Debit and Credit Part 68

"Yes," replied Anton, "my strong-box is an old dressing-case, and, I a.s.sure you, it could hold more than it does. I often feel an unconquerable 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 linen bags! As to bank-notes and a portfolio of stocks, I dare not even think of them."

Fink whistled a march. "Poor lad," said he. "Yet there is a large estate and a regular farm-establishment, which must either bring in or take out. What do you live upon, then?"

"That is one of the mysteries of the ladies, which I hardly dare to disclose. Our horses munch diamonds."

Fink shrugged his shoulders. "But is it possible that Rothsattel can have come to this?"

Anton then sketched, with some reserve, the baron's circ.u.mstances, speaking enthusiastically, at the same time, of the n.o.ble resignation of the baroness, and the healthy energy of Lenore.

"I see," said Fink, "that things are still worse than I supposed. How is it possible that you can carry on such a farm? The birds of the air are rich compared to you."

"As things are," continued Anton, "we may contrive to struggle on till quieter times--till the judicial sale of the family estate. The creditors will not press now, and lawyers are almost without work. The baron can not manage this estate without a large capital, but neither can he give it up at present without forfeiting the little that its sale may hereafter bring; and, besides, the family have no other roof over their heads. All my endeavors, during the last week, to persuade them to leave this province, have been in vain. They are desperately resolved to await their fate here. The baron's pride objects to a return to his former neighborhood, and the ladies will not leave him."

"Then at least send them to the neighboring town, and do not expose them to the a.s.sault of every drunken band of boors."

"I have done what I could; I am powerless in this respect," replied Anton, gloomily.

"Then, my son, allow me to tell you that your warlike apparatus is not very encouraging. With the dozen or two that you can collect, you will hardly keep off an invasion of rascals. You can not even defend the premises 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, in spite of it, you have sown your fields, and the little farm works on. I have heard from Karl how it looked when you came, and what improvements you have made; you have managed capitally. No American, no man of any other country, would have done the same; in a desperate case, commend me to the German. But the ladies and your infant establishment must be better protected. Hire twenty able-bodied men; they will guard the house."

"You forget that we are as little able to feed twenty idle mouths as is the owl on the tower."

"Let them work!" cried Fink; "you have here land enough to employ a hundred hands. Have you no swamps to drain, or ditches to dig? There is a row of wretched puddles yonder."

"That is work for another season," replied Anton, "the ground is too wet now."

"Have a hundred acres of forest sown or planted. Does the brook hold out in 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 get good workmen with military abilities to come just now into our ill-renowned district."

"To the devil with your objections!" cried Fink; "send Karl into a German district, and he will hire you plenty of people."

"You have already heard that we have no money. The baron is not in a position to carry on greater improvements, with increased expenditure."

"Let me do it, then," replied Fink; "you can repay me when you are able."

"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 am in 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 of his circ.u.mstances vary with his moods. But the ladies have no such illusions. Your presence would be an hourly humiliation to them, if they were conscious of owing additional comforts to your means."

"And yet they have accepted the greater sacrifice that you have made for them," said Fink, gravely.

"Perhaps they consider that my humble services entail on me no sacrifice," replied Anton, blushing. "They are accustomed to me as the baron's agent. But you are their guest, and their self-respect will endeavor to conceal from you, as much as possible, the difficulties of their position. To make your apartment habitable, they have plundered their own; the very sofa on which you lie is from the young lady's bed-room."

Fink looked eagerly at the sofa, and settled himself on it again. "As it does not suit me," said he, "to travel off immediately, you will have the goodness to point out to me some way of living here with propriety.

Tell me, offhand, something about the mortgages, and the prospects of the estate; a.s.sume for the moment that I am to be the unfortunate purchaser of this Paradise."

Anton made the statement required.

"That, at all events, is not so desperate," said Fink. "Now hear my proposal; you can not go on as at present; this restricted establishment is too undesirable for all parties, most of all for you. The property may be fearfully devastated, but still it seems to me possible to make something of it. Whether you are the people to do so or not, I will not decide; though if you, Anton, are willing to devote some years of your life to it, and to sacrifice yourself still further to the interests of others, it is not impossible that, in more tranquil times, you may succeed in procuring the necessary capital. Meantime I will advance--say fifteen thousand dollars, and the baron will give me a mortgage for that sum. This loan will not much diminish your income, and it will make it easier 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 generous proposal. Look you, Fritz: a year ago, before I knew the man as well as I do now, I was intensely anxious to lead our princ.i.p.al to take an interest 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 you and to the ladies to accept your proposal."

"Shall the sofa out of Lenore's bed-room be defiled by the tobacco-ashes of your guests? I do it now; later it will be done by the Polish scythe-bearers."

"We must go through with it," replied Anton, mournfully.

"Headstrong boy!" cried Fink; "you shall not get rid of me thus. And now off with you, stiff-necked Tony!"

After this conversation, Fink did not allude further to his projected loan, but he had several confidential conversations in the course of the following 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 old acquaintance of mine. I should like to ride over your property. Do not be 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. "This Wohlfart has told his friend that there is a bargain to be made in this quarter. The speculation is beginning; I must be cautious."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

It was a sunny morning in April--one of those genial growing days that expand the leaf-bud on the trees, and quicken the throbs of the human heart. Lenore went with hat and parasol out into the farm-yard, and walked through the cow-houses. The horned creatures looked full at her with their large eyes, and raised their broad damp noses, some of them lowing in expectation of receiving something good at her hands.

"Is Mr. Wohlfart here?" asked Lenore of the bailiff, who was hurrying by to 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 in the house, and is always happiest on horseback. He should have been a hussar."

When Lenore heard in which direction Herr von Fink had ridden, she walked slowly in a different one to avoid meeting him, and crossed the brook and the fields to the wood. She gazed at the blue sky and reviving earth. The winter wheat and the green gra.s.s looked so cheerful that her heart laughed within her. The spring had breathed on the willows along the brook; the yellow branches were full of sap, and the first leaves bursting out. Even the sand did not annoy her to-day. She stepped rapidly through the expanse of it that girdled the forest, and hurried on through the firs to the cottage. The whole wood was alive with hum and cry. Wherever a group of other trees rose amid the firs, the loud chirp of the chaffinch was heard, or the eager twitter of some little newly-wedded birds, disputing about the position of their nest. The beetle in his black cuira.s.s droned around the buds of the chestnut; at times a wild bee, newly wakened from its winter sleep, came humming by; even brown b.u.t.terflies fluttered over the bushes, and, wherever the ground sunk into hollows, these were gay with the white and yellow stars of the anemone and the primrose. Lenore took off her straw hat, and let the mild breeze play about her temples, while she drew in long draughts of forest fragrance. She often stopped and listened to the sounds around her--contemplated the tender leaves of the trees, stroked the white bark of the birch, stood by the rippling fountain before the forester's house, and caressed the little firs in the hedge, which stood as close and regular as the bristles in a brush. She thought she had never seen the forest so cheerful before. The dogs barked furiously; she heard the fox rattle his chain, and looked up at the bull-finch, who jumped to and fro in his cage, and tried to bark like his superiors.

"Hush, Hector! hush Bergmann!" cried Lenore, knocking at the door. The loud barking changed into a friendly welcome. As she opened the door, Bergmann, the otter-hound, came straddling toward her, wagging his tail immoderately, and Hector made a succession of audacious leaps, while even 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 of the hedge; he that she had meant to avoid was actually here. For a moment she remained irresolute, and was going to turn away, when the forester came out. Now, then, retreat was impossible, and she followed him in. Fink stood in the middle of the room, in the full light of the rays which fell through the small panes. He advanced politely. "I came to make acquaintance," said he, pointing to the forester; "and here I am admiring your stout-hearted va.s.sal and his comfortable home." The forester placed a chair; Lenore could but take it. Fink leaned against the brown wall, and looked at her with undisguised admiration. "You are a wonderful contrast to this old boy and to the whole room," said he, glancing round. "Pray make no sign with your parasol; all these stuffed creatures only wait your command to come to life again, and lay themselves at your feet. Look at the heron yonder, raising its head already."

"It is only the effect of the sunshine," said the forester, comfortingly.

Lenore laughed. "We know what that means," cried Fink; "you are in the plot; you are the gnome of this queen. If there be no magic here, let me sleep out the rest of my days. One wave of that wand, and the beams of this great bird-cage will open, and you fly with your whole suite out into the sunshine. Doubtless your palace is on the summit of the fir-trees without; there are the pleasant halls in which your throne stands, mighty mistress of this place, fair-haired G.o.ddess of Spring!"