The new-mown grass was already fading in the sun when Anton shook the
hand of the neighbor who had accompanied him as far as the nearest
station to the capital, and then walked off merrily along the high road.
The day was bright, the mower was heard whetting his scythe in the
meadows close by, and the indefatigable lark sang high overhead. On all
sides rose church-towers, central points of villages buried in woods,
near many of which might be seen a stately baronial residence.
Anton hurried on as if his feet were winged; the future lay before him
sunny as the plain, a life of radiant dreams and evergreen hopes; his
heart beat high, his eyes beamed, he felt intoxicated by the beauty and
the fragrance around him. Whenever he saw a mower, he called out to him
that it was a lovely day, and got many a friendly greeting in return.
The very birds seemed as though they congratulated him, and cheered him
onward.
He now took a footpath that led through a meadow, crossed a bridge, and
found himself in a plantation with neatly-graveled paths. As he went on,
it more and more assumed the character of a garden; a sudden turn, and
he stood on a grass-plot, and saw a gentleman's seat, with two side
towers and a balcony, rise before him. Vines and climbing roses ran up
the towers, and beneath the balcony was a vestibule well filled with
flowers. In short, to our Anton, brought up as he had been in a small
town, it all appeared beauteous and stately in the extreme. He sat down
behind a bushy lilac, and gave himself up to the contemplation of the
scene. How happy the inhabitants must be! how noble! how refined! A
certain respect for every thing of acknowledged distinction and
importance was innate in the son of the accountant; and when, in the
midst of the beauty around him, his thoughts reverted to himself, he
felt utterly insignificant, a species of social pigmy scarcely visible
to the naked eye.
For some time he sat and looked in perfect stillness; at last the
picture shifted. A lovely lady came out on the balcony clad in light
summer attire, with white lace sleeves, and stood there like a statue.
When a gay paroquet flew out of the room and lighted on her hand,
Anton's admiration went on increasing; but when a young girl followed
the bird, and wound her arms around the lovely lady's neck, and the
paroquet kept wheeling about them, and perching now on the shoulder of
one, and then on that of the other, his feeling of veneration became
such that he blushed deeply, and drew back further into the lilac-tree's
shadow.
Then, with his imagination filled by what he had seen, he went with
elastic step along the broad walk, hoping to find a way of exit.
Soon he heard a horse's feet behind him, and saw the younger of the two
ladies come riding after him, mounted upon a black pony, and using her
parasol as a whip. Now the ladies of Ostrau were not in the habit of
riding. He had, indeed, once upon a time, beheld a professional
equestrian with very red cheeks and flowing garments, and had
unspeakably admired her, but now the same feeling was far more intense.
He stood still and bowed reverentially. The young girl acknowledged his
homage by a gracious nod, pulled up her horse, and asked whether he
wished to speak to her father.
"I crave your pardon," replied Anton, with the deepest respect;
"probably I am in a path not open to strangers. I came across the
meadow, and saw no gate and no hedge."
"The gate is on the bridge; it is open by day," said the young lady,
with great benignity, for reverence was not the sentiment her fourteen
years often inspired, and she was the more pleased therewith. "But,
since you are in the garden," continued she, "will you not look around?
We shall be very glad if it give you pleasure."
"I have already taken that liberty," replied Anton, with another bow. "I
have been on the lawn before the castle: it is magnificent."
"Yes," said the young lady, reining in her pony; "the gardener laid it
out under mamma's own direction."
"Then the lady who stood with you on the balcony was your mother?"
timidly inquired Anton.
"What! you have been watching us, then? Do you know that that was
wrong?"
"Forgive me," was the humble reply; "I retreated at once, but it was
such a lovely sight--the two ladies, the roses in full blossom, the
framework of vine leaves--I shall never forget it."
"He is charming!" thought the young girl. "Since you have already seen
the garden," said she, condescendingly, "you must go to the point from
which we have the best view. I am on my way thither now, if you like to
follow."
Anton followed, lost in delight. The lady bade her horse walk slowly,
and played the cicerone. At last she dismounted and led the pony,
whereupon Anton ventured to stroke his neck--an attention which the
little fellow took in good part, and returned by sniffing his coat
pockets. "He trusts you," said the young lady; "he is a sagacious
beast." She then tied the bridle round his neck, told him to go home,
and turning to Anton, added, "We are going into the flower-garden, where
he must not come; and so, you see, he trots back to his stable."
"This pony is a perfect wonder," cried Anton.
"He is very fond of me; he does all I tell him," was the reply.
Anton thought that the most natural thing in the world.
"I think you are of a good family," said the little lady, decidedly,
looking at Anton with a discriminating air.
"No," replied he, sadly. "My father died last month, my dear mother a
year ago; I am alone, and on my way to the capital." His lips quivered
as he spoke.
The lady looked at him with the utmost sympathy, and in some
embarrassment. "Oh, poor, poor lad!" cried she. "But come quickly; I
have something to show you. These are the beds of early strawberries;
there are still a few. Do, pray, take them. No guest must leave my
father's house without partaking of the best each season brings. Pray,
pray eat them."
Anton looked at her with tearful eyes.
"I am going to share with you," said she, taking two strawberries. Upon
that, the youth obediently followed her example.
"And now I will take you across the garden," said she, leading him to a
little lake where old swans and young were swimming about.
"They are coming hither," cried Anton, in delight.
"They know that I have something for them," said his companion,
loosening the while the chain of a small boat. "Now, sir, jump in, and I
will row you across, for yonder lies your way."
"I can not think of troubling you."
"No opposition!" said she, imperatively, and they set off.
Anton was entranced. Behind, the rich green trees; beneath, the clear
water rippling round the prow; opposite him, the slender figure of his
companion, and the swans, her snowy subjects, following in her train--it
was a dream such as is only granted to youth.
The boat grounded; Anton leaped out, and involuntarily offered his hand,
which the little lady touched with the tips of her fingers as she wished
him good-by. He sprang up the hill and looked down. Through an opening
in the wood he saw the castle with its flag floating, and its vines and
roses shining in the sun.
"How noble! how magnificent!" said he, aloud.
"If you were to count out to that baron a hundred thousand dollars, he
would not sell you the property he inherited from his father," said a
sharp voice behind him. He angrily turned; the dream was gone; he stood
on the dusty highway, and saw a meanly-dressed youth, with a great
bundle under his arm, looking at him with cool familiarity.
"Is it you, Veitel Itzig?" cried Anton, without showing much pleasure at
the meeting. Indeed, young Itzig was by no means a pleasant apparition,
pale, haggard, red-haired, and shabbily clothed as he was. He came from
Ostrau, and had been a schoolfellow of Anton's, who had once fought a
battle on his behalf, and had stood between the young Jew and the
general ill-will of the other boys. But of late they had seldom met,
just often enough to give Itzig an opportunity of keeping up in some
measure their old schooldays' familiarity.
"They say that you are going to the great city to learn business," added
Veitel; "to be taught how to twist up paper bags and sell treacle to old
women. I am going there too, but _I_ mean to make my fortune."
To this Anton replied, dryly enough, "Go, then, and make it, and do not
let me detain you."
"There's no need to hurry," said the other, carelessly; "I will walk on
with you, if you are not ashamed of my dress." This appeal to our hero's
humanity was successful, and, casting a last look at the castle, he went
on his way, his unwelcome companion a foot or so behind him. At length
he turned, and inquired who the proprietor was.
Itzig displayed wonderful familiarity with the subject. The baron, said
he, had only two children, large flocks, and a clear estate. His son was
at a military school. Finally, observing Anton's interest, he remarked,
"If you wish for his property, I will buy it for you."
"Thanks," was the cold reply. "You have just told me he was not disposed
to sell."
"When a man is not disposed to sell, he must be forced to do so."
"You are the very person to force him, I suppose," replied Anton,
thoroughly out of patience.
"Whether I am or not, does not signify; there is a receipt for making
any man sell."
"What! can they be bewitched, or given some magic potion?" asked Anton,
contemptuously.
"A hundred thousand dollars is a potion that can work wonders; but a
poor man must get hold of a secret to accomplish his ends. Now, I am on
my way to town to get at the knowledge of this secret. It is all
contained in certain papers, and I will search for those papers till I
find them."
Anton looked askance at his companion as at a lunatic, and at length
replied, "Poor Veitel, you never will find them."
However, Itzig went on to say confidentially, "Never repeat what I tell
you. Those papers have been in our town; and a certain person, who is
become a very great man now, got them from an old dying beggar-man, who
gave them to him one night that he watched by his bedside."
"And do you know this man?" inquired Anton, in a tone of curiosity.
"Never mind whether I know him or not," answered the other, slyly. "I
shall find out the receipt I spoke of. And if ever you wish to have this
baron's property, horses, flocks, and his pretty daughter to boot, I'll
buy them for you, for the sake of our old friendship, and the thrashing
you once gave some of our schoolfellows on my account."
"Take care," said Anton, "that you don't turn out a thorough rascal; you
seem to me to be in the fair way."
So saying, he crossed over to the other side of the road in high
dudgeon; but Itzig took his caution with the utmost equanimity, and ever
and anon, as they passed different country-seats, gave him an account of
the names and rentals of their proprietors, so that Anton was perfectly
stupefied with the extent of his statistical information. At length both
walked on in silence.