One winter morning Anton was reading diligently the "Last of the
Mohicans," while the first snow-flakes were dancing down outside his
window, when Fink came in hurriedly, saying, "Anton, let me have a look
at your wardrobe?" He opened the different drawers, examined their
contents, and, shaking his head, said, "I will send my tailor to measure
you for a new suit."
"I have no money," replied Anton, laughing.
"Nonsense!" cried Fink; "the tailor will give you as much credit as you
like."
"I do not, however, choose to buy on credit," said Anton, settling
himself upon the sofa to argue the point with his friend.
"You must make an exception in this case. It is high time that you
should see more of society, and I am going to introduce you."
Anton started up, blushed, and exclaimed, "It won't do, Fink; I am quite
a stranger, and have no position to give me confidence."
"That's the very reason why you must go into society," replied Fink,
severely. "You must get rid of this miserable timidity as soon as
possible. Can you waltz? Have you any remote conception of the figures
of a quadrille?"
"A few years ago I had some dancing-lessons in Ostrau."
"Very well; now you shall have some more. Frau von Baldereck informed me
yesterday that a few families purposed instituting a private assembly,
where their half-grown chickens might learn to spread their wings,
secure from birds of prey. It is to be held in her house, as she has a
chicken of her own to bring up for the market. It's the very thing for
you, and I will introduce you."
"Fink," said our hero, "this is another of your mad adventures. Frau von
Baldereck belongs to the aristocratic set; you would only occasion me
the mortification of being rejected, or, worse, treated with hauteur."
"Is he not enough to put a saint out of patience?" cried Fink, in
dudgeon; "you and your class have more reason to hold your heads high
than half of those here assembled. And yet you are the very people, with
your timidity and subserviency, to keep up their foolish pretensions!
How can you suppose yourself their inferior? I should never have
expected to have found such meanness in you."
"You mistake me," replied Anton, angry in his turn. "I am not wanting in
self-respect; but it would be foolish and unbecoming to intrude into a
circle where I am not wished for, and where a man would be despised for
being in a counting-house."
"Nonsense! you _are_ wished for. There is a paucity of gentlemen. The
lady of the house (I am a favorite--no honor, mind you) has asked me to
introduce three young men of my acquaintance, and so nothing can be more
simple. You pay for your lessons like another; and whether you whirl
round a countess or a young _bourgeoise_, what matters it?"
"It won't do," replied Anton, shaking his head; "I have an inward
conviction that it is unbecoming, and wish to be guided by this."
"Well, then," said Fink, impatiently, "I have one other proposal to
make. You shall this very day call with me upon Frau von Baldereck. I
will introduce you as Anton Wohlfart, one of the clerks in the firm of
T. O. Schröter. Not a word shall be said of these dancing-lessons, and
you shall see that she herself will invite you. If she does not, or if
she shows the very least hauteur, you can stay away. This you can not
object to."
Anton demurred. The case seemed by no means so clear as Fink made it
out, but he was no longer able to weigh it dispassionately. For years
past he had yearned for the free, dignified, refined life of the upper
circles. Whenever he heard music--whenever he read of the doings of the
aristocracy, the turreted castle and the noble maiden rose before him in
the golden light of poetry. He consented to the proposal of his
experienced friend.
An hour later came the tailor, and Fink himself determined the cut of
the new suit with a technical precision which impressed the tailor no
less than it did Anton.
That afternoon, as the November sun melted away the snow, Fink, with a
large bundle of papers in his hand, loitered down the most unfrequented
streets, evidently on the look-out for some one or other. At last he
crossed over, and encountered, apparently to his surprise, two
elegantly-dressed gentlemen who were sauntering, on the opposite side.
"Ah! Fink."
"Oh, how do you do?"
"Where are you wandering to in this absent mood?" inquired young Von
Tönnchen.
"I am looking," replied Fink, in a melancholy voice, "for two good
fellows who will come and drink a bottle of wine with me this gloomy
afternoon, and assist me in a little matter of business beforehand."
"What! a duel?" inquired Herr von Zernitz.
"No, fair sir," replied Fink; "you know that I have forsworn all evil
ways, and am become a hard-working man of business, a worthy son of the
firm of Fink and Becker. I only want two witnesses to a legal document,
which must be executed at once. Will you accompany me for a quarter of
an hour to the notary--for the rest of the evening to Feroni's?"
The two gentlemen were only too happy. Fink took them to a well-known
lawyer, to whom he delivered a long and important-looking document,
written in English, and setting forth that Fritz von Fink was the
lawful proprietor of the territory of Fowling-floor, in the State of New
York. This, he explained to the lawyer, he now wished to make over to
Anton Wohlfart, at present clerk in the house of T. O. Schröter,
imploring the man of business, at the same time, to keep the matter
secret, which he duly promised; and the two witnesses attested the deed.
As they left, Fink earnestly besought them never to reveal the
circumstance to Mr. Wohlfart. They both gave him their word of honor,
evincing, however, some degree of curiosity as to the whole transaction.
"I can not explain it to you," said Fink, "there being about it a
political mystery that is not quite clear even to myself."
"Is the estate large that you have just ceded?" inquired Von Tönnchen.
"An estate!" said Fink, looking up to the sky; "it is no estate. It is a
district, mountain and vale, wood and water--but a small part,
certainly, of America. But then, what _is_ large? On the other side of
the Atlantic we measure things by a very different scale to that used in
this corner of Germany. At all events, I shall never again call the
property mine."
"But who is this Wohlfart?" asked the lieutenant.
"You shall make his acquaintance," answered Fink. "He is a handsome
youth from the heart of the province, over whom a remarkable destiny
hovers--of which, however, he knows, and is to know, nothing. But enough
of business. I have a plan for you this winter. You are old boys, it is
true; but you must take dancing-lessons."
And, so saying, he led the way into Feroni's, where the three were soon
deep in a bottle of port wine.
Frau von Baldereck was one of the main supports of the very best
society, consisting as it did of the families of the county nobility,
the officers, and a few of the highest officials. It was difficult to
say what had given this lady her social importance, for she was neither
very well connected, nor very rich, nor very elegant, nor very
intellectual. Perhaps it was this absence of all marked superiority
which accounted for it. She had a very large acquaintance, was rigidly
conventional, valued every one according to a social standard, and,
therefore, her estimate was always attended to. She had a young daughter
who promised to be very like her, and she inhabited a suite of large
rooms on a first floor, where for many years dramatic representations,
_tableaux vivants_, rehearsals, etc., had been constantly held.
This influential lady was deep in consultation with her mantuamaker as
to how the new dress of her daughter could be best made so as to display
her faultless bust without exciting comment at the dancing-lesson, when
her favorite, Fink, was announced. Dismissing a while the weighty
consideration, she hurried down to give him a most gracious reception.
After a few introductory remarks upon the last evening party at which
they had met, Fink began:
"I have obeyed your orders, lady patroness, and shall bring you three
gentlemen."
"And who are they?"
"First, Lieutenant von Zernitz."
"A great acquisition," was the reply, for the lieutenant was considered
an accomplished officer. He made neat verses, was great in the
arrangement of _tableaux vivants_, and was said to have written a tale
in some annual or other. "Herr von Zernitz is a delightful companion."
"Yes," said Fink; "but he can not bear port wine. The second is young
Von Tönnchen."
"An old family," observed the mistress of the house; "but is he not a
little--just a little--wild?" added she, modestly.
"By no means," said Fink; "though sometimes, perhaps, he makes other
people so."
"And the third?" inquired the lady.
"The third is a Mr. Wohlfart."
"Wohlfart!" returned she, somewhat perplexed; "I do not know the name."
"Very likely not," said Fink, coolly; "Mr. Wohlfart came here from the
country two or three years ago, to get an insight into the mysteries of
business; he is now in Schröter's office, like myself."
"But, my dear Fink!" interposed the lady.
Fink was by no means taken aback. Comfortably reclining in his
arm-chair, he went on: "Mr. Wohlfart is a striking and interesting
person. There are some singular circumstances connected with him. I
think him the finest fellow I ever met with. He comes from Ostrau, and
calls himself the son of an accountant there, now dead. But there hangs
a mystery over him, of which he himself knows nothing."
"But, Herr von Fink," said the lady, anxious to be heard.
Fink looked intently at the cornice, and went on. "He is already the
possessor of certain lands in America. The title-deeds have passed
through my hands confidentially; but he must know nothing of it for the
present. I myself believe that he has every prospect of more than a
million some future day. Did you ever see the late archduke?"
"No," said the lady, with some curiosity.
"There are people," continued Fink, "who maintain that Anton is
strikingly like him. What I have said is a secret, however, of which my
friend knows nothing. One thing is certain, that the late emperor, on
the occasion of his last journey through the province, stopped at
Ostrau, and had a long conversation with the pastor there."
Now this last circumstance was true, and Anton had chanced to mention it
to Fink among other of his childish recollections. He had also stated
that the pastor in question had been an army-chaplain in the last war,
and that the emperor had asked him in what corps he had served.
Fink, however, did not think it necessary to descend to such minutiæ.
Frau von Baldereck declared herself ready to receive Mr. Wohlfart.
"One word more," said Fink, rising; "what I have confided to you, good
fairy"--the fairy weighed upward of ten stone--"must remain a secret
between us. I am sure I may trust to your delicacy what, were it to be
spoken of by others, I should resent as a liberty taken with me and my
friend, Mr. Wohlfart." He pronounced the name so ironically that the
lady felt convinced that this gentleman, now under the disguise of a
clerk, would soon burst upon the world as a prince.
"But," said she, as they parted, "how shall I introduce him to my
acquaintance?"
"Only as my best friend; for whom I will answer, in every respect, as a
great addition to our circle."
When Fink found himself in the street, he muttered irreverently enough,
"How the old lady swallowed all my inventions, to be sure! As the son of
plain honest parents, they would have given the poor lad the cold
shoulder; now, however, they will all behave with a courtesy that will
charm my young friend. I never thought that old sand-hole and its
tumble-down hut would turn out so useful."
The seed that Fink had sown fell on fruitful soil. Frau von Baldereck,
who had a maternal design upon him, was only too glad to have a chance
of him as her daughter's partner in these dancing-lessons, which she had
not expected him to attend. The few hints that she ventured to throw out
about Anton being confirmed by certain mysterious observations made by
two officers, a rumor became current that a gentleman of immense
fortune, for whom the Emperor of Russia had purchased extensive
possessions in America, would make his appearance at the
dancing-lessons.
A few days later, Anton was taken by Fink to call upon Frau von
Baldereck, from whom he received the most gracious, nay, pressing
invitation to join their projected _réunions_.
The visit over, Anton, tripping down stairs on his Mentor's arm,
remarked, in all simplicity, that he was surprised to find it so easy to
converse with people of distinction.
Fink muttered something, which might or might not be an assent, and
said, "On the whole, I am satisfied with you. Only you must, this
winter, get over that confounded habit of blushing. It's bad enough in a
black neckcloth, but what will it be in a white one? You will look like
an apoplectic Cupid."
Frau von Baldereck, however, thought this modesty exceedingly touching;
and when her daughter announced decidedly that she liked Fink much the
best of the two, she shook her head, and smiling, replied, "You are no
judge, dear; there is a nobility and natural grace in every thing the
stranger does and says that is perfectly enchanting."
Meanwhile the great day of the opening lesson arrived, and Fink, having
superintended Anton's toilette, carried him off to the scene of action.
As they went down stairs, the door of Jordan's room softly opened, and
Specht, stretching out his long neck to look after them, cried out to
those within, "He is gone. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Why, there
are only the nobility there! A pretty story it will make."
"After all, why should he not go, since he is invited?" said the
good-natured Jordan. To this no one knew exactly what to answer, till
Pix cried angrily, "I do not like his accepting such an invitation. He
belongs to us and to the office. He will learn no good among such
people."
"These dancing-lessons must be curious scenes," chimed in Specht;
"frivolous in the extreme, mere love-making and dueling--for which we
know Wohlfart has always had a turn. Some fine morning we shall have him
going out with pistols under his arm, and not returning on his feet."
"Nonsense!" replied the irritable Pix; "they don't fight more than other
people."
"Then he will have to speak French?"
"Why not Russ?" asked Mr. Pix.
At which the two fell into a dispute as to what was the medium of
communication in the great lady's _salon_. However, all the colleagues
agreed in considering that Wohlfart had taken an exceedingly bold and
mysterious step, and one pregnant with calamitous consequences.
Nor was this the only discussion on the subject. "He is gone!" announced
the cousin, returning from an interview with some of the domestics.
"Another trick of his friend Fink," said the merchant.
Sabine looked down at her work. "I am glad," said she at length, "that
Fink should use his influence to give his friend pleasure. He himself
does not care for dancing, and I am sure that to attend these lessons is
in him an act of self-denial; and I am also truly glad that Wohlfart,
who has hitherto led such a solitary life, should go a little into
society."
"But into such society as this? How is it possible!" cried the cousin.
Sabine tapped the table with her thimble. "Fink has spoken highly of
him, and that was good and kind. And, in spite of the grave face of my
dear brother, he shall, as a reward, have his favorite dish to-morrow."
"Ham, with Burgundy sauce," added the cousin.
Meanwhile Fink and Anton were entering Frau von Baldereck's lighted
rooms, and Fink, whispering, "Come, summon all your courage; you have
nothing to fear," led his unresisting friend up to the lady of the
house, by whom they were most graciously received, and who, saying at
once to Anton, "I will introduce you to Countess Pontak," led him off to
a gaunt lady of uncertain age, who sat on a slightly-elevated seat,
surrounded by a small court of her own. "Dear Betty, this is Mr.
Wohlfart." Anton saw at once that "dear Betty" had a nose of parchment,
thin lips, and a most unpleasing countenance. He bowed before her with
the resigned air of a prisoner, while she began to cross-examine him as
to who he was and whence he came, till his shyness was fast changing
into annoyance, when Fink stepped in.
"My friend, proud lady, is half Slavonic, though he passionately
protests against any doubts cast upon his German origin. I recommend him
to your kindness. You have just given a proof of your talent for
investigation, now give my friend the benefit of the gentle indulgence
for which we all admire you." The ladies smiled, the gentlemen turned
away to hide their laughter, and Betty sat there with ruffled feathers,
like some small bird of prey whom a larger has robbed of its victim.
As for Anton, he was hurrying away into a corner to recover, when he
felt a light tap on his arm, and heard a fresh young voice say, "Mr.
Wohlfart, do you not remember your old friend? This is the second time
that I have been obliged to speak first."
Anton turned, and saw a tall, slight figure, with fair hair, and large
dark blue eyes, smiling at him. The expression of delight on his face
was so unmistakable that Lenore could not help telling him how glad she
too was to see him again. Soon they were in full conversation; they had
met but three times in their lives, and yet had so much to say. At last
the young lady reminded him that he must now speak to others, told him
to join her when the music began, and, with the majesty of a queen,
crossed the room to her mother.
Anton was now hardened against all social terrors, and his embarrassment
over and gone. He joined Fink, who introduced him to a dozen gentlemen,
not one of whose names he remembered, caring for them no more than for
poplars along a high road.
But this audacious mood vanished when he approached the baroness. There
were the delicate features, the unspeakable refinement, which had so
impressed him when he saw her first. She at once discovered that he was
unaccustomed to society, and looked at him with a curiosity not
unmingled with some misgiving; but Lenore cut the interview as short as
she could by saying that it was time to take their places in the dance.
"He waltzes tolerably--too much swing, perhaps," muttered Fink to
himself.
"A distinguished-looking pair," cried Frau von Baldereck, as Anton and
Lenore whirled past.
"She talks too much to him," said the baroness to her husband, who
happened to join her.
"To him?" asked he; "who is the young man? I have never seen the face
before."
"He is one of the adherents of Herr von Fink--he is alone here--has rich
relatives in Russia or America; I do not like the acquaintance for
Lenore."
"Why not?" replied the baron; "he looks a good, innocent sort of youth,
and is far better suited for this child's-play than the old boys that I
see around. There is Bruno Tönnchen, whose only pleasure is to make the
girls blush, or teach them to leave off blushing. Lenore looks
uncommonly well to-night. I am going to my whist; send for me when the
carriage is ready."
Anton heard none of these comments upon him; and if the hum of the
company around had been as loud as that of the great bell of the city's
highest steeple, he would not have heard it better. For him the whole
world had shrunk to the circle round which he and his partner revolved.
The beautiful fair head so near his own that sometimes they touched, the
warm breath that played on his cheek, the unspeakable charm of the white
glove that hid her small hand, the perfume of her handkerchief, the red
flowers fastened to her dress--these he saw and felt; all besides was
darkness, barrenness, nothingness.
Suddenly the music stopped, and Anton's world fell back into chaos.
"What a pity!" said Lenore, as the last note died away.
"I thank you for this bliss!" said Anton, leading her back to her place.
As he moved to and fro in the crowd like a rudderless ship amid the
waves, Fink took him in tow, and said, "I say, you hypocrite, you have
either drunk sweet wine, or you are a quiet sort of Don Juan. How long
have you known the Rothsattel? You have never spoken of her to me. She
has a lovely figure and a classical face. Has she any sense?"
At that moment how unspeakably Anton despised his friend! Such an
expression as that could only proceed from the most degraded of human
beings.
"Sense!" exclaimed he, casting on Fink a look of deadly enmity; "he who
doubts it must be utterly devoid of sense himself."
"Well, well!" exclaimed Fink, in amazement; "I am not in that melancholy
plight, for I think the girl, or rather the young lady, uncommonly
lovely; and, had I not some small engagements elsewhere, I might feel
constrained to choose her for the mistress of my affections. As it is, I
can only admire her afar off."
"You are right," said Anton, squeezing his arm.
"Really," returned Fink, in his usual careless tone, "you begin well, it
must be allowed; go on, my son, and prosper."
And Anton did go on, and did his Mentor honor. He was indeed
intoxicated, but not with wine. The music, the excitement of the dance,
the gay scene around, inspired him; he felt self-confident, nay,
daring; and, one or two trifling solecisms excepted, behaved as if he
had been surrounded by waxlights and obsequious domestics all the days
of his life. He was a good deal remarked--made, indeed, quite a
sensation; while dark hints of a mystery attached to him spread from
corner to corner of the spacious rooms.
At length came the cotillon. Anton sought out Lenore, who exclaimed, "I
knew that you would dance it with me!" This was to both the happiest
part of the whole happy evening.
As to all that followed, it was a mere indistinct vision. Anton was
dimly conscious of walking about with Fink, of talking and laughing with
him and others, of bowing before the lady of the house, and murmuring
his thanks; of having his paletot reached him by a servant, and of
putting something into his hand; but all this was shadowy and unreal. He
only saw one thing clearly: a white cloak, with a silk hood and a
tassel--oh, that tassel! Once more the large eyes shone full upon him,
and he heard the whispered words, "Good-night!" Then came an
uninteresting dream of going up stairs with Fink, and but half hearing
his jesting comments; of entering a small room, lighting a lamp, and
wondering whether it was really here he lived; of slowly undressing, and
at length falling asleep.