The Baron of Rothsattel had moved to his town residence. It was not
indeed large, but its furniture, the arabesques on its walls, the
arrangement of its hangings were so graceful, that it ranked as a model
of comfort and elegance. The baron had made all his preparations in
silence. At length the day came when the new carriage stopped at the
door, and, lifting down his wife, he led her through the suite of
apartments to her own little boudoir, all fitted up with white silk.
Enchanted beyond measure, she flew into his arms, and he felt as proud
and happy as a king. They were soon perfectly settled, and able to begin
their course of visiting.
It was the custom of a large portion of the nobility to spend the winter
in town, and accordingly the Rothsattels met many friends, and several
of their acquaintance. Every one was pleased to welcome them, and after
a few weeks they found themselves immersed in gayety. The baroness soon
became a leader of the feminine world, and her husband, after at first
missing his walks through his farm and his woods, began to take equal
pleasure in reviving his youthful acquaintance. He became member of a
nobleman's club, indulged his virtuoso tendencies, played whist, and
filled his idle hours with a little politics and a little art. And so
the winter passed pleasantly on, and the baron and his wife often
wondered why they had not earlier indulged in this agreeable variety.
Lenore was the only one dissatisfied with the change. She continued to
justify her mother's fear lest she should become an original. She found
it difficult to pay proper respect to the numberless elderly cousins of
the family, and still more difficult to refrain from accosting first any
pleasant gentleman she had known in the country, and now chanced to meet
in the streets. Likewise, the Young Lady's Institution, which she had to
attend, was in many ways objectionable to her. She had certain maps and
tiresome lesson-books to take to and fro, and her mother did not approve
of the servants' time being occupied in carrying them after her. One
day, when walking like an angry Juno--the tokens of her slavery upon her
arm, and her little parasol in her hand--she beheld the young gentleman
to whom she had shown her flower-garden coming to meet her, and she
rejoiced at it, for he was pleasantly associated in her mind with home,
the pony, and the family of swans. He was still some way off when her
hawk's eye discerned him, but he did not see her even when he came
nearer. As her mother had forbidden her ever to accost a gentleman in
the street, there was nothing for it but to stand still and to strike
her parasol on the flags.
Anton looked up and saw to his pleasant surprise the lovely lady of the
lake. Blushing, he took off his hat, and Lenore observed with
satisfaction that, in spite of the satchel on her arm, she impressed him
as much us ever.
"How are you, sir?" she inquired, in a dignified way.
"Very well," replied Anton; "how delighted I am to see you in town!"
"We are living here at present," said the young lady, with less
stateliness, "at No. 20 Bear Street."
"May I inquire for the pony?" said Anton, respectfully.
"Only think, he had to be left behind!" was the sorrowful reply; "and
what are you doing here?"
"I am in the house of T. O. Schröter," said Anton, bowing.
"Oh! a merchant; and what do you deal in?"
"In colonial produce. It is the largest firm in that department in the
whole town," replied Anton, complacently.
"And have you met with kind people who take care of you?"
"My principal is very kind, but I must take care of myself."
"Have you any friends here with whom you can amuse yourself?"
"A few acquaintances. But I have much to do, and I must improve myself
in my leisure hours."
"You look rather pale," said the young lady, with motherly interest;
"you should move more about, and take long walks. I am glad to have met
you, and shall be pleased to hear of your well-doing," added she,
majestically; and, with an inclination of her pretty little head, she
vanished in the crowd, while Anton remained gazing after her, hat in
hand.
Lenore did not consider it necessary to mention this meeting. But a few
days later, when the baroness happened to inquire where they should get
some necessary stores, she looked up from her book and said, "The
largest firm here is that of T. O. Schröter, dealer in colonial produce."
"How do you know that?" inquired her father, laughing; "you speak like
an experienced merchant."
"All the result of the Young Lady's Institution," answered Lenore,
pertly.
Meanwhile, in the midst of his social pleasures, the baron did not
forget the chief end of his town life. He made close inquiries as to the
speculations of other landed proprietors, visited the factories in the
town, became acquainted with educated manufacturers, and acquired some
knowledge of machinery. But the information thus gained was so
contradictory, that he thought it best not to precipitate matters, but
to wait till some specially advantageous and safe undertaking should
offer.
We must not omit to mention that about this time the family property was
increased by a small, handsome, brass-inlaid casket, with a lock that
defied any thief's power of opening, so that, if minded to steal, he
would have nothing for it but to carry off the casket itself. In it were
laid forty-five thousand dollars in the form of new promissory notes.
The baron contemplated these with much tenderness. At first he would sit
for hours opposite the open casket, never weary of arranging the
parchment leaves according to their numbers, delighting in their glossy
whiteness, and forming plans for paying off the capital; and even when,
for safety's sake, the casket had been made over to the keeping of the
Joint-stock Company, the thought of it was a continual pleasure. Nay,
the spirit of the casket began to peep out even in household
arrangements. The baroness was surprised at her husband counseling
certain economies, or telling with a degree of pleasure of ten louis
d'or won last evening at cards. She was at first a little afraid that he
had become in some way embarrassed; but, as he assured her, with a
complacent smile, that this was far from being the case, she soon
learned to treat these little attempts at saving as an innocent whim,
especially as they only extended to trifling details, the baron
insisting as much as ever upon keeping up a dignified and imposing
social appearance. Indeed, it was impossible for him to retrench just
now. The town life, the furnishing of the house, and the necessary
claims of society, of course increased the outgoings.
And so it came to pass that the baron, after having paid a visit to his
property to settle the yearly accounts, returned to town much out of
tune. He had become aware that the expenditure of the last year had
exceeded the income, and that the income of the next year gave no
promise of balancing the existing deficit of two thousand dollars. The
thought occurred that the sum must be taken from the white parchments;
and the man who would have stood calm beneath a shower of bullets, broke
out into a cold perspiration at the idea of the debts thus to be
incurred. It was plain that there had been an error in his calculations.
He who wishes to raise a sum by small yearly savings must not increase,
but lessen his expenditure. True, the increase in his case had been
unavoidable; but still, a most unlucky coincidence. The baron had not
felt such anxiety since his lieutenant-days. There were a thousand good
reasons, however, against giving up the town house; it was rented for a
term of years; and then, what would his acquaintance say? So he kept
his troubles to himself; quieted the baroness by talking of a cold
caught on his journey; but all day long the same thought kept gnawing at
his heart. Sometimes in the evening he was able to drive it away a
while, but it was sure to return in the morning.
It was one of these weary mornings that Mr. Ehrenthal, who had to pay
for some grain, was announced. The very name was at that moment
unpleasant to the baron, and his greeting was colder than usual; but the
man of business did not mind little ups and downs of temper, paid his
money, and was profuse in expressions of devoted respect, which all fell
coldly, till, just before going away, he inquired, "Did the promissory
notes duly arrive?"
"Yes," was the ungracious reply.
"It is sad," cried Ehrenthal, "to think of forty-five thousand dollars
lying dead. To you, baron, a couple of thousands or so is a mere trifle,
but not to one of my sort. At this moment I might speculate boldly, and
safely too; but all my money being locked up, I must lose a clear four
thousand." The baron listened attentively; the trader went on: "You have
known me, baron, for years past, to be a man of honor, and of some
substance too; and now I will make a proposition to you. Lend me for
three months ten thousand dollars' worth of promissory notes, and I will
give you a bill of exchange, which is as good as money. The speculation
should bring in four thousand dollars, and that I will divide with you
in lieu of interest. You will run no risk; if I fail, I will bear the
loss myself, and pay back the principal in three months."
However uninteresting these words may appear to the reader, they threw
the baron into such a state of joyous excitement that he could scarce
command himself sufficiently to say, "First of all, I must know what
sort of a bargain it is that you wish to drive with my money." Ehrenthal
explained. The offer of purchasing a quantity of wood had been made to
him, which wood lay on a raft in an upper part of the province. He would
take all the expense of transport on himself; and he proceeded to
demonstrate the certain profit of the transaction.
"But," said the baron, "how comes it that the present proprietor does
not carry out this profitable scheme himself?"
Ehrenthal shrugged his shoulders. "He who means to speculate must not
always inquire the reason of bargains. An embarrassed man can not wait
two or three months; the river is at present frozen, and he wants the
money in two or three days."
"Are you sure that his right to sell is incontestable?"
"I know the man to be safe," was the reply; "and that, if I pay him this
evening, the wood is mine."
Now it was painful to the baron, much as he wanted money, to turn the
embarrassment of another to his own profit; and he said, "I consider it
unfair to reckon upon what is certain loss to the seller."
"Why should it be certain loss?" cried Ehrenthal. "He is a
speculator--he wants money; perhaps he has a greater bargain still in
his eye. He has offered me the whole quantity of wood for ten thousand
dollars, and I have no business to inquire whether he can or can not
make more of my money than I of his wood."
And so far Ehrenthal was right; but this was not all. The seller was an
unlucky speculator, pressed by his creditors, threatened with an
execution, and determined to frustrate their hopes by driving an
immediate bargain with a stranger, and then making off with the money.
Perhaps Ehrenthal knew this; perhaps the baron too surmised that there
must be a mystery, for he shook his head. And yet _he_ ran no risk,
incurred no responsibility; he but lent his money to a safe man, whom he
had known for years, and in a short time he should get rid of the evil
genius that tormented him ceaselessly. Too much excited to reflect
whether this was not a casting out of devils by Beelzebub, their chief,
he rang the bell for his carriage, and said, in a lordly tone, "You
shall have the money in an hour."
From that day the baron led a life of anxious suspense. He was always
going over this interview, always thinking of the piles of wood; and,
whenever he rode out, his horse's head was turned to the river, that he
might watch the progress of the thaw.
He had not seen Ehrenthal for some time. At length he came one morning
with his endless bows, and, taking out a large packet, said
triumphantly, "Well, baron, the affair is settled. Here are your notes,
and here the two thousand dollars, your share of the profit."
The baron snatched the packet. Yes; they were the very same parchments
he had taken out of the casket with so heavy a heart, and a bundle of
bank-notes besides. A weight fell from him. The parchments were safe,
the deficit made up. Ehrenthal was courteously dismissed. That very day
the baron bought a turquoise ornament for his wife, which she had long
silently wished for, and sunshine prevailed in the family circle.
But a dark shadow from the recent past had yet to fall athwart it. The
baron, reading the paper one day in his wife's room, observed an
advertisement concerning a bankrupt dealer in wood, who had made his
escape after swindling his creditors. He laid down the paper, and the
drops stood on his brow. "If it should be the same man!"
Ehrenthal had given no name. Had he, a man of honor, been the means of
defrauding just claims; had he taken part in a swindling transaction,
ay, and gained by it too! The thought was too fearful. He hurried to his
desk that he might pack up and send off the accursed profits--whither he
knew not, but any where, away. He saw with horror that only a small
portion of them remained. In extreme agitation, he rang the bell, and
sent for Ehrenthal.
As chance would have it, Ehrenthal was gone on a journey. Meanwhile
arose those soothing inward voices which know so well how to place
things doubtful in a favorable light. "How foolish this anxiety! There
were hundreds of dealers in wood in that part of the country; and was it
likely that this very man should be Ehrenthal's client? Or, even if he
were, in a business point of view, how could they help the use he might
make of their money? Nothing could be fairer than the transaction
itself." Thus the voices within; and oh! how attentively the baron
listened.
But still, when Ehrenthal at length appeared, the baron met him with an
expression that positively appalled him. "What was the name of the man
from whom you bought the wood?" cried he.
Ehrenthal had read the newspaper too, and the truth now flashed upon
him. He gave a name at once.
"And the place where the wood lay?"
Ehrenthal named that too.
"Are you telling me the truth?" asked the baron, drawing a third deep
breath.
Ehrenthal saw that he had a sick conscience to deal with, and treated
the case with the utmost gentleness. "What is the baron uneasy about?"
said he, shaking his head; "I believe that the man with whom I dealt has
made a good profit out of the affair. Nothing could be more fair than
the whole transaction. But, even had it not been so, why, my good sir,
should you be troubled? There was no reason why I should not tell you
the names, both of the man and place, before; but I did not do so,
because the bargain was mine, not yours. I became your debtor, and I
have repaid you with a bonus--a large one, it is true; but I have dealt
with you for years, and why should I keep back from you the share of
profit which I should have had to give any one else?"
"That is all right, Ehrenthal," said the baron, more graciously; "and I
am glad that the case stands thus. But, had this man been the bankrupt
in question, I should have broken off our connection, and should never
have forgiven you for involving me in a fraudulent transaction."
Ehrenthal bowed himself out, muttering, as he went down stairs, "He's a
good man, this baron; a good, good man."