"Do you fell refreshed by your nap, dear Grenwitz?" asked the baroness.

"I thank you, dear Anna Maria, very much!" replied the old baron. It was the afternoon after the eventful ball at Barnewitz; the speakers were in the same room, looking out upon the garden, in which, a week before, the conversation between Melitta and the baroness had taken place. The baroness was again sitting, as then, near the open glass-doors which led upon the great lawn, on which Melitta's eyes had for the first time fallen upon Oswald, and again the admirable lady was sewing industriously, as if she had to earn her daily bread by her needle. The baron sat opposite to her, in the same rocking-chair which Melitta had occupied. He was just awaking from an afternoon nap, and looked, with his old glazed eyes, through the open door upon the lawn, where his pet, the peacock, displayed his gorgeous plumage in the bright sunlight.

"Very much," he repeated, stretching his limbs.

"But you look very tired yet," said the baroness, fixing her cold gray eyes searchingly upon the baron's faded features; "these pretentious, noisy parties are real poison for you, and I have reproached myself, while you were sleeping, that I did not make you go home sooner yesterday."

"But I assure you, my dear Anna Maria, I am very well; I mean, not worse than usually; not much worse," said the good old man, timidly; for he was too well trained ever to contradict his Anna Maria, whom he loved and honored above all things.

"But you must take particularly good care of yourself these days," said the latter, sewing busily; "we must start at least in a week from to-day, and you will need all your strength to bear the fatigue of such a journey. Would to God we were all safely back again! I really am very reluctant to go! Your feeble health--the dangers of a sea-voyage--and then: will Heligoland really benefit you? Doctor Braun says so, to be sure, but who can trust all physicians? If their advice brings success, they are triumphant; if not, why, it is not their fault, but the patient's, who has not done all he ought to have done. And what does it matter for the doctor, whether you come back sick or well, whether you live or die--but I, but we--oh Grenwitz, what would become of us if you should be taken from us!"

The baroness looked up from her work, and in her eyes appeared something which in other women would have been a tear.

The old baron rose from his chair, approached his wife, and kissed her tenderly on her forehead.

"You must not give way to such thoughts, dear Anna Maria," he said most kindly. "God will not let me die so very soon; I pray every morning, and thank Him for every additional day which He grants me, not for my sake--for I am an old man and we must all of us die--but for your sake, because I know how much my death would grieve you, and also because I should like to see your and Helen's future secured before I die."

The old man had resumed his seat, and taken a pinch from a gold snuff-box, which was standing near him on a small round table, in order the better to overcome the emotion into which he had talked himself; the baroness quietly resumed her work.

"You are so kind," she said, "much too kind; for you are so even to those who do not deserve your kindness, and thus you prepare for yourself much trouble, which you might easily avoid by a little more--I will not say egotism, for I hate the word, but--discretion. Now you are concerned for my future and Helen's future--and justly so. This concern you would be relieved of if you had not leased your estates, when you fell heir to the entail twenty-four years ago, to people who have grown rich at your expense, and crown their impudence by accusing us of avarice, because we are unwilling to renew the leases on the same terms. And if you had not then assumed Harald's enormous debts--a thing I never understood, and never will understand--you would not have had to use for their payment all that we could save with the utmost economy."

The old baron did not seem to relish the subject his wife had entered upon; he took one pinch after another while she was speaking, and at last he said, not without some animation:

"I cannot say, dear Anna Maria, that you are altogether wrong, nor yet that you are altogether right. The old leases are very favorable to the tenants, that is true; but then the times were different in those days. Money was very scarce after the war, land was quite low, and our estates had been thoroughly neglected in consequence of Harald's mode of life. The tenants, surely, found it at first no easy task, and if they have since become rich and impudent, that is not exactly my fault. I meant it well, God knows. But as to my conduct with regard to Harald's creditors, I really do not know, even to-day, how I could have acted otherwise. The honor of my family made it my duty to assume his debts, for the creditors knew very well that they had lent their money, not to Baron Harald Grenwitz, who could never break the entail, and consequently never pay them, but to the great Grenwitz family, who would never permit any member to be dishonored. And besides, I was under obligations to my cousin. When he and I were young officers together in the same regiment, and later in life, he had always behaved like a brother to me. It is true I have never abused his kindness, and for every hundred dollars of my debts which he paid then, I have paid a thousand of his debts afterwards; but I am sure he would have helped me under all circumstances, for his generosity knew no bounds."

"You excite yourself without necessity, dear Grenwitz, quite without necessity," said the baroness, calmly, as the old man sank back into his chair, exhausted by his unusually long and lively speech; "I do not dream of reproaching you. You know how little I value riches for myself, how modest my wants are, and that, if I do care for the future, it is not for my sake, but for my children's sake."

"I know that, dear Anna Maria," said the baron, "I know that; I did not mean to hurt your feelings, and I ask your pardon if I was excited."

During the pause which followed, the baroness sewed more industriously than ever; the baron had put on spectacles, taken a newspaper, which the servant had brought an hour ago from the office, and began to plunge into its perusal, moving his lips slightly--for reading and writing had never been the forte of the old man.

"Army personalities," he murmured. "Colonel--Major--all old acquaintances. Young Grieben First Lieutenant? Rapid advancement. Second Lieutenant Felix Baron Grenwitz--resignation accepted--why, what is that? I thought Felix was to ask for leave of absence, and here I read he has resigned."

"Indeed!" said the baroness, reading the paragraph which her husband pointed out to her; "well, I am glad of it, very glad. I must tell you, Grenwitz, I advised Felix to do that, and made his resignation one of the conditions for his obtaining Helen's hand."

"But why that?" asked the baron, in surprise.

"Why?" answered the baroness. "Well, I should think, dear Grenwitz, the reason was clear enough. I think it is high time Felix should begin another kind of life, and as long as he remains in those circles in which he now moves, we can hardly expect such a change; I see from the step he has taken--for I did not think he would act so promptly--that he must really be in earnest about Helen, and therefore I say again I am glad of it, very glad indeed."

"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the baron, rubbing his nose almost angrily, "we thus assume a responsibility which we may not be able to discharge. If our child, if Helen----"

"Should not agree, you mean," interrupted him the baroness, rising in her chair and contracting her eyebrows; "oh, I think she will agree; I think she will have learned that a child owes some obedience to its parents."

"But if she cannot love Felix?" said the old man, concerned.

"Why, Grenwitz! I do not understand you," replied the baroness: "this match has for a long time been our favorite plan. Helen has no fortune, aside from the few thousand dollars which we have saved, and what else we may yet be able to save; for Stantow and Baerwalde do not belong to us as yet, but, thanks to the generosity of Baron Harald--to any adventurer who may have the impudence to present a few forged documents and to claim the farms. Felix's estates are, to be sure, heavily mortgaged; but he can retrieve his fortunes, I am sure, if he is in earnest, and if we help him a little. And if Malte should--God forbid it! but in such things we must think of everything, even the worst--if Malte should die before his time, Felix becomes master of Grenwitz, and I should imagine you would be pleased to think that your daughter would, as it were, thus step into Malte's place."

At that moment the door opened slowly, a face with spectacles looked cautiously in, and a squeaking voice asked:

"May I enter, madam?"

"Ah, see there! Our pastor!" said the baron, advancing towards the new-comer; "heartily welcome! Will you sit down?"

"Pray, pray, baron--don't trouble yourself--I can find a seat--a thousand thanks," said the reverend gentleman. "I did not intend to detain you--thank you--prefer this chair--I only wished to inquire how you and the baroness were, for I was told this morning that you had both honored the brilliant festivities at Barnewitz with your presence. No bad effects, I hope! Not very well! Ah! the baroness really looks a little tired;" and the minister looked with an expression of deep commiseration at the great lady, inclining his head, like a sick parrot, towards the right shoulder.

"I am tolerably well," said the latter, resuming her work, which had rested for a moment; "but Grenwitz seems to have paid more dearly for the enjoyment."

"Oh, indeed!" said the minister, quickly inclining his head on the left shoulder. "May I offer you my drops, baron? from six to twelve on a lump of sugar."

"You are a true physician for body and soul," said the baroness, while the minister, after the baron's refusal, wrapped up his phial again in a newspaper and put it in his pocket.

"Yes, yes, mens sana in corpore sano, a sound, that is, a pious body in a sound, pious soul--I learnt that as a boy at school and I now try to practise it as a man. But where are the dear boys? Still at school? Yes, Dr. Stein seems to be a very industrious, ambitious young man by whose instruction the two young gentlemen will soon make great progress, with help from on High."

The reverend gentleman thought that by praising Oswald he would please the baron and even more the baroness. Oswald's calm, self-possessed manner had made a great impression on his cowardly soul; Primula Veris, whose opinions on men and things were gospel to him, had been singing for a week the praise of her new friend, who had paid her more compliments in an hour than she ordinarily received in a year; and this morning a lady of the neighborhood had called on Mrs. Jager to bring her a full report of the ball that had taken place the night before. This lady, who had grown-up daughters, but liked to be considered quite youthful yet, was delighted with Oswald, who had assured her solemnly that she might safely pass for the youngest of the daughters. She told Primula, who listened, all eagerness, what a sensation Oswald's skill in pistol-shooting had produced among the men; what an impression his fine figure and his good manners had made upon the ladies; how he had danced with Hortense, taken Frau von Berkow to table, and, in fine, how he had been the lion of the evening. The mere fact that Oswald had been invited to a party given to such an exclusive set of people was, in the eyes of the minister, who knew them well, a remarkable sign, full of deep meaning. And, in addition to all this, there was another circumstance which made the minister desire the favor and friendship of Doctor Stein. The holy man was not without ambition. He felt he was intended for better things than to preach the gospel to the boors of Fashwitz. He did not wish to have ruined his eyesight in vain in searching old manuscripts at Grunwald, nor to have published in vain a most learned dissertation on the long-forgotten fragments of a long-forgotten father of the Church. He was a doctor, and wanted to become a professor--professor in the same University town through whose streets he had crept fifteen years ago as a poor forlorn student of divinity.

He wished it all the more eagerly as Primula wished it; Primula, who was heartily tired of the fields, in which her "Cornflowers" had bloomed forth, and who saw herself, in imagination, preside at an Æsthetic tea-table of the seat of the Muses, the congenial wife of a famous professor. In order to attain this lofty end, Professor Berger could be of infinite use to him; for his vote was decisive in the appointing board. It is true he thoroughly detested him in his heart, as an avowed adherent of Voltaire and Spinoza, a declared atheist; nevertheless he had more than once made great efforts to obtain his patronage. A recommendation from Oswald was worth more than a learned dissertation--consequently, Oswald's friendship a "consummation most devoutly to be wished for," and an occasional eulogy, which might come to his ears, "no bad theology."

Thus the minister thought and calculated.

What was therefore his surprise, when the baroness answered his gracious phrase in a tone of voice which promised nothing good:

"Tell me sincerely, Mr. Jager, what do you think of the young man?"

To hear the pupil of Berger, the favorite of Primula, the lion of the party of last night, called simply a "young man!" He did not trust his own ears. He looked over his round glasses at the baroness, to see if her face furnished him perhaps a commentary on the enigmatical question. As he saw himself disappointed in his hope, and was absolutely uncertain what he ought to reply, he resorted to his usual remedy in such critical cases: he raised his shoulders and his eyebrows as much as he could, and he drew down the corners of his mouth to their full extent, leaving the indiscreet questioner to interpret his gesture in any way she chose.

"You hesitate to answer," said the baroness; "I admit it is not very easy to understand Doctor Stein. He certainly has some very estimable qualities, and his manners are surprisingly good for a man of such humble birth. Only yesterday Countess Grieben thought I was trying to mystify her, when I told her that the young man who came with us was our tutor. But, unfortunately, a tolerable carriage, clever speeches and such things are not all, and I am not quite sure yet whether we have really made a good acquisition in the young man."

"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the baron, "why not rely on Professor Berger, who----"

"Dear Grenwitz, I rely on no one but myself. The professor may have been won over by Stein's pleasant manners, as well as you and others, and suppose even that his literary qualifications are really satisfactory----"

"Well, that is, I think, settled, madam," said the minister, who wished to be safe on that side at least, even though he saw he would have to sacrifice Oswald; "it cannot be presumed for a moment that the professor should have allowed himself to be imposed upon by an ignoramus, with whom he has been so intimate. We may think what we choose of his unchristian, or at least unchurchlike views, but his sagacity and his erudition are undisputed."

"I assume no judgment in literary matters," said the baroness; "and I believe readily that Doctor Stein may have found time for strictly scientific studies, as well as for pistol-shooting, in which I am told he excels; but no one can have good manners, and learning into the bargain, and yet be an immoral man."

"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the old baron, quite frightened, while the minister was drawing down the corners of his mouth and nodded assent.

"I repeat it, an immoral man. If I had known, what I have unfortunately learnt too late, that the professor, with all his far-famed erudition, is looked upon by many as an atheist and democrat,--I do not know which of the two is the worst, for he who does not honor God cannot honor the king, and vice versÂ--I say, if I had known that the professor is a freethinker and a man of revolutionary ideas, I should never have allowed him a voice in the choice of an instructor for my son."

"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the baron, "it is quite possible after all that your fears with regard to Doctor Stein may be unfounded. I never have heard a word from him, as far as I can remember, which would confirm your terrible suspicion."

"Well, Mr. Jager," said the baroness, "are you also firmly convinced of the young man's innocence?"

"I should not honor the truth," said the latter, with an air of deep regret, "if I were to deny that I have heard him say things which approach to frivolity, I might almost say, to sacrilege; they pained me deeply. But I consoled myself with the thought that the best of wines is apt to be tasteless and muddy in the time of fermentation, and relied on the goodness of Him who changed Saul into Paul."

"That is very fine and very Christian," said the baroness, "but it does not comfort me at all. If my child's soul is poisoned, then it matters very little to me whether the poisoner repents his crime or not, and I confess that the events of last night have almost convinced me of the suspicions which, I can safely say, I have cherished against Stein from the very first moment."

"Did anything special occur, madam?" asked the minister, drawing his chair half an inch nearer to her.

"I do not like to speak of it," replied the baroness; "and if I do it now, it is only because I know you as an old friend of our house, and can rely on your discretion."

"My sacred duty, madam," said the minister, bowing deep and putting his hand on his heart.

"You know Baron Oldenburg?" continued the baroness.

"Not personally, madam; only what I heard you and the baron say when I have been kindly permitted to listen to your conversation."

"Then you know what his sad reputation is! You know that we have to endure the sorrow of seeing the last scion of one of our oldest and noblest families running with open eyes--for the baron is a remarkably gifted man--into his own destruction."

"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the baron, who was nervously moving about on his chair, "I should not think the subject of this conversation was exactly suited----"

"I know what I owe to my rank," said the baroness, "and I shall act accordingly. The baron's apostasy from the faith of his ancestors is unfortunately so notorious that I am sure I need not use any reserve on that subject with a friend of the nobility (the minister bowed twice), and a friend of our house (the reverend gentleman placed his hand on his heart). You know, Mr. Jager, that the baron avoids our society in order to frequent that of all kinds of people whom we generally try to escape; that he is constantly talking of friends of the truth and lovers of the people, and that to be distinguished by him is almost equivalent to being a lost man, if his favor falls upon one whose social position is so very far below his own. Now, last night, the baron distinguished Mr. Stein in a most striking, not to say offensive manner; he not only did his best to introduce him to everybody, but he also treated him as his own and as our equal, and to crown his conduct, which I do not care to designate more accurately, he took him in his own carriage, because the Grenwitz carriage had not had time to come back for him. He actually brought him as far as the gates, thus making a dÉtour of at least two miles!"

"But, dearest Anna Maria, anybody would----"

"Pardon me, dear Grenwitz; anybody else would not have done so, and least of all the baron, whose rough, unpleasant manner, even to men of his own rank, has become proverbial, if he had not found in Mr. Stein a man of his own way of thinking, an atheist, and an enthusiast for so-called Liberty, enfin, an immoral man, to repeat the word which excited your indignation, and which I hope you will now concede is not ill-applied in Mr. Stein's case."

The baroness paused, proudly conscious of having victoriously defended her view; the minister remained silent, in order not to interrupt his noble patroness in her enjoyment, and the baron said nothing, because he had nothing at all to say. This compound silence was suddenly interrupted by a noise from the hall, upon which the door opened, the mewing of a cat, and immediately afterwards the angry bark of a dog. Such a noise was unheard of at Castle Grenwitz, where neither cats nor dogs were admitted, and hence all three looked amazed.

"What can that be?" asked the baron, rising and opening the door.

"Ah! I see you, baron!" a clear loud voice sang out.

"It is Mr. Timm!" said the latter, turning round to his ends in the room, and then to the person outside.

"Will you come in, Mr. Timm?"