"I can't read that--but it is enough!"
And Justus crumpled up the unfortunate letter, and with a scornful snort stuffed it again into his pocket.
"Am I not right, Reinhold? Every possible difficulty stands in your path, I admit, but through it all, at the worst, you have to deal with a man who is the very soul of honour, and on whose word once given--and he will give it--you may rely. You can build your house upon a solid foundation, but how can a man build a house upon sand--treacherous quicksand, which, when he thinks he is as firmly fixed as the Colossus of Rhodes, gives way under his feet? If I only knew what the 'Lord of the Manor' really means! It is my belief that the whole story--telegram, conjuncture, every thing--is all dust which he wants to throw into my eyes to get rid of me--don't you think so?"
"Of course he wants to get rid of you," answered Reinhold, "and the man's meaning is pitiful enough; but the matter to which he alludes has some truth in it, and I think I can tell you what it all means. Herr von Strummin has probably, for some reason or another, been kept in the dark as to the position of the question of the concession, so as to shut him out of a share of the first rich booty, possibly has been persuaded that the concession will not be granted. Disordered as his affairs appear to be, perhaps in a desperate condition, he was delighted to see his daughter provided for, and shut both eyes (which, by the way, are somewhat prominent) to the 'stone-cutter's' position. Now he has been informed that the concession is a fait accompli, some additional promises--God knows what--have been made to him, and everything looks bright to him. He reminds himself that he is lord of the manor and so forth, and that it is his duty to protect his daughter from a mesalliance. You see it is again the old pitiful bargaining with men's hearts, sticking to insane prejudices at the expense of all sound morality. But console yourself, Justus, it is not you, but Herr von Strummin who has built his house upon sand. He will find it out soon enough, and he will come to you and say, 'My dear sir, I have been terribly in the wrong, and here is my daughter's hand.'"
"That would be splendid," said Justus, smiling in spite of his trouble, "only--I do not believe in it."
"Justus! Justus!" cried Reinhold; "do I hear this from you? From whom have I learnt that sandstone is hard to work, but marble much harder, and that whoso works all his life in sandstone and marble must take life easy, if he would not have the devil take possession of him. Do you really mean him to take possession of you?"
"You may well say that," answered Justus; "I do not recognise myself any longer. It is as if gipsies had stolen me in the night, and left a miserable, dismal, incapable sneak in my place. All that I have lately done has been rubbish, which I would undo were I not certain that I should make it still worse. Oh! this love! this love! I have always foreseen it, I have always said it would be fatal to me; it always has been fatal to every artist. To-day, whilst you were paying your visit, I glanced into Ferdinanda's studio. She is working at a Bacchante--in her present mood! but there is genius in it, only it is carried to madness, to absolute caricature. That is what she has got by it, that glorious creature! Uncle Ernst is all right again. He has allowed himself to be elected delegate of the city, because he has not got enough to do, and next year will have himself elected to the Chamber of Deputies and the Imperial Diet, and will stupefy himself with work, which is at any rate more wholesome than wine. But poor, poor Ferdinanda! I think, Reinhold, you must get in."
The platform had meanwhile filled with travellers, some of whom hurried into the opened carriages, or after taking possession of their places, stood chatting at the doors. Amongst the latter was a party of young men in shooting dress, whom the two friends had just passed.
"I don't think he will come," said one of them, in whom Reinhold thought he recognised Herr von Tettritz.
"Seems so," said another--Herr von Wartenberg, as Reinhold, turning his head, convinced himself.
From the door of the waiting-room hastily appeared a gentleman, also in shooting-dress, followed by a soldier-servant carrying the game-bag and gun over his shoulder. It was Ottomar.
And Ottomar, for all his haste, had at once recognised the two friends. They saw how he started, and then, as if he had remarked nothing, passed on, but suddenly turned round.
"I am not mistaken. Good-evening, gentlemen. You are coming with us?"
"I am," said Reinhold, "to Sundin."
"Ah! I heard as much from my sister, who, I think, had it from Fräulein von Strummin, and also at Wallbach's, from whom I have just come. You have got the post; I congratulate. Sorry I was not at home this morning. Parade, barracks--nonsense! You may be thankful that you have nothing more to do with such stuff. I envy you, by Jove! It's shameful that we have seen so little of each other lately. It's a little your fault too; you might have let yourself be seen again. I shall heap coals of fire on your head, and visit you at Wissow--next spring. Golm has invited me to shoot snipe--best in all Germany, so he says, and I believe him--for once. My sister will very likely come earlier--to Warnow; perhaps Fräulein von Wallbach also. My aunt Valerie, who finds this place too noisy, has invited both the young ladies. Au revoir, then, or will you--but that will not do--we are already six. We are only going as far as Schönau, a property belonging to an uncle of the Captain's. Au revoir, then. I will soon pay you a visit too, if you will allow me--it was delightful in your studio. I must also see Fräulein von Strummin; I hear she is wonderfully----"
"Take your seats, gentlemen!" said the guard.
"Werben, Werben!"
"Coming! Good-bye, good-bye!"
Ottomar shook hands with the friends in passing, and hurried to his clamouring companions.
"Does he know?" asked Justus.
"No--by-and-by, perhaps; it is, for the present, a strict secret between Elsa and me. I shall write to the General from Wissow."
"It is better so," said Justus.
Reinhold did not answer. The evening of his arrival stood out suddenly, with all its details, in his memory. How eagerly Ottomar had then sought his friendship, how heartily Uncle Ernst had received him, how Ferdinanda herself had welcomed him! And now! It was not his fault--that was at least a consolation.
"Here is an empty carriage," said Justus.
"Farewell, my dear Justus! Say goodbye again to Cilli for me, and Herr Kreisel, and tell him not to trust in the Sundin-Wissow; and hearty thanks for your friendship and affection."
"Not a word more, or--I am desperately sentimental to-day. This love--this horrible----"
Justus smothered the rest of his blasphemy in a mighty embrace, pulled his broad-brimmed hat over his eyes, and rushed away.
"Good fellow!" said Reinhold to himself, as he arranged his goods in the carriage. "I never should have credited him with it. Strange! What has restored to me courage, and the old feeling of security, has robbed him of his ready creative power and his cheery humour. And yet the impediments which lie in his way are child's-play compared to those that surround us. God grant he may soon smile again! Cilli is right--he cannot live without sunshine."
Reinhold had seated himself. The signal for starting had already been given, when the door was again thrown open, and a gentleman was hastily bundled in by the guard.
"Here, please, I have no more empty carriages. Your ticket at the next station!"
The guard shut the door.
"Good-evening, President; allow me," said Reinhold, taking the President's great travelling-bag and putting it in the net.
"Good gracious! is it you?" cried the President. "Where are you going?"
"I would not fail to present myself before you in Sundin on the 1st of December, according to your orders," answered Reinhold, rather surprised.
"Yes, yes, of course!" said the President. "Pardon me--such a stupid question! I am so worried, so perplexed--once more, forgive me!" And he stretched out his hand to Reinhold with his accustomed gracious friendliness.
"It is quite unnecessary, President," said Reinhold; "I know that you are busied about more important things and men."
"Yes, yes, more important things," said the President--"evil things! And the men--these men, these men--pray sit opposite to me! One can talk so much better, and I am very glad to see an honest face again."
The President wrapped his rug round his knees. His fine, clever face looked pale and worn, and the touch of quiet irony and sarcastic humour which Reinhold had noticed at their first meeting had altogether failed him.
"I have been four days in Berlin," said the President, "and should certainly have begged you to come and see me, only, to confess the truth, I have been skulking about like a criminal with the police after him, so as not to be seen by any respectable men, if I could avoid it. Perhaps you know what took me to Berlin?"
"The papers, President----"
"Yes, yes, the papers. Unfortunately there is no longer any decent obscurity. Everything will come out, and if it were only confined to the truth!--but unfortunately it is generally neither the whole truth, nor even the half. What falsehoods have not people--that is to say, the gentlemen concerned in the matter--told about me! I was concerning myself actively in the existence of the railroad, working for it, dinning into the Minister's ears that the concession must be granted--I, who have fought against it from the first, and warned the Minister most strenuously against it! Then, as that would not do, they attacked me from the other side. I had been an opponent, a determined opponent--I had been convinced at last--Saul had become Paul. That sounded more probable, but not probable enough. I was not convinced--I was simply bought. That was believed at once--it spoke for itself. A President, with his few thousand thalers salary, notoriously devoid of private fortune, the father of six children--how could he withstand such inducements! It is a shame and disgrace that it was believed, as it will be believed to-morrow, that there was not enough offered! The crafty fellow knows only too well what he is worth; he will quietly bide his time, watch for his opportunity, and feather his nest well!' That is the worst, you see. Confidence, is shaken in the honour and integrity of our officials. It is the beginning of the end for me--the threatening cloud which foreshadows a future which I pray God I may never live to see!"
The President tugged here and there at his rug which he was generally so careful to keep smooth, unfastened his kid gloves which he had just buttoned, and drew them off his trembling hands. Reinhold himself was moved by the intense emotion of a man usually so cautious and so shrouded in diplomatic mists.
"It would be presumption in me," he said, "if I ventured to contradict a man of your great experience and judgment. Nevertheless I cannot refrain from suggesting that, just because the case concerns you so nearly, you may perhaps see it in too black a light."
"May be, may be!" said the President, "but this is no isolated case; there are others which unfortunately speak on my side, where high officials have succumbed to the temptation put before them. And then----"
He was silent for a few minutes, and then continued even more excitedly:
"If the higher powers only had tact, I say--only tact not to strengthen this most dangerous, and I confess exaggerated, tendency of the public mind to suspicion and distrust. But you will feel it painfully--the slightest acquaintance was sufficient to make one honour and respect the man--General von Werben----"
"I know, President," said Reinhold, as the President again became silent; "and my acquaintance with that excellent man has not been a transient one."
"Well then, what do you say to this?" cried the President. "Differences have existed between him and the Minister, I know; differences which must have been settled by a superior authority. It is difficult, it is almost impossible to work with any one who is determined not to act in concert. One must give way, and of course the inferior; but just at this time that should have been avoided. It will throw fresh oil into the fire, as if it did not burn fiercely enough already, as if matters had not already been made easy enough for these promoters! They will laugh in their sleeves: 'Do you see that? do you hear that? We had just intended, modest as we are, to take our shares into the market to-morrow at 75; but now we ask 80--85! Paper that can send a General von Werben flying, cannot be difficult to float!'
"You will see, my dear sir, they will trumpet it in all the papers, and--even if it is all false--if the General's position were untenable, the mob goes by outward appearance, judges by outward appearance, and--outward appearance is against us."
The rug slipped from his knees, but he never seemed to observe it.
"And if that were all! But we, of whom our illustrious sovereign has so rightly said that we are appointed by fate to eat our bread in the sweat of our brow, we begin to desire to live for show, for glittering useless show. Take this railway business; it is all show whichever way you look at it--good high roads, decent communal roads are all that we need for the moderate requirements of our island, which the prospectus boastfully calls the 'granary of Germany.' Show is the security upon the ground of which alone the concession can be obtained; I know that they could not raise even the few hundred thousand thalers. The subscriptions according to rule from 'good and substantial houses,' are show--shameful show; the only real subscription is from Prince Prora, through whose territory nearly a third of the railway passes; the other ten million are from Count Golm, and Co.--and not one thaler is paid up, or ever will be paid. So it goes on, so it must go on. You can't gather figs from thistles, and as to what is to be expected from that magnificent harbour which is to crown the whole, well, you know all about that as well as or better than I do."
The President stood up and went to the window, through which the lights of the town were already disappearing. Then he came back to his place and said as he leant over towards Reinhold, in an almost mysterious voice:
"Do you remember a conversation on the evening when I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance at the Count's table at Golmberg? I have so often thought of it lately. Your storm--I hope to God it may not come--but if it comes as you have prophesied, I should take it for a parable of what is hanging over us. Yes! for a sign from heaven! to awaken us, to startle us out of our criminal intoxication, out of our empty, visionary life, to withdraw the glittering show from our eyes, to show us, as Fichte says, 'that which is.' Ah! where is the hand which would now write us 'Speeches to the German nation?' I would bless that hand. Instead of it our philosophers prate about the intellect, which is meant for nothing but to lead the will into absurdities, and to crush and destroy all joy and cheerfulness which is yet the mother of all virtues; and our poets are disciples of the French school, and learn how to be frivolous and disreputable to the heart's core without offending external proprieties, or wander, poor creatures, with their beggar's staves in the ruins of the age, and try to make us believe that the clouds of dust that they raise are creatures of flesh and blood; and our composers show forth the blasé impudence, the shameless sensuality of the age in music which fairly bewilders the moral and æsthetic feelings of the great and small world, or heats the fevered blood to madness.
"It cannot remain so. It is impossible; a nation cannot continue to dance before the golden calf and sacrifice to Moloch. Either it will be overwhelmed in the flood of its sins, or it must cling to the saving Ararat of honest, manly, and middle-class virtue. God grant that our people may have strength for the latter. There are times when I despair of it."
The President leant back and closed his eyes. Did he wish to break off the conversation? Was he too much exhausted to pursue it further? At any rate, Reinhold did not venture to express the thoughts with which his heart was full. Each sat silent in his corner. The last lights of the town had long disappeared. Over the broad, dark plain, through which the train rushed, lay a light covering of snow, from which the woods rose up gloomily. Above, in the darkening sky, sparkled and shone, in countless numbers, the eternal stars.
Reinhold's eyes were gazing upwards. How often had he so gazed from the deck of his ship on stormy winter nights with an anxious, fearful heart! And his heart had again beat high with courage, if only one of the loved and trusted lights illuminated his lonely path. And now, when they all beamed upon him, those silver stars--and greater, mightier than all, the star of his love--now, should he lose courage? Never! The storm might come--it would find him ready; it would find him at his post.
BOOK V.
CHAPTER I.
Dinner had been over an hour at Castle Warnow. Frau von Wallbach, Elsa, and Count Golm, who had been invited to dinner, were sitting in the drawing-room round the hearth, on which but a small fire was burning. Although only just the end of February, the day had been wonderfully sultry. François even had to open the window, and it was not to be wondered at that the Baroness should have been seized with one of her bad headaches at dinner, and directly they got up from the table should have begged leave to withdraw. Carla had gone to put on her habit, not wishing to lose the opportunity of riding once more, escorted by several gentlemen. Herr von Strummin, who had paid a neighbourly morning visit and remained to the early country dinner, now wished, or was obliged, to return home, and had gone to see after the horses. Count Golm, who had really intended to spend the evening at Warnow, now thought it would be better, in consideration of the Baroness's indisposition, to return to Golm after the ride without again dismounting, and at once took leave of the ladies.
He had hoped that Elsa, to whom he had addressed himself, would have protested, at least with some polite phrase, which he might have accepted as genuine.
But Elsa was silent, and Frau von Wallbach with difficulty concealed a fit of yawning, as she leaned back in her arm-chair, and with her hand before her mouth, seemed to be making a minute inspection of the ceiling.
The Count bit his lip.
"I am afraid we have not been very lively company for the ladies," he said. "Strummin was really unbearable. I believe he drank three bottles to his own share, and spoke about as many words. I think such silence must be catching, or is it in the air? It is really just like May, when the first thunderstorms come. What a pity that Captain Schmidt did not accept your aunt's invitation, Fräulein Elsa! he might, perhaps, have told us the meaning of this wonderfully sultry state of the atmosphere. I wonder why he did not come?"
The Count seldom missed an opportunity of reflecting upon Reinhold in what he imagined to be a peculiarly sarcastic and witty manner. It could only be the consequence of the blind hatred with which, from the first he had honoured him.
Reinhold had once visited Warnow during the last week, and that for an hour only. They had certainly never given any one the slightest indication by which a clue could be found to the nature of their mutual relations, yet the Count's last remark sent the blood up into Elsa's cheek.
"Captain Schmidt only expressed his regret that he had no time to avail himself of our invitation to-day," she said.
"I should like to know what a man like that has to do," returned the Count. "He does not, so far as I know, manage the boat himself, but looks on comfortably from the shore. A mere sinecure, it seems to me."
"Perhaps you do not clearly understand the duties and cares of a man in such a position, Count Golm?"
"Very likely. For instance, I cannot understand why it is his duty, or why he gives himself the trouble to interfere in the strangest and most perverse way with my harbour works. Amongst other things, I know it for a fact that we owe to his suggestion, or rather his denunciation----"
"Forgive me for interrupting you," said Elsa; "the gentleman of whom you are speaking possesses the regard, I may say the affection, of my father; he is my--friend, received by my aunt at Warnow. I do not think it right to allow him to be cried down here--in his absence."
"But," cried the Count, "you completely misunderstand me. I had not the slightest intention of maligning that gentleman. I call it a denunciation, because----"
"Perhaps you will be so kind as to take some opportunity of mentioning the matter before him; I am certain that he will give you a satisfactory answer. Dear Louisa, will you excuse my going to see after my aunt? she may want me."
Elsa bent over Frau von Wallbach's chair, then, drawing herself up, made the Count a civil but cold bow, and left the drawing-room.
"This is too much!" said the Count, looking after her; "what do you think of that, Frau von Wallbach? To make such a fuss about this man, who cavils at everything. Just imagine that he may manage to bring matters to such a pass, that we shall not dare to demolish the dunes on the left of Ahlbeck, in spite of the position being absolutely necessary to us as a depôt for our materials! He asserts that the dunes are a protection for the whole coast. Just fancy! Sixty feet of beach at the narrowest part, and then to talk of protecting the coast! Absurd! And our dear President of course----"
"My dear Count," said Frau von Wallbach, turning her head towards the Count, "what does it all matter to me?"
"Pardon me, my dear lady," said the Count; "I thought----"
"And I am already bored to death," exclaimed Frau von Wallbach; "good gracious, how bored I am! This week--oh! this week! If I could only write to Wallbach to come and fetch me back!"
"We should miss you dreadfully," said the Count.
"I think you would get on very well without me," said Frau von Wallbach; "and besides, my dear Count, this cannot go on any longer. Either you must make up your minds, or you must give it up. Do you think Elsa is blind?"
"Bah!" said the Count, "Fräulein Elsa has got her interesting Superintendent of Pilots!"
"Yes," said Frau von Wallbach; "you are always talking about that; but I have lately watched them both closely, and I tell you it is nonsense."
"I have it on the best authority."
"From Signor Giraldi, of course; he knows everything! And yet it was Signor Giraldi who originally interested himself in your engagement to Elsa. I cannot understand it. It is such a bore to be groping in the dark like this."
The Count, for whom there were also many obscure points in this delicate affair, thought it high time to break off the conversation.
"I think the horses must have been brought round," he said, rising and kissing Frau von Wallbach's hand; "excuse me for to-day; to-morrow, if you will permit it, I will call again. I want to show Fräulein Carla the harbour works. She interests herself very much about them. I hope that you will be of the party. Au revoir!"
He hurried away without waiting for the lady's answer.
As he passed hastily through the anteroom, from which doors opened on all sides, Carla came towards him, holding her whip in one hand and in the other her hat and gloves.
"Your sister-in-law is still in the drawing-room," he said out loud.
"Thank you," replied Carla equally distinctly.
He made her a sign with hand and eye.
"Have you examined this charming old painting yet?"
"Which one!"
"This one, here! look!"
They had moved so far on one side that they could not well be seen from the drawing-room, of which the portières were open.
"One only," whispered the Count.
"You are mad!"
"The first--and last to-day."
She put up her lips to him.
"Angel!"
"Really charming!" said Carla out loud; and then in a whisper, "For heaven's sake, go away!"
She vanished into the drawing-room, and the Count rushed into the corridor. Neither had remarked, their whole attention being directed to the drawing-room, that at the moment when their lips met the portière of a second door, which led to the inner apartments, was lifted, and as quickly dropped again.
"Is Elsa gone?" asked Carla. "I wanted to say good-bye to her."
Frau von Wallbach turned her head so far as to be able to see Carla if necessary. "I have spoken to him."
"What did you say?" asked Carla eagerly.
"That it is too boring here, and I cannot stand it any longer."
"That was all?"
"It was enough for me. You must manage for yourself."
"But Edward himself thinks your presence necessary here."
"Your brother cannot expect that I should bore myself to death for you."
Carla shrugged her shoulders. "You will be in a better temper to-morrow. Good-bye!"
"I go to-morrow, you may depend upon that."
To hear a decided resolution from her sister-in-law was something so extraordinary, that Carla, who was already at the door, turned round again. "But, Louisa----"
"Well, I do not see it at all," said Frau von Wallbach. "Elsa is always amiable to me, much more so than you are. I was really sorry for the Baroness to-day, to see the trouble she took without receiving the slightest thanks from you, and I am sorry for poor Ottomar. Whatever he may be, he does not show me that he thinks me a fool, as you do, and I do not think it seemly that behind his aunt's back in her own house----"
"Warnow has long belonged to the Count," said Carla.
"It is all the same. We are staying here with the Baroness, and not with the Count. If you wish to stay with the Count, marry him--for all I care. But I think you would be sorry if you gave up Ottomar, and I do not see how it would be possible now. However, do as you please--I go!"
The unheard-of obstinacy of her sister-in-law began to make Carla really uneasy. She laid her things down on a chair, knelt by Louisa's side, and as she held and stroked her hand, said in a soft coaxing voice, "My sweet pet will never hurt me so. She will not leave poor Carla in her need. Ottomar is too bad. I know now, from Giraldi, why he proposed to me, because he was refused by Ferdinanda Schmidt, and he is still madly in love with her, and is making use of his former mistress to win her back. And Giraldi says that he has so many debts that his whole inheritance would not pay them, even if Elsa--and Giraldi knows everything, everything, I tell you--married that man; and you yourself would hardly wish to have the wife of a Superintendent of Pilots for a sister-in-law--would you, my sweet pet!"
"That is all nonsense," said Frau von Wallbach, with a feeble and fruitless attempt to draw her hand away from Carla's. "You never had scruples about Ottomar's mistresses formerly. I am certain that the Count also has his mistresses--all men have; and the same with regard to his debts. The Count has certainly as many--and perhaps more."
"But not such bad ones," said Carla hastily. "He has terrible debts, Giraldi says."
"The fact is," said Frau von Wallbach, "you are over head and ears in love with the Count."
"And if I say yes, will my sweetest Louisa remain here?" whispered Carla, suddenly throwing her arms round her sister-in-law and laying her head on her shoulder.
"You will see, no good will come of it."
François looked into the room. "I beg pardon, but the Count has sent to ask if mademoiselle----"
"I am coming," cried Carla, stretching out her hand for her hat. "You will, will you not, sweet pet?--please fasten the elastic of my hat behind--you will remain! Thanks! Adieu, sweet pet!"
She once more embraced her sister-in-law, took her gloves from the chair, and hastened away, her skirt trailing far behind her.
"If it were only not such a bore!" said Frau von Wallbach, sinking back in her chair.
When the Count came down, the horses had just been brought round. Herr von Strummin was sitting on a bench which encircled the trunk of a wide-spreading lime-tree, and playing with the point of his riding-whip in the fine gravel.
"You have come at last?" he said, looking up angrily.
"Fräulein von Wallbach wishes to say good-bye again to the ladies," said the Count, seating himself by the side of his friend, "and it is rather a long business. We shall still have some little time to wait."
"So much the better," said Herr von Strummin; "I have not for a long time had the pleasure of speaking to you for a minute alone. So, without any beating about the bush--I am very sorry, but I must have back my five thousand thalers."
"I am very sorry too, my dear Strummin," replied the Count, laughing, "because I cannot repay them."
"Cannot repay me!" exclaimed Herr von Strummin, as the colour grew still deeper in his red face. "But you told me that I could count upon it at any time."
"Because I naturally supposed that you would not choose just the most unsuitable time. You know that I must pay off that mortgage to-morrow."
"Why did you give notice to pay it off? It was most imprudent. I told you so from the first."
"I wanted to save the interest; and if you can get back two million for one--in the meantime--of course--as things stand at present----"
"You may be thankful that the directors have postponed the date of payment of the second instalment, which was due to-morrow."
"Certainly," said the Count; "it is very kind of the gentlemen. I should have been in a terrible position; but it has not made my situation even now particularly pleasant. That confounded mortgage! My creditor is most disagreeably pressing; he says he must have the money back."
"Perhaps it may now transpire who this creditor really is whom you make such a mystery about?"
"I have given my word of honour----"
"Then say nothing. It is all the same to me, moreover; and if you can pay half a million to-morrow to the gentleman in question, you can also raise my five thousand!"
"I do not know yet whether I shall be able to pay!" cried the Count impatiently--"Lübbener--Haselow and Co.--I could not stand Lübbener any longer--unlimited orders to sell; but if to-morrow our shares go down still further--they stood the day before yesterday at forty-five----"
"And yesterday at twenty-five!"
"Impossible!" cried the Count.
"Good heavens, man! have you never troubled yourself to inquire, then?"
"I--I--my letters lately--the presence of the ladies here--there are so many claims upon me----"
"So it seems," replied Herr von Strummin, taking a letter out of his pocket. "I got my banker to write to me yesterday, as I saw what was impending, and have carried his letter about with me since this morning. I have already been over to Golm, too, to tell you of it." He unfolded the letter: "Sundin-Wissows were offered freely to-day at thirty-five; no buyers. They then rose to forty-five on large purchases. When it became known, however, that Lübbener himself was the buyer, merely to keep up the price, they fell rapidly, and closed at twenty-five! Please telegraph distinct orders whether to sell at any price. A further fall is inevitable.' There you have the whole affair."
"It is certainly bad," murmured the Count.
"And whom have we to thank for all this?" cried Herr von Strummin. "You--you only! You first led us into the affair, and promised all sorts of things, and then prudently left us in the dark until you had pocketed your profits as promoter. Then we fell further into the trap, and had to pay up heavily; and finally you throw half a million into the market, and bring down the value of our own shares. And I, like a fool, gave you the last penny I had; and instead of looking after your own affairs, as it was your bounden duty to do, you hang about here with the women, and----"
"I think that last clause has nothing to do with the matter." said the Count, getting up.
"Nothing to do with it!" cried the other, also springing to his feet. "Very well! very well! ruin yourself if you please, but at least leave other people out of the game. And I tell you, that if by twelve o'clock the day after to-morrow my five thousand thalers, which I lent you on your word of honour, are not lying on my table at Strummin to the uttermost farthing----"
"For heaven's sake do not speak so loud," said the Count; "you shall have your money, although I am convinced that the great trousseau is only a pretext----"
"A pretext? a pretext?" cried Herr von Strummin, raising his rough voice if possible still louder; "pretext indeed! when Meta is herself gone this morning to Berlin, to----"
"This morning?" said the Count, with a jeering laugh; "excuse my remarking, mon cher, that was very imprudent of you! Our shares may rise again, and--the stone-cutter will not run away."
Herr von Strummin's light blue eyes almost started out of his burning face. He became suddenly hoarse with passion.
"What, what, what!" he snarled. "A stone-cutter? An artist! and a great artist, who every year makes his six to ten thousand--a stone-cutter?"
"I only say it because you always call him so yourself."
"I can call my son-in-law anything I choose, but if any one else permits himself to do so, he shall eat his words as sure as I----"
"You gentlemen must certainly have grown very impatient," said Carla, who came out of the door just at this moment.
"Not at all," said the Count, turning on his heel and hastening towards her.
"Yes, very impatient!" cried Herr von Strummin, who had suddenly recovered his voice. "I was only waiting to take my leave; I must be at Strummin in half an hour. I hope the conversation will get on better without me; I have the honour----"
He snatched the reins of his great strong-boned black horse out of the groom's hand, swung himself into the saddle, and sticking his spurs into the animal's sides, galloped out of the courtyard.
"Good gracious!" whispered Carla, "what does it mean?"
"A little row," said the Count, hiding the excitement into which the altercation had thrown him as well as he could under a forced smile; "nothing uncommon between old friends."
"And the cause?"
"A last attempt, it seemed to me, to get a Count for a son-in-law, before accepting a sculptor."
The Count had assisted Carla into her saddle, put the riding-whip into her hand, and was now arranging her skirt.
Carla bent towards him: "You bad man, I will give you a lecture on the way."
"Pity it cannot be without a witness," whispered the Count, with a look towards the groom, who was holding the reins of the other two horses.
"You are really too bad!"
"At your service," said the Count out loud, and he stepped back and signed to the groom. He swung himself on to his horse, and started off with Carla, followed by the groom at a considerable distance. He had had some trouble in getting into his saddle.