, projects; andnow that he was suddenly called upon to relinquish these, he firstdiscovered how dear they had been. He next spent an hour in theforester's house. As they parted, the latter said, "When you first laidhand on this door, I little thought that the trees around us would standso safe, and that I should ever live again among my fellow-men. You havemade dying difficult to an old man, Mr. Wohlfart. "

The parting hour came. Anton took a short and formal leave of the baron;Lenore was quite absorbed in sorrow, and Fink affectionate as a brother. As Anton stood by him, and looked with emotion at Lenore, he said, "Beat ease, my friend; here, at least, I will try to be what you were. " Onelast hand-clasp, one last farewell, then Anton jumped into the carriage. Karl seized the reins. They drove past the barn into the village road;the castle disappeared. At the end of the wood Karl halted. A troop ofmen were there assembled--the forester, the farmer, the shepherd, theKunau smith, with a few of his neighbors, and the son of the Neudorfbailiff. 

Anton joyfully sprang down and greeted them once more. 

"My father sends me to bid you farewell, " said the bailiff's son. "Hiswounds are healing, but he can not leave his room. " And the Kunau smithshouted out as a last farewell, "Greet our countrymen at home for me, and say that they must never forget us!"

Silently, as on the day of his arrival, Anton sat by the side of hisfaithful Karl. He was free--free from the spell that had lured himhither--free from many a prejudice; but while as free, he was as poor asa bird of the air. He had now to begin life over again. Whether the pastyear had made him stronger or weaker remained to be proved. On thewhole, however, he did not regret what he had done. He had had, gains aswell as losses; he had helped to found a new German colony; he hadopened out the path to a happy future for those he loved; he felthimself more mature, more experienced, more settled; and so he lookedbeyond the heads of the horses which were carrying him homeward, andsaid to himself, "Onward! I am free, and my way is now clear. "

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

It is evening. Sabine stands in her treasure-chamber before the opencupboards, arranging the newly-washed table-linen, and again tyingrose-colored tickets on the different sets. Of course, she knew nothingand guessed nothing. Her white damask shines to-day like silver; thecut-glass cover, which she lifts from the old family goblet, ringscheerily as a bell, and the vibrations thrill through the woodwork ofthe great presses. All the painted heads on the china cups looksingularly cheerful to-day. Doctor Martin Luther and the sorcerer Faustpositively laugh. Even Goethe smiles, and it is impossible to say howamused old Fritz appears. Yet Sabine, the sagacious mistress of thehouse, knows not what these know. Or does she guess it? Hark! she sings. A merry tune has not passed her lips for long; but to-day her heart islight, and as she looks at the shining display of glass and damask, something of their brightness seems to fall upon her, and, low as thenotes of the wood-bird, a song of her childhood sounds through thelittle room. And from the cupboard she suddenly moves to the window, where her mother's picture hangs over the arm-chair, and she lookscheerfully at the picture, and sings before her mother's face theself-same song that once, from that very arm-chair, that mother sang tothe little Sabine. 

At that moment a cloaked figure is gliding across the ground floor. Balbus, who is superintending the great scales, stands in the archedroom, casts a half glance at the figure, and thinks to himself, withsurprise, "That is rather like Anton. " The porters are closing a chest, and the eldest, turning round accidentally, sees a shadow thrown by alantern on the wall, and, leaving off hammering for a moment, says, "Icould almost have fancied that was Mr. Wohlfart. " And in the yard avehement barking and leaping is heard, and Pluto runs in frantically tothe servants, wags his tail, barks, licks their hands, and, in his ownway, tells the whole story. But even the servants know nothing, and oneof them says, "It must have been a ghost; I have lost sight of it. "

Then the door of Sabine's room opens. "Is it you, Franz?" said she, interrupting her song. No one answered. She turned round, her eyes fixedwistfully upon the figure at the door. Then her hand trembled andclasped the back of the chair, while he hurried toward her, and inpassionate emotion, not knowing what he was doing, knelt down near thechair into which she had sunk, and laid his head on her hand. That wasAnton. Not a word was spoken. Sabine gazed on the kneeling form as atsome beatific vision, and gently laid her other hand on his shoulder. 

She does not ask why he is come, nor whether he is free from the glamourthat led him away. As he kneels before her, and she looks into his eyes, that tenderly and anxiously seek hers, she understands that he isreturning to the firm, to her brother, to her. 

"How long you have been away!" said she, reproachfully, but with ablissful smile upon her face. 

"Ever have I been here!" said Anton, passionately. "Even in the hourwhen I left these walls I knew that I was giving up all of joy--all ofhappiness that I could hope to know; and now I am irresistibly impelledto come and tell you how it is with me. I worshiped you as a holy imagewhile living near you. The thought of you has been my safety when faraway. It has protected me in solitude, in an irregular life, in greattemptation. Your form has ever risen protectingly between me and that ofanother. Often have I seen your eyes fixed upon me as of yore--oftenhave you raised your hand to warn me of the danger I was in. If I havenot lost myself, Sabine, I owe it to you. "

And again he bent over her hand. Sabine held him fast and whispered, "Myfriend! my dear friend! we must both feel that we have dreamed andstruggled--that we have resolved and overcome. What must you not havesuffered, my friend!"

"No, " cried Anton, "it was not the same suffering nor the same strength. I saw and reverenced you at the time when you were silently conqueringyourself. I was a weak, willful man. I do not know what would havebecome of me had not your memory lived in my soul. When far away, theinfluence you exerted over me went on increasing, and only because Ithought of you became I free. "

"And how do you know that it may not have been the same in my case?"asked Sabine, looking lovingly at him. 

"Sabine!" cried Anton, beside himself. 

"Yes, that is your own noble face, " cried she. "Alas! in your features, too, I can read the traces of an iron time. " She rose. "We have heard ofyour heroic deeds, though you sent us nothing during the whole long yearbut a short message. "

"Could I venture to do more?" broke in Anton, eagerly. 

Sabine nodded archly. "We have, however, watched for tidings thatreached us through your friends. Oh! when I, in the midst of these safewalls, thought of my friend exposed to every assault of the enemy!Wohlfart! Wohlfart! I rejoice that I see you again. "

"Another has the property now, and the care of the defenseless family, "replied Anton. 

"It is the ordering of Providence, " cried Sabine; and looked withdelight on the newly-returned one. 

In the uniform tenor of her domestic life, she had for many years had acordial liking for Anton. Since he had left her, she had found out thatshe loved him, and had hidden the feeling in her heart. No trace of herlove nor her renunciation had appeared in the regular household. Hardlyhad she by a look betrayed the struggle going on within. Now, in therapture of meeting, her feelings broke out. She looked at Anton inbeaming delight, thinking of nothing but the joy of having him with heragain, and not remarking the traces of a different feeling in Anton'spale features. He has found her indeed, but only to lose her againforever. 

Still does Sabine hold his hand, and now she leads him through thecorridor to her brother's study. 

What are you doing, Sabine? This house is a good house, certainly, butnot one in which people feel poetically, are easily moved, open theirarms at once, and press new-comers to their heart. It is astraightforward, prosaic house, where requests are made and refused infew words; and it is a proud and rigid house besides. Remember this, itis no tender welcome to which you are leading your friend. 

This Sabine felt, and delayed a moment before she opened the door; buther resolve was taken, and, holding Anton's hand in hers, she drew himin, crying to her brother with a beaming face, "Here he is; he isreturned to us. "

The merchant rose from his writing-table, but he remained standing byit; and his first words, coldly and peremptorily spoken, were these:"Release my sister's hand, Mr. Wohlfart. "

Sabine drew back. Anton stood alone in the middle of the room, andlooked at the principal. His strongly-marked features were aged duringthe last year, his hair had grown gray, the lines in his face haddeepened. 

"That I should enter here at the risk of being unwelcome, " said Anton, "will show you how strong my desire was to see you and the firm oncemore. If I have excited your displeasure, do not let me feel it in thishour. "

The merchant turned to his sister. "Leave us, Sabine; I wish to speak toMr. Wohlfart alone. " Sabine went up to her brother, and stood erectbefore him. She said not a word, but with a bright glance, in which afirm resolve was plainly visible, she looked full into his frowningface, and then left the room. The merchant looked gloomily after her, and turned to Anton. "What brings you back to us, Wohlfart?" said he. "Have you failed to attain what your youthful ambition hoped for, andare you come to seek in the tradesman's house the happiness that onceseemed inadequate to your claims? I hear that your friend Fink hassettled himself on the baron's property; has he sent you back to usbecause you were in his way there?"

Anton's brow grew clouded. "I do not appear before you as anadventurer, " said he; "you are unjust in expressing such a suspicion;nor does it become me to submit to it. There was a time when yourjudgment of me was more friendly; I thought of that time when I soughtyou out; I think of it now, that I may forgive your injurious words. "

"You once said to me, " continued the merchant, "that you felt yourselfat home in my house and firm. And you had a home, Wohlfart, in ourhearts and in the business. In a moment of effervescence you gave us up, and we, with sorrow, did the same with you. Why do you return? You cannot be a stranger to us, for we have been attached to you, and, personally, I am deeply indebted to you. You can no more be our friend, for you have yourself forcibly rent the ties that bound us. You remindedme, just when I least expected it, that a mere business contract alonebound you to my counting-house. What are you seeking now? Do you want aplace in my office, or do you, as appears, want much more?"

"I want nothing, " cried Anton, in the utmost excitement--"nothing but areconciliation with you. I want neither a place in your office, nor anything else. When I left the baron, I felt that my first step must be toyour house, my next to seek employment elsewhere. Whatever I may havelost during the past year, I have not lost my self-respect; and had youmet me as kindly as I felt toward you, I should have told you in thecourse of our first hour together what you now demand. I am aware thathere I can not stay. I used to feel this when far away, as often as Ithought of this house. Since I have entered its walls and seen yoursister again, I know that I can not remain here without actingdishonorably. "

The merchant went to the window, and silently looked out into the night. When he turned round again the hard expression had left his face, and helooked searchingly at Anton. "That was well spoken, Wohlfart, " said heat length, "and I hope sincerely meant. I will be equally open towardyou in saying that I still regret that you have left us. I knew you asan older man seldom knows a younger; I could thoroughly trust you. Now, dear Wohlfart, you are become a stranger to me; forgive me what I amabout to say. An unregulated imagination allured you into circumstanceswhich could not but be morally unhealthy. You have been the confidantof a bankrupt and a debtor, who may have retained many amiablecharacteristics, but who must have lost, in his dealings withunprincipled men, what we here in this firm call honor. I gladly assumethat your uprightness refused to do any thing contrary to your sense ofright; but, Wohlfart, I repeat to you what I have said before: anypermanent dealings with the weak and wicked bring the best man intodanger. Gradually and imperceptibly his standard becomes lowered, andnecessity compels him to agree to measures that elsewhere he would haveperemptorily rejected. I am convinced that you are still what the worldcalls an upright man of business, but I do not know whether you havepreserved that proudly pure integrity, which, alas! many in themercantile world treat as mere pedantry, and to have to tell you thismakes your return painful to me. "

Anton, white as the handkerchief he held, with trembling lips replied, "Enough, Mr. Schröter. That you should, in the first hour of meeting, say to me the most bitter thing one could possibly say to an enemy, convinces me that I did wrong to re-enter this house. Yes, you areright. I never, during my year of absence, lost the sense of the dangeryou speak of. I ever felt it the greatest misfortune to be unable toesteem the man by whom I was employed. But I dare make answer to you, with pride equal to your own, that the purity of the man who carefullyshrinks from temptation is worth little; and that, if I have gained anything from a year of bitterness, it is the consciousness of having beentried, and knowing that I no longer act as a boy, from instinct andhabit, but from principle, as a man should. I have gained a confidencein myself that I had not before; and because I know how to respect myown character, I tell you that I perfectly understand your doubt; butthat, since you have given it utterance, I look upon all ties between usas by yourself dissolved, and leave you, never to return. Farewell, Mr. Schröter!"

Anton turned to go, but the merchant hurried after him, and laid hishand on his shoulder. 

"Not so fast, Wohlfart, " said he, gently; "the man who saved me from thestroke of the Polish sword must not leave my house in anger. "

"Do not recall the past, " replied Anton; "it is useless. It is you, notI, who have mixed up injury and indignation with our meeting; you, notI, who have annihilated the power of old recollections. "

"Not so, Wohlfart, " said the merchant. "If by my words I have offendedyou more than I intended, make allowance for my gray hairs, and for aheart full of painful anxiety the past year through, and full ofanxiety, too, on your account. We do not meet as we parted; and wheneverfriends have a mutual misgiving, let them openly express it, that theymay stand and start clear. Had I valued you less, I should have keptback my thoughts, and my greeting would have been more polite. Now, however, I bid you welcome. " And he held out his hand. 

Anton took it, and repeated the word "Farewell. "

The merchant held his hand firmly, and said, with a smile, "Not so fast;I can not let you go just yet. Remember that it is your oldestacquaintance who now entreats you to remain. "

"I will remain, then, this evening, Mr. Schröter, " said Anton, coldly. 

The merchant led him to the sofa, and began to communicate the presentstate of the firm. It was no cheerful picture that he drew, but itproved his entire confidence, and helped to allay the sting of his harshreception. 

Gradually Anton became absorbed in the business details, eagerly wentover calculations, and unconsciously began to speak of the business asthough he still belonged to it. Once more the merchant held out his handwith a melancholy smile. Anton now grasped it cordially, and thereconciliation was complete. 

"And now, dear Wohlfart, " said Mr. Schröter, "let us speak of yourself. You once confided to me some particulars connected with your exertionsin the baron's cause, and I impatiently cut you short; I now entreat youto tell me all you can. "

Anton accordingly proceeded to mention all matters that admitted ofbeing publicly talked of, and the merchant listened with the utmostattention. 

"And now, " said he, rising from his seat, "allow me to touch upon yourfuture. After what you have said, I will not ask you to spend the nextfew years with me, welcome as your help would prove just now, but I begthat you will leave it to me to look out for a fitting post for you. Wewill not be in too great a hurry about it. Meanwhile, spend the few nextweeks with us. Your room is empty, and just as you left it. I find, fromwhat you tell me, that you have occupation cut out for you for somemonths to come. If, in addition to this, you are inclined to help me inthe counting-house, your help will be very welcome. As for yourrelations with my family, " he gravely continued, "I fully trust you. Itis a positive necessity to me to prove this, and hence my presentproposal. "

Anton looked down in silence. 

"I am not imposing on you any painful ordeal, " said the merchant; "youknow the habits of our household, and how little opportunity there is ofmuch conversation. For Sabine, as well as for yourself, I wish a fewweeks of your olden way of life, and when the time comes, a calmparting. I wish this on my sister's account, Wohlfart, " added he, candidly. 

"Then, " said Anton, "I remain. "

Meanwhile Sabine was restlessly pacing up and down the drawing-room, andtrying to catch a sound from her brother's study. Sometimes, indeed, asad thought would intrude, but it did not find a resting-place to-day. Again the fire crackled and the pendulum swung; but the fir-logs burnedright merrily, throwing out small feux de joie through the stove door, and the clock kept constantly ticking to her ear, "He is come! he isthere!"

The door opened and the cousin came bustling in. "What do I hear?" criedshe. "Is it possible? Franz will have it that Wohlfart is with yourbrother. "

"He is, " said Sabine, with averted face. 

"What new mystery is this?" continued the cousin, in a tone ofdiscontent. "Why does not Traugott bring him here? and why is not hisroom got ready? How can you stand there so quietly, Sabine? I declare Idon't understand you. "

"I am waiting, " whispered Sabine, pressing her wrists firmly, for herhands trembled. 

At that moment footsteps were heard nearing the room; the merchant criedout at the door, "Here is our guest. " And while Anton and the cousinwere exchanging friendly greetings, he went on to say, "Mr. Wohlfartwill spend a few weeks with us, till he has found such a situation as Ishould wish for him. " The cousin heard this announcement with intensesurprise, and Sabine shifted the cups and saucers to conceal heremotion; but neither made any remark, and the lively conversationcarried on at the tea-table served to disguise the agitation which allshared. Each had many questions to hear and answer, for it had been ayear rich in events. It is true that a certain constraint was visiblein Anton's manner while speaking of his foreign life, of Fink and theGerman colony on the Polish estate, and that Sabine listened withdrooping head. But the merchant got more and more animated; and whenAnton rose to retire, the face of the former wore its good-humored smileof old, and heartily shaking his guest's hand, he said in jest, "Sleepwell, and be sure to notice your first dream; they say it is sure tocome to pass. "

And when Anton was gone, the merchant drew his sister into the unlightedante-room, kissed her brow, and whispered in her ear, "He has remaineduncorrupted, I hope so now with all my soul;" and when they bothreturned to the lamp-light, his eyes were moist, and he began to rallythe cousin upon her secret partiality for Wohlfart, till the good ladyclasped her hands and exclaimed, "The man is fairly demented to-day!"

Weary and exhausted, Anton threw himself upon his bed. The futureappeared to him joyless, and he dreaded the inner conflict of the nextfew weeks; and yet he soon sank into a peaceful slumber. And again therewas silence in the house. A plain old house it was, with many angles, and secret holes and corners--no place, in truth, for glowing enthusiasmand consuming passion; but it was a good old house for all that, and itlent a safe shelter to those who slept within its walls. 

CHAPTER XL. 

The next morning Anton hurried to Ehrenthal's. The invalid was not to bespoken to on business, and the ladies gave him so ungracious a receptionthat he thought it unwise to afford them any inkling of the reason ofhis visit. That very day he had notice given to Ehrenthal's attorney, byCouncilor Horn, of twenty thousand dollars being ready in hand for thedischarge of Ehrenthal's claims to that amount. As for his otherdemands, unsupported as they were by documentary evidence, they were tobe referred to proper legal authorities. The attorney refused to acceptthe payment offered. Anton accordingly took the necessary steps tocompel Ehrenthal at once to accept it, and to forego all claims that hehad hitherto urged in connection therewith. 

It was evening when Anton drew on an old office coat, and with hisquickest business step proceeded to the house of Löbel Pinkus. Helooked through the window into the little bar, and, seeing the worthyPinkus there, put a short matter of fact inquiry to him: "Mr. T. O. Schröter wishes to be informed if Schmeie Tinkeles of Brody has arrived, or is expected here. He is immediately to proceed to the firm onbusiness. "

Pinkus returned a cautious answer. Tinkeles was not there, and he didnot know when he might come. Tinkeles often announced himself, and oftenhe did not. The thing was uncertain. However, if he saw the man, hewould give the message. 

The next day the servant opened Anton's door, and Schmeie Tinkelesstepped in. "Welcome, Tinkeles!" cried Anton, looking at him with asmile. 

The trader was astonished to see Anton. A shadow passed over his slyface, and a secret disquietude was traceable through all his volubleexpression of joy. "God's miracle it surely is that I should see youagain before me in the body. I have often inquired at Schröter's house, and have never been able to find out whither you were gone. I havealways liked to deal with you; we have made many an excellent purchasetogether. 

"We have had our quarrels too, Tinkeles, " suggested Anton. 

"That was a bad business, " said Tinkeles, deprecatingly. "Now, too, there is a sad look out for trade; the grass grows in the streets; thecountry has had a heavy time of it. The best man did not know, when hewent to sleep at night, whether he should have a leg to stand on in themorning. "

"You have got through it, however, Tinkeles, and I presume you have notfound it so bad, after all. Sit down; I have something to say to you. "

"Why should I sit down?" said the Jew, distrustfully, as Anton shut andbolted the door. "In business one has no time for sitting down; and whydo you bolt the door? Bolts are not wanted; business disturbs no one. "

"I have something to say to you in confidence, " said Anton to thetrader. "It will do you no harm. "

"Speak on, then, but leave the door open. "

"Listen to me, " began Anton. "You remember our last conversation when wemet upon our travels?"

"I remember nothing, " said the broker, shaking his head, and anxiouslylooking at the door. 

"You gave me some good advice; and when I tried to hear further, I foundyou had vanished. "

"These are old stories, " replied Tinkeles, with growing disquiet. "Ican't recall them now. I have something to do in the market; I thoughtyou wanted to speak to me on business. "

"It is business about which we are treating, and it may be a profitablebusiness for you, " said Anton, significantly. He went to hiswriting-table, and, taking out a roll of money, laid it on the tablebefore Tinkeles. "This hundred dollars belongs to you if you give me theinformation I want. "

Tinkeles slyly glanced at the roll and replied, "A hundred dollars areall very well, but I can't give you any information. I know nothing; Ican not remember. Whenever I see you, " he irritably went on, "bad luckfollows; whenever I have had any thing to do with you, it has brought metrouble and vexation. "

Anton silently went to his desk and laid another roll of money by thefirst. "Two hundred dollars! They are yours if you give me theinformation I need, " said he, drawing a square around them with a pieceof white chalk. 

The Galician's eyes fastened greedily upon the square, to which Antonkept silently pointing. Tinkeles at first pretended indifference, buthis eyes grew gradually keener, his gestures more restless. He shruggedhis shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and tried hard to shake off thespell that bound him. At length he could bear it no longer; he reachedout his hands for the money. 

"Speak first, " said Anton, placing his own hand on it. 

"Do not be too severe with me, " implored Tinkeles. 

"Hear me, " said Anton. "I want nothing unfair--nothing which anhonorable man need object to. I might perhaps expose you to a legalexamination, and get at what I want without cost, but I know of old yourobjections to law, and therefore I offer you money. If you were amenableto other motives, it would be enough to tell you that a family has beenmade unhappy because you did not tell me more long ago. But this wouldbe useless with you. "

"Yes, " said Tinkeles, candidly, "it would be useless. Let me see themoney that you have put up for me. Are there really two hundreddollars?" continued he, looking greedily at the rolls. "Very well, Iknow they are right. Ask me what you want to know. "

"You have told me that Itzig, Ehrenthal's former book-keeper, wasplotting to ruin Baron Rothsattel?"

"Has it not turned out as I said?" asked Tinkeles. 

"I have reason to assume that you spoke the truth. You mentioned twomen. Who was the other?"

The trader stopped short. Anton made a feint of removing the money. 

"Let it lie there, " entreated Tinkeles. "The other is named Hippus, according to what I have heard. He is an old man, and has lived a longtime with Löbel Pinkus. "

"Is he in business?"

"He is not of our people, and not in business. He is baptized. He hasbeen a barrister. "

"Have you ever had any dealings with Itzig?"

"God preserve me from that man!" cried Tinkeles; "the very first daythat he came to town he tried to open the cupboard in which my effectswere. I had trouble to prevent him from stealing my clothes. I havenothing to do with such men. "

"So much the better for you, " replied Anton; "now hear me out. The baronhas had a casket stolen, in which most important documents were kept. The robbery took place in Ehrenthal's office. Have you chanced to hearof it? or have you any suspicion as to who the thief may be?"

The Galician looked restlessly around the room, at Anton, at the money, and then, with closed eyes and a resolute tone, replied, "I have not. "

"This, however, is just what I want to hear; and the money is for himwho gives me information respecting it. "

"If I must speak, then, " said the Galician, "I must. I have heard thatthe man named Hippus, when drunk, has screamed, and has said, 'Now, then, we have the red cock; he is done for; owing to those papers, he isdoomed. '"

"And you know nothing more?" asked Anton, in painful suspense. 

"Nothing, " said the Galician; "it was long ago, and I understood butlittle of what they said to each other. "

"You have not earned the money, " returned Anton, after a pause; "youhave told me scarce any thing. However, that you may see the stress Ilay upon obtaining information from you, take this hundred dollars; thesecond will be given when you can put me on the track of the thief orthe lost papers. Perhaps that is not out of your power?"

"It is, " said the Galician, positively, weighing the one roll in hishand, and contemplating the other. "What Itzig does, he does so as notto be overlooked; and I am a stranger in the place, and have no dealingswith rogues. "

"See what you can do, however, " replied Anton. "As soon as you hear anything, bring me word, and this money is yours. I need not caution you toavoid exciting Itzig's suspicions. Do not let it appear that you knowme. "

"I am no child, " answered Tinkeles; "but I fear that I shall not be ofuse to you in this matter. "

With that he withdrew, having hid the money in the folds of his caftan. 

Anton had now heard the name of the man who had probably committed therobbery. But the difficulty of obtaining the missing documents withoutlegal aid seemed greater than ever. Meanwhile, he would risk a boldstep. He would enter into negotiations with Itzig himself, and make thebest use he could of the small amount of knowledge he had gained fromthe Galician. 

Itzig's shrewd boy opened the door to him. Anton stood opposite hisformer schoolfellow, who knew of his return from the baron's estate, andwas prepared for this visit. The two men looked at each other for amoment, both seeking to read the countenance and manner of the other, and to arm themselves for the coming conflict. There were some thingsthat they had in common. Both were accustomed to maintain a calmexterior, and to conceal the point at which they were aiming. Both wereaccustomed to rapid induction, careful speech, and cool reserve. Bothhad, in voice and manner, something of the formality which businessgives. Both were to-day in a state of excitement, which reddened Anton'sface, and even suffused Veitel's gaunt cheek-bones. 

But the clear glance of the former encountered one that was unsteady andlowering; the honest earnestness of his manner was met by a mixture ofpresumption and obsequiousness. Each felt that his opponent wasdangerous, and gathered his full strength. The conflict began. Itzigopened it in his own way. "It is a pleasure to me to see you again, Mr. Wohlfart, " said he, with sudden friendliness of manner; "it is longsince I have been fortunate enough to meet you. I have always taken agreat interest in you; we were schoolfellows; we both came to town thesame day; we have both got on in the world. I heard you were gone toAmerica. People will talk. I hope you will remain in town now. Perhapsyou will return to Mr. Schröter's office; they say he much regrettedyour departure. " In this way he ran on, really intent to discover fromAnton's aspect the purport of his call. 

He had made an error in pretending not to know where Anton had been oflate, for his avoidance of the name of Rothsattel firmly convinced Antonthat he had cause for peculiar circumspection regarding it. 

Availing himself of this mistake of Veitel's, Anton replied as coldly asthough he had not heard a word of the former's introductory flourish, "Iam come, Mr. Itzig, to consult you on a matter of business. You areacquainted with the circumstances connected with the family property ofBaron Rothsattel, now about to be judicially sold. "

"I have the sort of general information respecting it, " replied Veitel, throwing himself back resolutely against the corner of the sofa, "thatpeople have on such subjects. I have heard a good deal about it. "

"You have yourself for many years, in Ehrenthal's office, conductedtransactions with the baron relative to his estate, and therefore youmust have exact information on the subject, " returned Anton. "And asEhrenthal is too great an invalid to enter upon business topics, I nowapply to you for this information. "

"What I heard in Ehrenthal's office when book-keeper there, I heard inconfidence, and can not impart. I am surprised that you should ask me todo so, " added Itzig, with a malicious glance. 

Anton coldly replied, "I ask nothing that need interfere with the senseof duty you profess. I am simply anxious to know in whose hands themortgages on the estate now are. "

"You can easily ascertain that by reference to the mortgage-book, " saidVeitel, with well-assumed indifference. 

"You may perhaps have heard, " continued the persevering Anton, "thatsome of the mortgages have changed hands during the last few months, and, consequently, the present possessors are not entered in the book. It is to be presumed that the deeds have been bought to facilitate or toimpede a purchase at the approaching sale. "

Hitherto the conversation had been a commonplace preamble to a seriouscontest, something like the first moves in a game at chess or thebeginning of a race. Itzig's impatience now made a decided advance. 

"Have you a commission to buy the estate?" he suddenly inquired. 

"We will assume that I have, " replied Anton, "and that I wish yourco-operation. Are you in a position to give me information without lossof time, and will you undertake the measures rendered necessary by thesale of the mortgages?"

Itzig took time to consider. It was possible that Anton's only purposewas to secure the property to his friend Fink, or to the baron himself. In this case he was in danger of losing the fruit of his long schemingand bold deeds. If Fink, by his wealth, covered the baron, Itzig lostthe estate. While thus perplexed, he remarked that Anton was watchinghim, and decided, with the subtlety of a bad conscience, that Anton hadheard of his plans, and had some ulterior purpose. Possibly thiscommission to buy was but a feint. Accordingly, he hastened to promisehis co-operation, and to express the hope that he might succeed, at theright time, in discovering the present possessor of the mortgages. 

Anton saw that the rogue understood him, and was on his guard. Changinghis mode of attack, he suddenly asked, "Do you know a certain Hippus?"and keenly observed the effect of the query. 

For a moment Itzig's eyelids quivered, and a slight flush suffused hisface. As if he was trying to recollect the name, he tardily replied, "Yes, I know him. He is a decayed, useless creature. "

Anton saw that he had struck home. "Perhaps you recollect that, about ayear and a half ago, a casket belonging to the baron, and containingdeeds and papers of great importance to him, was stolen from Ehrenthal'soffice. "

Itzig sat still, but his eyes glanced restlessly to and fro. No strangerwould have observed that symptom of a bad conscience, but Antonremembered it in the boy Veitel, when accused at school of some pettytheft. Itzig, he saw, knew all about the papers and the robbery. 

At length, the agent replied in a tone of indifference, "I have heard ofthis; it occurred a short time before I left Ehrenthal's. "

"Very well, " continued Anton; "these papers could have no value for thethief himself. But there is reason to believe that they have found theirway into the hands of a third person. "

"That is not impossible, but I should hardly think it likely any onewould keep up worthless papers so long. "

"I know that these papers are extant--nay, I know that they are beingused to the baron's prejudice. "

Itzig writhed upon his seat. "Why do you speak to me upon thesesubjects?" said he, hoarsely. 

"You will soon discover my drift, " said Anton. "I know, as I beforesaid, that the papers are still extant, and I have reason to believethat you may discover their possessor. You can gain any information youmay still want respecting them from Hippus. "

"Why from him?"

"He has, in the presence of witnesses, made use of expressions thatplainly prove him to be acquainted with their purport. "

Itzig ground his teeth, and muttered something very like the words"Drunken rascal. "

Anton continued: "The casket and papers are the baron's property; and ashe is less intent upon the prosecution of the thief than on therestoration of the papers, he is prepared to pay a large sum to any onewho procures them. "

"If, " said Itzig, "the baron lays so much stress upon the recovery ofthe casket, how came it that so little fuss was made about it at thetime of its disappearance? I never heard of the police being applied to, or of any steps being taken in connection with it. "

This insolence enraged Anton. He replied indignantly, "The robbery wasaccompanied by circumstances which made an inquiry painful to Ehrenthal;the casket disappeared from his locked-up office, and it was probably onthat account that no legal investigation was made. "

Itzig rejoined, "If I remember aright, Ehrenthal informed his friends atthe time that the investigation was given up out of consideration to thebaron. "

Anton keenly felt this home-thrust, and could hardly command himself ashe replied, "It is possible that the baron may have had, at the time, other reasons for letting the subject drop. "

Now, then, Veitel felt safe. He read in Anton's suppressed anger hownecessary secrecy was felt. It was a bona fide offer; the baron was indread of the thief. Recovering all his composure, he quietly went on tosay, "As far as I know Hippus, he is a lying sort of fellow, who oftengets drunk. Whatever he may have said in his cups will not, I fear, helpus much in recovering the papers. Has he given you any sufficient groundfor applying to him?"

Now, then, Anton had reason to be on his guard. "He has, in the presenceof witnesses, made use of expressions which prove that he is acquaintedwith the papers, knows where they are to be found, and purposes to makeuse of them. "

"That may be enough for a lawyer, but not enough for a man of business, "continued Veitel. "Do you know his exact words?"

Anton parried the question, and struck at his opponent by saying, "Hisstatements are known exactly by me and by others, and have occasioned myvisit to you. "

Itzig had to quit this dangerous ground. "And what sum will the baronspend in the recovery of these papers? I mean to say, is it an affairthat is worth the outlay of time and trouble? I have a great many othermatters on hand. You could hardly expect me to devote myself, for thesake of a couple of louis-d'or, to the search of any thing soinsignificant and difficult to find as papers that some one has hidden. "

Years ago, when the two were traveling together to the capital, wherethey now met as opponents, it was the Jew-boy who was in search ofpapers on which his childish folly fancied his fortune dependent. Atthat time he was ready to buy the baron's estate for Anton, and now itwas Anton who was in search of important documents, and who applied tohim for the baron's property. Veitel had discovered the mysteriousreceipt he then looked for; he held the baron's estate in his hands, andhis destiny neared its fulfillment. Both thought at the same moment ofthe day of their common journey. 

Anton replied, "I am authorized to treat with you as to the sum; but Iwould observe that the matter is a pressing one. I therefore entreat youto inform me whether you are prepared to deliver the documents to theBaron Rothsattel, and to be employed in our interest as regards thepurchase of the mortgages. "

"I will make inquiries, and consider whether I can serve you, " coldlyreplied Veitel. 

Anton rejoined as coldly, "How much time do you require to make up yourmind?"

"Three days, " said the agent. 

"I can only give you four-and-twenty hours, " said Anton, positively. "If, in that time, you have not informed me of your intention, I shall, on the baron's behalf, take every possible step to procure the papers, or to convince myself of their destruction, and I shall use my presentknowledge respecting their abstraction and hiding-place to discover theperpetrator of the felony. " Then taking out his watch, he said, "To-morrow, at the same hour, I shall call for your reply. "

And so the important interview ended. As the door closed behind Anton, Itzig's resolve was taken. "Only one week, " muttered he, "to mybetrothal to Rosalie! The following day I shall find the notes of handin a corner of Ehrenthal's office. Then Rothsattel and his friends mustcome to an arrangement upon my own terms. By the threat of a legalinvestigation, and of making the baron's misconduct public, I can forcethis Wohlfart to any thing I like. Only a week! If I hold out so long, the game is mine. "

When Anton returned at the expiration of the four-and-twenty hours, hefound the office closed. He called again in the evening: no one at home. The following morning the shrewd youth appeared at the door, andinformed him that Mr. Itzig was gone on a journey, that he might perhapsreturn that very hour, but might, on the other hand, be absent for somedays. 

Anton knew, from his fluency, that the youth spoke according to ordersgiven. 

He next went to an official, who had the reputation of being one of thecleverest detectives in the town--cautiously disclosed the essentialsrespecting the stolen casket--expressed his suspicions of the robberyhaving been effected by Hippus, under Itzig's directions--and revealedthe incomplete warnings of the worthy Tinkeles. The detective listenedwith attention, and at length said, "Out of all the inadequateinformation that you have given, the name of Hippus interests me most. He is a very dangerous character, and hitherto I have not exactly knownhow to get at him. On account of swindling and petty rascalities, he hasoften been punished, and the police have their eye upon him. I will doall I can for you, so far as he goes. I will have him and his effectssearched this very day. I tell you beforehand we shall find nothing. Iam further prepared to repeat this search in the course of a few days, at the risk of lowering my character in the eyes of the brave Hippus;for our trick of making thieves feel safe by means of superficiallysearching them may indeed answer with novices, but would never availwith this old hand. It is certain that we shall find nothing at oursecond search. "

"Of what use can the measure be to me, then?" asked Anton, in a tone ofresignation. 

"Of more than you fancy. It may further your game with the agent Itzig;for, generally speaking, the effect of a search is to make the partiesuncomfortable. And though I am not quite sure how Hippus will take it, Iam inclined to believe it will perplex him. That may help you on. I willsee, too, that the first search be clumsily and ostentatiously made. Fortunately, he has now a settled abode again; for some time he has hada respite from us, and has grown bold. I hear, too, that he is gettingold and feeble. All this may help you to catch Itzig one way or other. "

This decision come to, Anton had to retire. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

It was a dark November evening; a fog lay heavily on the town, fillingthe old streets and squares, and forcing its way into the houses. Itgathered round the street-lanterns, which looked like dull red balls, and gave no light a yard off. It hung over the river, rolled along theblack stream, under the bridge, up the steps, and clung to the woodenpillars of the gallery. At times there would be a rift in its masses, through which the inky stream below became visible, flowing like theriver of death along the dwellings of men. 

The streets were empty. Here and there, close to a light, a form wouldbe seen to emerge, and then suddenly to disappear. One of these shadowswas a short man with a stoop, who unsteadily struggled onward as fast ashe could. He tottered into the court where Itzig's office was, andlooked up at the agent's windows. The curtains were drawn, but there wasa glimmer of light to be seen through them. The little man tried tostand firm, stared at the light, clenched his fists at it, and thengoing up the steps, rang once, twice, thrice. At length a muffledfootstep was heard, the door was opened, and the little man, entering, ran through the ante-room, which Itzig shut behind him. Itzig lookedstill paler than his wont, and his eyes glanced unsteadily at hisuntimely guest. Hippus had never been a model of manly beauty, butto-day he was positively uncanny. His features were sunken, a mixture offear and insolence sat on his ugly face, and his eyes looked maliciouslyover his spectacles at his former scholar. Evidently he had been drunk;but some feverish terror had seized him, and for a moment neutralizedthe effects of the brandy. 

"They are on me, " he cried, grasping recklessly at empty air; "they areon the look-out for me!"

"Who would look out for you?" asked Itzig. But he knew only too well. 

"The police, you villain!" shrieked the old man. "It is on your accountthat I am in trouble. I dare not go home; you must hide me. "

"We are not come to that yet, " returned Veitel, with all the composurehe could. "How do you know that the police are at your heels?"

"The children in the street are talking of it, " cried Hippus. "I heardit in the street when I was going to creep back to my hole. It was amere chance that they did not find me in my room. They are in my house, standing on the steps, waiting till I come. You must hide me! I musthave money! I will cross the border. I can't stay here any longer; youmust send me off. "

"Send you off!" repeated Itzig, gloomily. "Where to, pray?"

"Any where--where the police can not reach me--over the frontier--toAmerica. "

"And suppose I don't choose?" said Itzig, in a tone of enmity. 

"You will choose, simpleton. Are you green enough not to know what Ishall do if you don't get me out of this scrape, you varlet? They'llhave quick ears at the criminal courts for what I have to tell of you. "

"You would not be so wicked as to betray an old friend, " said Veitel, ina tone that he vainly tried to make pathetic. "Do look at things morecalmly. What danger is there, even if they do arrest you? Who can proveany thing? For want of proof they will have to let you off. You know thelaw as well as the judges do. "

"Indeed!" screamed the old man, spitefully. "You think I shall go toprison for the sake of a fellow like you? that I shall sit eating breadand water, while you are feeding upon the fat of the land, and laughingat the old ass Hippus? I will not go to prison; I will be off; and, tillI can get off, you must hide me. "

"You can't remain here, " darkly replied Veitel. "There is no safety herefor you or me. Jacob would betray you; the people in the house wouldfind out that you were here. "

"Where best to take me is your look-out, " said the man; "but I demandyour help, or--"

"Hold your jaw!" said Veitel, "and listen to me. If I were disposed togive you money, and get you off by railroad to Hamburg, and over thesea, I could not do so immediately nor without aid. You must be taken bynight a few miles hence to some small station on the line. I dare nothire a conveyance--that might betray you; and, as you are, you can notwalk. I must look out for some opportunity of getting you off safely. Meanwhile, I must get you to some place that the police do not know youto frequent, for I fear they will look for you here. If you don't gohome, they will probably come here this very night. I must go andinquire for a conveyance and a safe shelter. Meanwhile, stay in the backroom till I return. "

He opened the door, and Mr. Hippus slipped in like a frightened bat. Butas Veitel was about to shut the door upon him, the old creature pushedbetween it and the wall, crying in high dudgeon, "I will not remain inthe dark like a rat; you must leave me a light. I will have a light, youdevil!"

"They will see from below that there is a light in the room, and thatwill betray us. "

"I will not sit in the dark!" screamed the old man once more. 

Muttering a curse, Veitel took up the lamp and carried it into the innerroom. Then he closed the door and hurried into the street. Verycautiously he approached the dwelling of Löbel Pinkus. There all wasstill; and, looking into the bar, he discerned Pinkus sitting among hisguests in all the security of a good conscience. He crept up the stepsto his former abode, then took some rusty keys from a hidden corner, carefully examined the sleeping-room, and saw with satisfaction that itwas both dark and empty. He hurried on to the gallery, where he remainedfor a moment looking at the rolling cloud-masses and the dusky stream. Every thing was favorable, but there was not an instant to be lost, fora capricious breeze sometimes blew over the water, and the fog seemed tobe breaking up. In a short time the wind would clearly reveal thestream, the outlines of the houses, and the lanterns, which now lookedlike red specks at the corners of the streets. 

Itzig hurried on next to the end of the gallery, and turned the key in adoor which concealed the way down the steps. The door creaked as itopened. Itzig went down to the river and tried to ascertain its depth. The platform which ran along the base of the houses, and which wasgenerally visible the whole year through, was covered; but a few stridesthrough the water would lead from these steps to those of theneighboring house. Veitel stared down into the river, and put his footinto it to see how deep one would have to wade before reaching thosesteps. So occupied was he with the escape of the old man, that he didnot heed, did not even feel the cold. The water rose to his knee. Helooked round once more. All was darkness, mist, silence, like that ofthe grave, but for the wail of the water and the rising wind. 

Meanwhile Hippus tried to make himself comfortable. After having sentall manner of curses after Veitel, he gave his troubled mind to theinvestigation of the room. He went to a low cupboard, turned the key, and looked for some fluid that might restore his sinking strength andrefresh his parched gums. He found a bottle of rum, poured its contentsinto a glass, and gulped it down as fast as the fiery nature of thepoison allowed. A cold sweat immediately broke out on his brow, and, drawing a remnant of a handkerchief from his pocket, he hurriedly wipedhis face, and reeled up and down the room, talking to himself. 

"He is a fool! a rascally, cowardly hare! a miserable chafferer! If Iwanted to sell him this old handkerchief, he could not help buying; itis his nature; he is a despicable creature. And he tries to defy me, andput me in prison; and he is to sit, forsooth, on this sofa, with therum-bottle at his side--the scoundrel!" Then taking up the empty bottle, he dashed it against the woodwork of the sofa and broke it to pieces. "Who was he?" he went on, in increasing rage; "a chafferingjack-pudding. I have made him what he is, the noodle. If I whistle, hedances; he is only the decoy, I am the bird-catcher. " Here Hippus triedto whistle a tune, and to execute a few steps. Again the cold sweatrained from his brow, and, taking out his handkerchief, he dried hisface, and carefully replaced the rag in his pocket. "He does notreturn, " he suddenly cried; "he leaves me here, and they will find me. "Then running to the door and violently shaking it, "The villain haslocked me in--a Jew has locked me in!" shrieked the miserable creature, wringing his hands. "I am to die of hunger and thirst in this prison. Oh, he has used me ill--used his benefactor basely; he is an ungratefulwretch, an unnatural son!" At this he began to sob: "I have nursed himwhen he was sick, I have taught him knowing tricks, I have made a manof him, and this is how he rewards his old friend. " The lawyer weptaloud. Suddenly stopping before the mirror, he started at his ownreflection. His eyes flashed still more angrily as, pushing hisspectacles more firmly on, he examined the frame. He knew that mirror. Had chance brought one of the articles belonging to his better days intoPinkus's secret stores, and thence to Veitel's room, or did someresemblance mislead the drunkard? At all events, the thoughts it awokeof his former position filled him with rage. "It is my mirror, " hescreamed--"my own mirror that the rascal has here;" and, rushing wildlyabout the room, he snatched up a chair, and struck the mirror with it. The glass soon rattled down in a hundred pieces, but he went onbelaboring the frame and screaming like a madman. "It hung in my house;the rogue has stolen my mirror--he has stolen my prosperity. " He pouredforth hideous imprecations against the supposed thief. 

At that moment Veitel rushed in, having heard the noise from theante-room, and guessing its cause. As soon as the lawyer saw him, he ranat him with the raised chair, crying out, "You have brought me to want, and you shall pay for it, " aimed a blow at Itzig's head. But the latterpushed the chair away, and seized hold of the old man with all hisstrength. Hippus struggled and cursed in vain. 

Veitel forced him down into a corner of the sofa, and whispered, as heheld him down, "If you do not keep quiet, old man, it's all over withyou. "

When the drunkard saw in Itzig's eyes, which were fixed upon his, thathe had the worst to apprehend from his anger, the paroxysm left him, hesank down powerless, and muttered in a low voice, while shuddering allover, "He will kill me. "

"Not if you are quiet, you drunken fool; what devil drove you to destroymy room?"

"He will kill me, " mumbled the old man, "because I have found mymirror. "

"You are mad, " cried Veitel, shaking him. "Collect your senses; youcan't stay here. You must come away; I have a hiding-place for you. "

"I won't go with you, " wailed Hippus; "you want to kill me. "

Veitel uttered a horrible curse, took up the old man's shabby hat, forced it on, and, seizing him by the neck, cried, "You must come, oryou are lost. The police will look for you here--and find you too, ifyou lose any more time. Come, or you'll oblige me to do you a mischief. "

The old man's strength was broken; he wavered. Veitel took him by thearm, and drew him unresistingly away. He took him down the steps, anxiously looking round for fear of meeting any one. 

In the cold night air the lawyer's senses partially returned, and Veitelenjoined him to be silent, and to follow him, and he would get him off. 

"He will get me off, " mechanically repeated Hippus, running along at hisside. As they neared Pinkus's house, Veitel proceeded more cautiously. Leading his companion through the dark ground floor, and whispering, "Take my hand, and come quietly up stairs with me, " they reached thelarge public room, which was still empty. Much relieved, Veitel said, "There is a hiding-place in the next house; you must go there. "

"I must go there, " repeated the old man. 

"Follow me, " cried Veitel, leading him along the gallery, and then downthe covered staircase. 

The old man tottered down the steps, firmly holding the coat of hisguide, who had almost to carry him. In this way they came down stepafter step till they reached the last one, over which water was rushing. Veitel went first, and unconcernedly stepped up to his knee in thestream, only intent upon leading the old man after him. 

As soon as Hippus felt the cold on his boot, he stood still and criedout, "Water!"

"Hush!" angrily whispered Veitel; "not a word. "

"Water!" screamed the old man. "Help! he will murder me!"

Veitel seized him and put his hand on his mouth; but the fear of deathhad again roused the lawyer's energies, and, placing his foot on thenext step, he clung as firmly as he could to the banisters, and againscreamed out, "Help!"

"Accursed wretch!" muttered Veitel, gnashing his teeth with rage at thisdetermined resistance; then, forcing his hat over his face, he took himby the neckcloth with all his strength, and hurled him into the water. There was a splash--a heavy fall--a hollow gurgling--and all was still. 

Beneath the leaden clouds that overhung the river, a dark mass might beseen rolling along with the current. Soon it disappeared; the mistconcealed it; the stream rushed on; the water broke wailingly over thesteps and palings, and the night-wind kept howling out its monotonouscomplaint. 

The murderer stood for a few moments motionless in the darkness, leaningagainst the staircase railings. Then he slowly went up the steps. Whiledoing so he felt his trowsers to see how high up they were wet. Hethought to himself that he must dry them at the stove this very night, and saw in fancy the fire in the stove, and himself sitting before it inhis dressing-gown, as he was accustomed to do when thinking over hisbusiness. If he had ever in his life known comfortable repose, it hadbeen when, weary of the cares of the day, he sat before his stove-fireand watched it till his heavy eyelids drooped. He realized how tired hewas now, and what good it would do him to go to sleep before a warmfire. Lost in the thought, he stood for a moment like one overcome withdrowsiness, when suddenly he felt a strange pressure withinhim--something that made it difficult to breathe, and bound his breastas with iron bars. Then he thought of the bundle that he had just throwninto the river; he saw it cleave the flood; he heard the rush of water, and remembered that the hat which he had forced over the man's face hadbeen the last thing visible on the surface--a round, strange-lookingthing. He saw the hat quite plainly before him--battered, the rim halfoff, and two grease-spots on the crown. It had been a very shabby hat. Thinking of it, it occurred to him that he could smile now if he chose. But he did not smile. Meanwhile he had got up the steps. As he openedthe staircase door, he glanced along the dark gallery through which twohad passed a few minutes before, and only one returned. He looked downat the gray surface of the stream, and again he was sensible of thatsingular pressure. He rapidly crept through the large room and down thesteps, and on the ground floor ran up against one of the lodgers in thecaravansera. Both hastened away in different directions withoutexchanging a word. 

This meeting turned his thoughts into another direction. Was he safe?The fog still lay thick on the street. No one had seen him go in withHippus, no one had recognized him as he went out. The investigationwould only begin when they found the old man in the river. Would he besafe then?

These thoughts passed through the murderer's mind as calmly as though hewere reading them in a book. Mingled with them came doubts as to whetherhe had his cigar-case with him, and as to why he did not smoke a cigar. He cogitated long about it, and at length found himself returned to hisdwelling. He opened the door; the last time he had opened the door aloud noise had been heard in the inner room. He listened for it now. Hewould give any thing to hear it. A few minutes ago it had been to beheard. Oh, if those few minutes had never been! Again he felt thathollow pressure, but more strongly, ever more strongly than before. Heentered the room, the lamp still burned, the fragments of the rum-bottlelay about the sofa, the bits of broken mirror shone like silver dollarson the floor. Veitel sat down exhausted. Then it occurred to him thathis mother had often told him a childish story in which silver dollarsfell upon a poor man's floor. He could see the old Jewess sitting at thehearth, and he, a small boy, standing near her. He could see himselflooking anxiously down on the dark earthen floor, wondering whether thewhite dollars would fall down for him. Now he knew--his room looked justas if there had been a rain of white dollars. He felt something of therestless delight which that tale of his mother had always awaked, whenagain came suddenly that same hollow pressure. Heavily he rose, stooped, and collected the broken glass. He put all the pieces into a corner ofthe cupboard, detached the frame from the wall, and put it wrong-sideout in a corner. Then he took the lamp, and the glass which he used tofill with water for the night; but as he touched it a shudder came overhim, and he put it down. He who was no more had drunk out of that glass. He took the lamp to his bedside and undressed. He hid his trowsers inthe cupboard, and brought out another pair, which he rubbed against hisboots till they were dirty at the bottom. Then he put out the lamp, andas it flickered before it went quite out, the thought struck him thathuman life and a flame had something in common. He had extinguished aflame. And again that pain in the breast, but less clearly felt, for hisstrength was exhausted, his nervous energy spent. The murderer slept. 

But when he wakes! Then the cunning will be over and gone with which hisdistracted mind has tried, as if in delirium, to snatch at all manner oftrivial things and thoughts in order to avoid the one feeling which everweighs him down. When he wakes! Henceforth, while still half asleep, hewill feel the gradual entrance of terror and misery into his soul. Evenin his dreams he will have a sense of the sweetness of unconsciousnessand the horrors of thought, and will strive against waking, while, inspite of his strivings, his anguish grows stronger and stronger, till, in despair, his eyelids start open, and he gazes into the hideouspresent, the hideous future. 

And again his mind will seek to cover over the fact with a web ofsophistry; he will reflect how old the dead man was, how wicked, howwretched; he will try to convince himself that it was only an accidentthat occasioned his death--a push given by him in sudden anger--howunlucky that the old man's foot should have slipped as it did! Then willrecur the doubt as to his safety; a hot flush will suffuse his paleface, the step of his servant will fill him with dread, the sound of aniron-shod stick on the pavement will be taken for the tramp of the armedband whom justice sends to apprehend him. Again he will retrace everystep he took yesterday, every gesture, every word, and will seek toconvince himself that discovery is impossible. No one had seen him, noone had heard; the wretched old man, half crazy as he was, had drawn hisown hat over his eyes and drowned himself. 

And yet, through all this sophistry, he is conscious of that fearfulweight, till, exhausted by the inner conflict, he flies from his houseto his business, amid the crowd anxiously desiring to find somethingthat shall force him to forget. If any one on the street looks at him, he trembles; if he meet a policeman, he must rush home to hide histerror from those discerning eyes. Wherever he finds familiar faces, hewill press into the thick of the assembly, he will take an interest inany thing, will laugh and talk more than heretofore; but his eyes willroam recklessly around, and he will be in constant dread of hearingsomething said of the murdered man, something surmised about his suddenend. He may deceive his acquaintance: they will perhaps consider himremarkably cheerful, and one and the other will say, "Itzig is a goodfellow; he is getting on in business. " He will hang on many an arm thathe never touched before, will tell merry stories, and go home gladlywith any one who asks him, because he knows that he can not be alone. Hewill frequent the coffee-houses and beer-shops to hunt out acquaintance, and will drink and be as much excited as they, because he knows that hedare not be alone. 

And when, late of an evening, he returns home, tired to death and wornout by his fearful struggle, he feels lighter hearted, for he hassucceeded in obscuring the truth, he is conscious of a melancholypleasure in his weariness, and awaits sleep as the only good thing earthhas still to offer him. And again he will fall asleep, and when heawakes the next morning he will have to begin his fearful task anew. Sowill it be this day, next day, always, so long as he lives. His life isno longer like that of another man; his life is henceforth a battle, ahorrible battle with a corpse, a battle unseen by all, yet constantlygoing on. All his intercourse with living men, whether in business or insociety, is but a mockery, a lie. Whether he laughs and shakes handswith one, or lends money and takes fifty per cent. From another, it isall mere illusion on their part. He knows that he is severed from humancompanionship, and that all he does is but empty seeming; there is onlyone who occupies him, against whom he struggles, because of whom hedrinks, and talks, and mingles with the crowd, and that one is thecorpse of the old man in the water. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

Besides all friendly house-sprites and household divinities, there isone other in the secret, and silently triumphant at Anton's return, andthat is the cousin. 

Strangers indeed may shake their heads at much that passes, but sheknows better: that Anton should sit all day long pale and silent in theoffice; Sabine evince a tendency to blush in her brother's presence, which never appeared before; sit silent for hours over her work, thensilently start up and rush through the house, playful as a kitten aftera ball of twine; the merchant himself keep constantly looking at Anton, and growing more and more merry from day to day, so that at last hepositively rallies the cousin without ceasing--all this, indeed, mayseem perplexing, but it was not so to one who had known for years whateach of them liked for dinner (although she only ventured to present thefavorite dish in order, once a month), who had with their own handsknitted their stockings and starched their collars. She accounted forall their inconsistencies most naturally. 

The good lady took all the credit of Anton's return entirely to herself. She had determined to restore her favorite to the office, and she hadhad no ulterior intention, at least so she declared; for, in spite ofthe rose-lined coverlet and the embroidered curtains, she knew that thehouse to which she belonged was a proud house, which had ways of itsown, and required very skillful management. And, indeed, when told thatAnton was only to be a guest, she was herself in some uncertainty. Butsoon she got the upper hand of the merchant and his sister, for she madediscoveries. 

The second story of the house had been uninhabited for years. Themerchant and his young wife had occupied it in the lifetime of hisparents. When he had lost one after another, parents, wife, and babyson, he moved to the first floor, and since then had seldom gone upstairs. Gray blinds hung down there the whole year through; thefurniture and paintings were all covered up; in short, the whole storywas like an enchanted castle, and even the ladies' footsteps fell softerwhen they were obliged to pass through the silent region. 

The cousin was coming up stairs one day. In spite of her endless warwith Pix, she had contrived to keep one small room to dry linen in. Shewas just musing upon the change official life made in men's characters, for Balbus, the successor of Pix, on whose humble bearing she hadfounded great hopes, showed himself in his new post just as aggressiveas his predecessor. She had once more found a heap of cigar-boxesoutside the three compartments which Pix had erected by main force inher own special domain, and she was just going to declare war againstBalbus on their account. At that moment she remarked a door of the upperstory wide open, and thought of thieves, and of calling out for help, but, upon consideration, judicially determined first to investigate themystery. She crept into the curtained rooms, and was in some danger ofbeing petrified with amazement when she saw her nephew standing therealone, looking at a picture of his departed wife, taken as a bride, inwhite silk, with a myrtle-wreath in her hair. The cousin could notrestrain a sympathizing sigh. The merchant turned round in amazement. "Imean to remove the picture to my own room, " said he, softly. 

"But you have another portrait of Mary there already, and this one hasalways depressed you, " cried the cousin. 

"Years make us calmer, " replied the merchant; "and, in course of time, another bride may come here. "

The cousin's eyes flashed as she repeated "Another!"

"It was only a passing idea, " said the merchant, cheerfully walkingthrough the suite of rooms, followed by the cousin, proudly shruggingher shoulders. They might try to blind her as much as they liked; it wasall in vain. 

Neither did the cautious Sabine succeed any better. 

Anton had silently sat near the cousin at dinner. When he rose, the goodlady remarked that Sabine's eyes rested with an expression of tenderanxiety upon his pale face, and then filled with tears. As soon as hehad left the room, she moved to the window that looked into the court. The cousin crept behind her, and looked out too. Sabine was gazing downintently; suddenly she smiled, and her face was perfectly transfigured. Yet there was nothing to be seen but Anton, with his back toward them, caressing Pluto, who barked and jumped up at him. 

"Oh!" thought the cousin, "it is not over Pluto that she laughs andcries at once. "

And soon after, one day that the merchant opened the drawing-room doorand called his sister out, the cousin spied a man with a great parcelstanding in the hall. Her sharp eyes recognized in him a porter from oneof the great draper's shops. The brother and sister went into theante-room, a murmur of voices was heard, and a sound uncommonly likesuppressed sobs. When Sabine returned her eyes were very red, but shelooked happy and bashful. When the cousin went into the ante-room onsome pretext or other, the great parcel was lying on a chair; and as shetouched it--of course accidentally--and the paper was not tied up, itcame to pass that she beheld its contents--a variety of exquisitedresses, and one thing that moved her to tears: it was that white robeof thickest silk which a woman only wears once in her life--on onesolemn day of devout and trembling joy. 

From that moment the cousin went about her avocations with thecomfortable confidence of a good housewife, who forgives people, eventhough for a season they do behave themselves foolishly, knowing thatthe end of it all will be great excitement in her own especialprovince--hard work in the kitchen, a long bill of fare, great slaughterof fowls, and immense consumption of preserved fruit. She, too, waxedmysterious now. The store-room was subjected to a careful inspection, and new dishes often appeared at dinner. On such days the cousin wouldcome from the kitchen with very red cheeks, and look at the merchant andSabine with an expression which plainly said, "I have found you out, "and was met with a severe glance from the master of the house. 

And yet he was no longer severe now. Sabine and Anton grew daily moresilent and reserved; he became more cheerful, far less silent than ofyore, was never weary of drawing Anton into conversation, and listenedwith intense attention to each word he spoke. There was still a greatflatness in trade, but he did not appear to heed it. When Mr. Braun, theagent, poured out his oppressed heart, he only laughed and returned adry jest. 

Anton, however, did not observe the change. When in the office, he satsilently opposite Mr. Baumann, and seemed to think of nothing but hiscorrespondence. The evenings he generally spent alone in his room, burying himself in the books Fink had left, and trying to escape fromhis own dark thoughts. He did not find the firm as he had left it:several of its old mercantile connections were dissolved, several newones entered into. He found new agents, new descriptions of goods, andnew servants. 

The clerks' apartments, too, had grown silent. With the exception of Mr. Liebold and Mr. Purzel, who had never been exciting social elements, heonly found Baumann and Specht remaining of all his former acquaintances, and they, too, thought of leaving. Baumann had, immediately on Anton'sreturn, confided to the principal that he must leave in the spring, andthis time Anton's earnest representations failed to shake the futuremissionary's firm resolve: "I can no longer delay, " said he; "myconscience protests against it. I go from hence to the London TrainingCollege, and thence wherever they choose to send me. I confess that Ihave a preference for Africa; there are certain kings there"--hepronounced several crack-jaw names--"that I can not think wholly ill of. There must be some hope of conversion among them. I trust to wean themfrom that heathenish slave-trade. They may make use of their people athome in planting sugar-cane and cultivating rice. In a couple of years Iwill send you, by way of London, the first samples of our produce. "

Mr. Specht, too, came to Anton. "You have always been friendly to me, Wohlfart, and I should like to have your opinion. I am to marry a veryaccomplished girl; her name is Fanny, and she is a niece of Pix. "

"What!" said Anton, "and do you love the young lady?"

"Yes, that I do, " cried Specht, enthusiastically; "but, if I am to marryher, I am to enter into Pix's business, and that is what I want youropinion about. My lady-love has some fortune, and Pix thinks it would bebest invested in his firm. Now you know Pix is a good fellow at bottom, but another partner might suit me better. "

"I think not, my good old Specht, " said Anton; "you are apt to be alittle too precipitate, and it would be very well for you to have asteady partner. "

"Yes, " said Specht; "but only think of the branches he has chosen. Noone could have believed it possible that our Pix would have taken tothem. "

"What are they, then?" asked Anton. 

"All sorts of things, " cried Specht, "that he never saw before. Skinsand leather, and every kind of fur, from the sable to the mole, and, besides, hemp and brushes--every thing, in short, that is hairy andbristling. These are very low articles, Wohlfart. "

"Don't be a child, " replied Anton; "marry, my good fellow, and trust tothe management of your uncle-in-law; it will do you no harm. "

The next day Pix himself came to Anton's room. "I found your card, Wohlfart, and come to invite you to coffee on Sunday next. Cuba, and aManilla! You will make my wife's acquaintance. "

"And so you are going to take Specht as your partner?" asked Anton, smiling. "You used to have a great horror of partnerships. "

"I should not enter into one with any body else. Between ourselves, Iowe the poor fellow some compensation, and I can make the ten thousanddollars he is marrying useful in my business. I have undertaken a retailwarehouse, in which I will place him. That will amuse him. He can bepolite to the ladies all day long, and can have a new fur coat everywinter. He will come out much stronger there than here in the office. "

"How comes it that you have chosen this branch of trade?"

"I was obliged, " was the reply. "I found a great stock on hand left bymy predecessor in sorry plight, I can assure you, and was thrown all atonce among those who valued hare-skins and pig's bristles exceedingly. "

"And that alone decided you?" replied Anton, laughing. 

"Perhaps something else as well, " said Pix. "I could not remain here onaccount of my wife; and you will admit, Anton, that I, who was managerof the provincial department of this firm, could not open another in thesame town of the same nature. I know the whole provincial departmentbetter than the principal, and all small traders know me better thanthey do him. I might have injured this house, though my capital is somuch smaller. I should, no doubt, have got on, but this house would havesuffered; so I was obliged to turn to something else. I went to Schröteras soon as I had decided, and talked it over to him. I only keep onething in common with you here, and that is horse-hair, and in that Ibeat you hollow. I have told the principal so. "

"The firm can bear that, " said Anton, and shook the fur-merchant by thehand. 

But it was not in the office only; even among the porters around thegreat scales a change was observable. Father Sturm, the faithful friendof the house, threatened to quit both it and this little ball of earthtogether. One of Anton's first inquiries, on his return, had been forFather Sturm. He was told that Sturm had been unwell for some weeks, anddid not leave his room. Full of anxiety, Anton went to the dwelling ofthe giant the second evening after his arrival. 

While still in the street, he heard a loud hum, as though a swarm ofgigantic bees had settled in the red-painted house. When he entered, thehum sounded like the distant roar of a family of lions. He knocked inamazement. No one answered. When he had opened the door he stood stillon the threshold, for at first he could see nothing but a dense smoke, through which a yellow speck of light appeared, with a great halo roundit. Gradually he discovered in this smoke a few rotund forms, placedaround the candle like so many planets around the sun, and at timessomething was seen to move, possibly a man's arm, but not unlike anelephant's leg. At length the air through the open door partiallycleared away the smoke, and he could see farther into the room. Sixgiants sat around the table--three on a bench, three on oaken chairs. All had cigars in their mouths, and wooden beer-mugs on the table, andthe loud hum was their speech, duly lowered to suit a sick-room. 

"I smell something, " cried a loud voice, at length; "there must be a manthere. I feel a cool draught; the door is open. Let whoever is there saywho he is. "

"Mr. Sturm, " cried Anton, still on the threshold. 

The great globes rapidly revolved and eclipsed the light. 

"Do you hear?" cried the loud voice; "a man is there. "

"Yes, and an old friend too, " replied Anton. 

"I know that voice, " exclaimed some one at the other side of the table. 

Anton drew nearer; the porters all rose and called out his name. 

Father Sturm moved along to the farthest end of his bench, and held outboth his hands. "I heard from my comrades that you had returned. It is ajoy to me that you are come safe and sound from that outlandishcountry. "

Anton's hand now passed first into that of old Sturm, who powerfullygrasped it, and then tried to set the broken bones; next into that ofthe other five porters, whence it came out red, weak, and slightlydislocated, so that he was glad to put it into his coat pocket. Whilethe five were exchanging greetings with him, one after the other, Sturmsuddenly called out, "When does my Karl come?"

"Have you sent for him, then?" asked Anton. 

"Sent for him! No, " returned Sturm, shaking his head, "that I could notdo, because of his situation as bailiff; for if I were to write him word'come, ' he would come if even a million scythes lay in his way. But thenthe family might want him, and therefore, unless he comes of his ownaccord, he will not come. "

"He will come in the spring, " said Anton, looking anxiously into thefather's face. 

Old Sturm shook his head. "He will not come in the spring--not to me, atleast. Perhaps my little manikin may come here, but not to his fatherany more. " He raised his can of beer and took a long draught, then shutdown the lid, cleared his throat, and, looking full into Anton's face, solemnly rapped the table. "Fifty!" said he; "one other fortnight, andthen it comes. "

Anton threw his arm round the old man's shoulders, and lookedinquiringly at the others, who held their cigars in their hands, andstood round like the chorus in a Greek tragedy. 

"Look you, Mr. Wohlfart, " said the chorus-leader, who, considered as aman, was colossal, but as a giant something less than old Sturm, "I willexplain matters to you: This man thinks that he is getting weaker, andshall go on getting weaker, and that in a few weeks the day will comewhen we porters must each take a lemon in our hands, and put a blacktail on our hats. We do not wish this. " All shook their heads here andlooked disapprovingly at Sturm. "There is an old dispute between him andus about the age of fifty. He is determined to be right--that is thewhole of it--and our opinion is that he is not right. He has becomeweaker--that may be. Many are stronger at one time, and weaker atanother. Why should the man think of leaving this place on that account?I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Wohlfart, it is downright absurdity on hispart. "

All the giants confirmed this statement by nodding their heads. 

"So, then, he is sick?" inquired Anton, anxiously. "Whereabouts is yourcomplaint, old friend?"

"It is here and there, " replied Sturm. "It is in the air--it comes onslowly--it takes first the strength, then the breath. It begins with thelegs, and then moves up. " He pointed to his feet. 

"Is it a trouble to you to stand?" asked Anton. 

"That is just what it is, " replied Sturm. "It is a sour trial, and everyday more and more so; but, Wilhelm, " continued he, addressing thespokesman of the party, "in a fortnight that will be all over, and therewill then be no more sourness, except, perhaps, a little in your facesfor an hour or two, till evening, when you must come back here and sitdown, and talk of old Sturm as of a comrade who has laid him down torest, and who will never lift another burden; for I fancy that yonder, where we go, there will be nothing heavy. "

"You hear him!" said Wilhelm, anxiously. "He is getting absurd again. "

"What says the doctor to your complaint?" suddenly inquired Anton. 

"The doctor!" said old Sturm; "if he were to be asked about me, he wouldhave enough to say. But we do not ask him. Between ourselves, there isno use in a doctor. They may know what is the matter with many men, thatI don't deny; but how should they know what is the matter with us? Notone of them can lift a barrel. "

"If you have no doctor, my good Mr. Sturm, " cried Anton, throwing openthe window, "let me begin at once to play a doctor's part. If yourbreathing be oppressed, this close atmosphere is poison to you; and ifyou suffer from your feet, you ought not to go on drinking. " And hemoved the beer-mug to another table. 

"Hum, hum, hum!" said Sturm, watching his proceedings; "well meant, butof no use. A little smoke keeps one warm, and we are accustomed to thebeer. After I have sat on this bench all day alone, without work orcompany, it is a pleasure to me that my friends should come and enjoythemselves with me of an evening. They talk to me, and I get sometidings of the business, and of what is going on in the world. "

"But you yourself, at least, might abstain from beer and tobacco, "replied Anton; "your Karl would tell you the same; and, as he is away, you must let me take his place. " Then turning to the others, "I willconvince him that he is wrong; leave me alone with him for half anhour. "

The giants left the room. Anton sat by the invalid and spoke on thefather's favorite topic--spoke of his son. 

Sturm forgot all his dark forebodings, and got into excellent spirits. 

At last he turned to Anton with his eyes shut, and said, confidentially, "Nineteen hundred dollars. He came here once again. "

"But you gave him nothing?" anxiously inquired Anton. 

"Only a hundred dollars, " said the old man, apologetically. "He is deadnow, the poor young gentleman. He looked so handsome with hisepaulettes. While a man is a son, he ought not to die: it gives too muchsorrow. "

"I have spoken of your claim to Herr von Fink, " said Anton; "he will seethat you are paid. "

"That Karl is paid, " suggested old Sturm, looking round; "and you, Mr. Wohlfart, will undertake to give into my boy's hands what remains in thechest, if I do not myself see my little fellow. "

"If you don't give up this idea, " cried Anton, "I shall become your foe, and shall treat you with the greatest severity. Early to-morrow morningyou may expect me to bring you Mr. Schröter's doctor. "

"He is a worthy man, no doubt, " said Sturm; "his horses must beremarkably well fed, they are so fat and strong, but he can do nothingfor me. "

The following morning the doctor visited the invalid. 

"I don't consider his case a serious one as yet, " said he; "his feet areswollen, indeed, but that might soon be cured. However, his sedentaryinactive life is so bad for a frame like his, and his diet is sounwholesome, that I am sorry to say the sudden development of someserious complaint is only too likely. "

Anton immediately wrote off this opinion to Karl, and added, "Underthese circumstances, your father's own impression that he shall notsurvive his fiftieth birth-day makes me very uneasy. It would be wellthat you should be with him at that time. "

Several days had now elapsed since Anton had written this letter, and, meanwhile, he had paid a daily visit to Sturm, who did not appear tochange for the worse, but yet remained firm in his resolve of notoutliving his birth-day. One morning a servant came to Anton's room, andannounced that Sturm the porter urgently wished to see him. 

"Is he worse?" inquired Anton, in dismay; "I will go to himimmediately. "

"He is at the door in a cart, " said the servant. 

Anton hurried out. A carrier's cart was standing there, with greatbarrel-hoops bent over the wicker-work, and covered by a white sheet, from which--a corner of it being turned back--the head of Father Sturm, ensconced in a colossal fur cap, appeared. He wore an anxious face, and, as soon as he saw Anton, held out a sheet of paper. "Read this, Mr. Wohlfart; I have had such a letter from my poor Karl! I must go to himat once. To the estate beyond Rosmin, " he added to the driver, a burlycarrier who stood by the vehicle. 

Anton looked at the letter. It was written in the forester's clumsycharacters, and the contents amazed him. "My dear father, I can not cometo you, for a scythe-man has cut off the remainder of my hand, on whichaccount I beg you, as soon as you get this, to set out to your poor son. You must take a large conveyance and drive to Rosmin. There you muststop at the Red Deer. A carriage and a servant from the estate will bewaiting for you. The servant does not understand a word of German, buthe is a good fellow, and will know you when he sees you. You must buyyourself a fur for the journey, and fur boots which must come above yourknees, and be lined with leather. If you can't find any large enough foryour great legs, godfather Kürschner must, during the night, sew a skinover your feet. Greet Mr. Wohlfart from me. Your faithful Karl. "

Anton held the letter in his hand, not exactly knowing what to make ofit. 

"What do you say to this new misfortune?" asked the giant, mournfully. 

"At all events, you must go to your son at once, " was Anton's reply. 

"Of course I must, " said the porter; "this blow comes heavily upon mejust now; the day after to-morrow I shall be fifty. "

The meaning of the letter now flashed upon Anton. "Are you accoutredaccording to Karl's directions?"

"I am, " said the giant, throwing back the linen covering; "all is right, the fur and the boots too. "

Anton looked in, and had some trouble to preserve his gravity. Sturmlooked like a pre-Adamic bear of colossal dimensions. A great swordleaned against the seat. "Against those scythe-men!" said he, angrilyshaking it. "I have still one other request to make you. Wilhelm has gotthe key of my house; will you take charge of this box? it holds what wasformerly under my bed. Keep it for Karl. "

"I will give it into Mr. Schröter's care, " replied Anton; "he is justgone to the railway station, and may be back any moment. "

"Greet him from me, " said the giant; "greet him and Miss Sabine, andtell them both how heartily I thank them for all the friendliness theyhave shown to Karl and me. " He looked in with emotion at the groundfloor. "Many a happy year I have worked away there, and if the rings onthe hundred weights are well polished, these hands have done their partto make them so. I have shared the fate of this house for thirty years, good and bad, and I can tell you, Mr Wohlfart, we were always wideawake. I shall roll your barrels no more, " continued he, turning to theservants, "and some one else will help you to unload the wagons. Thinkoften of old Sturm when you fasten up a sugar-cask. Nothing here belowcan last forever, not even the strongest; but this firm, Mr. Wohlfart, will stand and flourish so long as it has a chief like Mr. Schröter, andmen like you, and good hands below there at the great scales. This is myheart's wish. " He folded his hands, and tears rolled down his cheeks. "And now farewell, Mr. Wohlfart; give me your hand; and farewell Peter, Franz, Gottfried--all of you, think kindly of me. To Rosmin, driver. "The cart rolled away over the pavement, the sheet opening once more, andSturm's great head emerging for a last look and wave of the hand. 

Anton was exceedingly anxious about him for a few days, when a lettercame in Karl's own hand. 

"Dear Mr. Wohlfart, " wrote Karl, "you will of course have seen why Isent that last note to my Goliath. I had to get him out of that room, and to drive that notion about his birth-day out of his head; so, in myanxiety, I hazarded a white lie. This is how it all came about:

"The day before his birth-day, the servant was waiting for him at theRed Deer in Rosmin. I had ridden over there myself to see how my fathergot on, and how he looked; but I kept myself out of sight. About middaythe cart came slowly rumbling up. The driver helped my father out--forhe had great difficulty in moving--which at first gave me a fright abouthis legs; but it was really mainly owing to the fur boots and thejolting. On the street the old boy took out a letter and read it. Thenhe went up to Jasch, who had run to the cart, and who had to pretendthat he did not understand a word of German, and began to make allmanner of alarming gesticulations. He held his hand two feet above thepavement, and when the servant shook his head, the governor stooped downto the ground. This was meant to signify, 'My manikin!' but as Jaschfailed to understand it, my father caught hold of one hand with theother, and shook it so violently under Jasch's nose, that the servant, who, without this, was frightened at the great creature, was near takingto his heels. At length my father and his effects were packed into aspring-cart, he having several times walked round, and shaken it rathermistrustfully. Then he drove off. I had told the servant to drivestraight to the forester's, with whom I had planned every thing. As forme, I had gone there by a by-path; and as soon as the wagon arrived inthe evening, I slipped into the forester's bed, and had my hand tieddown under the clothes for fear I should stretch it out in my delight. When the old gentleman reached my bedside, he was so moved that he wept, and it went to my heart to be obliged to cheat him. I told him that Iwas better already, and that the doctor would allow me to get up on themorrow. This quieted him; and he said, with a most solemn mien, that hewas glad of that, for that the morrow was a great day for him, and thathe must then take to his bed. And so he went on with his nonsense. Butnot long. He soon got cheerful. The forester joined us, and we made avery good supper on what the young lady had sent us from the castle. Igave the old boy beer, which he pronounced execrable; whereupon theforester made some punch, and we all three drank heartily--I with myamputated hand, my father with his melancholy forebodings, and theforester. What with the long journey, the warm room, and the punch, myfather soon got sleepy (I had had a strong bedstead placed in theforester's room); he kissed my head as he wished me good-night, tappedthe quilt, and said, 'To-morrow, then, my manikin!' He was asleep in amoment; and how he slept, to be sure! I got out of the forester's bed, and watched every breath he drew. It was a weary night. The next morninghe woke late. As soon as he began to stir, the forester came in, clapping his hands at the door, and exclaiming over and over again, 'Why, Mr. Sturm, what have you done?' 'What have I done?' asked myGoliath, still half asleep, and looking round in amazement. The birdswere screaming very loud, and every thing looked so strange to him hehardly knew if he was still on earth or not. 'Where am I?' cried he;'this place is not in the Bible. ' However, the forester went onexclaiming, 'No; such a thing never was heard of before, ' till the oldman was quite alarmed, and anxiously asked what it was. 'What you havedone, Mr. Sturm!' cried the forester; 'why, you have slept a night, andthen a day, and then another night!' 'How so?' said my old boy; 'to-dayis Wednesday, the 13th. ' 'No such thing, ' affirmed the forester; 'to-dayis the 14th: it is Thursday. ' So they went on disputing. At last theforester took out his pocket-book, on which he strikes out each day asit passes, and there was a great stroke over Wednesday; and on Tuesdayhe had put down as a memorandum, 'To-day, at seven o'clock, thebailiff's father arrived: a very tall man, can drink plenty of punch;'and on Wednesday, 'The bailiff's father has been asleep the whole daythrough. ' Having read this, my governor got quite composed, and said, 'It's all correct: here we have it in black and white. Tuesday, Iarrived at seven--a tall man--plenty of punch; all this tallies. Wednesday is past. This is Thursday--this is the 14th. ' After somemusing, he cried, 'Where is my son Karl?' Then I entered, my arm boundup, and told the same tale as the forester, till he said, 'I am like onebewitched; I don't know what to think. ' 'Why, don't you see, ' said I, 'that I am out of bed? Yesterday, when you were asleep, the doctor came, and gave me leave to get up. Now I am so well that I can lift this chairwith my stiff arm. ' 'No more weights, ' said the old man. Then I went on:'I spoke of your case, too, to the doctor. He is a skillful man, andtold us one of two things would happen: either you would go off, orsleep through it. If he sleeps throughout the day, ' said he, 'he willget over it. It's a serious crisis. Such things will happensometimes'--'To us porters, ' chimed in the old man. And so it was thatwe got him out of his bed; and he was very cheerful. But I was anxiousall day long, and never left him. At noon all was nearly lost when thefarmer came in to speak to me. Luckily, though, the forester had lockedthe yard door, and so he went out and gave the farmer a hint. As soon asthe latter came in, my father called out, 'What day is it, comrade?''Thursday, ' said the farmer, 'the 14th;' at which my father's whole facebroke out into a laugh, and he cried, 'Now it's certain; now I believeit. ' However, he slept at the forester's that night too, that we mightget the birth-day well over. 

"The next day I took my father to the farm-yard, to the room next mine. I had had it hastily furnished for him. Herr von Fink, who knew allabout it, sent some good stout things from the castle; I had his oldBlucher hung up, let in some robin-redbreasts, and put in a joiner'sbench and a few tools, that he might feel comfortable. So I said, 'Thisis your room, father; you must stay with me now. ' 'No, ' said he; 'thatwill never do, my manikin. ' 'There is no help for it, ' I replied; 'Herrvon Fink will have it so, Mr. Wohlfart will have it so, Mr. Schröterwill have it so; you must give way. We won't part again as long as weare on earth. ' And then drew my hand out of its bandages, and gave himsuch a fine lecture about his unhealthy way of life, and his fancies, that he got quite soft, and said all manner of kind things to me. Nextcame Herr von Fink, and welcomed him in his own merry way; and in theafternoon our young lady brought the baron in. The poor blind gentlemanwas quite delighted with my father; he liked his voice much, felt himall over, and as he went away, called him a man after his own heart; andso he must be, for the baron has come every afternoon since to myfather's little room, and listened to his sawing and hammering. 

"My father is still a good deal perplexed at all he sees here, and he isnot quite clear about that day he is said to have slept, though he mustbe up to it too, for ever since he often catches me by the head, andcalls me a rascal. This word now replaces 'dwarf' and 'manikin' in histalk, although it is a still worse appellation for a bailiff. He isgoing to be a wheelwright, and has been cutting out spokes all day. I amonly afraid he will work too hard. I rejoice to have him here, and if heonce gets over the winter, he will soon walk off the weakness in hisfeet. He means to sell the little house, but only to a porter. He begsthat you will offer it to Wilhelm, who now rents one, and say that heshall have it cheaper than a stranger. "

CHAPTER XLIII. 

A week after the death of Hippus, Anton was sitting in his own room, writing to Fink. He was telling him that the lawyer's corpse had beentaken out of the river at the wear at the end of the town, and that thecause of his death was uncertain. A child belonging to the house inwhich the wretched man lived had told that, on the evening of the searchmade by the police, Hippus had been met in the street, near his owndwelling; since then, nothing had been seen of him. Under thesecircumstances, suicide did not appear unlikely. However, the police wereof opinion that the crushed hat afforded evidence of violence. No papershad been found at his dwelling, and a second search had been made therewithout results. Anton gave it as his own opinion respecting the fearfulevent that Itzig was in some way connected with it. 

At that moment the door was opened, the Galician hastily entered theroom, and, without speaking a word, laid an old pair of spectacles, setin rusty steel, on the table before Anton, who, looking at the agitatedface before him, sprang from his seat. 

"His spectacles, " hoarsely whispered Tinkeles; "I found them close tothe water. Just God! that any one should have such a fright as that!"

"Whose spectacles are they, and where did you find them?" inquiredAnton, guessing at what the Galician lacked strength to tell, andlooking with horror at the dim glasses before him. "Compose yourself, Tinkeles, and speak. "

"It can not remain concealed--it cries to Heaven!" said Tinkeles, ingreat excitement. "You shall hear how it came to pass. Two days after Ihad spoken with you about the two hundred dollars, I went in the eveningto the sleeping-room at Löbel Pinkus's. As I entered the court a man ranagainst me in the dark. I thought, is that Itzig, or is it not? I saidto myself, It is Itzig; that is his run when he runs in haste. When Igot up into the large room, it was empty, and I sat down at the tableand looked into my pocket-book; and as I sat there, the wind roseoutside, and there was a knocking in the gallery, as if some one wasknocking who wanted to get in, and could not open a door. I wasfrightened, and put up my letters, and cried, 'If any one is there, lethim say so. ' No one answered, but the knocking went on all the time. Then I summoned up courage, took up the lamp, and went into the gallery, and searched every room. I could see no one. And again there was theknocking close to me, and then a great crack, and a door flew open, which had never been open before, and from the door steps led down tothe water. When I put the lamp near the steps, I saw that a wet foot hadcome up them, and the marks of it were to be seen all the way to theroom--wet spots on the floor. And I marveled, and said to myself, 'Schmeie, ' said I, 'who has gone by night out of the water into theroom, leaving the door open, like a spirit?' And I was afraid; andbefore I closed the door, I once more looked along the steps with thelamp, and then I saw something sparkle in the light close to the water, on the last step of all, and I ventured down one step after the other:woe is me, Mr. Wohlfart, it was a hard task. The wind howled, and blewmy lamp about, and the staircase became as dark as a well; and thatwhich I picked up is yonder"--pointing to the spectacles--"the glassesthat he wore before his eyes. "

"And how do you know that they are the dead man's spectacles?" askedAnton, in painful suspense. 

"I know them by the joint, which is tied round with black worsted. Ihave often seen him in Pinkus's room with those spectacles on. So I hidthe spectacles, and thought to myself that I would say nothing aboutthem to Pinkus, but give them myself to Hippus, and see whether he couldbe of use to me in business. I carried about the glasses till to-day, expecting to see him; and when he did not come, I asked Pinkus for him, and he answered, 'I know not where he is hiding. ' And to-day, at noon, as I entered the inn, Pinkus came running toward me, and said, 'Schmeie, ' said he, 'if you want to speak to Hippus, you'll have to gointo the water; he has been found in the water. ' It went through me likea shot when he said this, and I had to hold on by the wall. "

Anton went to his writing-table, dashed off a few lines to thedetective, who had not long left him, rang the bell, and desired theservant to take the note in all haste. 

Meanwhile Tinkeles had sunk down on a chair, and kept mutteringunintelligibly. 

Anton, scarcely less agitated, paced up and down the room. At last thesilence was broken by the Galician raising his voice, and inquiring, "Donot you think that the spectacles will be worth the hundred dollars youhave for me in your writing-desk?"

"I don't know, " curtly replied Anton, continuing to pace up and down. Schmeie relapsed into exhaustion and silence. At length he looked upagain and said, "At least fifty?"

"None of your bargaining at present, " replied Anton, dryly. 

"Why not?" cried Tinkeles, in dudgeon. "I have had a great fright; isthat to go for nothing?" And he was again absorbed in distress. 

The interview was interrupted by the appearance of the detective. Thisexperienced officer made the Galician repeat his tale, took thespectacles, ordered a coach for himself and the reluctant Tinkeles, andsaid to Anton as he left, "Prepare for a sudden clearing up; whether Ishall carry out my purpose is still uncertain, but there is a prospectfor you of finding the documents you seek. "

"At what a cost!" cried Anton, shuddering. 

The drawing-room in Ehrenthal's house was brilliantly lit up, andthrough the drawn curtain a slight glimmer fell upon the small rain thatsank down like mist on the streets. Several rooms were opened; heavysilver candelabra stood about; bright tea-services, gay sets ofporcelain--every thing in the house had been brushed up, washed, anddisplayed; the dark floor had been newly waxed; even the cook had anewly plaited cap--in short, the whole house was renovated. The fairRosalie stood in the midst of all this splendor, in a dress of yellowsilk, trimmed with purple flowers, gorgeous as a houri of Paradise, and, like them, prepared to receive her elect. Her mother smoothed thethick folds of her dress, looked triumphantly at her, and said, in atransport of motherly love, "How beautiful you are to-day, Rosalie, myonly child!"

But Rosalie was too much accustomed to this admiration to heed it, andwent on trying to fasten a bracelet on her round arm. "It was really toobad of Itzig to bring me turquoises; he ought to have known that theyare out of fashion. "

"They are very handsomely set, " said her mother, soothingly. "The goldis massive, and the pattern quite new. "

"And where is Itzig? To-day, at least, he ought to come early; therelatives will all be here before the bridegroom, " said Rosalie, complainingly. 

"He will be here in time, " replied Itzig's patroness. "You know how hetoils and moils that you may have a brilliant establishment. You arefortunate, " said she, with a sigh; "you are now entering upon life, andyou will be a lady of consequence. You must go to the capital for a fewweeks after your marriage, to spend the honeymoon quietly, and beintroduced to my relations; and, meanwhile, I shall have this storyfurnished for you, and will move up stairs, and spend the rest of mylife in nursing Ehrenthal. "

"Will my father make his appearance to-day?" inquired Rosalie. 

"He must do so on account of our relations. He must pronounce thepaternal blessing upon you. "

"He is sure to bring disgrace upon us, and to talk nonsense again, " saidthe dutiful daughter. 

"I have told him what he is to say, " answered her mother; "and henodded, to show that he understood me. "

The bell rang, the door opened, and company appeared. The room soonfilled. Ladies in gorgeous gold-embroidered silk dresses, with sparklingchains and ear-rings, occupied the large sofa and arm-chairs around. They were mostly large in figure, with here and there a pair of lustrouseyes and a set of handsome features. They looked like a gay tulip-bedout of which the gardener has rooted every sober-colored flower. Behindthem stood the gentlemen, with cunning faces and hands in their pockets, altogether much less imposing and agreeable to behold. Thus all thecompany waited for the bridegroom, who still delayed his coming. 

At length he appeared. His eyes wandered suspiciously around; his voicefaltered as he accosted his betrothed. He strove to the utmost to findsome polite words to say to the beautiful girl, and could almost himselfhave laughed savagely at the blank he felt within. He did not see herbrilliant eyes, her gorgeous bust, and magnificent attire. Even when ather side he was obliged to think of something else--of that of which hewas always thinking. He soon turned away from her and joined thegentlemen, who became more conversable after his arrival. A fewcommonplace observations, made by the younger men, were heard from timeto time, such as, "Miss Rosalie looks enchantingly beautiful;" and, "Iwonder whether Ehrenthal will appear;" and, "This long continuance offog is unusual, and very unhealthy: one is obliged to wear flannel. " Atlength some one uttered the words "four and a half per cent. " There wasan end of detached remarks; a subject of conversation had been found. Itzig was one of the loudest, gesticulating on all sides. They spoke ofthe funds--of wool--of the failure of a money-broker who hadover-speculated in paper. The ladies were forgotten; and, being quiteaccustomed to it on such occasions, they solemnly held their tea-cups intheir hands, smoothed the folds of their dresses, and moved theirthroats and arms so as to make their bracelets and chains sparkle in thelight. 

The conversation was now interrupted by a strange sound: a door wasopened, and in the midst of profound silence a heavy arm-chair wasrolled into the room. 

In the arm-chair sat an old, white-haired man, with a fat, swollen face, with staring eyes, bent frame, and arms supinely hanging down. It wasHirsch Ehrenthal, the imbecile. The chair being rolled into the midst ofthe assembly, he looked slowly round, nodded, and repeated over and overagain the words he had been taught: "Good-evening--good evening. " Hiswife now bent over him, and, raising her voice, said in his ear, "Do youknow the company here assembled? They are our relatives. "

"I know, " nodded the figure; "it is a soiree. They all went to a greatsoiree, and I remained alone in my room, and I sat on his bed. Where isBernhard, that he does not come to his old father?"

The guests who had surrounded the arm-chair now retreated in confusion;and the lady of the house again screamed in the old man's ear, "Bernhardis traveling, but your daughter Rosalie is here. "

"Traveling?" mournfully inquired the old man. "How can he be traveling?I wanted to buy him a horse, that he might ride it; I wanted to buy himan estate, that he might live on it, like a respectable man, as healways was. I know, " he cried, "when I last saw him, he was in bed. Helay on a bed, and he raised his clenched hand, and shook it at hisfather. "

"Come here, Rosalie, " cried her mother, distressed at thesereminiscences. "When your father sees you, my child, he will have otherthoughts. "

Rosalie approached, and, spreading out her handkerchief, knelt downbefore the arm-chair. "Do you know me, father?" she cried. 

"I know you, " said the old man. "You are a woman. Why should a woman lieon the earth? Give me my praying-cloak, and speak the prayer. I willkneel in your place, for a long night has come upon us. When it ispast, we will kindle the lights, and will eat. It will be time to put ongay garments then. Why do you wear gay garments now, when the Lord iswroth with the congregation?" He began to murmur a prayer, and againcollapsed. 

Rosalie rose impatiently; and her mother said, in much embarrassment, "He is worse to-day than he has ever been. I wished your father to bepresent at his daughter's betrothal, but I see that he can not performthe duties of the head of the family. I have, then, in my character ofmother, to make a happy announcement to the company assembled. " Thensolemnly taking her daughter's hand, she said, "Draw nearer, Itzig. "

Hitherto Itzig had silently stood with the rest, and stared at the oldman, from time to time shrugging his shoulders, and shaking his headover the melancholy spectacle, as became his position in the family. Butthere was another form present before his eyes: he knew better than anywho it was that wailed and groaned; he knew, too, who had died and hadnot forgiven. Mechanically he advanced, his eyes still fixed onEhrenthal. The guests now formed a circle around him and Rosalie, andher mother took his hand. 

Then the old man in the arm-chair began again. "Hush!" said he, distinctly; "there he stands--the invisible. We go home from the burial, and he dances among the women. He will strike down all he looks upon. There he stands!" he screamed, and rose from his chair. "There! there!Throw down your water-jars and fly into the house, for he who standsthere is cursed of the Lord. Cursed!" he screamed; and, clenching hishands, he tottered like a madman toward Itzig. 

Itzig's face grew ghastly; he tried to laugh, but his features quiveredwith fear. Suddenly the door was opened, and his errand-boy lookedanxiously into the room. One glance sufficed to tell Itzig all that theyouth had to say. He was discovered--he was in danger. He sprang to thedoor and disappeared. 

Lay aside your bridal attire, fair Rosalie; throw off the turquoisebracelet. For you there is no betrothal--no marriage feast. Soon youwill leave the town with drooping head, glad, by flying among strangers, to escape the mockery of cruel hearts at home. The gold that your fatherheaped up for his children by usury and fraud will again roll from handto hand, will serve good and bad alike, will swell the mighty tide ofwealth by which human life is sustained and adorned, peoples and statesmade great and powerful, and individuals strong or weak, each accordingto his work. 

Without, the night was dark, small rain was falling, and the air waschill. Itzig rushed down the steps. A trembling voice called out afterhim, "The police are in the house; they are breaking open theroom-door. " He heard no more; a horrible dread filled his soul. Thoughtafter thought passed through his brain with delirious rapidity. He felthis pocket, in which he had for the last week kept a large sum of money. It was not the hour of departure of any train that would take him to thesea, and at all the stations he would be watched for. He ran alongthrough narrow streets in remote parts of the town, turning backwhenever he got near a lamp, his pace increasingly rapid, his thoughtsincreasingly confused. At last his strength failed him, and he cowereddown in a corner to collect himself. But soon he heard a watchman'shollow horn sound near him. Here, too, was danger. Again he rushedonward to the one and only place that stood out clearly defined in histhoughts--the place he shuddered at, yet turned to as a last refuge. Ashe neared the inn he saw a dark shadow at the door. The little lawyerhad often stood there in the dark, waiting for Veitel's return. Was hestanding there now and waiting? The wretched fugitive started back, thenapproached--the door was free; he stepped in, but the shadow rose againbehind him and stood at the door. Veitel took off his boots and crept upstairs, groped in the dark for a room door, opened it with tremblinghand, and took down a bunch of keys from the wall, with which he hurriedto the gallery, hearing, as if at a great distance, the long-drawnbreath of sleeping men. He stood at the door of the staircase; a violentshudder convulsed him as he went down step after step. When he first puthis foot into the water he heard a lamentable groan. He clung to thebanisters as that other had done, and looked down. Again there was agroan, and he now found out it was only his own breathing. He felt thedepth of the water with his foot. It had risen since that time--it washigher than his knee, but he found a footing and stood safely in thestream. 

The night was dark, the rain still came down, the mist hung thick overthe houses--a gable, a paling peeping out here and there; the waterrushed along, the only sound to break the silence of the night, and inthis man's ear it roared like thunder. He felt all the torments of thelost while wading on and groping for his way. He had to cling to theslippery palings in order not to sink. He reached the staircase of thenext house, felt in his pockets for the key--one swing round the corner, and his foot would be on the lowest step. Just as he was about to turnhe started back, his raised foot fell into the water; he saw a darkstooping figure on the staircase. There it sat motionless. He knew theoutline of the old hat; dark as it was, he could see the ugly featuresof the well-known face. He wiped his eyes, he waved his hands to dispelit; it was no illusion; the spectre sat there a few steps off. At lengththe horrible thing stretched out a hand toward him. The murderer startedback, his foot slipped off the platform, he fell up to his neck inwater. There he stood in the stream, the wind howling over him, thewater rushing ever louder and louder. He raised his hands, his eyesstill fixed upon the vision. Slowly it rose from its seat--it movedalong the platform--it stretched out its hand. He sprang backhorror-stricken into the stream--a fall, a loud scream, the shortdrowning struggle, and all was over. The stream rolled on, and carriedthe corpse away. 

There was a stir along the river's edge; torches flared, arms glistened, loud shouts were heard, and from the foot of the steps a man waded intothe water and exclaimed, "He was gone before I could reach him. To-morrow we shall find him at the wear. "

CHAPTER XLIV. 

The tavern of Löbel Pinkus was thoroughly searched, the secret stores inthe next house brought to light, and several stolen goods of new and olddate being therein found, the tavern-keeper himself was sent to prison. Among the things thus discovered was the baron's empty casket, and, inthe secret door of a locked-up press, the missing notes of hand, andboth the deeds of mortgage. In Itzig's house a document was found, bywhich Pinkus declared Veitel possessor of the first mortgage of twentythousand. Pinkus's obdurate nature being a good deal softened by thesearch, he confessed what he had no longer any interest in denying, thathe, had been commissioned by Veitel to pay the money to the baron, andthat the sum only amounted to about ten thousand dollars; so the baronrecovered his claim to the half of the first mortgage. Pinkus wassentenced to long imprisonment. The mysterious tavern was given up; andTinkeles, who had, immediately upon Veitel's death, demanded his secondhundred dollars from Anton, carried his bundle and his caftan to anotherretreat. His friendly feelings for the firm of T. O. Schröter had been soquickened by the late occurrences, that they had to be on their guard, and to decline some weighty commercial transactions on which he was mostanxious that they should enter with him. The natural consequence oftheir shyness was to impress Tinkeles with their wisdom, and hecontinued to frequent the counting-house, without, by any furtheraudacious speculations, hazarding its favor. Pinkus's house was sold toa worthy dyer, and blue and black wool were seen hanging down from thegallery over which Veitel's haggard form had so often leaned. 

After long discussions with the attorney and the humbled Ehrenthals, Anton received the notes of hand and the last mortgage in return forpayment of twenty thousand dollars. 

Meanwhile the sale of the family property came on. A purchaser soughtout Anton even before the term, and arrangements were made which morethan insured the covering of all mortgages. 

The day after the term Anton wrote to the baroness, inclosing thebaron's notes of hand. He sealed up the letter with the cheerful feelingthat out of all the wreck and ruin he had saved for Lenore a dowry ofabout thirty thousand dollars. 

The white snow again lay heavy on the Polish castle, and the crows leftthe print of their feet on its roof. Winter's holiday robes were spreadover wood and field, the earth was hushed in deepest slumber, nosheep-dog barked in the meadows, the farming implements were all laidby, and yet there was life and animation on the estate, and workmen werebusy in the second story with foot-rule and saw. The ground was unevenin the farm-yard, for the foundation of a new building had been dug; andin the rooms around, and even out in the sunshine, workmen from thetown--- joiners, wheelwrights, and cabinet-makers--were busily employed. They whistled cheerily at their work, and the yellow shavings flew farand wide. New energies, in short, are visible in all directions, andwhen spring comes, a colony of laborers will spread over the country, and force the long-dormant soil to yield the fruits of industry. 

Father Sturm sat in his warm room; hammering away. 

Opposite him, in the only cushioned chair, reclined the blind baron, staff in hand, listening intently. 

"You must be tired, Sturm, " said the baron. 

"Nay, " cried the giant, "my hands are as strong as ever, and this isonly a small barrel for rain-water--mere child's work. "

"He once hid in a little barrel, " said the baron to himself. "He was adelicate child. His nurse had put him in to bathe him, and he had benthis back and knees in such a way that he could not get out. I wasobliged to have the hoops knocked off to extricate my boy from hisprison. "

The giant cleared his throat. "Were they iron hoops?" he asked, sympathizingly. 

"It was my son, " said the baron, his features quivering. 

"Yes, " whispered Sturm, "he was stately; he was a handsome man; it was apleasure to hear his sword rattle; and to see how he twisted his littlebeard. " Alas! how often he had said this before to the blind father. 

"It was the will of Heaven!" said the baron, folding his hands. 

"It was, " repeated old Sturm. "Our Lord God chose to take him when athis best. That was an honor; and no man could leave the world morebeautifully. It was for his parents and his fatherland that he put onhis coat with epaulettes, and he was victorious, and driving those Polesbefore him, when the Lord called out his name and enrolled him in hisown guard. "

"But I must remain behind, " said the baron. 

"And I rejoice that I, too, have seen our young master, " continuedSturm, more fluently; "for you know that he was our young master then. You trusted my Karl with the whole management of the farm, and so it wasan honor for me to be able to show that I trusted your son. "

"It was wrong of him to borrow money from you, " said the baron, shakinghis head. And this he said, because he had often heard old Sturm'scomforting reply, and longed to hear it again. 

The giant laid his tool aside, ran his hand through his hair, and triedto look very bold as he began, in a light-hearted tone, "Do you know, sir, that one must make allowance for a young gentleman? Youth will bewild. Many have to borrow money in their young days, particularly whenthey wear such a beautiful coat, with silver fringe upon it. We were noniggards either, baron, " he continued, deprecatingly, gently tapping theblind man's knee with his tool. "And the young officer was very polite, and I believe that he was somewhat bashful. And when I gave him themoney, I could see how sorry he was to want it. I gave it him all themore readily. Then, when I helped him into the drosky, and he leaned outof the carriage, I can assure you he was much moved, and reached outboth of his little hands to clasp my fist, and shake it once more. Andwhile he was sitting there, the light fell on his face--a sweet, kindface it was, something like yours, and still more like the baroness, asfar as I have been able to see her. "

The blind man, too, stretched out his hands to grasp the porter's fist. Sturm pushed his bench forward, took the baron's hands in his right one, and stroked them with his left. Both sat silent, side by side. 

At last the baron began with broken voice to say, "You were the last whoshowed kindness to my Eugene. I thank you for it from my inmost heart. An unfortunate, broken-down man thanks you. So long as I live I shallimplore the blessing of the Most High on your head. My son will neversupport my feeble footsteps in my old age, but Heaven has preserved agood son to you. All the blessings that I wished for my poor Eugene, Inow pray to God may be the portion of your Karl. "

Sturm wiped his eyes, and then clasped the baron's hands again. The twofathers sat together in silence, till, with a sigh, the baron rose. Sturm carefully took his arm, and led him through yard and meadow to thecastle terrace; for there is a road now up to the tower--a road with astone parapet, and the door can be reached by carriages and on foot. Sturm rings the bell, the baron's valet hurries down, and leads hismaster up the steps, for Father Sturm still finds a staircase hard work. 

Meanwhile a carriage stops in the farm-yard. Karl respectfully hurriesfrom his room, and the new proprietor jumps down. 

"Good-day, sergeant, " cried Fink; "how goes it in the castle and on thefarm? How are the Fräulein and the baroness?"

"All right, " reported Karl, "only the baroness is very feeble. We havebeen expecting you for a week past. The family have been daily askingwhether there were any tidings of you. "

"I was detained, " said Fink; "and perhaps I should not be back now, butthat, since this fall of snow, there is no judging of land. I havebought Dobrowitz. "

"Zounds!" cried Karl, in delight. 

"Capital ground, " continued Fink; "five hundred acres of wood, in whichthe manure lies nearly a foot deep. In the Polish hole close by, whichthey call a town, the Jews thronged like ants when they heard thathenceforth our spurs would jingle daily over their market-place. I say, bailiff, you will be delighted when you see the new property. I have agreat mind to send you over there next spring. But what have youthere--a letter from Anton? Let's have it. " He hastily tore it open. "Isthe Fräulein in the castle?"

"Yes, Herr von Fink. "

"Very well. A messenger goes this evening to Neudorf;" and with rapidstep he hurried into the house. 

Lenore sat in her room sewing, with a good deal of cut-out linen roundher. She diligently passed her needle through the stiff cloth, sometimesstretching the seam on her knee, smoothing it with her thimble, andlooking doubtfully to see whether each individual stitch was small andeven. Then that rapid footstep was heard in the passage, and springingup, she convulsively pressed her work together. But she composed herselfby a mighty effort, and sat down again to her task. He knocked at herdoor. A deep blush spread slowly over her face, and her "Come in" hardlyreached her guest's ear. As Fink entered, he glanced with some curiosityaround the plainly-furnished room, which had a few chalk drawings byLenore on the walls, but nothing else except absolutely necessaryfurniture. Even the little panther-skin sofa was gone. 

When Fink bowed before her, she inquired in a tone of indifference, "Have you been detained by any thing unpleasant? We were all uneasyabout you. "

"A property that I have bought interfered with my return. I come now inall haste to report myself to my mistress, and, at the same time, Ibring a packet which Anton has sent for the baroness. If she feelssufficiently well to see me, will you prepare her to do so?"

Lenore took the letter. "I will go immediately to my mother; pray excuseme;" and, slightly bending, she tried to pass him. 

Fink waved her back, and said jokingly, "I find you most housewifelybusy with needle and scissors. Who is the happy one for whom you aresewing those wedge-shaped pieces together?"

Lenore blushed again. "Gentlemen must not inquire into the mysteries offeminine work, " said she. 

"I know, however, that the thimble did not usually stand high in yourfavor, " said Fink, good-humoredly. "Is it necessary, dear lady, that youshould ruin your eyes?"

"Yes, Herr von Fink, " returned Lenore, firmly, "it is, and it will benecessary. "

"Oh ho!" cried Fink, shaking his head, and comfortably leaning againstthe back of a chair. "Do you suppose, then, that I have not long agoremarked your secret campaigns with needle and scissors, and also yourgrave face, and the magnificent bearing you assume toward me, naughtyboy that I am? Where is the panther-sofa? Where is the brotherlyfrankness that I have a right to expect after our understanding? Youhave kept very imperfectly to our agreement. I see plainly that my goodfriend is inclined to give me up, and withdraw with the best gracepossible; but permit me to remark that this will hardly avail you. Youwill not get rid of me. "

"Be generous, Herr von Fink, " cried Lenore, in extreme excitement. "Donot make what I have to do still harder. Yes, I am preparing to partfrom this place--to part from you. "

"You refuse, then, to remain with me?" said Fink, with a frowning brow. "Very well; I shall return, and implore till I am heard. If you runaway, I shall run after you; and if you cut off your beautiful hair andfly to a convent, I'll leap the walls and fetch you out. Have I notwooed you as the adventurer in the fairy tales does the king's daughter?To win you, proud Lenore, I have turned sand into grass, and transformedmyself into a respectable farmer. Therefore, beloved mistress, bereasonable, and do not torment me by maidenly caprices. "

"Oh, respect such caprices, " cried Lenore, bursting into tears. "In thesolitude of these last weeks I have wrestled hourly with my sorrow. I ama poor girl, whose duty it is to live for her afflicted parent. Thedower that I should bring you would be sickness, gloom, and poverty. "

"You are mistaken, " replied Fink, earnestly. "Our friend has providedfor you. He has hunted two rascals into the water, and has paid yourfather's debts. The baron has a nice little fortune remaining; and I cantell your perverse ladyship you are no bad match after all, if you layany stress upon that. The letter you hold upsets all your philosophy. "

Lenore looked at the envelope and threw the letter away. 

"No, " cried she, beside herself. "When, shattered by sorrow, I lay uponyour breast, you then told me I was to get stronger; and every day Ifeel that, when I come into contact with you, I have no strength, noopinion, no will of my own. Whatever you say appears to me right, and Iforget how I thought before. What you require I must needs do, unresisting as a slave. The woman who goes through life at your sideshould be your equal in intellect and power, and should feel reliant inher own province; but I am an uncultivated, helpless girl. In my foolishlove I let it appear that I could do for your sake what no woman should. You find nothing in me to respect. You would kiss me and--endure me. "Lenore's hand clenched, and her eyes flashed as she spoke. 

"Does it then repent you so much that for my sake you sent a bullet intothat villain's shoulder?" said Fink. "What I now see looks less likelove than hatred. "

"I hate you?" cried the poor girl, hiding her face with her hands. 

He took her hands, drew her to him, and pressed a kiss upon her lips. "Trust me, Lenore. "

"Leave me! leave me!" cried Lenore, struggling; but her lips werepressed to his, and her arms twined around him; and, looking into hisface with a passionate expression of love and fear, she gradually sankdown at his feet. 

Thoroughly moved, Fink stooped and raised her. "Mine you are, and I holdyou fast, " cried he. "With rifle and bullet I have bought your stormyheart. In the same breath you tell me sweet things and bitter. What, then, am I such a despot that a noble-minded woman should fear to comeunder my yoke? Just as you are, Lenore--resolute, bold, a littlepassionate devil--just so will I have you remain. We have beencompanions in arms, and so we shall continue to be. The day may returnwhen we shall both raise our guns to our cheeks, and the people about usneed natures more disposed to give than to take a blow. Were you not myheart's desire, were you a man, I should like to have you for my life'scompanion; so, Lenore, you will be to me not only a beloved wife, but acourageous friend, the confidante of all my plans, my best and truestcomrade. "

Lenore shook her head, but she clung to him firmly. "I ought to be yourhousewife, " sighed she. 

Fink caressingly stroked back her hair and kissed her burning brow. "Becontent, sweetheart, " said he, tenderly, "and make up your mind to it. We have been together in a fire strong enough to bring love to maturity, and we know each other thoroughly. Between ourselves, we shall have manya storm in our house. I am no easy-going companion, at least for awoman, and you will very soon find that will of yours again, the loss ofwhich you are now lamenting. Be at rest, darling, you shall be asheadstrong as of yore; you need not distress yourself on that account;so you may prepare for a few storms, but for hearty love and a merrylife as well. I will have you laugh again, Lenore. You will have no needto make my shirts, and, if you don't like account-keeping, why, let italone; and if you do sometimes give your boys a box on the ear, it willdo our brood no harm. I think you will give yourself to me. "

Lenore was silent, but she clung closer to his breast. Fink drew heraway. "Come to our mother!" cried he. 

Both bent over the bed of the invalid. A brightness passed over the paleface of the baroness as she laid her hands on Fink's head and gave himher blessing. 

"She is still a child, " said she. "It remains with you, my son, to makea good woman of her. "

She sent her children out of the room. "Go to your father; bring him tome, and leave us alone together. "

When the baron sat by the side of his wife, she drew his hand to herlips and whispered, "Let me thank you, Oscar, to-day, for many years ofhappiness--for all your love. "

"Poor wife!" murmured the blind man. 

"What you have done and suffered, " continued the baroness, "you havedone and suffered for me and my son, and we both leave you behind in ajoyless world. You were not to have the happiness of transferring aninheritance; you are the last to bear the name of Rothsattel. "

The baron groaned. 

"But the reputation we leave behind will be spotless as was your wholelife till two hours of despair. " She placed the bundle of notes of handin the blind man's grasp; then, having torn each one up, she rang thebell, and told the servant to put them piece by piece into the stove. The flames leaped up and threw a red light over the room till the lastwas consumed. The evening closed in, and the baron lay on the sicklady's bed, and hid his face in the pillows, while she held her handsfolded over him, and her lips moved in prayer. 

In the early morning light the ravens and jackdaws fluttered over thesnowy roof; their black wings hovered a while above the tower; then, with loud cries, they broke away to the wood, to announce to theirfeathered race that the castle walls contained a bride and a corpse. Thepale lady from a foreign land has died in the night, and the blind manwho is lying in his daughter's arms has but one consolation, that ofknowing that he shall soon follow her to her endless rest. And theill-omened birds scream out to the winds that the old Slavonic curse hasfallen on the castle, and the doom has lighted on the foreign settlerstoo. 

But little cares the man who now holds sway within the castle wallswhether a raven croak or a lark sing, and if a curse lie on hisproperty, he will laughingly blow it away. His life will be a ceaselessand successful conflict with the dark influences around, and from theSlavonic castle will come out a band of noble boys, and a new Germanrace, strong and enduring in mind and body, will overspread the land--arace of colonists and conquerors. 

 * * * * *

In a few cordial lines Fink announced to his friend his own betrothaland the death of the baroness. A sealed note to Sabine was inclosed inthe envelope. 

It was evening when the postman brought the letter to Anton's room. Longdid he sit pondering its contents; at length he took up the note toSabine, and hurried to the front part of the house. 

He found the merchant in his study, and gave him the letter. 

The merchant immediately called in Sabine. "Fink is betrothed; here ishis announcement. "

Sabine clasped her hands in delight, and was hurrying off to Anton, butshe stopped with a blush, took her note to the lamp, and opened it. There could not have been much in it, for she read it in an instant, and, though she tried hard to look grave, could not suppress a smile. Atanother time Anton would have watched her mood with passionate interest;to-day he scarcely heeded it. 

"You will spend the evening with us, dear Wohlfart?" said the merchant. 

Anton replied, "I was going to ask you to spare me a few moments. I havesomething to say to you. " He looked uneasily at Sabine. 

"Let her hear it. Remain, Sabine, " said the merchant to his sister, whowas just going to slip away; "you are good friends; Mr. Wohlfart willnot object to your presence. Speak, my friend; what can I do for you?"

Anton bit his lips and looked again at the beloved form that leaned withdowncast eyes against the door. "May I inquire, Mr. Schröter, " he atlength began, "whether you have found the situation for which you kindlypromised to look out?"

Sabine moved uneasily, and the merchant looked up in amazement. "Ibelieve I shall soon have something to offer you; but is there any greathurry about it, dear Wohlfart?"

"There is, " replied Anton, gravely. "I have not a day to lose. Myrelations to the Rothsattel family are now entirely closed, and thefearful events with which I have been connected during the last weekshave affected my health. I yearn for repose. Regular employment in someforeign city, where nothing will remind me of the past, is, however, positively essential to me. "

Again Sabine moved, but a look from her brother kept her back. 

"And could you not find that repose which I too wish for you here withus?" inquired the merchant. 

"No, " replied Anton, in a faint voice; "I beg you not to be offended ifI leave you to-day. "

"Leave us!" cried the merchant. "I see no reason for such haste. You canrecruit here; the ladies must take better care of you than hitherto. Wohlfart complains of you, Sabine. He looks pale and worn. You and ourcousin must not allow that. "

Sabine did not answer a word. 

"I must go, Mr. Schröter, " said Anton, decidedly. "To-morrow I set out. "

"And will you not at least tell your friends the reason of so hasty adeparture?" said the merchant, gravely. 

"You know the reason. I have done with my past. Hitherto I have illprovided for my future; for I am about to seek and win, in somesubordinate situation, the confidence and good opinion of strangers. Ihave become, too, very poor in friends. I must separate for years fromall I love. I have some cause to feel alone, and since I must needsbegin life again, it is best to do so as soon as possible, for every daythat I spend here is fruitless, and only makes my strength less, thenecessary parting harder. " He spoke in deep emotion, his voicetrembling, but he did not lose his self-control. Then going up toSabine, he took her hand. "In this last hour I tell you, in the presenceof your brother, what it can not offend you to hear, for you have knownit long. Parting from you pains me more than I can say. Farewell!" Andnow he fairly broke down, and turned to the window. 

After a pause the merchant said, "Your sudden departure, dear Wohlfart, will be inconvenient to my sister as well as to me. Sabine was anxiousto request such a service from you as a merchant's sister is likely torequire. I, too, wish very much that you should not refuse her. Sabinebegs that you will look over some papers for her. It will be no greattask. "

Anton turned, and made a deprecating gesture. 

"Before you decide, listen to a fact that you have probably not knownbefore, " continued the merchant. "Ever since my father's death, Sabinehas secretly been my partner, and her advice and opinion has decidedmatters in our counting-house oftener than you think. She, too, has beenyour principal, dear Wohlfart. " He made a sign to his sister, and leftthe room. 

Anton looked in amazement at the principal in white muslin, with blackbraided hair. For years, then, he had served and obeyed the youthfulfigure which now blushingly approached him. 

"Yes, Wohlfart, " said Sabine, timidly, "I, too, have had a small holdupon your life. And how proud I was of it! Even those Christmas-boxesyou used to receive, I knew of them; and it was my sugar and coffee thatthe little Anton drank. When your worthy father came to us and asked fora situation for you, it was I who persuaded my brother to take you; forTraugott asked me about it, he himself objecting, and thinking you weretoo old. But I begged for you, and from that time my brother alwayscalled you my apprentice. It was I who promised your father to take careof you here. I was but an inexperienced child myself, and the confidenceof a stranger enchanted me. Your father, good old gentleman, would notwear, while with us, the velvet cap that peeped out of his pocket, tillI drew it out and put it on his white curls; and then I wondered whethermy apprentice would have such beautiful curls too. And when you came, and all were pleased with you, and my brother pronounced you the best ofall his clerks, I was as proud of you as your good father could havebeen. "

Anton leaned on the desk, and hid his face with his hands. 

"And that day when Fink insulted you, and again after that boatingexcursion, I was angry with him, not only for his presumption, butbecause he had taken my true apprentice into danger; and because Ialways felt that you belonged a little to me, I begged my brother totake you with him on that dangerous journey. It was for me, too, Wohlfart, that you toiled in that foreign land; and when you stood bythe loaded wagons, amid fire and clash of arms that fearful night, theywere my goods that you were saving; and so, my friend, I come to you nowin the character of a merchant, and pray you to do me a service. Youshall look over an account for me. "

"I will, " said Anton, turning away, "but not at this moment. "

Sabine went to a book-case, and laid out two books, with gilt leaves andgreen morocco binding, on the desk. Then taking Anton by the hand, shesaid, in a trembling voice, "Please come and look at my Debit andCredit. " She opened the first volume. Beneath all manner of skillfulflourishes stood the words, "With God--Private Ledger of T. O. Schröter. "

Anton started back. "It is the private book of the firm, " cried he. "This is a mistake. "

"It is no mistake, " said Sabine. "I want you to look over it. "

"Impossible!" cried Anton. "Neither you nor your brother can seriouslywish this. God forbid that any one should venture to do so but the headsof the concern. So long as a firm lasts, these pages are for no humaneyes but those of its head, and after that of the next heir. He whoreads this book knows what no stranger should--nay, as far as this bookgoes, the most intimate friend is a stranger. Neither as merchant nor asupright man can I comply with your wish. "

Sabine held his hand fast. "But do look at it, Wohlfart; look at leastat its title. " She pointed out its cover. "Here you have T. O. Schröter. "Then turning over the pages, "There are few empty columns here; the bookends with the last year. " Then opening the second volume, she said, "This book is empty, but here we find another firm; look at least at itstitle. "

Anton read, "With God--Private Ledger of T. O. Schröter and Company. "

Sabine pressed his hand, and said gently, and as with entreaty, "And youare to be the new partner, my friend. "

Anton stood motionless; but his heart beat wildly, and his face flushedup brightly. Sabine still held his hand. He saw her face near his, and, light as a breath, her lips touched his. He flung his arms around her, and the two happy lovers were clasped in speechless embrace. 

The door opened, and the merchant appeared. "Hold fast the runaway!"cried he. "Yes, Anton, I have wished this for years. Since that timewhen you knelt by my bed and bound up my wound in a foreign land, I havecherished the hope of uniting you forever to our life. When you left us, I was angry at seeing my hope baffled. Now then, enthusiast, we have yousafe--safe in our private book and in our arms. " He drew the lovers tohim. 

"You have chosen a poor partner, " cried Anton, on his new brother'sbreast. 

"Not so, my brother. Sabine has shown herself a judicious merchant. Neither wealth nor position have any value for the individual or thecommunity without the healthy energy which keeps the dead metal inlife-producing action. You bring into the business the courage of youthand the wisdom of experience. Welcome to our house and to our hearts!"

Radiant with joy, Sabine held both the hands of her betrothed: "I havebeen hardly able to bear seeing you so silent and so sad. Every day whenyou rose from the dinner-table I used to feel that I must fly after you, and tell you before that you belonged to us. You blind one, you neverfound out what was passing within me, and Lenore's betrothed has knownit all!"

"He!" exclaimed Anton. "I never spoke of you to him. "

"Look here!" cried Sabine, taking Fink's note from her pocket. There wasnothing in it but the words, "Hearty friendship, best wishes, Mrs. Sister-in-law. "

Again Anton caught his beloved in his arms. 

Deck thyself out, old house! rejoice, discreet cousin! dance, yefriendly house-sprites on the shadowy floor! The poetic dreams that theboy Anton nursed in his early home, beneath the prayers for blessings ofhis worthy parents, were honorable dreams, and here is theirfulfillment. That which allured and unsettled, and diverted him fromhis life-purpose, he has with manly heart overcome. 

The old diary, of his life is at an end, and henceforth, ye gracioushouse-sprites, in your private book will be inscribed, "With God, hisfuture career of Debit and Credit. "

THE END.