Several days had passed since that evening.
Bemperlein and Julius had gone to Grunwald, and the former had already
written letters to Melitta and to Oswald. His pupil had found a home in
the family of a government officer, who had two sons of nearly the same
age as Julius. He wrote Oswald that he had a long and most interesting
conversation with Professor Berger, the results of which he promised to
tell his friend on his return to Berkow, some time in the next week, in
order to take a final farewell. This only he added, that he was more
decided than ever, and ready to enter immediately upon his new
profession.
The day after Bemperlein's departure, the surveyor had arrived at
Grenwitz; he had stayed only a few hours, however, to hold a conference
with the baron and the baroness, and then he had gone to another estate
which was to be surveyed, and where, as he told Oswald, he would "raise
his wigwam" for the present. Oswald had found him to be a very lively,
witty, and apparently well-read man, quite young yet, but well
educated, and he was glad to have a prospect of seeing more of him, as
Mr. Timm was soon to come to Grenwitz to make plats and drawings. The
baroness, always looking forward, had already ordered two rooms in the
same wing in which Oswald lived to be prepared for him, and large
tables had been arranged there.
For next Sunday the family at Grenwitz, with Doctor Stein, had been
invited to dine with Baron Barnewitz, Melitta's cousin. Oswald had been
very much tempted to refuse the invitation at once, but he had yielded
to Melitta's advice and accepted.
"What am I to do there," he had said to Melitta, "they only invite me
either because they want partners for the dance, or to pay a compliment
to the old baron, but surely not for my own sake. I shall be looked
upon there like a Mohican among the Iroquois, like a spy in the camp. I
know the nobles. The nobleman is only courteous and agreeable to the
not nobly born as long as the two are alone; if there are several
nobles present, they run together like mercury, and show their _esprit
de corps_ to the outsider. I tell you, Melitta, I know the nobles, and
I hate them."
"But you love me, Oswald, and I also belong to the proscribed class."
"Unfortunately," said Oswald, "and that is the only defect, sweet one,
which I have ever seen in you. But then you are so very sweet and good,
and you go through all the mire without receiving a single stain on
your robe. And much as you must gain by comparison with these vain,
stupid peacocks, I can yet not help fearing that unawares some spark of
the fiery hatred which I feel for the whole concern, may fall upon you
also. Now you are my queen, my chatelaine, who has stolen away from her
chateau to embrace her beloved by stealth for a moment, and I forget
your rank, your greatness here in this charming forest solitude. You
are nothing to me but she whom I love, whom I worship,--just what you
would be to me if you were the beggar's daughter,--but there, in the
brilliantly lighted rooms, surrounded by your great people, flattered
and honored by everybody, there I cannot shut my eyes, and shall be
painfully reminded that I ought not to have raised my eyes so high."
"Now, Oswald," said Melitta, fixing her eyes firmly on his, "is that
kind in you? Are you mocking me when you talk so? I hear it in the
harsh tone of your voice; I see it in the restless flashing of your
eyes, which contrasts so strangely with their usual calm and steady
light, that you feel very well how you appear in our midst like a born
ruler, thanks to your mind, your superb manly beauty and strength. I
have given myself to you; you are my lord and master; I would willingly
accede to your maddest whim; I would bear everything from your hand,
even death would not seem cruel to me coming from you--but why will you
pour even a drop of wormwood into the cup of love, from which I drink
with such thirsty, eager desire? Oswald, do not laugh at me."
"I do not, Melitta; I am sure of your love, although I deserve it so
little; I know that your love is humble, as all love is which beareth
all things and believeth all things--but you see, darling, that is the
curse of these abominable institutions, that they sow distrust and
hatred and discord in the hearts of men, even in such hearts which God
has created for each other. And this poisonous seed flourishes and
kills the roses of true love. I do not blame you for this; I blame no
single person, who perhaps unconsciously suffers as much under these
social distinctions as I do. But be sure it is so. The Catholic will
never see his equal--his brother--in the Protestant, nor the noble in
the humbly born, nor the Christian in the Jew--and vice versa. Nathan's
pious wish, that man might at last be content with being a man, is
still far from fulfilment: who knows whether it will ever be
fulfilled."
"And until then," said Melitta, in her usual playful manner, pushing
Oswald's hair from his brow, "until then, you dreamy dreamer, and
incorrigible censor of the world, we will enjoy the fleeting moments,
and that is why you must go to Barnewitz to-morrow. Pray, pray, dear
Oswald, come,--and I will talk with no one else, dance with no one
else,--I must go to this party in order to gain the right to refuse ten
others, at which I--at which I--would feel less free than here. And
without you I shall not have the least benefit from going; on the
contrary, I shall be as sad as a little bird that has been caught and
put in the cage. But if you are there, dearest, I will be cheerful and
dance and sing--no, not sing--but I will look pretty, very pretty, for
your sake. Shall I go in white? with a camellia in my hair, or a rose?
You have never told me yet how you like me best. Oh! what a wooden
knight you are!"
Next day, it was a Sunday, in the afternoon, at five o'clock, the
gala-coach was waiting at the portal of the chateau at Grenwitz. The
heavy bays had the best harness with the silver ornaments; the silent
coachman wore his state-livery; the baron appeared in evening costume,
with the decoration in his button-hole, which one of the many German
princes in miniature had long ago bestowed upon him; and even the
baroness appeared in a costume which made her exceptionably look only
five years older than she really was. After the necessary ballast of
cloaks and shawls for the return had been stowed away, and the
baroness, already seated, had once more invested Mademoiselle
Marguerite with the dignity of chatelaine--she would have much
preferred going too--she stopped the coachman in order to examine the
pretty French-woman once more for ten minutes on all the points on
which she had obtained precise orders and regulations. Then only the
order to start was given, and the coach moved with that solemnity which
happily suited the disposition of the bays and the temper of the silent
coachman equally well. As they passed under the bridge Bruno appeared
above, at the head of Malte and a lot of hired boys who were weeding in
the garden, and gave three cheers, an idea which induced even the grim
baroness to smile. However, the good lady seemed to be to-day in an
unusually mild and even communicative humor, perhaps in order to
prepare herself for the party. She thought the weather quite fine, only
a little too warm; the road excellent, only rather dusty; she hoped for
cooler weather on the return, only she feared there might be a
thunderstorm brewing, for a cloud on the western horizon looked to her
very suspicious. Then they discussed the question whether Miss
Marguerite, if the storm should really come up,--a case for which no
instructions had been left,--would have the good sense to order the
upper windows to be closed, and then, whether she would generally do
her duty. As it was not feasible to obtain a majority of votes, the
baroness denying the question at once, Oswald affirming it as
positively, and the old baron being unable to form any opinion
whatever, the discussion was abandoned, and they proceeded to inquire
with far greater solemnity into more important questions. Had Count
Grieben recovered from his attack of acute rheumatism, and would he be
able to be present to-night? How would Baron Trantow's gout be, and so
on, till they had easily drifted into the regular family gossip, which
is as current among the high and highest nobility as among Tom, Dick,
and Harry; only they speak there of Tom and Dick, and here only of Dick
and Tom. Generally, when this favorite subject was mooted, Oswald had a
habit of not listening, an art in which he had become quite an adept in
the short time of his residence at Grenwitz; but to-day, when he was to
see himself all the persons of whom they spoke, the topic had a little
more interest for him, especially as Melitta's name was repeatedly
mentioned. He learnt on this occasion that Baron Barnewitz and Melitta
were first cousins, and that Melitta's father, Baron Barnewitz's
brother, had been an officer in the Swedish service, had fought as such
in the campaign against Napoleon, and died very soon after the marriage
of Melitta with Baron Berkow.
"However, you know, Grenwitz," said the baroness, "Melitta will not be
there to-night!"
Oswald listened attentively.
"How do you know, dear Anna Maria?" replied the baron.
"The servant showed me the list of invited guests; I always make him do
so, in order to know whom I shall meet. I read it carefully. Frau von
Berkow was not on it."
"Perhaps a mistake?"
"I think not. You know Melitta and her cousin, the baroness, are not
very good friends. It would not be the first time they choose not to
invite Melitta. But then there will be another remarkable personage
there--just guess, Berkow?"
"The Prince of Putbus," said the old gentleman, almost frightened, and
regretting in his heart that he was not in full official costume;
"surely not the Prince?"
"No. Can you guess, doctor?"
"The man from the moon?"
"Well, a man who is scarcely less famous: Baron Oldenburg. His name
stood close behind ours on the list."
"The Oldenburgs are of ancient family?" asked Oswald, who had learnt to
understand the meaning of that remark.
"The Oldenburgs are, after the Grenwitzes, the oldest noble family in
the country," said the baroness, with grand self-satisfaction. "The
Grenwitzes can trace their pedigree up to the beginning of the twelfth
century; the Oldenburgs date from the end of the thirteenth century,
when Adalbert, the founder of that noble family, was created a baron by
the Emperor."
"And the name of Oldenburg?" asked Oswald.
"The Oldenburgs would be sovereigns, like the dukes of their name, if
they were legitimate."
"And what makes such a remarkable personage of the baron, aside from
his illustrious descent?" asked Oswald.
The baroness was rather embarrassed by his question. What was in her
eyes so very remarkable in the baron, his sovereign contempt of rank,
his sarcastic, ironical manner to those of his own caste--this
remarkable feature, which appeared almost immaterial in her eyes, was
not exactly a fit subject to be discussed with a man of low birth. She
contented herself; therefore, with the vague answer:--
"The baron has very eccentric views about most things in the world, so
that I am often afraid for his mind."
At that moment a horseman came galloping from a by-road and stopped his
horse as the carnage passed. It was a young man with a pleasant, dark
face, on which a blond mustache appeared to advantage.
"Ah, baroness--baron--delighted to see you," he called out, doffing
his hat and riding up to the coach--"have not had the honor for an
eternity----"
"That is, _mon cher_," said the baroness, with her sweetest smile,
"because you have not been at Grenwitz for an eternity."
"Ah, very kind, baroness--very kind--baroness, you have not had the
goodness yet to introduce me--Baron Felix, I suppose?" continued the
dandy, lifting his hat to Oswald.
"Doctor Stein," said the baroness, "my son's tutor--Baron Cloten----"
"Ah, ah, indeed," said Baron Cloten; "delighted--indeed--yes, yes, what
I was going to say, baroness, where are you going? if I may ask."
"To Barnewitz."
"Ah, just my way--quiet, Robin, quiet!"
"But, Baron Cloten, it will be a large party," said the baroness,
looking at his top-boots and hunting-coat.
"Impossible, baroness; Barnewitz asked me yesterday, as I met him
accidentally, to come over to a game of whist; but he did not say a
word about a dinner-party."
"It was a joke of his, you may be sure."
"Ah--very likely! Barnewitz has such funny notions. Quiet,
Robin!--devil of a fellow, that Barnewitz--no doubt thought it great
fun to see me come into the dining-room in top-boots--spoil the fun--I
beseech you, baroness--gentlemen--tell nobody you have seen me. In a
quarter of an hour at Barnewitz. _Au revoir!_"
Thereupon the young man threw his horse round and galloped off at full
speed in the direction from which he had come.
Soon afterwards the carriage drove across a rather rough corduroy road,
which led straight across the farm-yard of Barnewitz up to the lawn
before the great house.
A servant approached to open the carriage door; in the door appeared
the figure of a broad-shouldered, bearded man, who would have been
superb-looking if indolence and high living had not seriously impaired
the harmony of his features. It was Melitta's brother, Baron Barnewitz.
"You are the very first we see," he said, showing his guests into the
large room on the right hand of the hall, where they were received by
Frau von Barnewitz, a pretty blondine.
"You know how much I value punctuality," replied the baroness, taking
the offered seat on the sofa.
"Capital quality," replied Baron Barnewitz; "entirely my
conviction--always been--main thing in life and at
snipe-shooting--snipe comes up--puff--lies--punctually! Ha--ha--ha!"
"How is it?" asked the baroness, turning to her hostess; "are we going
to have a large company?"
"Only forty, or fifty at most."
"That means pretty nearly our whole circle."
"Pretty nearly."
"And--we were discussing the question on the way--will your charming
cousin be here also?"
"You must ask my husband; he has attended to the invitations."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the latter. "Capital joke--must tell you before
the others come. You know we travelled with Melitta all over Italy, and
there Baron Oldenburg joined us. Well, we had a very merry time--for
Oldenburg can be very pleasant when he chooses. All of a sudden our
peace is gone!--all to the devil--excuse me, ladies--one went here,
another there. Melitta and Oldenburg said nothing but sharp things to
each other, and one fine morning Oldenburg had disappeared--gone--left
a note; the air in Sicily too oppressive for a consumptive--would make
a little trip to Egypt. Since then three years are gone--now Oldenburg
back again--but he only called here to see me, as he said--to see my
wife, as I say----"
"But Charles----"
"Well, dear Hortense, among friends--you know, a mere joke--well then,
to see us both. When I ask him to come, he says: Yes, if your cousin is
not to be there. A few days ago I meet Melitta--I ask her and she says:
Yes, if your friend Oldenburg is not to be there. Of course, I assured
both of them they might be quite sure they should not meet the object
of their detestation. To make the thing still safer, I sent out two
servants with two different lists--on one was Melitta's name--on the
other, Oldenburg's. And now they will both come--is not that a capital
joke?--Excuse me, I pray, I hear a carriage coming up."
Gradually the room filled up, and then the adjoining suite of lofty and
superb rooms, which ended in the rear of the house in a large hall,
from which two steps led through folding-doors into the garden.
Oswald had been presented to several ladies and gentlemen, who returned
his bow with that cold politeness which the nobles always adopt towards
a man of low birth, especially when he fills a position which, in their
eyes, is a very subordinate one. He had then withdrawn to one of the
deep bay-windows, from which he could observe the new arrivals outside
and the company inside at once. A young man with pleasing features and
kindly blue eyes joined him there.
"I have the pleasure of addressing Doctor Stein?" he said. Oswald
bowed.
"My name is Langen. I am told you were a student at Berlin. Did you
know a Mr. P. there? He studied physiology and was my best friend
there. I should like to know what has became of him."
It so happened that Oswald knew him and could give Baron Langen the
desired information. The sincere interest which the latter manifested
for a man who, as Oswald knew, had no earthly recommendation beside his
natural abilities and unwearied industry, prepossessed him in favor of
his new acquaintance. He was well pleased, therefore, in spite of his
inner restlessness, to see the conversation go on, and he felt somewhat
more at ease in thus having found one man among so many unknown ones
who cared to make his acquaintance.
"What do you say, Baron Langen," he said, after some time, "if in
return for my information you were now in your turn to give me some
information about the company? Who, for instance, is that old gentleman
there in the blue dresscoat with the white hair and red face, who
speaks so fearfully loud, as if he wished to make himself heard by
somebody standing on the other side of a mountain torrent?"
"That is Count Grieben, one of our richest noblemen. Do you know the
pretty story they have about him and the king?"
"No, please let me hear it."
"The king was on a journey and came to our seaport. At the wharf, where
the highest officials, the nobility, and so forth had formed in order
to receive him, stood the count's carriage with six magnificent bays;
on each wheel-horse a jockey in the count's rich livery. The king
admired the superb turnout 'All my own raising, your Majesty,' cries
the count, with a bold gesture of the hand. 'Including the jockeys?'
replied the witty monarch."
"Not so bad," said Oswald; "and who is that fat lady with the masculine
features who is just coming in with her three pretty daughters?"
"A Baroness Nadelitz. She is a Catherine of Russia in miniature.
Formerly she kept the geese of her future husband. She is said to have
been so wonderfully beautiful that everybody fell in love with her, and
yet so kind-hearted that no one went away mortified. Their marriage,
however, was not over happy."
"At all events, she has very pretty daughters," said Oswald. "Then the
baron is dead?"
"Yes, and since then she is virtually the master. She shows it
literally, for I have seen her myself walking across the fields with
her steward, in top-boots and heaven knows what. To be sure the soil
was clay, and she sank every moment in above the ankles."
"Who are the two pretty girls who are just now coming across the room,
walking arm in arm?"
"Emily von Breesen and Lisbeth von Meyen. They have but just been
confirmed last Easter, and wear to-day, as far as I know, for the first
time, long dresses. Shall I introduce you?"
Oswald did not reply, for at that moment the door opened, and Baron
Barnewitz, whose face was beaming with delight at the surprise he had
so cunningly contrived, ushered in a gentleman whose appearance
evidently created quite a sensation. The loud voice of Count Grieben
was hushed, several gentlemen put their heads together, and in the
circle of the ladies around the hostess there followed quite a pause of
expectation. The new-comer was a man of tall, but almost too slim
figure, whose careless carriage brought out still more forcibly the
disproportion between height and breadth. Upon the long body sat a
small head, whose well-formed outlines were partly hid by the short,
thick black hair. A beard of the same kind covered chin and cheeks and
mouth, so that only the upper part of his face could be examined
successfully. But on this half more than one riddle was clearly
written. The forehead was rather high than wide, but surrounded by
exceedingly fine and yet bold outlines. The brows, drawn as with a
pencil, passed in a bold curve over the gray eyes, the expression of
which was not very pleasant, at least as they swept at that moment over
the company; as unpleasant was the smile which flashed like sheet
lightning every now and then around the finely chiselled nose with the
sensitive nostrils. Both smile and glance seemed to be all the answer
the man vouchsafed to give Baron Barnewitz, who overwhelmed him with
polite speeches as he led him up to the place where the lady of the
house received her guests. She rose to greet the new-comer, who kissed
her hand, and, after a slight bow to the other ladies, fell into an
empty chair near her, beginning at once a lively conversation with her,
without paying the slightest attention to anybody else.
Oswald had watched the new-comer with the eye of an Indian who follows
the track of his mortal enemy, for he had instantly recognized that
horseman who had met him and Bemperlein in the forest. It was Baron
Oldenburg.
"Now look," said Baron Barnewitz, walking up to Oswald and rubbing his
hands with delight.
"I am all eye," said Oswald, with a somewhat constrained smile.
"What are you to look for?" asked Langen, while Barnewitz was turning
to another group.
"Baron Barnewitz has had the goodness to call my attention to Baron
Oldenburg, as a most interesting man."
"Ah! That is Oldenburg!" said Langen; "I had not seen him yet."
Another carriage drove up, and Oswald recognized Melitta as she stepped
out. It was fortunate for him that Langen was eying the party on the
sofa at that moment, for he would not have been able to conceal his
excitement. The few minutes which Melitta spent in the dressing-room
appeared to him an eternity. At last she entered through the open door,
and Oswald thought the whole room was filled with light and with roses.
Melitta wore a white dress, which covered up bosom and shoulders, while
the delicate neck was enclosed in a lace frill. A light shawl hung
around her sloping shoulders. A deep red camellia in her hair, this was
her only ornament. But what ornament is needed where beauty and grace
are combined, and Melitta's appearance was so beautiful and graceful
that her entrance created even a greater sensation than Oldenburg's.
The older men broke off their conversation to pay their respects to
her; a few younger men hastened up to get, if possible, the first
waltz, the second polka--anything that could be had, and she smiled at
old and young, answered here a question, begged there for patience, and
all this while she was crossing the large room to join the other
ladies. Baron Oldenburg had quietly remained sitting on his chair while
the lady of the house had risen to advance toward her cousin. His arm
resting on the back of the chair, he did not even turn round to look at
the cause of the general commotion. But then Melitta's name must have
struck his ear, for he started up, looked around, and stood face to
face before Melitta, whom her cousin held by the hand. Oswald had been
drawn, as by a magnetic power, toward the place, so that not a word,
not a look escaped him. He saw Melitta turn pale, and her eyes flash as
if in anger, when Oldenburg made her a low bow.
"Ah, madam," he said with a peculiar smile, "when we met last the sun
of Sicily was shining over us, and now----"
"The moon shines--you mean to say," replied Melitta, and around her
lips there appeared a line of bitter irony which Oswald had not yet
seen. "On the contrary, dear baron, when we met last the moon was
shining. Do you not remember, it was in the garden of the Villa Serra
di Falco, near Palermo--and now that we meet again, the sun is shining,
at least for myself."
The meaning of these last words was probably a secret for all except
for him for whom they were spoken. Melitta had noticed Oswald, as she
turned half round to speak to Oldenburg, and had so kindly smiled upon
him that Baron Barnewitz interrupted his enjoyment of the skilfully
prepared scene to ask him, "You knew my cousin before?"
"Yes!" said Oswald, leaving him and bowing deeply to Melitta.
"Ah, doctor," said Melitta, with well-assumed surprise, "that is nice,
that I meet you here. Just think, Bemperlein has written already;
Julius is well--but sit down here and I will tell you all at
leisure--Julius is perfectly well and has become quite a dandy in the
five days he has spent at Grunwald. He has been at a children's ball,
has danced a cotillon, just think! a cotillon, and that against the
remonstrances of half a dozen young gentlemen."
"The poor fellow," laughed Oswald, "he will have to fight half a dozen
duels."
"May be! But you know Julius is as brave as a lion, and will risk all
for the lady of his heart--Ah! Baron Cloten, is that really you? I was
told you and Robin had broken your necks at the last fox-hunt?"
"_Quelle idee, madame!_--no doubt invention of Barnewitz. Devilish
clever fellow, Barnewitz! Beg ten thousand pardons! Am quite well,
thanks! Ah, yes--would beg for a dance, if possible, the cotillion.
Must try once more, if I cannot persuade you to sell me Brownlock."
"_Non, mon cher_; for such a purpose you shall not get the cotillon,
nor any other dance. But if you will leave me Brownlock, to enjoy him
in peace, you shall have the first waltz. I shall probably not stay for
the cotillon. Are you satisfied?"
"Ah, madam--satisfied--_quelle idee!_ happy!...."
"I pray you, Baron Cloten, calm yourself. Have you a _vis-a-vis_?"
"No, not yet. Look for one at once."
"Here, ask Doctor Stein--let me introduce----"
"Ah! Have had the pleasure," said the dandy, apparently noticing Oswald
now for the first time, though he had been standing within a yard of
him.
"All the better," said Melitta; "that is settled then?"
Cloten and Oswald bowed, and then Melitta sent them both away with a
graceful wave of the hand. "I wonder," said Langen to Oswald, as he
returned to the window, "how you can speak so freely to her; I would
not have the courage."
"You are jesting."
"Upon my word, no! There is something in that woman's look and in her
voice which would make me fear for the salvation of my soul. I know I
am not alone in that."
"Perhaps I am not sufficiently concerned for the salvation of my soul,"
said Oswald.
In the mean time Oldenburg had studiously watched the group of Melitta
in a huge mirror, while he appeared to converse with several gentlemen
in perfect indifference.
"See there, Cloten, how are you, _mon brave_?" he said, suddenly
turning to the young man, as he came near him.
"Baron Oldenburg! 'pon honor, would not have known you--such a horrible
beard!"
"Horrible, _mon cher_? Do not make me unhappy; I have cultivated it now
for three years, and it has cost me at least a million."
"Ah, nonsense," said the dandy, stroking his handsome mustache.
"Upon my word and honor," said Oldenburg. "The thing is simply this:--I
made in Cairo the acquaintance of an English family, whom I met
frequently on the Nile; I was lucky enough to render them some service.
The family consisted of father, mother, and daughter--but what a
daughter! _mon cher_, I tell you----"
"Ah, yes, I understand!" said Cloten, "thoroughbred! These English
misses, divine--beautiful--saw one in Baden Baden--never forget her in
all my life."
"Just so was my Mary," said Oldenburg.
"Not possible?"
"You may rely upon it. All English misses look alike, as one lily looks
like another. _Eh bien!_ The girl falls in love with the man who has
saved her life. The father likes me; the mother consents. I am not a
millionaire, like Mr. Brown; but then he was only a retired dealer in
iron, and I an old German baron. Enough, we ratify the bargain. Then
Mary says one evening--it seems as if it had been yesterday--we were
sitting in the moonlight on the terrace of the temple at Philae, and
looked dreamily at the quiet river, and emptied drop by drop the full
cup of love. Then she says, coming close up to me,--oh! I hear
her voice still so distinctly,--Adalbert, says she--What, sweet
one?--Adalbert, pray, dearest love, cut off your horrible beard--it's
so vulgar."
"Ah, yes! divine, divine--these English misses.--But what did she
mean?"
"She meant to say: My boy, beards are vulgar in England. Cut it off!"
"Why, that was too bad!"
"That is exactly what I told her. She begged, she besought me; at last
she fell on her knees. I remained firm like the Colossus before us.
Then she sprang up, and arming herself with all the pride of England,
and raising her hand to the starry heavens, she exclaimed: 'Sir, either
you cut off your beard or I must cut your acquaintance.'"
"Then cut my acquaintance," said I.
"Famous!" said Cloten. "What did she do?"
"Oh, nothing! Apropos, who is that young man with whom you were talking
just now? There he is, standing near the door, with old Grenwitz."
"Well, guess?"
"How can I guess? I suppose it is his nephew, Felix."
"That is what I thought. And now just think, _cher baron_, the man is a
fellow of low birth, not noble at all; his name is Stein, Doctor Stein,
I believe, and he is--well, guess again!"
"From the horror in your face I should conclude that he was the son of
the executioner of Bergen."
"Executioner! _Quelle idee!_ What strange notions you and Frau von
Berkow always have! No--tutor at Grenwitz. Is not that wonderful?"
"I do not see anything wonderful in that. There must be tutors in the
world, as there must be laborers in the arsenic mines, although I
should not like to be the one or the other."
"But the fellow looks almost genteel?"
"Almost genteel? My dear friend, he looks not only almost genteel, but
extremely genteel, more so than any gentleman in the whole company, you
and myself not excepted."
"Ah, baron, you are again in your divine humor to-day."
"Do you think so? Well, I am glad of it. But that does not prevent me
from thinking the man genteel; and, what is probably of still greater
value in your eyes, he has not only the air of a well-bred man about
him, as we find it in any nation on earth, but he has the particular
type of the nobility of this region."
"Oh, I thought typhus was a disease!"
"Typus, _mon cher_, not typhus. Type means, when several people have
the same nose, boots, eyes, and gloves. Now, look for yourself, if all
that does not agree in Doctor Stein; for instance, in comparison with
yourself, for surely you have everything that is characteristic in our
nobility most highly developed. He is tall and well made, like
yourself, only half a head taller, and a few inches broader in the
shoulders. He has the same light brown, curly hair, only you have your
hair curled by the hair-dresser, and his curls naturally. He has blue
eyes like yourself, and you must admit that his eyes are large and
expressive."
"Ah, yes--I admit, he is a deuced handsome fellow," said the dandy,
angrily, casting a sidelong glance at the object of his forced
admiration.
"Well, and as to his manners," continued Oldenburg, "I would give one
of my farms if I could move with the same dignity and the same
gracefulness."
"That is strong--why?"
"Because the women love dearly to see such a small foot, a well-shaped
leg, and so forth. Such pretty dolls like the doctor are born
Alexanders; they fly from one conquest to another, and generally die
young at Babylon."
"Ah, baron, what a man you would be if you were not so furiously
learned."
"Do you think so? May be! I have inherited that disease. It was my
mother's fault; she used to read the racing almanac and many a novel
besides. That explains the bad features in my character."
"Gentlemen, would you like to try my new pistols?" asked their host,
who came up just then.
"I thought there would be dancing?" said Cloten.
"After dinner. You are coming, Oldenburg?"
"Of course. You know my motto: _Aux armes, citoyens._"