Book + 

II + 

I + 

“Tickets, please! This is the last station, gentlemen.” + 

Reinhold handed his ticket to the guard, and cast a glance upon his sleeping fellow-traveller. He, however, did not stir. + 

“Ticket, sir, please!” said the guard, in a louder voice. + 

The sleeper roused himself. “Ah, yes!” He felt in the side pocket of his grey shooting-coat, gave up the required ticket, leaned back in his corner again, and seemed to be already asleep when the train started. + 

When first he got into the train, some two or three stations back, two other men in shooting-dress having accompanied him to the carriage, and taken a somewhat noisy farewell, it had struck Reinhold that this was not the first time that he had seen the slight active figure, and heard the clear, imperious voice. + 

That the traveller was a military man, was evident from his conversation with his friends, but in vain did he ransack his recollections of the campaign to get on the right tack; it was all too confused, incidents crowded too quickly on each other, there was nothing to link these memories together. But as the sleeper changed his position, and the light from the lamp fell more clearly upon him, Reinhold looked with increasing interest upon the face which seemed so strangely familiar. The well-formed forehead, shaded by short, curly, brown hair, the fine straight nose, the delicate lips, with the slight dark moustache, the finely chiselled though rather long chin⁠—now he knew where and when that face, more beautiful, it is true, and more fascinating, had last been seen by him! + 

He of the grey shooting-coat, who had opened his eyes and was carelessly glancing at his companion, turned his head aside, and then immediately turning back, said: + 

“I beg your pardon, but it strikes me that we must have met before.” + 

“So I think,” replied Reinhold courteously; “but my memory has played me false.” + 

“In the campaign, perhaps?” + 

“That was my first thought, too.” + 

“Perhaps my name may be some help. Ottomar von Werben, Lieutenant in the ⸻ Regiment, No. 19.” + 

A joyful thought struck Reinhold. + 

“My name is Lieutenant Reinhold Schmidt, of the Reserve. I had the pleasure, not long ago, of travelling in the steamer from Stettin to Sundin, with a general officer of your name, and his daughter⁠—” + 

“My father and sister,” said Ottomar. “Strange coincidence that⁠—very!” + 

He sank back in his corner, from which he had raised himself, with a civil bow. + 

“The Lieutenant of Reserve affords but slight interest to the Guardsman,” thought Reinhold to himself. + 

Under other circumstances he certainly would not have continued the conversation which the other had cut so short; but now he could not resist making an exception. + 

“I hope that the General and his daughter are well?” he began afresh. + 

“Perfectly,” said Ottomar; “at least, I believe so. I have hardly spoken to them since they came home the day before yesterday. I have been on leave since yesterday morning shooting. You shoot?” + 

“I can hardly call myself a sportsman, though I have had opportunities of joining in very unusual sport.” + 

“Unusual?” + 

“I mean unusual for Europeans. A sailor⁠—” + 

“Are you a sailor?” + 

“At your service. What I was going to say was that a sailor comes across strange things sometimes.” + 

“You interest me; tell me something about it. Shooting is a perfect passion with me.” + 

Ottomar had seated himself nearer to Reinhold, and looked at him with his inquiring brown eyes. Those eyes found it easy work to charm an answer out of Reinhold. + 

So he related his adventures in a buffalo hunt in the Arkansas prairies, and in a tapir hunt in Ceylon, to which Ottomar listened attentively, only now and then correcting some unsportsmanlike expression, or begging for a clearer explanation on some point which either he did not quite understand, or which seemed to be of importance. + 

“That is capital!” he exclaimed at last. “He must be a good shot that⁠—what’s his name?⁠—the Englishman, Mr. Smirkson; and you can’t shoot badly either, but then you are a soldier. By the way, do you still not remember where we came across each other? It must have been in Orleans, as, so far as I can remember, that is the only time that my regiment came in contact with yours.” + 

“And it was in Orleans!” cried Reinhold⁠—“of course it was in Orleans, when our two regiments combined to furnish a guard; and a jolly guard it was, too, thanks to your being such good company and having such a cheery temper. How could I have failed to remember it, and even your name, in the last few days? Now it is all coming back to me. Several of your brother officers came in afterwards⁠—a Herr von Walbach.” + 

“Walbach⁠—quite right; he fell afterwards before Paris, poor fellow. I am very intimate with his family. Perhaps he has got the best of it; it is horridly dull work since the campaign was over!” + 

“One has to get accustomed to everyday life again certainly,” said Reinhold; “but you soldiers remain in the same profession, and I do not think that Count Moltke will let you rest long on your laurels.” + 

“Heaven knows! It is hateful work; the campaign was child’s play compared to it!” + 

“But look you, it is a good deal harder upon us civilians, both in time of war⁠—which is certainly not our trade, so that we can hardly meet the claims which are made upon us and which we make upon ourselves⁠—and after the war too, when we are expected to return to our trade as if nothing had happened, and then generally find, to our cost, how hardly men learn, how easily they forget. Luckily, my profession is something like war⁠—at least, in the moral qualities which it requires of a man⁠—and that may be the reason why I, for my part, cannot join in the complaints which I have heard from so many upon this point.” + 

“Just so⁠—exactly,” said Ottomar; “no doubt. Shall you stop long in Berlin?” + 

He was looking out of window, from which many lights were now visible. + 

“A few weeks⁠—perhaps months; it depends upon circumstances⁠—matters which I cannot foresee.” + 

“I beg your pardon⁠—I do not want to be impertinent⁠—what did you say your name was?” + 

He rubbed the window with his handkerchief where his breath had dimmed it. Reinhold could not help smiling at the careless manner of keeping up the conversation. “I can bear more from you than from most men,” he thought to himself, and repeated his name. + 

The face pressed against the window turned sharply towards him with an expression of surprise and curiosity, for which Reinhold could not account. + 

“I beg your pardon if I ask a very stupid question⁠—have you relations in Berlin?” + 

“Yes. I have not seen them for years; to visit them was the original object of my journey.” + 

“I⁠—I know several people of your name. General⁠—” + 

“We Schmidts are middle class, very middle class. My uncle, I believe, has very considerable marble-works.” + 

“In the Canal Strasse?” + 

“Yes. Do you know him?” + 

“Only by sight; a very stately old gentleman. We live in the Springbrunnen Strasse, back to back, or rather shoulder to shoulder. The courtyard of your uncle’s place of business runs far into the Park Strasse at the back, and the little garden belonging to our house (the grounds were originally part of the same property) on one side joins the large garden belonging to your uncle. We see each other over hedges and walls without being acquainted⁠—I mean formally, for, as I said, I know your uncle by sight very well, and your cousin.” + 

He let down the window; the train ran into the station. + 

“Are you expected?” + 

“Yes; it would otherwise be a doubtful experiment when one has not met for ten years.” + 

“Can I be of any use to you?” + 

Ottomar had risen and taken up his game bag; he had held his gun between his knees all the time. + 

“Thanks, very much.” + 

The train stopped. Reinhold took his things out of the net. He could not collect them all at once. When he turned round Herr von Werben had already jumped out, Reinhold saw him once hastily threading the crowd, and then lost sight of him as he let his eyes wander till they caught sight of a man who was standing at some little distance. The stately, broad-shouldered figure, the pose of the head held up so proudly, while turning to right and to left as he looked about him, the thick beard, almost entirely grey⁠—how could he have doubted his recognising that face at the first glance! + 

It was Uncle Ernst. + 

“Ah! my dear boy!” + 

Such a hearty tone was in the deep strong voice, and hearty and strong was the pressure from the large muscular hand which was stretched out to Reinhold. + 

“The very image of your father!” said Uncle Ernst. + 

The fine eyes which were fixed on Reinhold’s face grew dim. The hand which held his loosened its grasp, and his uncle caught him to his breast and kissed him. + 

“My dear uncle!” + 

His own eyes were wet; he had not expected to be received with so much affection by this strong stern man. It was but a passing emotion, and Uncle Ernst said, “Your things came yesterday. Where is Ferdinanda?” + 

“Is she here?” + 

“There she comes.” + 

A tall handsome girl came hurriedly up to them. “I had quite lost you, father. How do you do, my dear cousin! Welcome to Berlin!” + 

A pair of melancholy blue eyes glanced at him with what Reinhold thought a rather uncertain look. There was a sort of hasty indifference, too, in the tone of the full deep voice, while the pressure of the hand she gave him was but slight. + 

“I certainly should not have known you,” said Reinhold. + 

“Nor I you.” + 

“You were still a child then, and now⁠—” + 

“And now we will try and get out of the crowd,” said Uncle Ernst, “and you can say what you have got to say to each other on the way and at home.” + 

He had already turned and went on a few steps; Reinhold was about to offer his arm to his cousin when suddenly Herr von Werben stood before him. + 

“I must say goodbye.” + 

“I beg your pardon, Herr von Werben, but you disappeared so suddenly⁠—” + 

“I had hoped to be of some use, but I see I am too late. Will you introduce me?” + 

“Lieutenant von Werben⁠—my cousin, Fräulein Ferdinanda Schmidt.” + 

Ottomar bowed, hat in hand. Ferdinanda returned the bow, very formally it seemed to Reinhold. + 

“I have often had the pleasure of seeing Fräulein Schmidt at the window when I have been riding by. I will not presume to think that I have been honoured by any such notice in return.” + 

Ferdinanda did not answer. There was a gloomy, almost severe, expression upon her face, which made her look like her father. + 

“I will not detain you,” said Ottomar; “I hope to have the pleasure of meeting my fellow-traveller again. Goodbye, Fräulein Schmidt.” + 

He bowed again and walked quickly away. Some knots of people collected at the entrance came between them. + 

“Oh, do come!” said Ferdinanda. + 

She had taken Reinhold’s arm and suddenly pressed forward impatiently. + 

“I beg your pardon, but I could not help introducing that man to you. You did not seem to like him?” + 

“I? Why should I mind it? My father cannot bear waiting.” + 

“Who was that?” asked Uncle Ernst. + 

“A Herr von Werben⁠—a soldier. I knew him during the war, and fell in by accident with some of his people on my way here.” + 

“A son of the General’s?” + 

“Yes.” + 

Reinhold felt a touch from the hand which lay on his arm, and a low voice said in his ear, “My father hates the Werbens⁠—at least the General⁠—since ’48⁠—” + 

“Yes, by the way,” said Reinhold. + 

Ferdinanda’s shrinking from the introduction, her haste to put an end to it⁠—all was clear to him; and then he felt that sensation which is common to everyone who has suddenly seen a vista of pleasure opening out before him, and as suddenly seen it withdrawn. + 

“There is my carriage,” said Uncle Ernst. “Friedrich!” + 

A large carriage with two strong brown horses drove up. Uncle Ernst stepped in; Reinhold helped in Ferdinanda. As he was following, casually glancing on one side, he saw Ottomar von Werben standing at some distance, with a soldier servant near him holding a dog in a chain. Ottomar waved his hand. Reinhold answered the friendly greeting with equal cordiality. + 

“I do not hate the Werbens,” thought he to himself as he sank back in the carriage. + 

II + 

From the short letters which he had received from his relations during the last ten years, Reinhold had gathered that at all events his uncle’s business prospered fairly. Ferdinanda’s handsome dress, and the smart carriage in which they dashed at a tremendous pace through the long, crowded, twilight streets, led him to expect that his uncle must have become a well-to-do, if not a rich man, and the entrance to the house quite fulfilled these expectations. The broad marble steps before which the carriage stopped, at the entrance; the square marble staircase, decorated with flowers, divided from the entrance by a glass door, and which led, in three flights, to the gallery that ran along two sides of it, whence various doors opened to the living rooms; the spare room on the upper floor, to which his uncle himself led him, with the request that he would make himself comfortable and then come down to supper⁠—everything was of the best; rich, without show, showing taste even; but still it struck Reinhold as not comfortable. There was a chilliness about it, he thought, and then felt that this was but imagination, the result of that state of mind so common to anyone suddenly coming without much preparation to a new place, where he is expected to be at home at once, amongst people who, without being absolute strangers, are yet strange enough to lead one to anticipate at any moment something odd and chilling, because unexpected, unhoped-for, or even undesired. + 

“But in fact that is how it always is in this life,” said Reinhold to himself, as he put the finishing touches to his dress. “And if I did not know it before, the last few days might have taught it to me. How much that was unexpected and unhoped for have they not brought! And just now again, a good-looking young fellow, tired out with a long day’s shooting and a little too much wine, after sleeping for an hour, at the last moment discloses himself as a fellow-soldier and her brother! It is like a romance, and yet it all comes so naturally! And to think that she is living close by, that the boughs of the trees which rise above the gables of the house are perhaps in her garden, that she whom I never hoped to see again⁠—Reinhold, tell the truth!⁠—you know that you have always cherished a hope that you would see her again! You certainly did the day before yesterday, the last time that you gazed into her eyes. Those loved and lovely eyes showed you a faint glimmering of hope which must not, cannot be extinguished, even if there should be but slight sympathy in this house with your aristocratic tastes, unless it come from Aunt Rikchen.” + 

Uncle Ernst’s sister had hastened to him with open arms, and embraced him over and over again, with an exuberance of emotion which could hardly find sufficient vent in tears and exclamations, a wonderful contrast to the suppressed emotion with which her brother had received him. Even this scene Uncle Ernst speedily put an end to with a short gruff, “If you have cried enough, Rike, I might perhaps take Reinhold to his room.” Whereupon his aunt, taking advantage of a final embrace, whispered to Reinhold: “He still calls me Rike! but I shall be Aunt Rikchen to you, shall I not?” + 

“Poor old aunt! For indeed she has grown quite old, though, by the way, I suspect she really is younger than her stately brother! And passing years do not seem to have improved the terms on which they are together. He still calls her Rike! But no doubt they unite in spoiling my pretty cousin.” + 

Reinhold carefully combed out his beard, and then punished himself for his vanity and for the grievous wrong thus done to the love and truth which he had sworn to Elsa von Werben, by disarranging it again with his hand, but only moderately, “half-measures,” thought he, smiling to himself, as he ran downstairs to the dining-room, where Uncle Ernst and Ferdinanda were already awaiting him. + 

“Of course Rike cannot be in time,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“Aunt is in the kitchen,” said Ferdinanda. + 

“Of course she is somewhere, only she never is where she should be.” + 

“I beg your pardon,” said Aunt Rikchen, who just at that moment entered, and hastily went towards her place, stopping at the sideboard on her way, to busy herself over something else. + 

“Are we to sit down to supper tonight?” demanded Uncle Ernst. + 

“Directly⁠—directly!” said Aunt Rikchen. + 

The large round table was only laid for four. Reinhold had hoped now to meet his cousin Philip, after whom he had not been able to make any inquiries during the first interchange of question and answer; so he asked now. + 

His question was addressed to Ferdinanda. + 

“Philip does not come often,” she replied. + 

“Say, rather, that he never comes.” + 

Reinhold gazed in astonishment at his uncle, who had said this with a displeased look, and in a harsh, stern voice; and he thought that he observed on the two women’s faces an anxious, confused expression. He had unwittingly touched upon a string which sent a sharp discord through the whole family. + 

“This is a good beginning,” thought Reinhold, as he seated himself between his uncle and aunt, with Ferdinanda opposite. + 

III + 

Luckily, however, it seemed that his fears were groundless. It is true that Aunt Rikchen could hardly open her mouth without Uncle Ernst cutting short the thread of the story. Nor did Ferdinanda join much in the conversation; but that at first was not so remarkable, and was easily explained by the fact that Uncle Ernst was most anxious to obtain from Reinhold a comprehensive account of his life and adventures during the many years in which they had not met, and listened to him with attention that would admit of no interruption. + 

During their conversation, Reinhold had many opportunities of observing the unusual extent and depth of his uncle’s knowledge. He could not mention any town, however distant, of which the situation, history, and mercantile relations were not thoroughly well known to him. He expressed to his uncle his surprise and admiration at this. + 

“Why, what would you have?” was the answer. “When a man is born a poor devil, and not, like you, lucky enough to be able to follow his own inclinations in his profession, but, as boy, youth, and man, ground down with hard work for his daily bread, till he has reached old age, and it is too late for him to set out on his wanderings, what is there left for him but, with map in hand, to read and study, that he may find out how vast and how beautiful the Almighty has made this world?” + 

When Uncle Ernst spoke thus, all harshness and severity vanished from his voice, and all gloom from his stern features; but it was only for a moment, then the dark cloud settled once more upon eyes and brow, like the grey mist upon the snowy mountaintop, which but a moment ago glistened in the sunshine. + 

Reinhold could not look enough at the fine old face, with its ever-changing expression, though there was never the least trace of weakness or littleness⁠—it was always strong and resolute; and at the noble head, which, with its thick curly hair and bushy beard, now turning grey, seemed more dignified, more commanding even than in former years. And he could not help being constantly reminded of another face, opposite which he had sat but a few evenings ago⁠—General von Werben’s⁠—also the face of a handsome, stern old man, more concentrated and self-controlled, indeed, and lacking that mighty fire which in the other burst forth in brilliant flashes, to be, as it were, forcibly restrained, and left to smoulder and perhaps flame afresh. + 

From the very first, Reinhold had thought that this inward fire, so hardly restrained, was threatening to burst forth in all its thunder and storm, and was only awaiting its opportunity; and it was soon proved to him that he had not been mistaken. + 

He had arrived in his account of his wanderings at the day when he received in Southampton the news of the Declaration of War, when, throwing up all engagements and forsaking his usual occupation, he hurried back to Germany to fulfil his duties to his threatened Fatherland. + 

“This resolution,” he cried, “was called forth by enthusiasm; it was carried out with absolute devotion, and with all my mental and physical powers, from first to last, without once, I may truly say, getting weary, once faltering, once doubting that the cause to which I had devoted myself was a holy one, however unholy and sanguinary the garb in which it might, indeed must, be decked. Then when the great goal was reached at last⁠—greater, better, more complete than I⁠—ay, than any who were with me in the battle⁠—had thought or expected, hoped or wished⁠—then I returned to my old employment, and once more launched my ship upon the seas, with the calm and joyful feeling of having fulfilled my duty; safe, wherever the uncertain career of a sailor may lead me, to find a spot of home under the German flag; and in the full assurance that you, in our beautiful Fatherland, will never lose what has been so hardly won, and that in good time the great work so nobly planned, so powerfully begun, will be finished and completed, and that when I returned home it would be to a country full of joy and peace, and sunshine in every heart and on every face. I must own, however, that during the short time that I have been at home, I have noticed many things which would seem to mock my hopes, but I cannot believe that I have seen rightly. On the contrary, I am convinced that it has so chanced that I have only come in contact with men who, upon some entirely personal ground, are dissatisfied with the state of affairs, or, at least, not perfectly satisfied with their present condition, as was the case with several men whom I met at Count Golm’s. Even in that exclusive circle I did not conceal my opinion, not even from the sceptical President of Sundin, whom I met only yesterday; rather I expressed myself openly and strongly. And now here, amongst my own family, at your table, Uncle Ernst⁠—you who have struggled and suffered so much for the happiness and honour of your country⁠—there can be no question of reserve, and I may feel secure of the warmest sympathy and most entire approval.” + 

Uncle Ernst had been listening, with his head supported on his hand, in silence; suddenly he looked up, and in a voice which boded no good, said: + 

“Forgive my interrupting you, to point out to you that I agree with the minority to whom you refer. I always think it right that when a man is speaking he should know if his audience does not agree with him.” + 

There was an unusually stern look in the commanding eyes, which Reinhold did not fail to observe. One moment he hesitated whether to be silent or to continue. But supposing he only stayed a few days in the house, this topic must constantly form a subject of conversation; and if, as unfortunately there was now no doubt, his uncle differed from him in opinions, it would be worth his while to arrive at the ideas of such a man upon the point. So he said: + 

“I am very sorry, my dear uncle, for the sake of the cause, and⁠—forgive me for saying so⁠—for your sake.” + 

“I do not understand.” + 

“I mean that the cause is so important and so weighty that it needs every pair of strong shoulders to help it on, and it is so great and so sacred that I pity those who either will not or cannot help and advise with all their hearts.” + 

“Or cannot!” exclaimed Uncle Ernst. “Just so! Have I not helped and advised as long as I could! At the barricades in the days of March, on the benches of the National Assembly and everywhere and at any time where it was possible for a man⁠—at least a man of honour⁠—to put his shoulder to the wheel as you call it. I will not dwell upon the fact of that shoulder having been wounded, more than once, of my having been cavilled at, interfered with, summoned before the authorities, and shut up in prison; that was natural, other and better men than I have fared no better, but worse⁠—much worse. Well! it was a struggle then⁠—a struggle carried on with very unequal weapons, perhaps, a desperate one, but still a struggle. What have we got now but a market and a huckster’s shop, where you may bargain, backwards and forwards, over the counter for piece after piece of our old proud flag of freedom, with the man who has them all in his pockets and who they know has them there?” + 

The cloud upon his brow grew darker, his eyes flashed, his voice took a deeper tone, a storm was at hand; Reinhold thought it advisable to draw in a little. + 

“I am no politician, uncle,” said he, “I think my talents do not lie in that direction, and I have had but little time to cultivate them. At all events I cannot contradict you when you say that unhappily everything is not as it should be in this country; but then you too must admit, as those gentlemen of whom I spoke admitted to me, that the cause viewed from another point, I mean from without, from the deck of a ship, from some distant port across the waters, takes another and far better aspect; and I think you cannot take it amiss if I say that I think more highly of this man⁠—and, in fact, have a great respect for him, feeling that it is owing to him that the name of Germany has gained the respect of the whole world.” + 

“I know the burden of that song,” said Uncle Ernst, “he has sung it often enough, crafty old bird-catcher! he is always singing it to snare the birds into his net. Who brought about the events of 1864, of 1866, of 1870? I did! I! I!” + 

“And is he not right?” + 

“No, a thousand times no!” cried Uncle Ernst. “Because a man removes the last spadeful of earth, has he an exclusive right to the treasure which other men, with untold labour and fatigue, have toiled and digged for in the depth of the earth? Schleswig Holstein would still be Danish if our young nobility had had to conquer it; Germany would still be in a thousand pieces had it been left to them to join it together; still would the raven be hovering over our ruined hovels were it not for the thousands and thousands of patriotic hearts and heads that have been filled with enthusiasm for the unity of Germany, the hearts and heads of men who have thought day and night of her greatness, but have never been gifted and honoured with pensions and titles!” + 

“Do you know, uncle,” said Reinhold, “I think that it is with German unity as with many another great matter. In imagination many started to go round the world, in reality one man did at last go, and he discovered⁠—America.” + 

“It strikes me,” said Uncle Ernst angrily, “that he who discovered it was called Columbus, and was imprisoned in lieu of thanks, and died in misery. He who came after him and reaped his glory, and after whom the new world was named, was a miserable thief unfit to tie the other’s shoes.” + 

“Now really!” exclaimed Reinhold, unable to resist a smile, “I do not believe that there is another man in the world who would speak like that of Bismarck.” + 

“Very possibly,” replied Uncle Ernst; “I believe that there is not another man in the whole world who hates him as I do.” + 

Uncle Ernst drank off the glass, which he had just filled, at a draught. Reinhold noticed that he had already made rather free with the bottle, and he thought he observed that the hand which guided the glass to his lips again trembled a little, and that the formerly steady glance of the great eyes was troubled and uneasy. + 

“That comes of arguing,” said Reinhold to himself. “What did I excite his anger for? Let every man think as he likes. I ought to have changed the subject.” + 

While they were driving through the town he had already mentioned the wreck of the steamer and the subsequent events, so that he was able without any difficulty to refer back to it and continue his account of how very kindly he was received by the President in Sundin, and what prospects had been opened before him. He pictured the man to the life, now veiling himself in diplomatic obscurity, now giving his opinion upon men and things with the greatest freedom, but through every apparent change keeping his aim in view. + 

“You do not describe the man badly at all,” said Uncle Ernst. “I knew him very well, as far back as 1847, when he sat on the extreme right in the United Parliament. Now he belongs to the opposition, I mean to the concealed opposition of the old-fashioned officials who quarrel with the all-powerful Majordomo and would be glad to see his clever rule cut short today rather than tomorrow. There are worse men than he, but I wish you had not gone to such lengths with him.” + 

“I have not yet committed myself to anything,” answered Reinhold; “nor will I do so till I have quite convinced myself that the situation which I am offered will be a sphere of action to which my talents and capacities are suited. If that is so⁠—then I must take it.” + 

“Must? Why?” + 

“Because I have vowed to serve my country by land and sea,” replied Reinhold, smiling. “My duty by land I have performed, now I must seek it by sea.” + 

“It seems to me that service has become necessary to you,” said Uncle Ernst, with a grim smile. + 

Reinhold could see that he was trying to joke, but he was determined, as far as it concerned himself and his own ideas and convictions, not to give in to his inexorable opponent in the smallest degree. + 

“Why should I deny,” said he, “that the strictness of Prussian military discipline has deeply impressed me. At home in our little republican community everything is pretty slack; no one thoroughly understands the art of commanding, and no one will allow himself to be commanded. Now in a ship there is but one who ought to command, the rest must obey. But none have learnt what they have now got to put in practice; the officers are too often found wanting; they begin with abuse and bluster, where mild firmness would be proper, and then again let off the men very easily, and drop the reins where they ought to pull them tight. The men bear such capricious management the less well that they are mostly an unruly set, who are only waiting for an opportunity to throw off the yoke which oppresses them. So there come rubs on all sides, and one must be thankful if matters do not go from bad to worse, as happens unfortunately often enough, and has happened to me more than once. And if during a long sea-voyage a man is lucky enough to get his authority established and to introduce some order and discipline amongst the crew, he is in port again by that time, and at the next voyage the whole thing has to be begun over again. There is no question of all this in the army. Every man knows beforehand that unquestioning obedience is his first and last duty; yes, and what is more, each one, even the most unruly, feels that disobedience would be not only a crime, but that it would be madness, for if one man commit the slightest mistake the whole body is put out, he feels that this wonderful, fearfully complicated machine called the Army, can only work when every little wheel and every screw is in its place, and doing what is ordained for it to do at the precise moment.” + 

“For example they must shoot down in the ditch at Rastadt those who do not agree with them as to what is good for their country⁠—and so on,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

Reinhold did not answer. What could he answer? How could he hope to come to any understanding with a man whose views were so diametrically opposed to his own in all things, and who always pushed these views to their furthest limit without offering any concession to him even as a guest, when only an hour ago he had received him with such hearty affection almost as a father would welcome his son after a long separation? + 

“Perhaps I have made a lasting breach between us,” thought Reinhold. “I am sorry, but I cannot give myself up bound hand and foot to the mercy of this old tyrant. If I am not able to find a topic which will please this rugged nature, I must get the ladies to help me; it is their place.” + 

Aunt Rikchen had plainly read his thoughts in his face. She answered his silent request by a quick furtive glance and an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, as if to say, “He is always like that now! There is no help for it.” Ferdinanda did not seem to notice the interruption. She sat as she had sat almost throughout the whole meal, with a fixed, absent look on her face, gazing straight before her, and took no notice even now, when her aunt turned towards her to say a few words. Uncle Ernst, who was just about to refill his empty glass, set the bottle down heavily upon the table. + 

“I have begged you fifty times to stop that dreadful whispering, Rike! What is the matter now?” + 

A slight flush of anger rose in Aunt Rikchen’s withered cheeks as the hated name sounded in her ear; but she answered in the voice expressive of resigned indifference, with which she was accustomed to reply to her brother’s reproofs: + 

“Oh, nothing! I only asked Ferdinanda whether Justus was not coming this evening.” + 

“Who is Justus?” asked Reinhold, delighted that a fresh subject had been started. + 

“Rike likes to call everybody by their Christian names,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“And why not, when they almost belong to the family?” replied Aunt Rikchen, who seemed determined this time not to be put down. “Justus, or, if your uncle prefers it, Herr Anders, is a young sculptor.” + 

“Aged one and thirty,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“Aged one and thirty,” pursued Aunt Rikchen, “or, to be more precise, three and thirty. He has lived here⁠—who knows how long he has lived here?” + 

“Don’t you know, Ferdinanda?” asked Uncle Ernst. + 

“Ferdinanda is in fact his pupil,” continued Aunt Rikchen. + 

“Oh!” said Reinhold. “I congratulate him.” + 

“It is not worth while,” said Ferdinanda. + 

“His favourite pupil!” exclaimed Aunt Rikchen. “He told me so only yesterday, and that the committee are very much pleased with her Shepherd Boy. I must tell you that Ferdinanda has sent to the exhibition a shepherd boy, executed from the description in Schiller’s poem⁠—” + 

“ ‘Uhland,’ aunt.” + 

“I beg your pardon, I have not had such advantages in education as some people⁠—now I don’t remember what I was saying.” + 

“It won’t make much odds,” grumbled Uncle Ernst. + 

“You were speaking of Ferdinanda’s Shepherd Boy,” said Reinhold, coming to her assistance. + 

His aunt shot a grateful look at him, but before he could answer the bell rang, and a clear voice was heard asking whether they were still at supper. + 

“It is Justus!” cried Aunt Rikchen. “I thought so. Have you had any supper?” + 

IV + 

“Not yet, Aunt Rikchen,” said the newcomer. “How are you all? I must apologise, Herr Schmidt, for coming so late. Captain Schmidt? Should have known you from the family likeness, even if I had not heard you were expected to day. Delighted to make your acquaintance. Now no ceremony, Aunt Rikchen; I only want a bit of bread and butter and a cup of tea, if there is one, nothing more. How goes the world with you, Fräulein Ferdinanda? The Shepherd Boy has got a capital place in the first room by the window. My bust’s in the second⁠—not so bad except for that abominable reflected light; but my group in the third! Night and darkness surrounds them; nor will silence be wanting⁠—the silence of the public⁠—broken by the shrill cackle of the critics. We poor artists! Might I ask you for a piece of sugar, Herr Schmidt?” + 

Reinhold could hardly help laughing. The appearance, manners, and speech of this bearded, partially bald-headed little sculptor, his cheerfulness, friendliness, and ease, all formed such a marvellous contrast to the rather stiff and irritable tone of the former occupants of the table. And now he was asking Uncle Ernst for a bit of sugar! It seemed rather like asking a lion to dance! But the lion did what he was asked, and did it amiably, with a kindly smile such as was seldom seen on that stern face. + 

“He succeeds better than I do,” thought Reinhold. “More shame to me.” + 

At sight of this man, who with the innocence of a child seemed able to go about the world either not seeing, or at least not caring for its dangers, Reinhold quite recovered his usual temper, and hailed with joy the appearance of this more cheerful addition to the party. The sculptor on his side was attracted by the powerful-looking man, the frank open countenance, clear blue eyes, and curly brown beard; his own small, restless, rather red eyes constantly turned in that direction, and he addressed his conversation mostly to him. + 

“Don’t let your uncle put you out of conceit with Berlin,” said he. “Let me tell you it is a charming place, and is getting more so every day. We have now got the only thing that was wanting⁠—money, and when our pockets are full of money, you don’t know all that we can do here in Berlin. Berlin is to be the capital of the world. Don’t look so indignantly at me, Fräulein Ferdinanda. It is an old story for us, but Captain Schmidt is probably not in the secret yet, and we must warn him lest he should be utterly overpowered with astonishment when the sublime image of the monster is unveiled before him tomorrow, with its hundreds and thousands of heads, legs, and arms. What trouble we take over it. We feed the monster with our heart’s blood. I am nothing but skin and bone as it is, and that reminds me that I have got another commission, Aunt Rikchen.” + 

“Another monument in memory of our victories?” asked Aunt Rikchen eagerly. + 

“Of course! You must know, Captain Schmidt, that no small town exists, however insignificant, but must have its monument. And why not? The good people in Posemuckel are quite as proud of the six brave fellows whom they sent into the field, as we are of our six hundred or our six thousand, and are anxious to let posterity know how Tom, Dick, and Harry fought and conquered in so many battles and skirmishes, and that Fritz Haberstroh, widow Haberstroh’s only son, was shot dead as a doornail at Sedan for the honour and glory of the German Empire. And quite right and proper too, I think, and the fact that they always collect a few pounds less than will pay any living man to make anything for them, is not their fault.” + 

“And how do you get over that difficulty?” asked Reinhold. + 

“He just puts a new head on an old statue, and the Victory of Germany is ready,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“I protest utterly against such atrocious calumny,” cried the sculptor. “I tried the experiment only once, by taking away the venerable head of a Homer, who had stood for a long time in my studio, and changing him into a Germany; but it was only on account of those splendid folds, those really perfect folds, of which Hähmel in Dresden had spoken so very highly!” + 

“And the experiment failed?” asked Reinhold. + 

“Yes and no,” answered Justus, rubbing his bald forehead. “No, because my Germany stands firmly fixed upon her sandstone pedestal in Posemuckel, and with the uplifted left hand holding a laurel wreath, blesses the German Fatherland and her faithful Posemucklers, while the right hand, heavily armed, sinks wearily by her side; but when the veil was drawn away, and the schoolboys sang ‘Nun danket alle Gott,’ then I still saw my venerable, dusty old Homer of blessed Dresden memory; the laurel wreath in the left hand became again a lyre, the sword in the right hand a Plektron. And I thanked heaven too, but it was because my fine classic folds were in Posemuckel, and not on the Dönhofsplatz here.” + 

And the sharp red eyes of the sculptor twinkled, and every feature of his happy face that was not hidden by the rough beard sparkled with fun. Reinhold joined heartily in the laugh, as the last trace of discord vanished, and even Uncle Ernst looked from under his bushy eyebrows at the cheerful little man much after the fashion of a good-natured lion permitting a little dog to jump and bark round him. + 

“I wish, though, that your Germany was in the Dönhofsplatz,” said he. + 

“Why?” + 

“An old and venerable trunk upon which some clever conjuror has placed a new head, which does not fit it⁠—that seems to me a perfect picture of the new German unity, and it would be a very good thing if our compliant representatives could see it whichever way they turned.” + 

Justus laughed heartily, as if Uncle Ernst had perpetrated the mildest of jokes. + 

“Listen to that,” said he, turning to Reinhold. + 

“That is so like your uncle. His ruling passion is jealousy! He is jealous of the Almighty having made the beautiful world.” + 

“For shame, Justus!” said Aunt Rikchen. + 

“And of a poor little earthworm like myself, for every noble statue that leaves my studio. He feels that of course he could have done it so much better, and so far he is right. He is a born artist, a Michelangelo⁠—at least in imagination⁠—a Michelangelo without arms. And every stroke of the saw which cuts the marble into steps or suchlike contemptible articles goes through his heart, for each time he thinks, what might have been made or shaped out of this!” + 

“Do not talk such nonsense,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“It is the simple truth,” cried Justus, still addressing Reinhold. “He has ideas in abundance, great ideas, sometimes not quite practical⁠—somewhat Titanic, after the manner of Michelangelo⁠—but no matter. One can cut them down to one’s own dwarf-like proportions and secretly laugh when he is brought face to face with the completed work, and shaking the Titanic head, murmurs, ‘I had imagined something quite different. They have spoilt my idea again!’ ” + 

Uncle Ernst at this point did indeed shake his head, though not at all angrily, but with a somewhat grim enjoyment, such as Reinhold had not seen him express during the whole evening. “Can he be as susceptible to flattery as other tyrants?” thought Reinhold. + 

“And what is the new commission?” he asked. + 

“A most noble commission,” answered Justus, swallowing his third cup of tea. “This time they really have got money⁠—no end of money; that is to say, of course there will not be any over for me; it will all be spent in the actual cost of materials, unless your uncle will provide the marble, which, considering how he hates the whole business, there is very little chance of; but, at all events, the matter can be properly set going. I have been thinking it over on my way here from the committee, where it has all been pretty nearly settled.” + 

“Well, tell us about it,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

He had thrown himself back in his chair, and was puffing great clouds of smoke up to the ceiling from a cigar which he had just lighted. Reinhold had wished to abstain from smoking, out of respect to the ladies, but his uncle would not allow it, and said his womankind were accustomed to it. Justus, who did not smoke, was rolling little pellets of bread into a ball; he was evidently already at work. + 

“It is the old story, to begin with,” said he; “three or four steps⁠—we will say three⁠—of sandstone, supporting a quadrangular pedestal of granite, upon which is a square box, upon which box finally stands Germany⁠—Germany this time without any classic folds. The box is for the inscription⁠—there are a lot of brave Fritzes and Johanns to be mentioned⁠—laurel wreaths, badges, etc.; that is all easy enough. But the bas-reliefs on the pedestal⁠—there is the difficulty. Siemering has done everything in that line that is to be done so well, and, besides, has so much more space than I have, that everyone will say: ‘Siemering, of course⁠—this is all copied from him.’ But it is no use thinking of that; if one has got to make a horse, he must have four legs; and if one has got to portray a campaign, there must be the march out at one end, and the return home at the other, and a fight in the middle, and patriotic ambulances; and not a line of that can be omitted. If you can’t be original in your conception of the whole, you must be in detail; and as my originality entirely depends upon the merits of my models, this time I shall be wonderfully original, because my models will be wonderfully good. Departure of one of the Landwehr⁠—for the whole thing must be popular⁠—one of the Landwehr⁠—Captain Schmidt.” + 

“I?” exclaimed Reinhold, astonished. + 

“You and none other; I made up my mind to that an hour ago. Heaven has sent you to me, and the fact of your having been promoted from the ranks during the campaign will be very useful to me; you will know why presently. To continue. Aged father straining his son to his heart at the moment of departure.” Justus lowered his voice, and glanced at the servant who had waited upon them and now left the room. “Of course old Grollman, with his queer old face, with its hundreds of wonderful wrinkles, will always be my model for the aged fathers. More of the Landwehr in the background, three or four of our workmen⁠—fine handsome heads. Number two: Office of the District Relief Committee. Women bringing offsprings; Aunt Rikchen, as a member of the committee, examining, with a critical glance, the heaped-up offerings⁠—that will be perfect! In one corner Cilli making lint⁠—superb!” + 

“That is a very fine idea,” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“Who is Cilli?” asked Reinhold. + 

“An angel,” answered Justus, applying himself still more eagerly to his occupation of shaping his bread pedestal. “She is the blind daughter of good old Kreisel, your uncle’s head clerk, who of course officiates as superintendent, bending over his desk and making a list of the offerings. He alone will make my work immortal. Thirdly: Battle Scene. A mounted officer waving his sword; the Landwehr, with fixed bayonets, rushing to the attack; ‘Forwards! march! hurrah!’ commanded by our Captain here, already promoted to be a noncommissioned officer⁠—you see now?⁠—and so on. Fourthly: the Return Home. The loveliest girl in the town presenting laurel wreaths⁠—of course Fräulein Ferdinanda, now the daughter of the burgomaster; the burgomaster, a stately personage, Herr Ernst Schmidt.” + 

“I beg you will leave me out of the question!” said Uncle Ernst. + 

“I beg you will not interrupt me,” cried Justus. “Where in the whole world should I find so perfect a representative of the good old genuine German burgher?” + 

“The old genuine German burgher was a Republican,” grumbled Uncle Ernst. + 

“So much the better,” cried the sculptor. “A monument of victory is also a monument of peace. What would victory have done for us if it had not brought us peace? Peace without and peace within, irrespective of party feeling! The stronger the party feeling expressed on the faces of my figures, so much the more apparent will be the deep patriotic symbolicism that my work will show forth. So my burgomaster must let people see his Republican principles and hatred of the nobility a hundred yards off, as my general must be a concentration of feudalism and aristocraticism. And there, again, I have got quite as classic a model in its way⁠—General von Werben.” + 

Reinhold looked up startled; the name came so unexpectedly, and Ferdinanda had said to him before, “My father hates the Werbens!” + 

And, indeed, Uncle Ernst’s face had suddenly become black as night, and the ladies were in evident fear that the storm might burst upon them at any moment. Ferdinanda’s beautiful features were suddenly covered with a rosy flush, and as suddenly turned deadly pale. Aunt Rikchen glanced at the sculptor with a quick, anxious look, and furtively shook her head as if in warning; but he did not seem to observe anything of all this. + 

“It will be the culminating point of the whole thing,” cried he. “On the proud warrior’s face shall be a look of satisfaction, mingled with the suppression of bitter party feeling, as though he were saying, ‘Dissension between us is at an end forever;’ and my general leans down from his horse and stretches out his hand to the burgomaster, who grasps it with manly emotion, which says, as plainly as any words, ‘Amen!’ ” + 

“Never!” exclaimed Uncle Ernst in a voice of thunder. “Before I grasp his hand, let my right hand wither! And whoever offers me such an insult, even in effigy, between that man and me there shall be war to the knife.” And he drew the knife, which he had seized, across the table, threw it aside, pushed his chair back, and staggered to his feet. + 

But it was only an explosion of Berserker wrath; for, as Reinhold sprang up to support him, he completely recovered his steady bearing, and said, in a voice whose forced calm contrasted strangely and painfully with the previous wild outbreak: + 

“We have sat too long after dinner; it stops the circulation, and then all the blood goes to the head. Good night, Reinhold; I shall see you again tomorrow morning. Good night all of you.” + 

He was gone. + 

“What, in Heaven’s name, is the meaning of that?” asked Justus. + 

He still sat there, the rough bread model of his monument in his hand, with wide-open staring eyes, like a child who sees a black devil jump out of a harmless-looking box. “What in the world is the matter?” + 

“What possessed you to mention that unlucky name?” said Aunt Rikchen. “Goodness me! that was the only thing wanting, and now you have done it!” + 

Ferdinanda, with a half-sigh, tried to rise from her chair; but, pressing her hand to her heart, fell back again immediately, deadly white, her beautiful head sinking against the cushion. + 

“What is the matter with you?” cried Aunt Rikchen. “Water⁠—quick!⁠—and ring the bell!” + 

Reinhold filled a tumbler from the water-jug, Justus flew to the bell; a maidservant hurried in soon, followed by a second, and all the women busied themselves over the fainting girl. + 

“I think we are in the way here,” said Reinhold, and led Justus, who was still overpowered with astonishment, into the hall. + 

“Now can you explain this to me?” exclaimed Justus. + 

“I had hoped to get some explanation from you,” answered Reinhold. “I only know that my uncle hates the General, has done so since ’48, so I suppose something must have happened between them then.” + 

“By-the-way, yes. Now I recollect,” cried Justus; “Aunt Rikchen did once tell me about it, but I had quite forgotten it; and even if I had not, how could I know that the old madman would get into such a state about it? Shall I come up with you?” + 

“Thanks, I can find my way. And you?” + 

“I live at the back here over my studio. You must come and pay me a visit tomorrow, and we will talk further over this wonderful business. Do you stay long?” + 

“I had meant to, but after this scene⁠—” + 

“Oh, you must not think too much about that; I know him well. Tomorrow there will not be a trace of it. He is a capital old fellow through it all. Felicissima notte! a rivederci!” + 

Reinhold easily found his way to his room through the well-lighted stairs and passages. The candles stood on the table, but he did not light them, the crescent moon gave light enough, and a warm breeze came in at the open window, by which he stood in deep thought. + 

“What a pity,” he murmured; “I should have liked to cast anchor here for some time, and might have got on with the old gentleman. He seemed to me rather queer, and sometimes lets go the rudder, but it is not a very uncommon thing, and perhaps it will all pass over by tomorrow. I could soon learn his ways. He drank at least three bottles, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild before he flew out in that way. I am afraid it is rather a family failing; our old sailor grandfather⁠—but it is not the worst of faults, and we Schmidts cannot be expected to have the aristocratic manners of the Werbens. Ferdinanda is unquestionably very handsome; the sculptor was right: ‘the prettiest girl in the town!’ And yet, the noble carriage, the inexpressible grace of movement, the beautiful look of the eyes, the ever-changing and always sweet expression of the features⁠—she cannot be compared with Elsa, and indeed who could? Then she has not spoken three words. Is there nothing behind that beautiful forehead? Is that gloomy silence only a cloak whose ‘classic folds’ she has borrowed perhaps of her master to conceal her insignificance? I had pictured to myself something quite different when first I saw her. There was some life about her when she cut short that introduction at the railway station, and hurried me away. Certainly since then I have discovered why it was painful for her. Capulets and Montagues, only divided by a garden wall. What was that?” + 

The moon had risen higher; the shrubbery walk at the bottom of the garden, down which Reinhold could see some distance from the window where he stood, was in parts quite light between the bushes. Across one of the light spots a female form had just glided, only to disappear, and did not pass into the light again. But she must do so if she belonged to the house; the path went round a grass-plot in its immediate vicinity, and lay in the full light of the moon, and by leaning out a very little he could easily see over it. But why should she belong to the house? On one side of the garden was a small outhouse in which there was a lighted window. The figure might have come from thence. “And at any rate,” thought Reinhold, “it is no business of yours, and you can go to bed.” + 

He was just about to shut the window when he observed the figure again, this time in the path which ran along the wall, or wooden paling (he could not distinguish which), that on the left hand separated the garden for a little way from the neighbouring one. The wall, or paling, was overshadowed by high trees on that side. The moon shone on the right hand, but the distance was too great to distinguish with certainty more than the outline of the dark figure, as it slowly walked up and down the path, and finally stood still close to the wall, so that Reinhold could no longer see the shadow which before had been perceptible on the light background. It seemed, however, as if she leaned her head against the wall for a long time, staying in this attitude for at least two or three minutes, then she stooped and took up something, which for a moment shimmered white in the moonlight, and which she pressed to, or perhaps concealed, in her bosom. And then she came away from the wall and farther into the garden, slowly walking up and down between the bushes as she had done before on the path, but each time coming nearer till she reached the grass-plot. Then she stood still, and seemed to take a sweeping glance over the house; then she came over the grass-plot. It was Ferdinanda! + 

Involuntarily he withdrew from the window. “Why of course! Why should it not be Ferdinanda trying to calm her shaken nerves by taking a walk in the cool night air? Her slow gait, her repeated halting⁠—of course the leaning against the wall was a return of the fainting! He ought to have run to her assistance and picked up her handkerchief which she had let drop, instead of stopping here playing the spy! It was too bad!” + 

He shut his window quietly, without venturing to light any candles in the present uneasy state of his conscience, but helped himself as well as he could by the light of the moon, which certainly was bright enough, so bright indeed that long after he was in bed he lay and watched the silver rays, through an opening in the curtains, shining further and further in upon the wall, till at last the usual deep and profound sleep closed his eyelids. + 

V + 

The next morning was lovely. The bright sun shone into his room from a blue and cloudless sky as Reinhold pushed the curtains aside and opened the window. Beneath him the dewdrops glistened upon the blades of grass in the round plat; in the bushes and amongst the branches of the tall trees, through which a soft breeze was playing, the golden light shone and twittering birds were flitting about. Reinhold cast a shy glance towards the left, upon the division between the two gardens, which he now perceived to be a high paling. If that garden were the same of which young Werben spoke yesterday, then those overhanging trees hid a secret amidst their green shadows, a secret which his rapidly-beating heart again whispered to him eagerly, passionately, as though there were nothing else in the world worth the trouble of beating for. + 

A knock at the door sounded. Reinhold hastily put on his coat. It was not his uncle, only Justus Anders’ favourite model for aged fathers, the grey-haired, grey-bearded servant with the wonderfully expressive wrinkles in the withered face. + 

His master had inquired several times for the Captain; just now again when he came in for his second breakfast (he drank his coffee always at five o’clock, sometimes earlier), and he got quite angry at the Captain not having made his appearance. Fräulein Ferdinanda had been working in her studio since nine o’clock; but Fräulein Rikchen was downstairs in the dining-room waiting to make the Captain’s coffee. + 

Reinhold had in honour of the day dressed himself in his best, or, in sailor language, put on his shore clothes, so he was able to follow the old man immediately, and to go in search of Aunt Rikchen. He was glad to be able to have a little gossip alone with his aunt, and notwithstanding the silence of last night, he did not fear that she had forgotten the art of gossip. + 

Aunt Rikchen sat at one end of the breakfast table behind the coffeepot, and knitted (her spectacles quite on the tip of her nose) with extreme rapidity, so lost in occupation and thought that she did not observe Reinhold’s entrance, and now jumped up with a little, nervous shriek. But she stretched out her hand to him with a smile which was meant to be very friendly, though her eyes were full of tears, which disappeared as suddenly as they came and left no trace. + 

“I have made fresh coffee for you,” said she; “I thought that you were probably terribly spoilt in such matters.” + 

“I am not spoilt in that way nor in any other!” answered Reinhold brightly. + 

“Ah! the good old Schmidt blood!” said Aunt Rikchen. “Just like your poor dear grandfather, whom you are as like as two peas.” At these words her eyes refilled with tears and were as hastily dried. + 

“I think Uncle Ernst must be the image of him,” said Reinhold, “and I am not very like him.” + 

“Not like him!” cried Aunt Rikchen, “then I do not know what likeness is! Though for that matter I know nothing⁠—so he says.” + 

She had taken up her knitting and was again working with nervous haste: there was considerable bitterness, too, in the tone of the last words, which came sharply and pointedly from between her compressed lips. + 

“He” evidently meant her brother; but Reinhold thought it better to tack about a little before he steered for that course. + 

“How do you mean, dear aunt?” said he. + 

“You won’t understand,” answered Aunt Rikchen, with a sharp look over her spectacles; “you won’t see how he behaves to his only sister, and that he tyrannises over me and tyrannises over us all⁠—there is no doubt about that.” + 

“But, my dear aunt, that is my uncle’s way, and you cannot expect anything else from him.” + 

“But I can,” exclaimed Aunt Rikchen, “for he always behaves worse to a poor thing like me. And why? Because he thinks I might take too much upon myself, and might end by contradicting him when he talks about his politics, and geography, and history, and all the stuff he crams his head with. We women understand nothing of all that! it is not our province; he alone understands it, and it is all to be kept for him. Of course it is all for him alone when he takes the books from under our noses and the newspapers out of our hands. He himself learnt nothing when he was a boy, and he ought to know how disagreeable it is to sit by without speaking, and having no idea whether Timbuktu, or whatever it is called, is a town, or a fish, or an animal, and not daring to ask⁠—he ought to know that!” + 

The knitting-needles clicked more nervously, the spectacles had slipped so far down her nose that they could not slip any farther without coming off; and it would have been impossible for the sharp words to find an outlet if the thin lips were to be more closely pressed together. + 

“Certainly it is not right of my uncle,” said Reinhold, “to be so thoughtless of other people’s feelings and to be so contemptuous of other people’s desire for information; but it is often so with autodidactic persons.” + 

“With whom?” asked Aunt Rikchen. + 

“With people who have no one but themselves to thank for their education. I once knew an old negro who without any assistance, but entirely by his own intense industry, attained the rank of ship’s-captain, and really was unusually well-informed in nautical science and astronomy⁠—that means knowledge of ships and stars, aunt⁠—the result being that he looks upon everyone else as helpless ignoramuses.” + 

“And what does that mean?” + 

“People who know nothing.” + 

“But your uncle is not a negro,” said Aunt Rikchen; “and even a negro, if he has a daughter who is celebrated for her beauty all over Berlin, and might make a grand and rich match every day if she would, only she won’t, and in matters of will she is quite his daughter, and no man could persuade her even if he stood on his head. And Anders assures me that she has very great talent, and everybody says so; I don’t understand anything about it, indeed I don’t understand anything, but of course he thinks it all stuff and nonsense.” + 

“And yet I could imagine that my uncle is secretly very proud of Ferdinanda.” + 

“Why?” Aunt Rikchen glanced inquiringly at Reinhold over her spectacles. + 

“Once or twice last night I saw him look at her with an expression in his eyes which I could not otherwise account for.” + 

“Do you think so?” Aunt Rikchen had let her knitting fall into her lap, and her eyes once more filled with tears, which this time did not disappear. “Do you know,” said she, “that is what I have often thought, I often think that it is impossible that he should love no one, for he cannot bear to see an animal suffer, and he delights in lending a hand in moving the great blocks of marble so that the strong horses may not be overworked. But in that way he overworks himself, and cares and works for everyone whoever it may be, and they often do not deserve it, and repay him with the basest ingratitude. And then he must needs drink wine, for no Christian man could get through what he undertakes, and I have no objection to a glass or so; I often drink one myself when I am quite overdone, and it does me a great deal of good and comforts my old bones; but two bottles⁠—or three⁠—I am convinced that he will have a fit of apoplexy.” + 

The tears broke through their former restraint and fell in torrents down her sunken cheeks. Reinhold too was touched; there was so much true love in this acknowledgment of her brother’s good qualities, in this anxiety for him⁠—an anxiety which he secretly felt was not without grounds. + 

“My dear aunt,” said he, “you need not be so anxious. We Schmidts are a hardy race, and my uncle may do more than most people. Besides anyone coming as I do fresh and unaccustomed amongst you, can see I think better and clearer what he really is; and I don’t mind saying, my dear aunt, that I should not be surprised if my uncle purposely showed the rough side of his nature so that all the world should not know how soft and sympathising his heart really is. I have known more than one man like that.” + 

“Have you?” said Aunt Rikchen eagerly, as her tears once more dried up. “Well, you have been a great deal about the world and have seen a great many people: heathens, and negroes, and Turks, and amongst them you may often see things that are not proper for a Christian; and even my stupid mind can understand things of that sort, but can you explain to me how it is possible that a father with a heart such as you speak of, could be on the terms with his son that he is on with Philip? explain that to me!” + 

“But I don’t know on what sort of terms he is with his son, my dear aunt! There seems to be a complete break between them.” + 

“Yes! is not it dreadful?” said Aunt Rikchen. “And the scenes that take place! Goodness me! when I think of it! But that is all over now; they have not met for two years, and Philip does not need our help now! he is getting so fearfully rich, he has made millions, Justus says, and is now building a house in the Wilhelmstrasse, where every square yard costs five thalers, or five hundred, or five thousand⁠—I never can remember figures; and Anders has got to make four⁠—or four and twenty statues for the hall and staircase, and the steps are to be of canary marble⁠—that is what they call it, is it not? And I do not see the disgrace of that when a man has raised himself from being an ordinary builder as he was. Do you?” + 

“Till I know how he has raised himself, my dear aunt⁠—” + 

“What! what!” cried Aunt Rikchen, “are you beginning to ask that already? What can he have done so very bad? Has he stolen it? Has he committed a burglary somewhere? or turned incendiary? or footpad? Wait till he does⁠—wait till he does!” + 

“But indeed I have said nothing against Philip; I am utterly unprejudiced!” cried Reinhold. + 

“Yes, quite unprejudiced!” answered Aunt Rikchen, “when you take every earthly opportunity of flattering him and buttering him up till he is as proud as the grand Turk! And though Philip may sometimes be a little reckless and selfish, he has always been kind to me; and only yesterday when I met him in the Potsdamerstrasse he said: ‘If ever you are in want of money, aunt, come to me; you can have as much as ever you want.’ I do not want any, thank heaven! for he supplies me with all that is needful; but a nephew, who, meeting his poor old aunt in the Potsdamerstrasse in broad daylight, offers her any amount of money, is no robber, and no murderer, say I. And now you must manage to meet him; he does not generally inquire after or interest himself in anyone, but he has always taken the greatest interest in you, and always marks your journeys on the map with a red pencil. And that is just as it should be. I don’t mean about the pencil, but that clinging to one’s family. I could go through fire and water for him! for him! for all of them, it is all the same to me; either a man is a Schmidt or he is not a Schmidt⁠—he has either got the Schmidt blood in his veins or he has not. Perhaps that is rather a narrow view to take⁠—borné, don’t you call it? but it is my view, and I shall live and die in it. And when I am dead and buried you will then begin to see what a good old aunt I was to you all. But what I wanted to say was that Ferdinanda and Justus were talking of going to the exhibition today and wanted to know whether you would go with them? Of course I shall stop at home. I don’t understand these sort of things; in fact, I don’t understand anything.” + 

The spectacles had fallen to their lowest possible point; the needles worked with inconceivable rapidity. Reinhold fancied he still heard them clicking even when he found himself in the garden, into which a glass-door led from the dining-room. + 

VI + 

He drew a deep breath. Here in the open air the sun shone so brilliantly, while the house seemed so full of dismal ghosts. + 

“Good heavens!” said he to himself; “can there be a more terrible lot than to go creeping and groping through life with unenlightened mind, like my poor aunt here!⁠—always dreading treachery and deceit, sin and sorrow; seeing no more of the sunshine, of all the might and beauty of the world, than if she were blind, like that poor girl!” + 

A young girl was groping her way along the iron railing that divided the courtyard from the garden, which was on rather a higher level. She moved with slow and careful steps, holding in her uplifted left hand a plate, on which appeared to be slices of bread-and-butter, and with her right hand outstretched lightly touched every third rail. It was by these careful movements that Reinhold recognised the blind girl, even before she stood still, and, slightly raising her head, turned her face towards the sun. The sun was very powerful, but her eyelids never even quivered. She had opened her eyes wide, as a flower turns its open petals to the sun, and lovely as a flower was the expression of the sweet, pure, childlike features. + 

“Poor poor Cilli!” murmured Reinhold. + 

He had remembered the name from last night’s conversation, and that the blind girl was the daughter of Kreisel, Uncle Ernst’s head clerk. And the man who had been standing in the doorway of the low building a little way off, which from the desks in the windows seemed to be the countinghouse, and now came towards the girl across the intervening part of the courtyard, must be her father⁠—a little old man with a perfectly bald head, that shone in the sun like a ball of white marble. + 

The blind girl instantly recognised his footsteps. She turned her head, and Reinhold saw the two thick blonde plaits, as they fell so far over her shoulders that the ends were concealed by the stonework supporting the railing. She nodded repeatedly to the newcomer, and when he was by her, bent her head that he might kiss her forehead, and held up the plate with both hands, from which he took a slice of bread-and-butter and began to eat at once, at intervals saying a few words, which Reinhold in the distance could not catch, any more than he could the girl’s answers. But he could have sworn that they were words of love that were thus exchanged, as from time to time the old man stroked the blonde hair with his left hand (the right was occupied with the bread-and-butter), while a happy smile played upon the girl’s sweet face, which he now saw in profile. And now the old gentleman had finished his second slice of bread-and-butter, and taking a white handkerchief out of his pocket, he shook it out of its folds and wiped his mouth with it, then refolded it in its original creases and put it back in his pocket, while the girl, as before, presented her forehead for a kiss. The old man hobbled away, and stood in the door waving his hand; the blind girl waved her hand and nodded in return till he disappeared, exactly as if she could see what she really only heard with her acute ear, or calculated by the time it took, it being evidently a daily habit. Then again she raised her eyes to the sun with the selfsame expression of childlike innocence on the pure face; and taking in her right hand the plate, which before she had held in her left hand, retraced her steps as she had come, lightly touching every third rail with the tips of her fingers. + 

Reinhold had observed the whole scene without moving. The poor blind girl could not see him, and the old man had not once looked that way. + 

Now for the first time he recollected himself. The touching scene had riveted his attention as though by a charm, and the charm had not left him, as he followed the blind girl’s movements with breathless attention; mentally he touched each third rail as she did, as though he himself were groping along by the railing, following her light and graceful movements step by step. He waited for her reappearance from behind a whitethorn bush which grew against the railing, and now hid her from his sight, as a sailor waits for the reappearance of a star which he is observing, and which, as he gazes, is for some moments obscured by overshadowing clouds. But she did not reappear as the moments passed, and the bush seemed to be moving. Perhaps she was trying to gather a branch and could not manage it. In a moment he was through the garden gate and at her side. + 

A thorn from the bush protruding through the railing had caught hold of the end of her little white apron as it was blown about by the wind, and would not let go, though she patiently exerted all her efforts to extricate it. + 

“Allow me,” said Reinhold. + 

Before he came up to her she had raised herself from her stooping attitude, and turned her face towards him, which as he spoke was suffused with the loveliest blush. But there was not the slightest trace of embarrassment or terror in the pure features. + 

“Thank you, Captain Schmidt,” said she. + 

The sweet, melodious tone of her voice harmonised wonderfully with the bright childlike smile that accompanied the words. + 

“How do you know, Fräulein Cilli, who it is that is speaking to you?” said Reinhold, as he stooped down and freed the light material from the thorn. + 

“From the same person who told you that my name is Cilli, and that I am blind⁠—from Justus.” + 

“Will you take my arm, Fräulein Cilli, and allow me to see you home? I suppose you live in the house that is just in front of us?” + 

“I walk safer alone; but give me your hand. May I feel it for a moment?” + 

She put out a small, soft white hand to him, which Reinhold touched with a feeling of awe. + 

“Just what he said,” she murmured as though speaking to herself. “Strong and manly⁠—a good, a true hand.” + 

She let go his hand, and they walked on side by side, she by the railing again, feeling the rails, he close to her side, never turning his eyes from her. + 

“Did Anders tell you that too?” he asked. + 

“Yes; but your hand would have told me without that. I know people by their hands. Justus’s hand is not so strong, though he works so much; but it is as good.” + 

“And as true,” said Reinhold. + 

Cilli shook her head with a laugh, that was as sweet and soft as the twittering of the swallows. + 

“No, no,” said she, “not as true! He cannot be, for he is an artist; so he can have but one guiding star⁠—his Ideal⁠—that he must look up to and follow, as the kings followed the star in the East, which going before them stopped at Bethlehem over the house in which the Saviour was laid in a manger; but beyond that he must be free, free as the birds in the branches overhead, free to come and go, free to flit and flutter and sing to his heart’s content.” + 

They had reached the end of the railing. Before them stood the house in which Cilli lived. She rested the tips of her fingers upon the iron pillars which ended the railing, and raised her face with a strange dreamy expression on it. + 

“I often wish I were an artist,” said she; “but I should like better still to be a sailor. Sometimes I have wonderful dreams, and then I fly over the earth on widespread wings. Below me I see green meadows and dark forests, and cornfields waving their golden grain; silver streamlets wander down the hillsides and mingle their waters in the broad rivers which glitter in the light of the sun as it sinks to the horizon. And as it sinks, and the waters, with the church spires reflected in them, take a rosy hue, a terrible anguish overwhelms me, as I feel that it will sink before I can see it⁠—this sun which I have never seen, of which all I know is that it is above all things beautiful and great and glorious. And when the sun is so low that in another moment it must disappear, there lies before me, boundless, illimitable, the great ocean! It is impossible to describe what I feel then, but I fancy it must be what the dead feel when they rise to everlasting joy, or what great and good men feel when they have done the deed which renders them immortal.” + 

A couple of swallows flitted chirping through the air. The blind girl raised her sightless eyes. + 

“They come over the sea, but I cannot, I never can get beyond the shore, never beyond the shore!” + 

For the first time a shadow came over the charming face that was uplifted to Reinhold, but the next moment it was once more lighted up by the bright, childlike smile. + 

“I am very ungrateful,” said she, “am I not? How many people never see the sea even in their dreams as I do, and did only last night! Justus passed our window⁠—we always have lights very late⁠—and he called out that you had arrived, and were so nice and pleasant, and had told so many wonderful things about your long voyages. You must tell me about them. Will you?” + 

She stretched out her hand to him again. + 

“Indeed I will,” cried Reinhold. “I am only afraid that your dreams are more, immeasurably more, beautiful than anything I can tell you about.” + 

The blind girl shook her head. + 

“How strange! that is what papa always says, and even Justus, though he is an artist, and the whole world lies before him as beautiful as on the first day of creation, and now you say it, who have seen the whole world. I can look at the sun without flinching; you must hide your eyes from its glory. I⁠—I cannot see the loving smile upon my dear father’s face, cannot see the faces of those I love. How can my world be as glorious and lovely as yours? But of course you only say that not to make me sad. You need not be afraid; I envy no one. From my heart I can say that I grudge no man his happiness, especially those who are so good, so intensely good as my father and Justus!” + 

The face that was turned to him beamed once more with the brightest sunshine. + 

“When once I begin to chatter there is no stopping me, is there? And I have kept you all this time, when you have so much to do of far greater importance. I shall see you again.” + 

She gave his hand a slight pressure, and then withdrew her own, which she had left in his till now, and stepped towards the door, which was only separated from her by the width of the path which on this side lay between the garden and the house. Then, however, she stood still again, and said, half turning over her shoulder: + 

“Was not Justus right when he said you were kind? You did not smile when I said I should see you again!” + 

She went into the house, feeling the doorposts with her fingertips, turned once more as she stood on the threshold, nodded, and stepped into the hall. + 

VII + 

Reinhold had not smiled, but as the fair vision disappeared in the shadow of the entrance he passed the hand which she had held so long over his eyes. + 

“And you thought you knew how to love!” said he to himself. “What are our purest, holiest aspirations when compared with the heavenly purity and goodness of such a mind as this poor blind girl’s, who is as unconscious of her beauty and her charm as are the lilies of the field? How could so lovely a flower have blossomed here?” + 

He looked around. The bell which had summoned the workpeople to their breakfast as Cilli came out of the house rang again. The men returned to their work. Looking round the corner of the house, he had a peep through the wide-open doors of the workshops, which seemed to occupy the whole of the ground-floor. Crosses and tombstones were being chiselled and carved by busy hands. + 

A chill came over Reinhold, to see this sad, gloomy sight just now, when the world lay so bright before him, lighted up by the fancies of the blind girl who lived over these melancholy workshops, and in whose dreams the tapping and knocking of these dreadful hammers and chisels must mingle! + 

He asked for his uncle. No one had seen him that morning; he might be in the engine-room or in some of the back yards. Where was Herr Anders’ studio? Here in this very building, the first door round the corner; the second was the young lady’s studio. + 

Reinhold walked round the house and knocked at the first door, near which was a high window half shaded from within. No one answered, and he was going on when the door opened a little way. But it was not the friendly countenance of the sculptor, with its bright eyes and cheery smile, that met him, but a strange, dark face, from which a pair of black, sparkling eyes glared at him. + 

“Beg pardon! I expected to see Herr Anders.” + 

“Herr Anders is not here; he is in his own house, the third door upstairs.” + 

He of the dark complexion said this in a forbidding tone and in German, which, though fluent enough, betrayed the foreigner in every syllable. + 

“Then I will go and look for him there.” + 

“Herr Anders is going to the Exhibition; he is dressing.” + 

Reinhold now observed that the young man himself was in the act of dressing and still in his shirtsleeves, whose extreme whiteness made the darkness of his complexion even more remarkable. The interruption of his toilette quite explained the unfriendly tone of his answers, and the want of hospitality that made him hold the door only just enough open for him to speak to the stranger. + 

“Perhaps you know whether Fräulein Schmidt is in her studio?” + 

The pertinacity of the question seemed to irritate the young man. The black brows frowned heavily, the delicate upper lip with its slight moustache curled sufficiently to show the white teeth for a moment. “Non lo so,” he blurted out. + 

He shut the door, muttering between his teeth something else in Italian which did not sound like a blessing. + 

Reinhold felt convinced that Ferdinanda was in her studio, and that the ungracious youth knew it; but at the same time it would not make her very unhappy if he paid his visit later, or did not pay it at all. At all events he must look for his uncle first. + 

He returned to the yard, passing a place where huge blocks of marble were being cut through by the aid of large suspended saws, each of which was regulated by a man. It must have been fatiguing work, requiring great strength, and indeed was only undertaken when the machinery could not turn out enough work, as was now the case; there was no doubt that the machine certainly could do much more. So said the workman, taking the opportunity to get a little breathing-time. The steam saws were in that building; they had just seen the master go there. But Uncle Ernst was not near the steam saws, he had just been there; perhaps he was in the lathe-room close by. + 

Reinhold had some difficulty in taking in the words which a workman shouted in his ear, so loud was the screeching, overpowering noise of the immense saws as the steam power drove them backwards and forwards with inconceivable rapidity through great blocks of marble as high as a man; eight, ten, and twelve saws working at once through the same block and cutting it into as many inch-thick slabs. And between each two blocks was a man upon a small platform incessantly busied in throwing water, mixed with sand from a pail, upon the sparks caused by the saws; and the one who had got down to answer Reinhold sprang hurriedly back to his place to extinguish the sparks which now came from his block in trails almost a yard in length. + 

In the next room which Reinhold entered a less awful noise was going on. Though here, too, was heard the rattle of the driving bands as they stretched like interminable snakes from a wheel in one corner of the ceiling to another at the other end, and so descended to a second at a medium height, and once more went up and down in bewildering quivering lines; and here again wheels rattled and clattered, and the iron strained and screeched and creaked as it cut through the marble, boring holes, cutting with chisels, filing, shaving, scraping, and in every possible way converting it into skilful and sometimes even artistic forms. Entablatures with sharp plinths, slender fluted columns, elegant pedestals for candelabra or vases, even vases themselves which, rapidly revolving, were polished by busy hands with pumice stone. + 

Herr Schmidt had been here a few minutes ago⁠—was perhaps now upstairs in the workshops where the fine work was done before it came here to be polished. + 

Those workshops lay on the opposite side of the yard, so that Reinhold now first obtained a true idea of the dimensions of the establishment as well as of the enormous extent of the business. He had already been into three workshops, and had glanced into as many more in passing. What an amount of capital must be sunk in these massive buildings, and in the ground alone which was taken up by them and the yard, and in these complicated ingenious machines, and in the already completed goods, and again in these masses of rough marble which lay about all over the yard, and between which ran the paved road for the strongly-built wagons, upon which the powerful horses dragged these enormous weights backwards and forwards. + 

And all this was done by the man of whom Aunt Rikchen had rightly said that he ought to understand the feelings of a person who has learnt nothing in his youth! This man who as a boy and youth had with his father gone up and down the Havel and the Spree in the great boat which was the only property of the family, till after the old man’s death he had started a business in bricks and sandstone in the lonely spot above the town, in the modest little house where Reinhold had visited him ten years ago. + 

What industry, what energy and what intelligence had been brought to bear, to attain such a result, to create a world out of nothing! Was it to be wondered at if he who had created it carried his head higher than other men; or if this head, which had so much and so many to think of, to consider and to care for, were often shadowed by heavy clouds? + 

Loud voices, which sounded close to Reinhold, startled him out of these meditations, a high one and a deep one, in which he thought he recognised his uncle’s. A dispute must be going on. The high voice got gradually louder, till a thundering “Silence!” stopped the flow. It could only be Uncle Ernst thus thundering. + 

He stood still, uncertain whether to go nearer or to avoid the disputants. They however came round the great blocks of marble which he had just been looking at, his uncle and a red-haired man, whose ugly face was distorted and inflamed with anger. On his uncle’s forehead, too, from which the broad-brimmed hat was pushed back, lay a red angry cloud, but his large powerful eyes had a calm and steady look, and his voice, too, was calm and steady as now seeing his nephew, he said: + 

“Good morning, Reinhold, though it is not a good morning for me.” + 

“Do you require my presence any longer, Herr Schmidt?” asked the man. + 

“Certainly. You will dismiss the people in my presence.” + 

“That I shall not do, Herr Schmidt.” + 

“In my presence, and in that of all the others. Sound the bell!” + 

And Uncle Ernst pointed to a small platform over which hung a great bell. + 

“That is not my office,” said the overseer hotly. + 

“True,” answered Uncle Ernst, “for from this moment you no longer hold any office.” + 

“I claim a quarter’s notice.” + 

“That we shall soon see.” + 

Uncle Ernst went up to the bell; Reinhold stepped before him. + 

“Let me,” said he. + 

He did not wait for his uncle’s answer, and pulled the rope that hung down; immediately the mighty clang of the great clapper sounded through the yard, overpowering and drowning the screeching and shrieking of the saws, the tapping and knocking of hammers and chisels, and startling the workmen at their work. Presently they emerged from all sides with anxious faces. + 

While they assembled and stood in groups as they came from the workshops to the number of about two hundred, so Reinhold thought. Uncle Ernst stood leaning against a block of marble with folded arms, staring straight in front of him; a few steps from him stood the overseer, now very pale, and in whose alarmed and anxious looks it was easy to see that fear alone kept him in his place. + 

Reinhold had come up to the side of the block upon which his uncle was leaning so as to be near him in any case. Whatever was the matter it was certainly nothing pleasant, and as his glance fell upon the people, he noticed several desperate and even wild faces. + 

And now Uncle Ernst stood erect; the great eyes flashed over the assembled crowd, the arms fell from his broad breast, and from that broad breast came the mighty voice like thunder: + 

“Men, you know the rules of this establishment; they are all put before you, before each of you that enters my service; they are hung up in every workshop; no one can say that anything is not clear or is difficult to understand, and they shall be kept, as by me the employer, so by you the employed. If there is one amongst you who can come forward here and say that I have diverged one hair’s breadth from what I promised you, or that I have in the smallest degree not fulfilled my duty and obligation, let him come forward and say so.” + 

He paused, crossed his arms again, and looked down, as though he would not intimidate anyone by his glance, but left them free to express an opinion. Reinhold saw that here and there a few heads collected together, and several quick secret glances were exchanged from one group which he had noticed before. A man stepped forward, but the others held him by the arm, and he went back. Uncle Ernst looked up again. + 

“No one has come forward; I must assume that you have nothing to say against me, that you have no grounds of complaint. I, however⁠—I have grounds of complaint against some of you, and that you may all hear what it is, and who it is, and may behave accordingly in the future, and that any man who is secretly following in the same way may know how to behave if he is otherwise an honest man, is why I call you together now. Jacob Schwarz, Johann Brand, Anton Baier, stand forward!” + 

A considerable agitation arose amongst the people; all eyes were directed towards the group which Reinhold had already noticed. The same man came forward again decidedly, and looked behind him, whereupon two others followed hesitatingly. + 

“What is it?” said the first. + 

“You will soon know,” said Uncle Ernst. “You know all of you that our rules forbid you to belong to any union; that I might have sent away these three on the spot when I found out what they were about a week ago, and that I allowed mercy to take the place of justice in not sending them away, but giving them time for consideration. Yesterday evening the time of grace expired; they did not give Herr Roller the required assurance yesterday evening that they had left the union. Herr Roller ought not to have allowed them to return to their work; he did do so and is consequently henceforth no longer your overseer, and is dismissed absolutely from my service.” + 

There was a movement amongst the crowd; consternation was depicted on most faces, malicious satisfaction on many; the overseer attempted a scornful smile, but got no further than a sickly grin. + 

“You,” continued Uncle Ernst, for the first time turning to the culprits, “take your things and leave the yard at once! And you others, let this serve as a warning to you and a reminder of what, indeed, you must all have known long ago, that I am not to be trifled with, and that when I say a thing I mean it⁠—and now go back to your work!” + 

A good many of the men turned at once and began to disperse; but others⁠—a few from almost every group⁠—remained, and as the ranks thinned drew closer together, as if to afford each other protection. Those too who had moved away at first now stopped again, turned back, and also drew together, so that in a few minutes the throng was divided into two parts; the last mentioned, who for the present were more amenable and conciliatory, were by far the larger number; but the others⁠—of whom there might be about thirty, were evidently the bolder and more determined. Reinhold moved to his uncle’s side. + 

“What are you waiting for?” asked Uncle Ernst, “what do you want?” + 

From the group of malcontents who had now clustered thickly together, a man stepped forward, not one of the three; a young man who would have been handsome if his youthful countenance had not been marred and distorted already by evil passions. His pale, bold eyes had a watery look, as if he were already too much addicted to the bottle. He waved his hand as if he were standing on a platform to speak, and with great fluency began: + 

“We wish to know, Herr Schmidt, why we should not be socialists and communists too, if we choose; who is to forbid us to enter the ranks of the army of workers who are marching against the hardhearted middle classes to win back the rights which are so shamefully withheld from us? We wish to know⁠—” + 

“Silence!” thundered Uncle Ernst; “silence, wretched boy! and blush for shame if you have any shame left in you!” Uncle Ernst advanced a few steps, and the lad retreated before him like a jackal before the lion, and slunk back into the knot of men which had drawn still closer together. “What are you standing there for, laying your heads together and muttering and threatening? Do you think that I fear you any more than I fear this wretched boy, whom I took from the streets, and clothed, and fed, and sent to school, and who wants to know now why I withhold his rights from him! His rights? Your rights? To keep honestly to what you have promised, what you have pledged yourselves to by your own signatures, that is your right⁠—neither more nor less! Who forced you to sign your names?” + 

“Hunger!” cried a rough voice. + 

“You lie, Carl Peters!” cried Uncle Ernst; “and if you did suffer hunger it was because you are a sot and carry the money which belongs to your wife and children to the gin palace.” + 

“We are all socialists, every man of us!” called another voice from the crowd. + 

“Then you are all liars and cheats, every man of you!” cried Uncle Ernst. “You lied when you signed your names to what you knew you would not and could not keep! You have cheated me every day and every hour that you worked for me, when you knew that I would not tolerate in my house or my yards anyone who is pledged to your insane principles; but that I would drive them out of my house or my yard as I do now all of you that stand there!” + 

A sullen murmur sounded through the crowd, and some single loud threatening shouts were heard. Uncle Ernst sprang with one bound straight in front of the knot of men. + 

“Be off with you!” he thundered; “be off with you at once!” + 

The foremost fell back upon those who stood behind them. Evidently no one had courage to proceed to action. They gave way gradually; the knot began to separate. + 

“Be at the office in half an hour to be paid off!” + 

The men were gone and the overseer with them. Uncle Ernst turned to Reinhold. + 

“There is a specimen for you of your fine Prussian discipline, which impressed you so greatly during the war; there is an instance of the last new German truth and honesty as it is learned in Bismarck’s school.” + 

“But uncle, excuse me, what has Bismarck to do with all this?” + 

“What has he to do with it?” Uncle Ernst stood still. “What has he to do with it? Who was it who gave the rule that might came before right? Or, if he did not say it, who gave such effect to it in his actions that the accursed maxim has become the leading principle with men nowadays, on which they regulate their conduct⁠—both active and passive? Who has taught our good simple folk how a man may live in perpetual conflict with those whom it has chosen as its representatives, and grasp at his objects over the heads of these representatives?⁠—how an army of followers may be created, and a docile party say ‘Amen’ to everything, or say anything else that is needed to attain these objects? Did you not hear what was said about the army of workers? That is no longer the mad dream of some crackbrained enthusiast. It is a reality, which is increasing threateningly as an avalanche, and which will sooner or later precipitate itself in wild destruction upon us all. Who can blame them? Might is stronger than right! And so the revolution is declared en permanence, and war between every man and his neighbour. For the present he has conquered⁠—he thinks he has conquered⁠—and glories in his victory and in the imperial crown which he has won for his master, and which he has taken from the shelf, where another laid it who would not take it from the hands of the people!⁠—from the hands of the people of those days⁠—a good, true, faithful people, whose most sacred dream was this crown! Ask them if they still believe! Ask them what they think of the crown by the grace of God! Ask them what they dream of now!” + 

Uncle Ernst pointed to the dismissed workmen, who were crossing the court, in larger and smaller parties, towards the lower building, from the door of which Cilli’s father had issued before, and were gesticulating wildly and talking together. + 

“Will they be paid off without any disturbance?” asked Reinhold. + 

“The police-station is too near,” answered Uncle Ernst, with a bitter smile. “They are still afraid of the police; you need be under no anxiety. And, before I forget it, thank you, my boy.” + 

“What for, uncle?” + 

“There was no necessity for it, but I saw that you were ready to stand up for me at need.” + 

“Had you doubted it?” + 

“No, in spite of your enthusiasm for Bismarck. And now go to Ferdinanda. You are going to the Exhibition?” + 

“I heard something of it; but, to tell you the truth, I have lost all inclination for it.” + 

“Oh, nonsense!” said Uncle Ernst. “Ferdinanda would be inconsolable, and⁠—I do not like to have my business arrangements interfering with the family affairs.” + 

Uncle Ernst pressed Reinhold’s hand heartily, and walked into the house, passing through the workmen, who drew back timidly on either side. Reinhold left the place with a hesitating step. He would have liked to remain with his uncle, at any rate; and he was more than doubtful that Ferdinanda would be inconsolable if he did not come. + 

VIII + 

The youth in the shirtsleeves who had answered Reinhold with such scant courtesy, slammed to the door, and shaking his fist muttered a big oath in his native language between his sharp white teeth. Then he went back into the room and walked with light steps up to a door which divided his studio from the next one. He put his ear against the door and listened for a minute or two. A smile of satisfaction lighted up his dark face, he drew a deep breath as he stood erect, then stealthily as a cat he ran up the winding iron staircase which led to his own room, whence he had come on hearing Reinhold’s knock. + 

In a few minutes he came downstairs again, this time without attempting not to make a noise; indeed, rather stepping more heavily than was necessary and whistling a tune. He had coat and waistcoat on now, and instead of the slippers which he had worn before, had varnished boots on his small feet, at which he glanced with much satisfaction as he walked downstairs. Arrived at the bottom, he went immediately up to a large and handsome Venetian looking-glass and examined his whole figure with the greatest care, arranged his blue tie, fastened one of the gold studs more securely into his shirtfront, and passed a comb through his shining raven-black hair. He whistled more and more softly, and finally left off altogether. Then coming away from the looking-glass, he moved rather noisily first one and then another obstacle as they came in his way, till there was nothing between him and the door against which he had just now listened. + 

Seizing a stool, which for this very purpose he had placed within reach against the wall, he stood upon it, and applied his eye, as just now his ear, to the door, close to it; for with great trouble he had bored a hole with a very fine gimlet, and with great trouble, too, had he learnt how to look through it so as to see into the next room, or at least to see her in the place where she worked. + 

The blood rushed into his dark cheeks as he thus looked. “O Bellissima!” he murmured between his lips, pressing a passionate kiss upon the wood. + 

Suddenly he sprang down noiselessly like a cat: the stool again leaned against the wall, and he stood before the unfinished marble of a colossal female figure as someone knocked at the other side of the door. + 

“Signor Antonio!” + 

“Signora!” exclaimed the young man from where he stood. He had grasped chisel and hammer, so as the better to play the part of one surprised. + 

“Can you come in here for a moment, Signor Antonio? Fatemi il piacere!” + 

“Si, signora.” + 

He threw his tools aside and ran to the door, which was now unbolted. Notwithstanding this and his having received an invitation, he knocked before he opened it. + 

“Ma⁠—entrate! How smart you are, Signor Antonio!” + 

Antonio dropped his dark eyelashes and glanced at his slender figure down to the very tips of his varnished boots⁠—but only for a moment. The next the passionate sullen eyes were fixed upon the beautiful girl, who, wearing her ordinary dark morning dress with a long apron, stood before him with her modelling tool in her hand. + 

“You have no need to think of dress; you are always beautiful!” + 

He said it in German. He was proud of his German since she had praised his accent during the Italian lessons he gave her and told him that every word in his mouth sounded new, new and delightful like meeting a friend in a foreign land. + 

“I feel anything but beautiful this morning,” answered Ferdinanda, “but I want your help. My model has failed me; I wanted to work at the eyes today. You have finer eyes than your countrywoman, Antonio; do stand there just for a few minutes!” + 

A smile of gratified pride stole over the youth’s handsome face. He stood before Ferdinanda in the precise attitude which she had given to her statue. + 

“Bravo!” said she: “it is difficult to say whether you are a better actor or sculptor.” + 

“Un povero abbozzatore!” he murmured. + 

“You are no workman,” said Ferdinanda; “but as you well know, an artist.” + 

“I am an artist as you are a princess.” + 

“What does that mean?” + 

“I was born to be an artist, but am not one, as you were born to be a princess and yet are not one.” + 

“What a mad notion!” + 

She did not say it angrily, but rather in a tone as if she agreed with him, which did not escape the sharp ear of the Italian. + 

“You know it yourself,” he said. + 

She made no answer, but went on working, though without much spirit. + 

“She has called me to say something to me,” said Antonio to himself. + 

“Where were you last night, Antonio?” she asked after a pause. + 

“At my club, signora.” + 

“When did you come home?” + 

“Late.” + 

“But when?” + 

“At one o’clock. Ma perché?” + 

She was leaning over the small table which held her tools and feeling about amongst them. + 

“I only wanted to know. We went to bed very late last night. We had a visitor, a cousin of mine, and there was a great deal of smoking and talking; it gave me a dreadful headache, and I went into the garden for an hour. Will you sit any longer, or shall we give it up? I dare say it is difficult, and you seem tired.” + 

“No, no,” he murmured. + 

He placed himself again in the attitude, but not so well as before. His brain was full of bewildering thoughts, which made his heart beat. + 

“When did you come home?” + 

“I was in the garden for an hour.” + 

Was it possible! No, no, it was impossible⁠—it was only an accident. But if he had met her alone in the garden in the dead of night, what would he have said, what would he have done? + 

Everything swam before him. He passed his hand, which he ought to have held up to his brow, across his eyes. + 

“What is the matter?” cried Ferdinanda. + 

The hand dropped, the eyes, which were fixed upon her, shone like flames of fire. + 

“What is the matter,” he murmured⁠—“what is the matter! Ho, non lo so neppur io: una febbre che mi divora; ho, che il sangue mi abbrucia, che il cervello mi si spezza; ho, in fine che non ne posso piu, che sono stanco di questa vita!” + 

Ferdinanda had tried to stop this outburst, but without success. She trembled from head to foot; the flaming eyes emitted a spark which penetrated to her own heart, and her voice trembled as she said, as quietly as she could: + 

“You know I cannot understand you when you speak so fast⁠—so wildly.” + 

“You did understand me,” murmured the youth. + 

“I did not understand anything more than I can see for myself⁠—that you are devoured with fever, that your blood boils to suffocation, that your brain is bursting, that you are tired of life; which means, in German, that you stayed too long yesterday at your club, raved too much about your beloved Italy, and consequently drank too much strong Italian wine.” + 

The veins on his white forehead started out in blue lines, and he uttered a hoarse cry like that of a wild beast. He clutched at his breast, where he usually carried his stiletto, but the pocket was empty, and he looked around as if seeking for some weapon. + 

“Would you murder me?” + 

The right hand, which was still clutched in his breast, loosened its grasp and fell by his side; the left hand followed, and the fingers linked themselves together; a rush of tears broke from his eyes: the fire was extinguished, and, sinking on his knees, he faltered: + 

“Mi perdona! Ferdinanda, l’ho amata dal primo giorno che l’ho veduta, ed adesso⁠—ah, adesso!” + 

“I know it, my poor Antonio,” said Ferdinanda, “and for that reason I forgive you once more, for the last time. If you repeat this scene I will tell my father, and then you must leave the house. And now, Signor Antonio, rise!” + 

She gave him her hand, which, still kneeling, he pressed to his lips and forehead. + 

“Antonio, Antonio!” called Justus’ voice from without, and then a knock was heard at the door, which opened into the yard. Antonio sprang to his feet. + 

“Is Antonio here, Fräulein Ferdinanda?” + 

Ferdinanda went herself to open the door. + 

“Still at work?” said Justus as he entered. “But I thought you were going to the Exhibition with your cousin?” + 

“I am waiting for him; he has not made his appearance yet. You go on with Antonio; we will meet in the sculpture-room.” + 

“As you like. What you have done to the eyes today is no good at all⁠—it is all wrong. You have worked without a model again. When will you learn that without models we are helpless! Andiamo, Antonio! if you are not ashamed to walk through the streets with me.” + 

He had laughingly placed himself by the Italian, as if to amuse Ferdinanda by the comparison which he himself observed between his short little figure in the old velvet coat and light trousers of doubtful newness, and the slim, handsome, smart youth, his assistant. But Ferdinanda had already turned away, and again repeated, “We shall meet in the sculpture-room.” + 

“Dunque andiamo!” cried Justus; “a rivederci!” + 

IX + 

The door was shut, the footsteps of the two men died away⁠—Ferdinanda had not moved. + 

“Una principessa!” she murmured. “He is the only one who understands me. What use is it to be understood by him? If he were a prince, indeed! And yet it is delicious to know that one is loved like that⁠—delicious and dangerous! He watches every step I take, nothing that I do escapes him; but really yesterday he does not seem to have been at home. He does not know yet that I dare not do anything when he is near.” + 

She sank down upon a stool, and took the letter from her bosom which he had given her yesterday over the garden wall. She already knew it by heart, but she liked to see the trace of the loved hand. + 

“Why did you not try to let me know that you would be at the station? You could have written quite safely to Schönau; it was mere chance that I came by that train⁠—mere chance that I made acquaintance with your cousin in the carriage. How can we ever get on, how can we even prolong our present miserable existence, if we leave everything to chance? If we do not struggle for our happiness by boldly meeting our cruel fate? As it was, I had to find some excuse for tumbling head over heels out of the carriage; and how easily I might have missed you, or found you with your father, and then there would have been another opportunity lost! I hope now things may be a little better. Your cousin is, so he told me, acquainted with my sister, and she herself explained how they had made acquaintance on the road, and he made himself extremely useful to the party. My sister speaks of him very highly, and assures me that my father is delighted with him. He will, of course, call upon my father; at all events I shall come and thank my ‘comrade’ for the service he has done my belongings, either commissioned by Elsa and my father, or without any commission at all⁠—leave that to me. At all events it will give us an opening that will be very useful, as your cousin seems a pleasant fellow, with whom little ceremony will be necessary. Get on good terms with him, and make use of ‘my cousin’ to take you out walking and to concerts, theatres, and exhibitions. By the way, go tomorrow⁠—splendid opportunity⁠—to the Exhibition. I shall only be on duty till twelve o’clock, so perhaps at half-past twelve I may persuade Elsa to go, as she has already expressed a wish to do so. I can take the opportunity of introducing you to her all the more easily that we were formally introduced yesterday; so be prepared for it. I write these lines, as usual, in flying haste, during the few minutes that I dare steal away from the family circle; forgive such a scrawl. I kiss your lovely hand now in my thoughts as I did erewhile when you gave it me over the garden wall for the first time⁠—not for the last, I swear!”⁠ ⁠… + 

She let the letter fall into her lap. And no word of his father! not a word that could show that he was in earnest, in real earnest; that he would at least make an attempt to free them from their present humiliating situation! And he knew nothing yet of last night’s scene! She crumpled up the paper which lay under one hand, and seizing it the next moment with both hands covered it with kisses, smoothed it carefully out, and replacing it in her bosom, laid her hot forehead upon the marble slab of the little table. + 

“Una febbre che mi divora,” she murmured; “il sangue mi abbrucia, il cervello mi si spezza⁠—sono stanca di questa vita! Yes, yes!” she cried, starting up, “I am tired of this life, which is no life at all, but a hideous mockery of life, a death before death⁠—worse⁠—a living grave! I will force my way out of this ghastly tomb, or die by my own hand!” + 

She walked up and down the room, wringing her hands and sobbing, now throwing herself upon a chair and gazing wildly before her, now starting up and again wandering about with gestures of despair. The loud clang of the great bell caught her attention for a moment. She knew that it was something quite unusual⁠—perhaps some great accident had happened: a boiler burst, the saws of one of the machines bent, and the wall to which it was fastened pulled down and in ruins, as had happened a few months ago; perhaps a fire⁠—what did it signify to her whether people were crushed and killed, or all burnt together? Was not she broken and wounded in soul and body, wandering amongst the ruins of the happiness which had never existed except in her dreams! A despairing woman, to whom a hair shirt would be suitable and ashes on her head, that head that she had once carried so proudly⁠—like her father! It was all his fault. He it was, who had declared war between them! And he did not know yet; but the hour was coming soon, even today if she were followed⁠—and then? + 

She had lain awake the whole night thinking over that question; she had racked her mind over it the whole morning. And then? and then? + 

How could she alone find an answer without him? And he⁠—he! When last night she described in a few hasty words the scene that had taken place at table, had he given the one only answer that she had expected⁠—“Then we must try to settle it without our fathers’ consent!” He had answered nothing, not a word! and his silence confirmed what she had most feared⁠—the only thing that she had feared and dreaded⁠—that he was not prepared to carry the matter out to the last, to its extreme end⁠—that he did not love her as she loved him! + 

Of what use were her courage and determination? She was helpless! She⁠—helpless! + 

She stood still before a looking-glass which she was just passing. She examined her face, her figure as though she were the model whom she had ordered for the next day, and wished to see whether the form thus reflected were really what it laid claim to be. Was she really as beautiful as they all said? Was the great French sculptor right who came to see Justus last year, and at sight of her stood thunderstruck, and then exclaimed that till he saw her he had never believed that nature could have produced so perfect a form. + 

But Antonio, too, was beautiful⁠—beautiful as a dream, and yet she did not love him. And was he, who was not even an artist⁠—was he to let beauty alone so fascinate him that he should give up family prejudice, rank, social position, all⁠—for what? A woman never asks such questions if she loves; she makes no calculations, no bargains⁠—she loves, and gives freely, joyfully, everything that she has to give⁠—she gives herself. + 

She leaned back in her chair, buried her face in the cushions, and shut her eyes. + 

“He does not know how passionately I love him, how I would cover him with kisses,” she murmured; and yet, how did it go? “The only charm which a man cannot withstand, and which he follows unresistingly⁠ ⁠… and his gratitude for which is, in fact, only recollection and longing⁠—” + 

It was from a French novel that she had gathered this melancholy piece of knowledge⁠—not a good book⁠—and she had not read to the end. But this sentence, which she did not dare repeat entirely to herself, had fallen into her heart like a spark of fire, and smouldered and burnt there⁠—in her heart, in her cheeks, in her closed eyes, in the beating pulses of her temples⁠—air! air! + 

She started up and clutched at the empty air like a drowning man. “I am lost,” she cried, “I am lost, lost!” + 

A knock at the door, which she had already heard once or twice, now sounded louder. She let her arms fall, glanced round the room, grasped the letter hidden in her bosom, and passed her hands over her hair and brow and eyes and cheeks. “Come in!” + 

“I was afraid of disturbing you,” said Reinhold, standing in the open doorway. + 

“Oh, come in and shut the door.” + 

It was the Ferdinanda of last night, with the half-careless, half-sullen, impenetrable manner, and the deep, monotonous, tired voice. + 

Reinhold did as he was desired. She replaced the modelling tool, which she had caught up at random, on the little table, and gave him her hand. + 

“I have been waiting a long time for you.” + 

“I should have been here sooner,” answered Reinhold, “but a handsome young fellow next door, whom I seemed to disturb in the act of dressing⁠—” + 

“Antonio, an Italian⁠—Herr Anders’ assistant.” + 

“He either could not or would not give me any information. So I have been through the yards and the machinery department in search of your father, and⁠—did you not hear the noise?” + 

“No.” + 

Reinhold stared with astonishment, his heart was still beating and his mind still full of what he had seen and heard. The clang of the bell had frightened Aunt Rikchen out of the house, where he had just led her back only half quieted; the servants had run and stood in the distance, staring anxiously; blind Cilli had come into the doorway and had said a few kind words to him as he passed by; and here, fifty yards off, his own daughter had heard nothing! + 

“Do you artists live in a world of your own?” he asked in astonishment, and then he explained what had happened. “I am afraid,” he added, “that half the manufactory will have to be closed. My uncle will suffer immense loss, for he has heavy contracts to fulfil, so the men told me before. Heaven only knows how it will all end!” + 

“What will it signify to my father?” answered Ferdinanda, as a bitter smile played about her lips. “The world may come to an end if only he can have his own way! You do not know my father quite yet,” she continued more quietly. “We, unhappily, are accustomed to this sort of thing; all we know is that we live over a volcano. If we left off work every time there was a storm we should have no peace, and should never finish anything.” + 

She had taken off her great apron. Reinhold was standing looking at her work. + 

“How do you like it?” asked Ferdinanda. + 

“It is beautiful,” answered Reinhold, with sincere admiration; “but I could wish it were less beautiful if it might be less sad. The expression of the mouth, the look of the eyes as they are shaded by the head⁠—the whole effect of the otherwise lovely face seems to me not quite in keeping with the peaceful and rural occupation suggested by the sickle and wheatsheaf. As I came in I fancied a maiden looking out for her lover. She is looking out for him, but woe to him when he comes! He had better be careful of the sickle! Am I right?” + 

“Perfectly,” answered Ferdinanda. “And now I am more glad than ever that I am going with you to the Exhibition. It must be a pleasure to look at the work of real artists with anyone who can so closely criticise the work of an amateur.” + 

She was standing at the end of the room, and let the water from a tap in the wall run over her hands into a washhand-basin. “Excuse me,” said she, “but that is what we are obliged to do here. Now tell me how you slept.” + 

“Perfectly as soon as I got to sleep. I was a little excited at first.” + 

“So was I. I had to walk for a long time in the garden before I could calm myself. May I confess? I was so ashamed of my father’s losing his temper before you, as you could not know what he was like in such matters, and that he can work himself up into a perfect fury over a mere nothing. Luckily, he only fights these battles in imagination; and, for example, if the son of the man whose very name⁠—heaven only knows why⁠—puts him into such a state, if Herr von Werben were to pay you a visit, and my father met him, he would be courtesy itself. I tell you that because I presume you will not be able to avoid some intercourse with the Werbens, and might think the situation more serious than it really is. Indeed, I am convinced that if I had not, in my extreme nervousness, cut short the introduction yesterday at the station, and my father could have seen that Herr von Werben is a man very much like other men, that scene never would have occurred. But one can’t think of everything.” + 

So said Ferdinanda as she slowly walked through the garden, which led, by a back door, from the studio to the house. The sun threw a shadow from the trees upon the garden wall, as the moon had done last night. + 

“It really was only a shadow on the wall,” said Reinhold to himself. + 

X + 

“I am afraid you will spoil me so dreadfully that I shall find it very difficult to return to my simple way of life,” said Reinhold, as he drove through the Brandenburg gate of the Thiergartenstrasse sitting by Ferdinanda’s side in his uncle’s carriage. + 

“What is the good of having carriages and horses if they are not to be used?” answered Ferdinanda. + 

She had thrown herself back upon the cushions with the tip of her foot upon the opposite seat. Reinhold could hardly take his eyes off the exquisite figure, which was shown off to the greatest advantage by a pretty autumn toilette. He seemed to realise for the first time how beautiful his cousin was, and he could quite understand why she so plainly attracted the notice of the gaily-dressed crowds that thronged the walks, and why several riders as they trotted past turned in their saddles. Ferdinanda did not seem to observe it; the large eyes looked straight before her, or were raised with a tired dreamy look to the branches of the trees, which seemed tired and dreamy, too, as they drank in unmoved the mild warmth of the autumn sunshine. Perhaps it was this connection of ideas which made Reinhold ask himself about what age the beautiful girl might be? and he was rather astonished when he calculated that she could not be far from four and twenty. She had always lived in his memory as a tall thin girl, not yet blossomed into flower, but then certainly that was ten years ago. His cousin Philip, who was then a long lanky youth, must now be very nearly thirty. + 

A light two-wheeled carriage that had been following them now overtook them. + 

On the high driving-seat sat a tall, fine, broad-shouldered man, well, and it struck Reinhold rather over dressed, driving a pair of remarkably fine high-stepping black horses with his hands encased in light kid gloves, and a little groom on the back seat with folded arms. The driver had to get out of the way of a carriage that was coming towards him. His attention was turned to the other side of the road, but when he was some carriage-lengths off he leaned over his seat and eagerly waved his hand and whip, to which Ferdinanda replied in her usual careless way with a nod. + 

“Who was that?” asked Reinhold. + 

“My brother Philip.” + 

“How strange!” + 

“What?” + 

“I was just thinking of him.” + 

“That often happens, particularly in a big town and at the hour when everyone is out. I shall not be surprised if we see him again at the Exhibition. Philip is a great lover of pictures, and draws and paints by no means badly. There, he has stopped! I thought so. Philip has good manners.” + 

The next moment they were side by side with the phaeton. + 

“Good morning, Ferdinanda! good morning, Reinhold! I bless the light which showed me how to light on you the very first day! Bad pun that, Ferdinanda⁠—eh? You look uncommonly well, my dear cousin, with your brown face and beard; and you need not be ashamed of the lady by your side either⁠—eh? Where are you off to? The Exhibition? That is capital; we shall meet. That horse is like a mad thing today. Au revoir!” + 

He touched with his whip the black horses, who were already beginning to fidget, and drove quickly off, again nodding over his broad shoulders. + 

“I should not have known Philip again,” said Reinhold; “he is not like you⁠—I mean not like you or my uncle.” + 

In fact, a greater contrast could hardly be imagined than between the big red beardless smooth face of the young man with his short hair, and the deeply-lined face of Uncle Ernst, surrounded and surmounted with its grey beard and hair, or the refined and unusual beauty of Ferdinanda. + 

“Lucky for him,” said Ferdinanda. + 

“Why lucky?” + 

“He is what he looks, a man of the day; we are ghosts of the middle ages. Consequently it is he who is looked upon as the ghost amongst us; but it is not his fault.” + 

“Then in this terrible rupture between him and my uncle you take his side?” + 

“We are not asked our opinion at home; you will see that by-and-by.” + 

“I can do that now,” thought Reinhold, as Ferdinanda again sank back amongst the cushions. “Ghosts, however, are not my favourite companions, particularly on such a bright sunny day. There are so many lovable people in the world⁠—sweet Cilli, for instance. Whatever a man expects he finds.” + 

As though he wished in all haste to make up this morning for any previous neglect, he now tried to fix his thoughts upon the image which he imagined was always present to his mind, but which now he could not call up before his eyes. + 

“That is all the fault of these crowds,” said he angrily. + 

And certainly they were in a very disagreeable crowd. A regiment with its noisy band was marching down the Friedrichstrasse, cutting across under the trees. The stream of passersby stood back on both sides, especially near the carriage. Police, mounted and on foot, tried to keep order amongst them with right goodwill, and to keep back the crowds which occasionally expressed their impatience loudly. + 

Even Ferdinanda seemed to be impatient at the long stoppage. She looked at her watch. “Half-past twelve already,” she murmured; “we are losing precious time.” At last came the tail of the battalion, just as the head of another left the Friedrichstrasse, with its band playing, and the crowds let free pushed and struggled vehemently against each other in the small space left between. + 

“Go on! go on, Johann!” cried Ferdinanda, with an eagerness which Reinhold could only attribute to the nervousness she might have felt. + 

They only came out of one crowd into another. + 

In the first great square room at the Exhibition, the so-called clock-room, the sightseeing crowds were so thickly packed that Reinhold, who had Ferdinanda on his arm, saw no possibility of getting any further. + 

“It is not so full in the next room,” said Ferdinanda; “but we must wait a little. They always take care to hang good pictures here. We will go separately, it is always easier to get on. How do you like this beautiful Andreas Achenbach? Is not that perfect? Wonderful! in his best and grandest style! Sky and sea⁠—all in shades of grey, and yet how sharply the different bits stand out. And how well he knows how to bring life into what might seem monotonous by introducing that red flag in the background on the mast of a schooner, and here in the foreground by the flickering light upon the planks of the bridge as the water streams over it. Masterly! quite masterly!” + 

Reinhold had listened to Ferdinanda’s spirited description with the greatest enjoyment. “She can talk about that,” thought he. “Well, she certainly is an artist. I can see it all, but could not express it, and should not be able to say why it is so beautiful.” + 

He stood there lost in contemplation of the picture. “What would be the captain’s next manoeuvre? He certainly must tack to get before the wind, but he was about a ship’s-length too near the bridge for that: a puzzling situation!” thought Reinhold. + 

He turned to express his opinion to Ferdinanda, and very nearly spoke to a little fat old lady who had taken Ferdinanda’s place, and with her glass to her eyes was examining the picture together with about a dozen other people, who stood round in a half circle. Reinhold made a fruitless effort to get through them and to join Ferdinanda, whom he saw at some little distance talking to one or two ladies so busily that she never once turned round, and for the moment had evidently forgotten him. “Another advantage of being separate which I will also make use of,” thought Reinhold. A picture close by caught his attention⁠—another sea-piece by Hans Gude, so said the catalogue⁠—which pleased him almost better than the first had done. To the left was the open sea, where a large steamer lay at anchor; on the shore, which curved round in a great bay, were to be seen in the distance amongst the sandhills a few fishermen’s huts, out of whose chimneys smoke was rising; between the little village and the ship was a rowing-boat, while another quite in the foreground was sailing towards the shore. The evening sky was overcast with heavy clouds above the sandhills, so that the smoke could hardly rise; only to the extreme west of the horizon over the open sea was a small streak of dull red. The night would be stormy, and a sharp breeze was already springing up and blowing the flag of the steamer straight out, and on the bare sands in the foreground the breakers were coming in heavily. Reinhold could not tear himself away from the picture. It was so exactly like that evening when he had steered the boat from the steamer to the shore. There in front the two servants had packed themselves, here sat the President, one hand on the side, the other clutching at the seat, not daring to pick up the covering which had fallen from his knees; here sat the General, with the collar of his coat turned up and his cap pulled far over his face, staring gloomily before him; and here, close to the man who was steering, she sat, gazing out so bravely upon the grey waste of waters and the foaming breakers in front of her, and then looking up so frankly, so happily at him with the dear brown eyes! Reinhold had forgotten the crowd around him, had forgotten Ferdinanda, and did not even see the picture; he only saw those dear brown eyes! + 

“Will they manage to get to land without a compass, Captain Schmidt?” asked a voice close to him. + 

The brown eyes were looking at him as he had just seen them in imagination, frank and happy; and the smile, too, was happy which played over cheek and lip as, without the slightest embarrassment, she gave him her hand as to an old friend. + 

“When did you arrive?” + 

“Yesterday evening.” + 

“Then certainly you have had no time to inquire for us and to claim your compass. Am I not honesty itself?” + 

“What use would it be to you?” + 

“Who can tell? You told me I had a great talent for navigation. But let us get out of this crowd and look for my brother, whom I have just lost. Are you alone?” + 

“I am with my cousin.” + 

“Then you must introduce me to her. I saw her Shepherd Boy downstairs; it is charming! I have only just heard from my brother that it is your cousin who is the sculptor, and that we are neighbours, and all about it. Where is she?” + 

“I have been looking for her in vain.” + 

“Now, that is delightful! Two lost children in a forest of people⁠—I am dreadfully frightened!” + 

She was not a bit frightened, Reinhold could see that. She was in her own world, and was as much at home in it as he was at sea. How cleverly and gracefully she slipped past two ladies who would not make way for her! How carelessly she nodded to the enormously tall officer who made his bow to her from the farthest corner of the room over the heads of several hundred people! How will she manage to talk to Reinhold over her shoulder when he was near, as he followed her with difficulty into the small, narrow passage where the prints and watercolours were hung. + 

“I saw my brother go in here,” said she. “There⁠—no, that is Herr von Saldern. Never mind, we shall find him presently⁠—and your cousin?” + 

“She is not here either.” + 

“Nor does that signify. She is as little likely to be in want of friends as I am. As we are here, let us have a little chat? Or would you rather look at the pictures? There are some very fine Passinis here.” + 

“I would rather talk.” + 

“There is no better place for talking than the Exhibition during the first few days. People only come to talk and to see their friends after the long summer, when everyone is away, and to examine the latest fashions which the bankers’ wives and daughters (we army people are not thought much of) have brought from Paris. They have an immense deal to do, and they know the pictures will not run away. My brother tells me you are going to spend the winter here?” + 

“A few weeks at all events.” + 

“Then of course you will stay longer. You cannot think how amusing Berlin is in the winter⁠—particularly for you, to whom so many circles are open. Your uncle keeps open house⁠—so says my brother, from whom all my information comes. Artists come and go of course when the daughter of the house is an artist, and so beautiful besides! Is she really so beautiful? I am so curious. At home we are very much quieter and rather monotonous, always the same people⁠—officers; but there are some charming men amongst them whom you would like to talk to; and amongst the ladies are several who are very nice and pretty, both married women and girls. Then Fräulein von Strummin is coming⁠—Meta! She swore it a thousand times at least at Golmberg, and has already written half a dozen letters on the subject. She generally writes every day, sometimes twice a day. The last was all about you.” + 

“Now I am getting curious.” + 

“I dare say; but I shall refrain from telling you⁠—you men are quite conceited enough. Papa, too, thinks very highly of you; did you know that?” + 

“I did not know it; but I do not know anything that would make me prouder.” + 

“Well, only yesterday evening, when Ottomar was telling us of his meeting with you, and that he had known you before in Orleans, he said what a pity it was you had not stayed in the army. You might have done it so easily, and could reenter it even now.” + 

“Very kind of him, Fräulein von Werben; and during the war I thought so too, and if it had gone on longer⁠—there is no saying; but in time of peace a sublieutenant thirty years old! That would never do.” + 

“True! true! But how would it be in the navy? You could rise there, and still keep to your own profession.” + 

“I do certainly wish to remain in it,” answered Reinhold, “and therefore I am thinking of accepting the proposal which President von Sanden made to me a few days ago, and which would immediately give me a command.” + 

“A command!” exclaimed Elsa, with astonished eyes. + 

“As superintendent of pilots.” + 

“Oh!” + 

There was a tone of disappointment in the exclamation which did not escape Reinhold. He continued, smiling: + 

“That is to say, the superintendence of some dozen or so rough weather beaten seafaring men, and of some dozen tough weatherproof fast-sailing vessels, among which it is to be hoped there will be one or two lifeboats; a humble post, Fräulein von Werben, but not without its merits, and certainly plenty of danger; and taken for all in all, worth while for a man with no great pretensions in life, but who would willingly serve the world with his strength and talents, to give those strength and talents and anything else he may have got to it cheerfully. And I⁠—well, I shall at all events stay in my own profession.” + 

They were standing in a window, rather away from the stream of people who were passing rapidly to and fro in the corridor. Elsa was leaning lightly against the windowsill, and gazing out into the street. Reinhold doubted whether she heard what he said, till rapidly turning her head she answered with her former lively manner: + 

“You are right, it is your especial profession. Accept the proposal which our old friend has made you! You see you have friends in all directions. And is any special place named yet, if I may ask?” + 

“Yes, I should be stationed at Wissow.” + 

“At Wissow?” + 

She clapped her hands together and laughed. + 

“In our Wissow? Now that is delightful! Then we shall be almost neighbours from Warnow and also from Strummin, if I pay my promised visit to Meta. Then we shall come and you must take us out sailing⁠—quite far out, will you?” + 

“As far as you like!” + 

“An honest man is as good as his word! And now we really must set out on our voyage of discovery. Oh, dear! there is Princess Heinrich August with the Princesses! Those unlucky Passinis! She has seen me already, she sees everything at a glance. I dare not go now; but⁠—” + 

“I will go,” said Reinhold. + 

“Yes, do; that will be better. What, will you not shake hands with me? We shall meet again!” + 

She gave him her hand, which Reinhold held fast for a moment; she was already looking towards the Princess. He went down the corridor. As he looked back for a moment from the entrance, he saw Elsa making a deep courtesy to the Princess, who stood still and spoke to her. + 

“How will she explain it,” thought Reinhold. “She cannot say that she was talking in the window to a Superintendent of pilots that is to be!” + 

XI + 

Ferdinanda only stood talking to her friends in the clock-room till she thought that Reinhold, who had repeatedly turned round to look for her, had forgotten her for the moment, and had given himself up to the study of the picture. Then she bowed to the two ladies, and allowed herself to be carried along by a stream of people who were going into the next room, waited a moment to be certain that Reinhold was not following her, and then walked quickly away with the air of a person looking for her lost companion, and who has therefore only a slight nod for any acquaintance she may meet, through this room and the skylight room into the fourth room, and out of these into the long suite of small rooms which from here led back to the chief room, and into which even during the first few days visitors rarely came. + 

Even today it was comparatively empty, only here and there isolated individuals, who with fleeting curiosity examined the pictures, never stopping long, and casting a look of astonishment at an officer who did not seem to be able to tear himself away from a very indifferent landscape. At last his interest seemed appeased; he walked rapidly away, when again his attention was attracted to a picture close to the entrance. It was the same picture before which Ferdinanda had stopped. The light was so unfavourable that there was only one spot from which the picture could be properly seen. So the officer was obliged to stand quite close to the lady, and in so doing he trod on her dress. + 

“I beg your pardon,” he said aloud, and then in a low voice, which only reached her ear, “Do not turn round till I tell you; speak into the corner; no one will observe it. First of all let me thank you!” + 

“Why?” + 

“For coming here.” + 

“I only came to tell you that I will bear it no longer.” + 

“Have I nothing to bear?” + 

“No, not in comparison with me.” + 

“I love you as you love me.” + 

“Prove it.” + 

“How?” + 

“By deeds, and not words.” + 

“With my hands tied?” + 

“Break the bonds that hold you!” + 

“I cannot.” + 

“Goodbye.” + 

She turned to the door through which she had come; he forgot all caution, and stood in her way. They confronted each other, their eyes meeting. + 

“Ferdinanda!” + 

“Let me go!” + 

“You must hear me! for God’s sake, Ferdinanda! Such an opportunity as this may not occur again for weeks!” + 

She laughed scornfully. “We have plenty of time.” + 

Again she tried to pass him; he still stood in her way. + 

“Ferdinanda!” + 

“Once again let me go! You wish for an opportunity? You will perhaps never have so good a one of getting rid of me.” + 

He stood back with a bow; she could have gone if she pleased, but she did not go; the hot tears had started into her eyes, she did not dare to meet people so, and turned back to the picture, where he immediately took his original position. + 

“Be kind, Ferdinanda! I have so looked forward to this hour. Why do you embitter the moments so precious to both of us? You know, you must know that I am prepared to go all lengths if it must be. But we cannot take the final step without considering everything.” + 

“We have been considering for the last six months.” + 

“With the garden wall between us, and in words which were only half understood, in letters where one cannot express what one wants. That is no use. You must meet me somewhere, as I have so often entreated. Am I never to take your hand in mine, never to press my lips against yours? and you ask for a proof of my love!” + 

She went up to his side and gazed into the beautiful, restless hazel eyes. Still more beautiful and darker eyes had gazed at her like that a few hours ago, and with more passionate warmth. She had been able to withstand them, these she could not withstand. The eyelashes fell upon her burning cheeks. + 

“I can not,” she stammered. + 

“Say I will not, I have made innumerable suggestions to you. Only the other day I got introduced to your brother at the Club. He was delighted to make my acquaintance, pressed me to visit him, to come and see his pictures. How easily we could meet there.” + 

“I dare not go and see my brother. I have not dared to go for a long time, and now after last night!” + 

“Then your cousin! Of course he will come and see us? I shall return the visit. Your father cannot turn me away from the door!” + 

“I have already thought of that and prepared him. But in that case it could only be for a very few minutes.” + 

“Then I will think of something else, if only I knew what you would like; I will find something and write to you, or I should prefer telling you whenever you give me the signal.” + 

“I dare not do it again.” + 

“Why?” + 

“There is someone who watches every step I take. I am not safe from him for one moment⁠—Antonio⁠—I have told you about him; I am afraid.” + 

“You are afraid of everything.” + 

He turned quickly and impatiently towards the window near which he stood. At the same moment a handsome, remarkably smartly-dressed young man disappeared from the door at the other end of the gallery, where he had stood for the last few minutes, so placed that by bending a little to the left he could easily see the couple in the window with his dark, eagle eyes, without much danger of being seen himself. If necessary he had only to withdraw into the crowd which filled the large neighbouring room. He had seen enough now, and mingled again with the throng. + 

When Ottomar, after looking out of window for a few seconds, turned to speak to Ferdinanda the words of reconciliation which were on his lips and in his heart, her place was empty. + 

Ferdinanda could not help it. The acquaintances with whom she had before spoken had passed the door of the next room, close to which she stood, and luckily without seeing her. But they were standing quite close to the door, the dress of one of them was still in sight. At any moment they might turn into the gallery if she did not go forward to meet them and keep them till Ottomar, who would of course understand it all, should himself leave the gallery by the other side. And if he did not understand⁠—so much the worse for him. Then it would all be over⁠—better today than tomorrow if it must be! + 

But Ottomar had observed nothing, had not seen the two ladies, had not even seen Ferdinanda, who, to get out of the way of the people in the door, had been obliged to go a step or two into the room, and was now speaking to her friends. She had left him without a word of farewell or explanation. + 

“By heaven, that is rather strong!” said he, biting his lips and pulling his small dark moustache. “Well, as she pleases!” And he rapidly left the gallery and went through the same door where the handsome young man had stood into the large room. + 

XII + 

Here, meanwhile, the crowd had, if possible increased. Besides the Princess Heinrich August, various other princely personages had appeared with their suites, for whom at all events room had to be made. The result was that in some places the curious sightseers were so crowded together that any movement was hardly possible. + 

It was the same in the last of the set of rooms. Two ladies had placed themselves upon one of the few sofas of which the Exhibition could boast. Near them stood a gentleman whose absent and fatigued expression plainly showed how glad he would be to sit down also. He stood first on one leg, then on the other, and cast from time to time an irritable glance at the two ladies, one of whom, who seemed a few years older than the other, but, notwithstanding her being rather too large, was the handsomest, leaned languidly back in her corner, while the younger and slighter one incessantly turned her eyeglasses from side to side, never moving them from her eyes. + 

“When you are enough rested, I think we will go,” said the gentleman. + 

“I see no possibility of getting out,” replied the stout lady, without changing her comfortable attitude. + 

“It really is intensely interesting,” said the other, “quite too interesting. Who is that man, Edward?” + 

The glasses had turned in another direction. + 

“What man?” + 

“There⁠—by the Emperor’s portrait, with the fair moustache and bright colour⁠—a country gentleman, I am sure. I fancy I have seen him before.” + 

“By Jove, that is Golm!” exclaimed the gentleman, rousing from his indifference. + 

“Count Golm! quite true!” said the lady. “This really is quite too interesting! Bring him here at once, Edward!” + 

But the Count had already observed the party and came up to them eagerly, holding out both hands to the other gentleman, who went forward a few steps to meet him. + 

“My dear Wallbach, I am delighted to see you!” + 

“How long have you been here?” + 

“Since yesterday evening; will you introduce me to the ladies?” + 

“My wife⁠—my sister Carla⁠—” + 

“I had the pleasure two winters ago; but⁠—” + 

“Oh, we have better memories in Berlin than you seem to give us credit for, Count Golm,” cried Carla, “especially for gentlemen who make themselves so scarce. Why did we not see you last winter?” + 

“I was in Italy, Fräulein von Wallbach, and in Paris.” + 

“Oh, that dear dear Paris! We have not been there for an eternity; the last time was the year before the war. They say it has not altered at all, but I cannot believe it. Then there was such a brilliant court⁠—and now⁠—c’est désolant! But sit down by us; there is room if we sit closer together.” Carla drew aside her voluminous skirts. + 

“I am afraid of being in your way,” said the Count, but sat down in the place so readily made for him, while Herr von Wallbach glanced despairingly at his varnished boots. + 

“We have been talking immensely about you this last few days,” said Carla. “Dear Elsa! she is so enchanted with Golmberg, it must really be a perfect paradise. Is not Elsa enchanting? We all spoil her here, Ottomar says, and he spoils her more than anyone.” + 

“Who is Ottomar, if I may ask?” + 

“Herr von Werben!” said Wallbach, casting a glance of displeasure upon Carla, “the Lieutenant.” + 

“Oh, his name is Ottomar!” said the Count. + 

“Our families are so very intimate,” said Herr von Wallbach. “My poor brother, you know, fell at the siege of Paris by Von Werben’s side.” + 

“True! true! I remember,” said the Count, who knew nothing about it. + 

“And naturally that increased our intimacy,” said Carla. “Sorrow always brings people closer together,” and she compressed still further the ample folds of her dress. + 

“True! true!” said the Count. “Sorrow⁠—and happiness too.” + 

“Ah, you are a philosopher! I love philosophy! Schopenhauer gave me the most intense pleasure. Are you not enchanted with Hartmann?” + 

“Who may that be?” thought the Count; and aloud he said, “Certainly⁠—at least⁠—” + 

“Then you do not know him, at least thoroughly; I know him by heart. There are only three men now to be studied, and studied again and again⁠—Bismarck, Hartmann, and Wagner. The politics of the present, the music of the future, opened out to us by the philosophy of the unknown; in them you see the stamp of this century.” + 

“I am quite anxious to make Herr von Werben’s acquaintance,” said the Count, by way of taking part in the conversation. + 

“Quand on parle du loup⁠—mon Dieu! he really does look like a wolf,” cried Carla, whose ever busy eyeglasses had perceived Ottomar the moment he appeared in the room, with the anger and displeasure at Ferdinanda’s supposed flight still apparent in his troubled looks and gloomy eyes. + 

“He has been looking for you, Carla,” said Frau von Wallbach, opening her lips for the first time. + 

“Pray do not call attention so openly to what is by no means settled yet,” whispered Herr von Wallbach in her ear. + 

“What, not yet?” said Frau von Wallbach in an indifferent tone. + 

Herr von Wallbach shrugged his shoulders, then turned with a smile towards Ottomar, who was working his way in and out till he finally arrived at the party in the window. + 

“That is right, my dear Werben; we have been expecting you a long time.” + 

“I must apologise,” said Ottomar; “I have lost Elsa⁠—been looking for her this half hour. Pray do not be angry with me, Frau von Wallbach, nor you, Fräulein Carla.” + 

“Good morning,” said Carla, without moving her glasses from her eyes. “Who is that, Louise? Frau von Elmar? on her husband’s arm? impossible!” + 

Ottomar had not written during the three days he had been away shooting⁠—not a line⁠—and he must be punished for it. Besides, since her approaching engagement with the smart Guardsman had become known, she had not found it so easy to fascinate other young men as before. The Count was fresh from the country, and could very easily play the part required of him for a day or two. “Count Golm!” + 

“Yes.” The Count, whom Herr von Werben had just introduced to Ottomar, turned round. + 

“Look, Count Golm! That young lady in the lovely blue dress⁠—that is Frau von Elmar, who had that affair with Count Wolkonski, the attaché at the Russian Embassy, two winters ago. Don’t you know the story? You must hear it. Sit down again by me!” + 

“I thought we were just going!” said Herr von Wallbach. + 

“One moment,” said Carla. + 

Herr von Wallbach shrugged his shoulders. He considered the game Carla was playing, and which he quite saw through, utterly misplaced. Ottomar’s face was dark enough already, so dark indeed that he considered a word of excuse necessary. “She is still such a child,” he whispered, with a side-glance at Carla. “You must not be angry with her.” + 

“I am not angry with her.” + 

“Then something else has vexed you,” continued Wallbach, drawing Ottomar aside. “You really ought to leave Berlin for a time, this idle time of peace does not suit you. And I have already spoken to the Minister; he does not include you in his differences with your father. In fact he wishes that you should accept this post, only he also wishes for particular reasons not to have any more unmarried attachés there. You see, my dear Werben, I am open with you, and you will not mind that. Be so yourself, and show that you are in earnest! Believe me we shall all be better and happier⁠—you and I and Carla. You cannot be surprised if at last we are getting a little impatient.” + 

“No; I am impatient enough myself.” + 

“Then we shall be quite d’accord, and if you agree⁠—hush! Princess Heinrich August!” + 

The Princess had come into the room, and had got to the opposite corner without being observed by the group in the window, and now moved on, the crowd respectfully making way, rapidly examining the pictures and sometimes talking to Elsa over her shoulder. The group on the sofa got up hastily and bowed low. + 

“Now we are all together,” said the great lady with kindly friendliness. “Here, you most unfaithful of brothers, is your sister! The company in which we find you must be your excuse. How are you, my dear Carla? You have not shown yourself out riding for three days. I always feel there is something wanting when you do not once canter past my carriage on your black horse. But he has been faithless to you too. Shooting⁠—gentlemen are always shooting! I advise you to beware! You ought to ride too, my dear Wallbach! it would certainly do you good; my daughters begin next year. I should ride myself if⁠—ah! Count Golm! What brings you from your lonely island to our dusty town? Certainly roses bloom here also. Fräulein von Werben has told me the adventure she had at Golmberg⁠—quite romantic! I always say truth is stranger than fiction. Shall you stop here long, my dear Count? You must tell me the whole story. I take a great interest in your island, where I spent a delightful week last autumn. How is Prince Prora? Your little castle of Golmberg is said to stand in a still better position than his celebrated hunting-place. Perhaps you will all accompany me for a short time? Stay by me, dear Elsa! Then how long do you stay, my dear Count?” + 

The Princess moved away. The crowd which had formed a semicircle at a respectful distance, watching the great lady’s interview with the group in the window, as hearing was not possible, opened out and then spread over the room in chattering groups. + 

“What a pretty woman!” + 

“Who were the people with whom she talked so long and so graciously?” + 

XIII + 

After happily saving Fräulein von Werben from the danger of being caught by the Princess talking confidentially with a merchant-captain, Reinhold had returned through the gallery and second room to the clock-room, in the assured hope of finding his cousin still there. But in vain did he turn his sharp eyes in all directions, plunging boldly over the long trains of the ladies, if he saw a brown velvet dress in the far distance. + 

After all she could not be far off, and in fact it was more that she had left him in the lurch than that he had left her. But still his uneasiness did not decrease when he got to the skylight-room without finding her. He stood still, doubting whether he should go on or return, when a hand, encased in a yellow kid glove, touched his shoulder. + 

“At last I have found you!” + 

“Philip!” exclaimed Reinhold, turning round and giving his hand to his cousin. + 

“Where is Ferdinanda?” + 

Reinhold explained his mishap. + 

“Then we will look for her together,” said Philip. “I have just come out of the middle room, and she was not there; perhaps she is in one of the last rooms.” + 

He linked his arm in Reinhold’s with the familiarity of a cousin and intimate friend. Reinhold was agreeably touched, and a little ashamed that in the quarrel between father and son he was conscious of having already taken the side of the former. + 

“I really am pleased to see you,” said he. + 

“I don’t doubt the reality,” answered Philip, laughing, “and only hope the pleasure will last; at any rate, at least fifty percent of the happiness falls to my share. It is always a good thing to know that the old man has got a sensible fellow to talk to; and he has always thought very highly of you⁠—probably only to irritate me; but I don’t mind that.” + 

“I am so new to this state of affairs, my dear Philip⁠—” + 

“Diplomatic? you need not try that with me. I am a straightforward, honest fellow, always speaking out what I have in my heart⁠—a foolish habit; it is just what the old man has never forgiven me. He will not listen to the truth; the whole world must dance to his pipe⁠—and a pretty world it would be, heaven knows!” + 

“But he has already created a little world of his own. I must confess that his manufactory⁠—” + 

“Is very fine. He has just been pretty lucky⁠—that is all, I assure you! Think what any other man might have done who held his cards! But he never knows what are trumps for the moment, and cannot forgive another man understanding it better. What has he told you about me?” + 

“Nothing⁠—on my honour.” + 

“It will come. But I warn you not to believe a word. He looks upon me as an egotist, a gambler, a speculator, a cutthroat⁠—I don’t know what not! And why? Because I am ten times richer than he is; because I could put his whole marble trade into my pocket without feeling it; because I⁠—in a word, because I have been successful. I believe in Bismarck, whom he hates like sin. Bismarck is my man; I swear by Bismarck; I would go through thick and thin for Bismarck. He knows what he is about, and how to do it.” + 

Philip sometimes raised his already loud voice till all the bystanders could hear him as well as Reinhold himself; and even when he spoke lower, his lively eyes penetrated the crowd, in which every moment he greeted some acquaintance with a wave of the gloved hand, or a familiar nod of the head, or sometimes with “How are you?” “All right?” “Morning⁠—morning,” and such broken sentences. + 

“Shall you never come back to your father’s house?” asked Reinhold. + 

“No. Why should I?” + 

“Now, Philip! As if it were the most natural thing in the world for a son never to enter his father’s house!” + 

“Natural! What do you mean by natural? I call it natural for a man of my years not to allow himself to be treated like a foolish boy. At the same time, I have no principles concerned in the matter, just now less than ever. Only get me an invitation!” + 

“I will try, on one condition.” + 

“Well?” + 

“That you do not abuse your father in my presence.” + 

Philip laughed. + 

“You are too particular, my dear Reinhold; in these times, neither men nor things must be handled with silk gloves, or you are apt to get a fall before you are aware. Bismarck does not do that; he grips fast.” + 

“Many things are allowed in politics which are unbecoming in common life.” + 

“Oh, we have got beyond all that! On the contrary, we have, thank heaven! arrived at the conviction that, in any circumstances, every advantage may be taken. Just look at that little dark man with the great fat wife. Two years ago he was a wretched little stockjobber, who did not know from day to day what he had to live on. Now he has got two millions, and if the ‘New’ Kaiser-König Iron Company⁠—which is started tomorrow⁠—pays, he will have three millions this year. The ‘Old’ stand at 135. I myself am deeply interested, and reckon upon a dividend of at least 25. I can get you some shares if you like.” + 

“I do not know what I should buy them with.” + 

“You must have made a good lot of money.” + 

“I have laid by a small sum, which I should like to keep.” + 

“Prudence is the mother of wisdom⁠—and the grandmother of poverty.” + 

“Then I am her legitimate grandson.” + 

Philip suddenly drew his arm out of Reinhold’s, who thought he had annoyed him by his last remark; but it was only to stand erect and take off his hat to the Princess, who, with her suite, was passing by. Reinhold, who was pushed aside by people getting in front of him, could see the whole party perfectly without being seen himself⁠—the Princess chatting sometimes with Elsa, who was walking on her left side, and sometimes with Count Golm, who was a little behind her on the right; then various ladies and gentlemen, and amongst the latter Ottomar, talking busily to a lady. The subject of their talk seemed to be amusing, as she laughed incessantly behind her eyeglasses, which never left her eyes. + 

A curious sensation came over Reinhold. His former flight had something absurd about it from the haste with which it had to be made, and he had himself laughed heartily about it afterwards. Now he could not laugh. In the midst of this respectful, bowing crowd, as it made room for the Princess, he felt the difference of the social position between himself and the young lady who moved at her side to be quite another thing to what he had thought before. He belonged to the crowd, not, as she did, to that select circle⁠—she and Count Golm! Had he made the journey back with them? Did he follow her? What did it matter?⁠—a Count Golm had but to come! + 

He turned with a secret sigh, and close behind him saw Ferdinanda. She did not see him; her eyes, like everyone else’s, were turned on the Princess’s party, with a fixedness which curiosity alone could not explain. Was it displeasure at being so long alone that he saw in the beautiful gloomy face? + 

“Ferdinanda!” + 

She started as if awaking from a dream. A deep glow spread over her cheeks. Reinhold excused himself as well as he could. Philip joined them. + 

“Did you see her? Beautiful woman! I am quite in love with her. The little Werben girl seems marvellously intimate with her. The man on the other side, I hear, was Count Golm, grand seigneur, but over head and ears in debt. Now is the time to save himself if he is clever. I hope soon we shall do some business together in grand style; don’t know him personally⁠—know his signature very well. And did you see young Werben, Ferdinanda, with Fräulein von Wallbach? It must be all right there⁠—not a bad match; she is worth about a hundred thousand; and her brother, who manages her property, was there too⁠—there, Reinhold⁠—with rather a bald head, he is not half a bad fellow; and young Werben himself⁠—well, just now he is rather shaky, but no doubt he will pick up again.” + 

“Shall we go?” said Ferdinanda. + 

She stepped forward without waiting for any answer, and rather to Reinhold’s horror, right in front of the Princess and her party. The Princess had, however, again stopped to accost some other important people who had just arrived. Her attendants had stepped back a little, and were conversing together in low tones, and so it was to be hoped that they might slip through unperceived, but just as he was crossing he caught Elsa’s eye, and she nodded to him so cordially, and indeed heartily, that Count Golm, whose attention was attracted, half turned, and certainly recognised him, although his light eyes instead of greeting him, slightly fell, and immediately looked in another direction; but Reinhold had not observed that Ottomar, who had also turned, bowed to Ferdinanda, whose dress touched him, with polite indifference, and immediately continued his interrupted conversation with Fräulein von Wallbach with increased earnestness, while Ferdinanda returned his bow with a blank, fixed look. + 

But the scene had not escaped someone else’s eyes, the dark, gleaming, fiery eyes of the handsome young man, who had already observed from afar the rendezvous in the gallery. He had been standing now in the very centre of the dark wall of the room leaning against one of the columns, and suddenly came forward and stood before the two as they were going. + 

“Thank heaven I have found you at last, signora,” said he in his soft voice, which seemed to tremble a little from breathless haste. “I have looked for you everywhere, to tell you that Signor Anders has not been able to wait downstairs any longer. He was obliged to keep an appointment which was settled for two o’clock.” + 

“So much the better,” answered Ferdinanda; “I was just starting to go home.” + 

“It is a pity!” said Philip. “I wanted to hear your opinion of a wonderful young Bacchus by Müller; Herr Anders has not yet sold his Satyr; I am doubting between the two, perhaps I shall buy both, and your Shepherd Boy too, Ferdinanda, if you will only put a decent price on it.” + 

“Are you coming with us, Antonio?” asked Ferdinanda impatiently. + 

“I think I will stay a little longer,” answered the Italian, hesitating. + 

“Very well. Come. Addio, Signor Antonio!” + 

“Addio, signora!” + 

The Italian remained in the door between the second room and the clock-room, his black eyes following the receding figures till they disappeared through the entrance; then they turned back upon the second room, and remained fixed upon Ottomar with a look of deadly hate. + 

“Now I know from whom the letters are which she so often reads! You shall pay for it, per Bacco!” he murmured between his white teeth. + 

XIV + 

That same evening in the elegant salon of the Royal Hotel, Unter den Linden, sat Count Golm and Councillor Schieler at a table covered with maps and plans. The two gentlemen had conversed long and eagerly over a bottle of wine; the bright colour in the Count’s cheeks was deeper, and a certain look of displeasure appeared in his face as he now leaned back in his rocking-chair, and began silently to rock himself backwards and forwards; the Councillor still continued to turn over the plans for a little while, sipped his wine, and then also leaned back, and said: + 

“I find you, take it all in all, Count Golm, less inclined to concur in our project than our correspondence had led me to believe.” + 

“But is it our project?” cried the Count, rousing himself. “What does it signify to me if you want a harbour in the north instead of in the east? The railway will cut one of my properties in half, and come in contact with another. Voilà tout! I don’t see why I should excite myself about that.” + 

“We only want the northern harbour because we cannot get the eastern one,” answered the Councillor coolly. “A harbour to the north might be conceded by the Government. As to one to the east⁠—well, Count Golm, I think that after such very interesting explanations as you heard at your own table from the lips of the General and the President, we must give up any hope of it. Get the concession for the harbour to the east for us, and the Sundin-Wissow Railway Company will be formed tomorrow.” + 

“How can I do so if you cannot, who are at the very fountainhead?” + 

The Councillor shrugged his shoulders. + 

“You know, Count Golm, that I no longer hold any office, and have only now and then to give an opinion; that I have not failed to do so on this side you will believe without my trying to convince you.” + 

“And you have not been able to get the concession?” + 

“It is not so easily to be had, and especially now when he is busy getting that bill through. People do not dare go to him with many questions which would seem to touch upon the great principle of self-government, which is the order of the day. However⁠—I say it in the strictest confidence⁠—as soon as this bill, which you know goes very much against the grain with him, has been brought through the House of Lords by means of a new creation of peers, and at the same time as I and all patriots feel the grave of Prussia has been dug, he will retire in displeasure from his uncomfortably prominent position in the ministry, and we shall have a better chance next year.” + 

“But I do not want to wait so long,” said the Count. He had sprung up and paced up and down the room with hasty steps; now he returned to the table where the Councillor, certain that the interview would not be terminated thus, remained quietly sitting. “And supposing that I wished to wait so long⁠—the very important question arises of whether I could. This is a confidential interview, Councillor Schieler. Well, I am in a bad way. The interest on my debts almost swallows up my income, and by the first of October there will be an additional sum of fifty thousand thalers.” + 

“Have you spoken to Hugo Lübbener? I should have thought such a rich man, and your banker for so many years⁠—” + 

“He has only been so for three years, since you recommended him to me so strongly, and besides now my account is very low; my banker’s book has not been made up since last July. I cannot ask any more from Lübbener; I have not even once been to see him.” + 

“Humph!” said the Councillor, with the air of a man who, thinking he knows something, now sees it in a new light. “I thought your affairs were⁠—apart from temporary embarrassments⁠—quite in order. What you now tell me, with I hope some of the exaggeration of despondency, surprises me very much indeed⁠—very much.” + 

“I do not exaggerate,” replied the Count; “indeed I have said rather too little than too much.” + 

“But then still less do I understand why our project does not suit you. The value of both your properties would be doubled, and a directorship is also certain. That is always something.” + 

“It is nothing⁠—nothing at all!” cried the Count vehemently. “A straw to a drowning man. What should I do with the paltry hundreds, which I can win in one evening at écarté? No! if once I go in for speculating it shall not be for nothing; if I make a haul it shall be a good one which shall compensate for the prick of conscience at going in direct opposition to all the traditions of my family and doing what Prince Prora would never condescend to, and which will make me secure in the future.” + 

The Councillor scratched his long nose with a pencil to hide a smile, and suppressed the answer which was on the tip of his tongue. + 

“How can a gambler be safe in the future?” He said instead: “You should marry, Count Golm!” + 

“The three negro heads in my coat-of-arms would seem to indicate a dowry of a round million. Tell me of some fascinating young Jewess!” + 

“I could name several, but I had no lovely daughter of Israel in my mind; on the contrary, the daughter of a house which, even if the blood of the Wends flows in their veins, is nearly as old as yours: Fräulein Elsa von Werben.” + 

“Are you joking?” + 

“I never was more in earnest; I have been turning the matter over in my mind for the last three days, that is to say since the luckiest of all accidents brought about a personal interview between you and the Werbens under circumstances which render further social intercourse a mere matter of duty on both sides. Think now, Count Golm; the chief opponent of the eastern line of railway is the General⁠—upon strategical grounds perhaps, but I know the man well enough, certainly for personal motives also. The harbour can only be upon Warnow ground, so that the Warnow property must be bought by our company; but it cannot be bought, at least not at present, without his consent as co-trustee of the Warnow estates. Very well; marry the daughter, who must some day inherit half the property, and we shall soon see whether he will withhold from the son-in-law what he refuses to the Director of the Sundin-Wissow Railway and Harbour Company. It is not written in vain: ‘Lead us not into temptation.’ ” + 

“I think I have learnt to know the General also,” cried the Count, “and I bet a hundred to one he will resist the temptation.” + 

“I never bet,” answered the Councillor; “I always calculate, and I find that the calculation that drops will wear away a stone, though uncertain, is on the whole correct. But listen! Herr von Wallbach, as my colleague in the management of the Berlin-Sundin Railway, is as deeply concerned as I am that the Sundin-Wissow Railway, which would set us afloat again (you see, Count Golm, I am candour itself), should be carried out. But Herr von Wallbach, since the death of his father the minister, has taken his place as one of the trustees of the Warnow estate; and Ottomar von Werben, who is co-heir, is engaged⁠—or as good as engaged⁠—to Wallbach’s clever sister. Wallbach is too good a man of business not to know that if half the property is sold, and sold to us, it will be worth double⁠—double, did I say? it will be worth three or four times what the whole thing is now; but he is afraid⁠—from some remnants of aristocratic prejudices (excuse the word) to push the General too hard. Make common cause with him! I mean marry the daughter, as his sister marries the son, and⁠—why, I very nearly made a bet then!” + 

The Count, who, while the Councillor had been speaking, walked up and down softly over the carpet, and often stopped so as not to lose a word, now turned round sharply. + 

“Good!” said he, “charming! but in any case I am to be the vendor!” + 

“How do you mean, Count Golm?” said the Councillor. + 

“Why it is plain enough,” answered the Count. “I as neighbour and son-in-law get the property considerably cheaper than the company, who, besides, cannot possibly want the whole thing. So I prefer selling what they want to the company, then buying back from the company what is necessary for the completion of my estate. I think that is clear.” + 

It was very clear to the Councillor, had been quite clear from the first moment, and he had only wanted time to recover from his surprise. The Count’s move was a masterly one, which he had never expected from the reckless young man. He was in the strange position of being obliged to curb the ardour which he had so artfully roused. + 

“Bravo!” said he. “We shall have a skilful director in you. I congratulate ourselves and you in the prospect. At the same time, we will not divide the skin till we have killed the bear. Till now we have been reckoning without one person, who is, however, very powerful⁠—without the Baroness Warnow herself.” + 

“But if she is in the hands of her trustee, and you and Wallbach could get the better of the General⁠—” + 

“Only till the first of October! From that day, which happens to be her fiftieth birthday, the Baroness, by her husband’s will, has a voice amongst the trustees, who then, if you like, become only a committee of management under her.” + 

“And you think that the Baroness will be against our plan?” + 

“I think that the opinion of the Baroness upon this and every other matter is of infinitely less importance to us than that of Signor Giraldi.” + 

“Her steward?” + 

“Steward⁠—secretary⁠—companion, I do not know what.” + 

“They say that she is married to him?” + 

“She will take care not to do that!” + 

“Why?” + 

“Because by taking such a step she would lose all right to the estate, which would then fall immediately to Fräulein von Werben and her brother, provided they had not imitated the folly of their aunt in marrying below their rank. Then no one would have any of it except various benevolent institutions.” + 

“I have, as you may imagine, heard all possible and impossible things of that wonderful will. Can you and will you satisfy my curiosity, which now hardly deserves that name?” + 

“Willingly,” said the Councillor. “The slight indiscretion which I shall commit in so doing I will put down to my credit in our accounts; but where shall I begin?” + 

“At the beginning,” said the Count. “I know a great deal⁠—I know very little⁠—I know nothing. You see I am already practising the jargon with some facility. Shall I send for another bottle?” + 

“Thanks, thanks. I have still another visit before me; but you are right, you must know all now, and I will endeavour to be as brief as possible.” + 

He put his watch which he had just taken out back into his pocket; the Count leaned back in his chair, and began to rock himself, while the Councillor scribbled on a bit of paper, and was silent for a few moments, as if to collect his thoughts. + 

“You must not expect a private history from me; I could not tell it to you even if I wished, as in regard to the intimate relations and feelings of those concerned, I am no better informed than other people, and I never venture upon the dangerous path of guesses except in general meetings, when the shareholders are very unruly. So I must limit myself to relating the facts in chronological order. Well, you know that the Duchess of ⸻ is a distant relation of our royal family. Fräulein Valerie von Werben, as well as her elder sister, Sidonie, grew up here in Berlin with the Princess. When the Princess married she first took Valerie to her new court, and when the latter also married, she allowed the far less interesting and amusing Sidonie⁠—I think out of charity⁠—to take her place. But that is only by the way. + 

“Baron Warnow made Fräulein Valerie’s acquaintance in ⸻, where⁠—for in those days we were still courteous enough to send ambassadors even to small courts⁠—he held that office. To see, love, and marry the handsome and clever girl, and to give up his office to be able to devote his whole life to her, was the result of a single impulse. That was in the year 1840. + 

“From ’40 to ’43 the young couple lived in Warnow⁠—how? I should be sorry to say positively; but to judge from my knowledge of mankind, at first happily, then less happily, and at last⁠—I infer from the disclosure made me by the Baron in ’43⁠—decidedly unhappily. The Baron and I were friends as students; from that time he honoured me with his confidence. I had repeatedly acted as his legal adviser, and so was to a certain extent entitled to receive his confidences, which however never entered into details. + 

“The Baron wished to try a different matrimonial regime, to travel with his young wife, to see the world. I urgently advised it. They went to London, Paris, and finally to Italy, where however they only stayed a very short time. When they returned the Baron again came to see me; he looked wretched; the perpetual change of place had upset his nerves; he had not been able to stand the climate, and so forth. The truth of the matter was that he was really ill, only that the seat of his illness was less in the stomach and nerves than in the heart; in fact he was jealous, and we may be quite sure not without grounds. At first he seems to have had various suspicions, but they finally concentrated in one person, who alone was named⁠—a certain Gregorio Giraldi, whose acquaintance the Baroness had already made when she was a girl, while he held some subordinate position as secretary or something of the sort to the papal ambassador at the Court of ⸻. However that may be, they made or renewed acquaintance with Signor Giraldi in Rome. An old impression was revived, or a new intimacy formed, which certainly belonged to the category of ‘dangerous,’ though at least appearances were kept up, and a ray of hope was left for the miserable husband, or it would have been impossible that he could have given his consent to a second journey to Italy a year later. From this he did not return quite so quickly as from the first, but when he did, it was⁠—alone! The climate had been even worse for his nerves, so that he could not recover from the shock, and in fact never did, but failed for six or seven months, and died in 1845, from a broken heart, as the novels say, or after long suffering from a heart complaint, as it appeared in the obituary announcement. + 

“Luckily death had left him time to make his will, which it took us an immense time to draw up through the obstinacy of the General, then a major lately married, and the father of two children since dead. Of those now living Ottomar was, if I am not mistaken, born in 1847, and the daughter some years later. From the first moment that the Baron made the acquaintance of his brother-in-law, which as far as I can recollect was about the time of his own betrothal with the sister, he formed the deepest friendship with him⁠—a friendship which matrimonial disturbances the less interfered with that Werben, who from the beginning had sided with his brother-in-law, with his usual determination, held fast to this line of conduct, and in consequence had many a stormy scene with his giddy but tenderly-loved sister. By the first draft of the will he was to inherit everything in trust for his children, while the Baroness only received her legal portion. Werben positively refused the inheritance for himself, but accepted it for his children after long consideration, though with the strangest restrictions. From the very first he had advised and at last obtained that the possibility of marrying again should not be taken from his sister, as this step would help her to return to a proper life, provided that the marriage should be with an equal, and in every way fitting. Upon the equality and other proprieties of this hypothetic second marriage the trustees⁠—Herr von Werben himself, Herr von Wallbach (the father of the present man), and I⁠—had to decide, as well as upon every other detail of the will. If the Baroness made an unequal second marriage against the will of the trustees, she was then reduced at once to her legal portion. If she remained unmarried, then the use of half of the revenues of the estate would be left to her entirely. The other half was to accumulate as capital, deducting a very moderate sum for the education of the General’s children, who on their side would receive equal parts of the revenues of the second half on attaining majority, only that the daughter would attain majority upon her marriage, whose propriety and equality were to be decided by the trustees as in the first case. If they, the children, whether son or daughter, contracted an unsuitable marriage, they lost thereby all claim to the succession, and their portion lapsed as if the delinquent were no longer alive. + 

“To put it shortly: the Baroness and the General’s children succeed one another in turns, so that, for instance, if the General’s children die or lose their rights in the way I have mentioned, the Baroness becomes sole heiress of the estates and has free disposal of everything, as, on the contrary, either of the other heirs would have free disposal if the Baroness died or forfeited her rights.” + 

“A strange will,” said the Count, who had listened with such breathless attention that he had even forgotten to rock himself. + 

“I am only answerable for the drawing up,” answered the Councillor; “the actual provisions are entirely the General’s work, who is, by the way, the most conscientious or rather pedantic of men, and with his speeches about uprightness and justice on all sides makes life intolerable to everyone. I assure you he might have had the whole thing without any trouble, and now all these restrictions and obstacles! I have mentioned one already which especially for us just now is very important.” + 

“The Baroness taking part in the management?” + 

“Exactly, which takes place in a few weeks. If we are then in a position to get the Baroness⁠—or her factotum, which comes to the same thing⁠—on our side, we shall certainly have the upper hand, and the General’s opposition will be broken down, so far at all events. In any other case⁠—and we must be prepared for such⁠—our beautiful plan of getting the Warnow estates into our own hands is as like a soap-bubble as one egg is like another.” + 

“And you have not once tried to sound the Baroness?” exclaimed the Count in a tone of reproach. + 

“I thought there would be time enough when the Baroness arrived here for the approaching arrangements for which her actual presence is indispensable. She is already on her way according to the last letter from Munich, where she proposes to spend this month. But now I will certainly do all I can to persuade her either to come sooner herself, or at least to send her factotum.” + 

“You know this gentleman?” + 

“Not personally, only through letters. Signor Giraldi is unquestionably a remarkable individual; scholar, diplomatist, artist, and man of business⁠—the latter of the very first rank; a contest with him⁠—à la bonne heure! I would rather have the devil himself as an adversary. But I am wasting time in chatter, though in a very pleasant way.” + 

The Councillor rose; the Count rocked himself again, looking put out. + 

“You are very kind,” said he, “but excuse my observing that I am no wiser than I was before.” + 

“Then excuse my remarking, Count Golm, that I think you are rather ungrateful,” replied the Councillor, drawing on his gloves. “I have done more for you than I would for our own shareholders, even if they went down on their knees to me in a body. I have laid before you the actual position of the Berlin-Sundin Railway Company; I have confessed that our only hope is a continuation of the Sundin railway through your island to some harbour which will be, as it were, the head of the serpent; in other words that we can only save our first project by a second, which will be supported by the first. On this point our interests are common, however much apart they may be elsewhere. It is our interest to obtain this continuation, even if that head of the serpent, the harbour, were in the moon, let alone anywhere upon the island, even in the north. Your interests demand that an Eastern terminus should be chosen, to which the railway would run through your whole property. Good. I come to you⁠—offer you, so to say, my outstretched hand, show you the means and the way, how, by some quite possible cleverness, you may set aside all present obstacles which are in your way⁠—remember that, Count Golm⁠—not in ours⁠—for this object put you in possession of a family secret as I did before of a business secret, and finally offer you, if I may so express myself, the hand of a young, handsome, and charming woman, and you tell me that I have come in vain!” + 

The Councillor took up his hat, but the Count still did not move from his seat. + 

“It certainly is most ungrateful of me,” said he, “but you know no one is pleased with the most agreeable of prospects when he is in such a disagreeable position as I am.” + 

The Councillor slowly brushed the top of his hat round and round with his elbow. + 

“I am going to make a proposal, Count Golm. We have both spoken warmly; a walk in the cool of the evening will do you good also; take your hat and let me have the honour of taking you with me on my visit.” + 

“Who are you going to see?” + 

“The contractor of our railway, Herr Philip Schmidt.” + 

The Count raised himself in his chair, and then let himself immediately fall back. + 

“I hate the name,” he said moodily. + 

“What in all the world has the name to do with the matter?” answered the Councillor; “and really Herr Philip Schmidt will take it as a matter of course that it should be a great honour to him to make the personal acquaintance of Count Golm; and, furthermore, Herr Schmidt is not only a rich but a rising man, and, as our contractor, is very intimate with our banker, Herr Hugo Lübbener, who is also Count Golm’s banker⁠—enfin, the most appropriate individual to arrange a temporary difficulty for the Count, or if as I can fancy this way would not suit him, to enable him to settle the various accounts with Lübbener in the most speedy manner.” + 

“But one cannot storm a man’s very door,” cried the Count; “you must at least make some excuse for me.” + 

“That is easily done,” said the Councillor; “Herr Schmidt is the happy possessor of one of our finest private picture-galleries. Count Golm’s passion for art is well known; what more natural than that Count Golm should call upon Herr Schmidt, as Herr Schmidt, with the best will in the world, cannot bring his gallery to the Count’s hotel?” + 

“Only that nine o’clock in the evening is perhaps not the best hour for such a purpose,” said the Count, looking at the clock. + 

“For what purpose were reflectors invented?” answered the Councillor, smiling. + 

“I will go with you!” exclaimed the Count, springing up. + 

The Councillor coughed behind his hat, and thus happily hid the smile that played about his broad, beardless lip. + 

“After all it will not do,” said the Count. “I promised Herr von Werben⁠—” + 

“The Lieutenant?” + 

“Of course, to be at home; he wished to fetch me at ten o’clock, to take me I do not know where.” + 

“Herr von Werben would not think much of such an obstacle,” said the Councillor, with well-acted repressed impatience; “write on a card that you are at So-and-so’s, and beg him to come and fetch you.” + 

“But he does not know this man!” + 

“Yes, he does; I happen to know it from Herr Schmidt himself.” + 

The Count had rung for his servant to give him his hat and gloves. The two gentlemen went towards the door. + 

“If only his name were not Schmidt,” said the Count, standing still. + 

“What a strange mania! all great men are afflicted with something of the sort!⁠—After you, Count Golm.” + 

“Not at all! I am at home here!” + 

And the gentlemen left the room. + 

XV + 

Philip walked impatiently up and down his study, then seated himself at his writing-table, touched the spring of a secret drawer, and took out the Councillor’s note, really only to assure himself that he had not mistaken the hour, but then as he had the letter in his hand, besides having nothing to do, he read it through as carefully as if it were for the first time: + 

“My Dear Friend, + 

“The Count is of the greatest importance to us, though you seem always to have underrated him. The fact of his being over head and ears in debt is in my eyes only one more chance for us⁠—we shall get him all the cheaper; and have him we must. The loss caused by Prince Prora’s positive refusal to be one of the promoters, and taking part only as an ordinary shareholder, can only be met by the Count’s siding with us. We must positively have a noble name to support us. You do not understand the insular feelings. The bellwether must first jump over, and then, of course, the whole flock follow. You must provide a bait for the bellwether; that is to say, in figures: you or Lübbener must advance fifty thousand thalers, which I know he is in great need of; then a promise of a tolerably big lump in case the Eastern Railway comes to anything⁠—a case which is almost impossible; thirdly, to balance the fifty thousand and the big lump⁠—a promise on his side to become a director of a Northern Railway. I will fire all these mines this evening, and bring him, with some excuse which I will notify on entering. Lübbener must be there too; or, still better, come later⁠—quite by accident, of course! Should I still find the Count, contrary to my expectations, obstinate and quite disinclined to take the first step, I will break up the interview at nine o’clock, and come alone. + 

Philip laughed to himself as he shut up the letter. + 

“I think I do understand it,” said he; “but”⁠—and he cast a glance at the clock⁠—“if they do not come soon, all my beautiful arrangements may go to the devil.” + 

He was about to rise impatiently, when the doorbell rang. He immediately seized some papers which he had laid ready on purpose, took up his pen, and was deeply engrossed in writing when the servant announced Count Golm and Councillor Schieler. + 

“Beg the gentlemen to come in,” said Philip over his shoulder, bending again over the paper and scribbling away. + 

The servant had already opened the door for the two gentlemen. Philip threw down his pen, rose hastily, and passing his hand over his forehead, said: + 

“I beg you a thousand pardons! I had hoped to finish the thing⁠—the report, you know, Herr Schieler. Count Golm, I consider myself happy.” + 

“We disturb you, my dear fellow,” said the Councillor; “but I have been saying so much about your beautiful gallery to Count Golm, and he is here for such a short time⁠—” + 

“But quite long enough to be able to return at a more convenient hour,” said the Count. + 

“I would not let you go on any account,” exclaimed Philip; “there is no such hurry about this business.” + 

“But we are keeping you from something else.” + 

“From nothing more interesting or agreeable, Count Golm. I give you my word, I happened to have nothing for tonight⁠—positively nothing. I think, anyway, I should have stayed at home.” + 

The Councillor shook his finger at him. + 

“Upon my honour, Herr Schieler.” Philip rang the bell. “Light the lamps in the drawing-room and in the dining-room. And Count Golm, Councillor Schieler, will you do me the honour to join me in my bachelor supper? Now, that is most kind of you; so put three places, Johann.” + 

“No ceremony, I beg!” said the Count. + 

“None, I assure you. May I show you the way?” + 

The servants had opened the folding-doors into the drawing-room. + 

“You seem to have some beautiful things here,” said the Count, standing and looking round the exquisite little study. + 

“A few trifles, Count Golm, such as a man likes to have round him.” + 

“But that is a Vautier,” said the Count, stopping before a picture. “Do you call that a trifle?” + 

“Only from its size. I have a larger picture of his in the next room. And this little Scheurenberg ought to please you; at least, it is very much praised by connoisseurs.” + 

“Charming⁠—quite charming!” said the Count. “And this exquisite watercolour⁠—Passini, of course?” + 

“The office of showman is easy with Count Golm,” said Philip to the Councillor. + 

“It runs a little in my family,” said the Count. “My great-grandfather was a celebrated collector, also my father. You must some day come and see my small gallery at Golm.” + 

“I only wish that you would give me an opportunity!” + 

“Is an invitation opportunity enough?” + 

Philip bowed. “I shall not fail, Count Golm.” + 

“This autumn, I hope? Do you shoot?” + 

“Oh yes!” + 

“Then you will not lack amusement when you come to Golm.” + 

“That I am certain of, in the company of the possessor of Golm.” + 

The Count bowed. Philip turned to the servants who at that moment entered the room. + 

“How provoking! They have just let in a man who wants to see me for a few minutes on important business.” + 

“I can only repeat my request,” said the Count. + 

“And I protest again against your kind consideration, which is really quite unnecessary. I shall only be a minute.” + 

Philip led the two gentlemen to the drawing-room, and shut the doors after him. + 

“Pleasant sort of fellow, this Herr Schmidt,” said the Count. + 

“Is not he?” answered the Councillor. “This time your prejudices were at fault.” + 

“It is not a prejudice. I made the acquaintance of a man of that name a few days ago⁠—even had to entertain him at my own table⁠—who was most objectionable to me.” + 

The Councillor had heard from his friend the General an account of the circumstance, which had taken place at Golmberg, before he met the Count, and knew well enough whom the Count honoured with his dislike, and also in what relationship Reinhold stood to Philip. But why tell the Count that, and spoil his good humour? The Count cast a glance of astonishment through the splendid room, whose almost overcrowded pictures and magnificent furniture glittered in the light of chandelier and candelabra. + 

“But this is princely,” said he. + 

“And still it is only a faint shadow of the splendour that the man has decked his new house in the Wilhelmstrasse with. It is all ready, except a few details; but will not, I think, be open before next spring. He must show it to you; you would delight in it.” + 

“I don’t know,” answered the Count; “this luxury has something overpowering in the eyes of one of us.” + 

“On the contrary, I should say something encouraging,” said the Councillor. “When people with no name, or rather with such a name! without connections, without help from home⁠—Herr Schmidt is by trade only a builder⁠—bring matters to such a result, what is there in the world unattainable to such men as you who have such enormous advantages of birth, connections, and influence, provided that you free yourselves from certain very respectable prejudices and set to work heart and soul as these people do.” + 

“And what has this man got to show that is so remarkable?” + 

“In the first place his intelligence, inventive genius and energy; in the second, certain lucky speculations in houses and lands, of which the crowning point is certainly the starting of our railway.” + 

“Now it is quite clear to me why your shareholders are always lamenting so loudly that you build so extravagantly,” said the Count, with a sarcastic smile. + 

“What do the poor devils understand about it?” answered the Councillor; “if they settled matters we should have to take the roasted chestnuts out of the fire without getting anything for it.” + 

“Then there is fire?” + 

“Before which a man in his old age may warm his knees with much pleasure!” + 

And the Councillor waved his hand towards all the magnificence around them. The Count laughed, the Councillor himself thought that a smile was allowable. Philip came out of his study and shut the door behind him. + 

“I hope you will not mind,” said he in a low voice, turning to the Count, “but I thoughtlessly mentioned your name, and my business friend begged so earnestly⁠—” + 

“Who is it?” said the Count. + 

“Herr Hugo Lübbener.” + 

The Count changed colour slightly and cast a quick furtive glance at the Councillor, who however met it unmoved. + 

“My banker,” said the Count. + 

“He did not tell me that!” cried Philip; “then certainly I may venture.” + 

“I shall be very happy,” said the Count rather crossly. + 

“This all fits in wonderfully,” whispered the Councillor to him, while Philip called through the door which he had left open into the study. + 

“Come in, you most discreet of men! I should have thought that the firm stood so well with the Count⁠—” + 

“As well as the Count stands with the firm!” said Herr Hugo Lübbener as he came in. “Excuse my freedom, Count Golm, seeing you have not honoured me.” + 

“Why, I assure you, I have not had time yet,” exclaimed the Count, taking in the tips of his fingers the hand which Herr Lübbener offered somewhat timidly. “A world of business⁠—” + 

“We can understand that, living in the business world as we do, can we not, Councillor?” said Herr Lübbener. “But now that I have had the honour and pleasure I will not stay a moment longer.” + 

And he moved to the door; the Count glanced at the Councillor, who lifted his eyebrows. + 

“You are not going on my⁠—our account, Herr Lübbener,” said the Count; “we are here to admire the splendid collection of our kind host.” + 

“Whose greatest admirer and appreciater is Herr Lübbener himself,” put in the Councillor. + 

“Because I possess a few good things?” said Herr Lübbener. “Why, by Jove! a man must patronise art or at least the artists nowadays. Our friend Schmidt always fishes the best things away under our noses. Yesterday this Riefstahl was in Lepke’s window, now of course it hangs here. What did you give for it?” + 

“What do you think?” + 

“Not more than half, I am sure.” + 

Philip laughed as if he heard the old stockbroker joke for the first time; the Councillor cackled hoarsely like an old hen in rainy weather; the Count appeared highly amused. + 

“What would you have?” said he; “such a picture is really invaluable.” + 

Philip turned the light of the reflector upon the picture, which now showed all its beauty for the first time. + 

“Really magnificent!” said the Count. + 

He had stepped a little nearer so that he himself was in the light of the lamp. The appearance of the Count standing there in the full light seemed to have something peculiarly comic for the three other men who were standing a little back. They glanced quickly at each other, and each face wore a malicious smile. The Councillor laid his finger on his long nose; Philip bit his lip. + 

“I have a Hildebrandt here,” said he, “which I consider may be called the gem of my collection.” + 

“At all events it is in his best style,” said the Count. + 

They went from picture to picture, criticising and naming great artists, and not less great sums, till Philip, foreseeing danger to his plans, grew impatient. + 

“I do not know why,” said he, “but nothing seems so good as usual today.” + 

“It was just the same with me when I was a boy, I always thought my exercises were faultless till they came into the master’s hands,” said the Councillor. + 

“You really make too much of my small powers of criticising,” said the Count in his best humour. “Why! are we not at the end yet?” + 

They were at the door of the dining-room, which the servants at that moment opened. + 

“You will find a few more pictures here,” said Philip, “but before you look at them I must beg you to take some supper.” + 

“Or the oysters will be cold,” said Herr Lübbener. + 

“I begged there might be no ceremony,” said the Count reproachfully as he took his place at table with the others. + 

“Not at all, Count Golm; the servants got the oysters from the nearest restaurant⁠—and there is always a chicken to be found in a bachelor’s kitchen.” + 

“Long live the bachelors!” said the Councillor, lifting his glass. + 

“But how are they to do it?” cried Philip, swallowing an oyster. + 

“From hand to mouth!” said Herr Lübbener, who was busy in the same way. + 

“For heaven’s sake, Lübbener!” cried Philip, “if you have no pity for us, at least spare Count Golm!” + 

“I think I can appreciate a good joke as well as the rest of you,” said the Count. + 

“Listen to that!” exclaimed Herr Lübbener. “Come, Schmidt, forget your vexation! The fact is I came to tell him that with the best will in the world, I cannot allot him shares in the New Kaiserin-Königin for more than about a hundred thousand.” + 

“If you say another word about business you shall not have a drop more of my Chablis,” cried Philip. + 

“I was just going to ask for a glass of Bordeaux,” answered Herr Lübbener. + 

The Councillor laughed aside to the Count, and shrugged his shoulders as though to say, “Boys will be boys! they go on like that all day.” The Count returned the smile most courteously. + 

“At Rome one must do as the Romans do,” said he. “I confess it would interest me very much to learn something authentic about the Kaiserin-Königin Iron Company which is so much talked about now.” + 

The Count had given the signal; he could not be surprised that for the next half hour nothing was talked but business, in fact he was so interested and excited, that he drank glass after glass, while the blood mounted to his forehead. They went from the Kaiserin-Königin Company to the Lower Saxony Engine Manufactories; from that to the North Berlin Railway, and so arrived at the Berlin Sundin Railway. The other men were able to give him the most interesting details of the history of this railway, which after so glorious a beginning now stood on the verge of bankruptcy in the eyes of people who did not know that the stock had been artificially kept down in order to buy back the shares, shares which as soon as the concession for the construction of the railway was obtained, would rise like a phoenix from the ashes. + 

Would Count Golm take any shares? Now was just the right moment! He had no spare money? Nonsense! Money had nothing to do with the matter. How much did the Count want⁠—fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, a hundred and fifty? The Count had only to name the sum. It would be no gift to him. The statement that he would eventually be one of the directors of the Island Railway would be worth fifty thousand amongst friends! + 

“Take care that I do not take you at your word!” exclaimed the Count. + 

“Take care that we do not take you at your word!” answered Philip. + 

“By Jove! let us take each other at our word!” exclaimed Herr Lübbener. + 

“Had we not better put it in writing?” asked the Councillor. + 

“Are we not carrying the joke a little too far?” said the Count, with an uncertain, inquiring glance at the last speaker, who answered it with an encouraging smile. + 

But the right moment it seemed was past. For the first time there was a pause, which Philip assumed to think was caused by a servant bringing him a waiter, on which lay two visiting cards, and whispering something as he stood near him. + 

“Can’t I have a moment to myself? Well, what is it?” + 

He took the cards from the waiter and broke into a laugh. + 

“This is a good joke!” + 

“May I ask what?” + 

“I hardly dare say, Count Golm, for fear of damaging my reputation as a serious man in the eyes of my friends here. I can show the cards to a man of the world.” + 

“Then let us see the cards,” said Herr Lübbener. + 

The Councillor looked astonished. + 

“Herr von Werben could not send in two cards!” + 

“But, good heavens!” exclaimed the Count, “don’t let the ladies wait in the anteroom.” + 

“Oh no. Ladies!” exclaimed Herr Lübbener. + 

“Two friends who are sometimes good enough to look in after the opera, or rather the ballet, to have a little supper,” explained Philip. “I assure you, Lübbener, not what you are thinking of, so leave off grimacing, and imitate the deportment of our worthy friend the Councillor.” + 

“Splendid fellow!” whispered the Councillor in Herr Lübbener’s ear, as the gentlemen rose. + 

“He outdoes himself today,” whispered Herr Lübbener in return. + 

Philip went to meet the two ladies, who stood in the doorway with well-acted dismay. + 

“Prisoners!” said he; “there is no use in resisting. Be reasonable!” + 

He seized them by the hands and drew them into the room. + 

“Permit me, Count Golm, to present you to Fräulein Victorine, the most beautiful mezzo-soprano that female throat can produce⁠—Fräulein Bertalda, called ‘The Incomprehensible,’ because no one can comprehend how she can jump so high off such little feet.” + 

“You are intolerable!” said Victorine. + 

“For shame!” said Bertalda. “And give us something to eat instead, if you really won’t let us go away again at once!” + 

“I will have another table laid,” cried Philip. “Johann!” + 

“We will sit closer,” said the Count, himself bringing a chair for Victorine, whose luxuriant beauty had delighted him from the very first moment. Bertalda seated herself opposite, between Philip and Herr Lübbener; two fresh places were laid in a moment; the Count had now nothing to say against champagne, which at first he had declined. He was already a little the worse for drink, and was the less likely to notice that the fumes were getting into his head; that since the entrance of these lively young ladies the tone of the party had become freer, and very soon got rather wild. It no longer surprised him that the young men called each other by their Christian names, to say nothing of familiar nicknames, such as “old fellow!” and “old boy!” and even the Councillor himself became a “dear old Councillor,” and he thought it capital fun when Victorine drank off a full glass to Bertalda, saying, “Here’s a bumper to you, Bertie!” and Bertalda replied, “Right you are, Vicky!” Presently they all moved from their places, and the Count seized the opportunity to seat himself by Bertalda, whose beautiful and, as he thought, inviting eyes deserved this response. Victorine pretended to be very jealous, and, to the intense delight of the other gentlemen, exclaimed, “Ungrateful man! he has forsaken me! Ungrateful!” while Bertalda, by her fascinating airs and graces, and other gestures, showed that she meant to keep the captive knight fast in her net. The Count, thinking it necessary to support the beauty in her part, put his arm round her⁠—a spirited idea⁠—which was loudly applauded by the company, when Bertalda suddenly sprang up from her chair with a slight shriek, and hastened forward to meet a gentleman, who had entered unperceived by the rest. + 

“Is it possible? No! is it possible? Herr von Werben⁠—Ot⁠—” + 

“Are you mad!” + 

The girl dropped her uplifted arms; the others had risen to greet Ottomar, whose apologies for coming so late were hardly heard amidst the din of voices which arose on all sides. A lecture at a military society which he had to assist at, endless discussions afterwards⁠—his throat was dry with learned dust, pray let him have a glass of wine! + 

He tossed down the wine, certainly not the first glass he had drunk that evening; a gloomy fire shone in his beautiful eyes; he tried to drown memory in drink, and even if he could not accomplish that, in a few minutes he was the wildest of the wild. The Count, for his part, felt easier in the society of another man of his own rank, who, in passing him, whispered sarcastically in his ear, “Le roi s’amuse!” and proceeded to set him so good an example. They laughed, they sang, they romped; the young ladies’ overflow of fun had hardly any limits. Being in the society of promoters, they would just like to know what promoters were? How did people promote? They would play at being promoters! + 

“Let the ladies form themselves into a provisional board!” cried Philip. + 

“But as an unlimited liability company, if I may venture to advise,” said Herr Lübbener. + 

“Under the title of Love and Wine,” said the Councillor. + 

“I propose as solicitor Councillor Schieler,” cried the Count, who was not going to be behindhand. + 

The motion was carried with applause. + 

The Councillor accepted the honour with thanks, and began to draw up the prospectus of the company, in which the others helped, and each tried to outdo the rest in suggestions. The plan was of a railroad to the moon, with a proviso for a continuation of the line to the Great Bear as soon as the man in the moon should have converted his last silver crescent into cash. Philip proposed that the capital should be seven thousand million fixed stars; at which the company’s lawyer thought it necessary to observe that this word might arouse an unpleasant connection of ideas on the Stock Exchange; would not “comets” inspire more confidence? But then it must be ten thousand million, as too many false ones were in circulation, which even in the weights could not be distinguished from falling stars. The ten millions were immediately subscribed. Ottomar and Bertalda, who subscribed for the smallest sums, were not permitted the honour of being amongst the directors, who were grouped at one end of the table, but had to take their places as mere shareholders at the other end. The Count was to be chairman, with Victorine as deputy. The Count protested that Victorine ought to be president; they argued, they fought, they quarrelled in due form. Bertalda seized the opportunity to draw Ottomar away from the table to a sofa close by. + 

“Why have you not been to see me for a year, Ottomar?” + 

“I am going to be married, my dear child.” + 

“Have you got another love?” + 

“I have not got another love.” + 

“Why are there clouds then on your beautiful brow? why do you look so sad, darling Ottomar?” + 

“Dear Bertalda!” + 

“Am I that indeed? Do you still love me a very little?” + 

“Yes! yes!” + 

“Then”⁠—she throve her arm round his neck and, putting her mouth close to his ear, whispered a few words just as a roar of laughter came from the table. Ottomar sprang up. “They are calling us.” The girl sank in the corner, and with closed eyes waited for his return and his answer, with her full lips pouting for a kiss. + 

She looked up and passed her hand over her heated eyes; what had happened? Ottomar was no longer in the room; perhaps he was in the anteroom? She stole in on tiptoe. Herr von Werben had taken his hat and coat and left the house. “Bah!” said the girl, “I must not make a fuss about it, I must laugh!” And she laughed madly as she sat down again at the table where Ottomar’s disappearance was scarcely observed, and the others laughed wildly at a speech in which the Councillor, with wonderful dry humour, gave the health of the members of the committee, the first subscribers, the legal adviser and directors of the Earth, Moon, and Great Bear Railway, with double and treble honours, in case any of them should act in a double or treble capacity. + 

“The next step of respectable promoters will be made, according to all experience, behind the scenes,” said Philip with a cynical smile, holding his glass out to the Count. + 

“In the greenroom, in fact,” replied the Count, casting a side-glance at Victorine. + 

“Long live the greenroom!” cried Hugo Lübbener. + 

“Behind the scenes for me,” said the Councillor. + 

The glasses rang together, the riot of mirth rose higher and higher, and finally overwhelmed the last remnants of propriety and good manners. + 