Never had the flowers bloomed so gorgeously, never had the birds sung so
gayly, as they did this summer on the baron's estate. The season spent
in town had greatly extended the family acquaintance, and the castle
was, in consequence, almost always full of guests. Dances, rides, acted
charades, amusements of every kind, filled up the laughing hours.
What happy days these were to Lenore! True, she still remained something
of an original, and her mother would at times shake her head at some
daring freak or over-emphatic speech. It came naturally to her to play
the gentleman's part whenever there was a lack of gentlemen. She was the
leader in every expedition, delighting to carry off all her young female
friends to some distant spot whence there was a fine view, to force them
into some little village inn, where they had only milk and black bread
for supper, and then to carry them all home dead-tired in a wagon, which
she herself would drive standing. She had a way of treating young men
with a sort of motherly kindness, as though they were still little
bread-and-butter-eating urchins; and on the occasion of a certain
dramatic representation, she horrified her mother by appearing in a male
character, with a riding-whip and a little beard, which she twisted
about in the most fascinating way. But she looked so wondrously lovely,
even thus attired, that her mother could not chide in earnest.
If, however, there was any one not entirely satisfied with this way of
life, it was the baroness. A certain preoccupation and restlessness had
stolen over her husband--the cloudless serenity of former years was
gone. It was but a slight change, visible only to the wife's eyes; and
even she owned to herself that she was hardly justified in grieving over
it.
Just at this time, too, a great joy awaited her. Eugene had passed his
examination, and promised them a visit to show them his epaulettes. His
mother had his room newly fitted up, and his father placed some
first-rate guns and a new hunting-dress in it as a present for him. On
the day of his arrival he rode out to meet him, and it was a pleasant
sight to see the two noble-looking men embrace, and then ride home
together.
"We will surprise the ladies," said the baron, and soon the baroness
clasped her son in her arms. This was the climax of happiness at the
castle. Both parents' eyes glistened whenever they rested on their son.
True, some of his expressions and gestures savored of the riding-school,
but the baroness only smiled at them all. From time immemorial, indeed,
the stable has been for the young cavalier the ante-chamber of the
saloon. Eugene soon became supreme among the band of young ladies; he
paid visits all around, invited friends in return; in short, one gayety
succeeded another.
To all this there was only one drawback of which the baron was
conscious. He could no longer live within his income. What had been
possible for twenty years now became manifestly an utter impossibility.
The winter residence in town, the epaulettes of his son, Lenore's gauzes
and laces--even the additional interest of his promissory notes, all
tended to embarrass him. The returns from his property were eagerly
expected, and already in part forestalled; nor were they increased. Nay,
many a projected improvement of former years remained unaccomplished. He
had once meant to plant a sandy waste at the extremity of his estate,
but even that small outlay was inconvenient, and the yellow sand still
glistened in the sun. Again he was obliged to open the inlaid casket,
and take out some of the fair parchments, and again his brow grew
clouded and his mind troubled; but it was no longer the same agony of
anxiety as before: he had had a little practice, and looked at things
with a calmer eye. Something would turn up--there would be some way or
other of becoming freed from these embarrassments; at most, he need only
spend two more winters in town till Lenore's education should be quite
completed, and then he would devote himself energetically to the care of
his property. Meanwhile, he resolved to talk matters over a little with
Ehrenthal, for, on the whole, he was an honorable man, that is, as far
as a tradesman could be so; and, what was more, he knew the baron's
circumstances exactly, and it was easier to discuss them with him than
with a stranger.
As usual, Ehrenthal appeared just when wanted. His diamond breast-pin
shone as usual, his obsequious compliments were as ludicrous as ever,
and his admiration of the property as boundless. The baron took him all
over the farm, and good-humoredly said, "You must give me some advice,
Ehrenthal."
Only two or three years had passed since a similar walk over this farm,
and how the times had changed! Then, Ehrenthal had to insinuate his
advice to the proud baron, and now the baron himself asked him for it.
In the lightest tone that he could assume, he went on to say, "I have
had greater expenses than usual this year. Even the promissory notes do
not yield enough, and I must therefore think of increasing my income.
What would you consider the best means of doing this?"
The usurer's eyes brightened; but he answered, with all due deference,
"The baron must be a better judge of that than I can be."
"None of your bargains, however, Ehrenthal. I shall not enter into
partnership with you again."
Ehrenthal replied, shaking his head, "There are not, indeed, many such
bargains to be made, which I could conscientiously recommend. The baron
has five-and-forty thousand dollars' worth of promissory notes. Why do
you keep them when they pay so small an interest? If you were, instead,
to buy a good mortgage at five per cent, you would pay four per cent to
the Joint-stock Company, and one per cent. would be your own; in other
words, a yearly addition of four hundred and fifty dollars. But you
might make a better thing of them than that. There are many safe
mortgages which are offered to sale for ready money, at a great profit
to the purchaser. You might, perhaps, for forty thousand dollars, or
even less, get a mortgage that would bring you in five per cent. on
forty-five thousand dollars."
"I have thought of that," replied the baron; "but the security for such
mortgages as these, which come into the hands of you brokers, is
exceedingly poor, and I can not rely on it."
Ehrenthal waived off this reproach, and said, in a tone of virtuous
indignation against all dealers in insecure mortgages, "For my own part,
I am very shy of mortgages altogether, and such as are in the market are
not fit for the baron, of course. You must apply to a trustworthy man;
your own lawyer, for instance, may be able to procure you a good
mortgage."
"Then you really know of none?" said the baron, secretly hoping that he
did.
"I know of none," was the positive reply; "but if you wish, I can
inquire; there are always some to be had. Your lawyer can tell you what
he would consider good security; only you would have to pay down the sum
total in case you procured it from him, whereas, if you could get one
from a commercial man, you might make a profit of some thousands."
Now this profit was a most important point to the baron, and his mind
was made up to realize it if possible. But he only said, "There is no
hurry; should you hear of any thing desirable, you can let me know."
"I will do all I can," was the cautious reply; "but it will be well that
the baron should also make inquiries himself, for I am not accustomed to
deal in mortgages."
If this assertion were not strictly true, it was, at all events,
politic, for the cool indifference of the tradesman increased the
baron's confidence in him tenfold. The following day he went to town,
and had a consultation with his lawyer, who strongly advised him to give
up the idea of making any such profit as he contemplated, because such a
mortgage would infallibly prove insecure. But this good advice only
confirmed the baron in his intention of taking his own way in the
matter.
A few days later, a tall stout man, with a shining red face, called upon
the baron--a Mr. Pinkus, from the capital. He had heard, he said, that
the baron wished to invest, and he knew of a remarkably safe and
desirable mortgage, on a large property in the neighboring province,
belonging to the rich Count Zaminsky, who lived abroad. This property
had every possible advantage, including two thousand acres of
magnificent natural wood. The mortgage was at present in Count
Zaminsky's own hands. It was possible, Pinkus mysteriously hinted, to
purchase it for ninety per cent.; in other words, for thirty-six
thousand dollars. Certainly, it was a pity that the property lay in
another province, where agriculturists had many primitive peculiarities.
But it was only six miles from the frontier--the neighboring town was on
the high road--the estate was princely. In short, the drawbacks were so
small, and the advantages so great, that Pinkus never could have made up
his mind to let a stranger purchase it, had he not been such an example
of human perfection as the baron.
The baron received the compliment in a dignified manner, and before his
departure Pinkus laid down a heavy roll of parchment, that the question
of the security might be carefully investigated.
Early the next morning the baron took the deeds to his man of business,
and himself ascended the dirty staircase that led to the white door of
Ehrenthal, who was overjoyed to hear of his visit--dressed himself with
the utmost rapidity, and insisted upon the baron doing him the infinite
honor of breakfasting with him. The baron was not cruel enough to
refuse, and accordingly he was ushered into the state apartment, where
the contrast between splendor and shabbiness amused him not a little, as
did also that between the gorgeous attire of the beautiful Rosalie, and
the sneaking, crouching manner of her father.
During breakfast the baron asked Ehrenthal whether he happened to know a
Mr. Pinkus.
At this business-like inquiry Rosalie vanished, and her father sat bolt
upright. "Yes, I do know him," said he; "he is in a very small way, but
I believe him an upright man. He is in a very small way, and all his
business is with Poland."
"Have you mentioned to him my wish to buy a mortgage?"
"How should I have thought of mentioning it to him? If he has offered
you a mortgage, he must have heard of it from another dealer, of whom I
did make inquiries. But Pinkus is in a small way; how can he procure a
mortgage for you?" And Ehrenthal indicated by a gesture how small Pinkus
was, and by a look upward how immeasurably great his guest.
The baron then told him all particulars, and asked about the property
and circumstances of the count.
Ehrenthal knew nothing; but he bethought himself that there was then in
town a respectable tradesman from that very district, and promised to
have him sent to the baron, who soon after took his leave, Ehrenthal
accompanying him down stairs, and saying, "Be cautious about the
mortgage, baron; it is good money, and there are many bad mortgages. To
be sure, there are good mortgages too; and, of course, people will say a
good deal to recommend their own. As to Löbel Pinkus, he is in but a
small way of business; but, so far as I know, a trustworthy man. All you
tell me about the mortgage sounds well, I own; but I humbly entreat you,
baron, to be cautious--very cautious."
The baron, not much enlightened by this worthy address, went to his town
house, and impatiently awaited for the arrival of the stranger, who soon
came. His name was Löwenberg, and his appearance was a sort of medley of
that of Ehrenthal and Pinkus, only he was thinner. He gave himself out
as a wine-merchant, and appeared intimately acquainted with the count
and his property. He said that the present possessor was young, and
lived abroad; that his father had been rather a bad manager; but that,
though the estate was burdened, it was not in the very least endangered.
The land was not in high cultivation, therefore was susceptible of
improvement, and he hoped the young count was the very man to see to it.
On the whole, his report was decidedly favorable; there was no
exaggeration about it--all was sensible and straightforward. The baron's
mind was very nearly made up, and he went off straightway to one of his
acquaintance, who knew the Zaminsky family. He did not hear much from
him certainly, but still it was rather favorable than otherwise. On the
other hand, Ehrenthal called to inform him that the wool of the sheep
of that district was seldom fine, and to beg that he would consult his
lawyer before he decided.
Ehrenthal's little office was on the same floor as the rest of the
apartments, and opened out upon the hall. It was evening before he
returned to it, in a state of great excitement. Itzig, who had been
sitting before a blank book, wearily waiting for his master, wondered
what could be the matter, when Ehrenthal eagerly said to him, "Itzig,
now is the time to show whether you deserve your wages, and the
advantage of a Sabbath dinner in good society."
"What am I to do?" replied Veitel, rising.
"First, you are to tell Löbel Pinkus to come here, and then to get me a
bottle of wine and two glasses. Next go and bring me word to whom in
Rosmin, Councilor Horn, who lives near the market-place, has written
to-day, or, if not to-day, to whom he writes to-morrow. In finding this
out you may spend five dollars, and if you bring me back word this
evening you shall have a ducat for yourself."
Veitel felt a glow of delight, but replied calmly, "I know none of
Councilor Horn's clerks, and must have some time to become acquainted
with them."
He ordered the bottle of wine, and ran off into the street like a dog in
scent of game.
Meanwhile Ehrenthal, his hat still on, his hands behind his back, walked
up and down, nodding his head, and looking in the twilight like an ugly
ghost who once has had his head cut off and can not now keep it steadily
on.
As Veitel went on his way, his mind kept working much as follows: "What
can be in the wind? It must be an important affair, and I am to know
nothing about it! I am to send Pinkus. Pinkus was with Ehrenthal a few
days ago, and the next morning he went to Baron Rothsattel's place in
the country; so it must have something to do with the baron. And now, as
to these letters. If I could catch the clerk who takes them to the post,
and contrive to read the directions, I should save money. But how manage
this? Well, I must find out some way or other." And, accordingly, Veitel
posted himself at the door, and soon saw a young man rush out with a
packet of letters in his hand. He followed him, and, turning sharply
round a corner, contrived to meet him. Touching his hat, "You are from
Councilor Horn's office?"
"Yes," said the clerk, in a hurry to get on.
"I am from the country, and have been waiting for three days for an
important letter from the councilor; perhaps you may have one for me."
"What is your name?" said the clerk, looking at him mistrustfully.
"Bernhard Madgeburg, of Ostrau," said Veitel; "but the letter may be
addressed to my uncle."
"There is no letter for you," replied the clerk, hurriedly glancing at
the directions.
Do what he would, Veitel's eyes could not follow this rapid shuffling,
so he seized the packet, and while the enraged official, catching hold
of him, exclaimed, "What are you about, man! how dare you?" he devoured
the directions, gave back the letters, and touching his hat, coolly
said, "Nothing for me; do not lose the post; I am going to the
councilor," turned on his heel and made his escape.
Spite of this bold stroke, he could only remember two or three of the
addresses. "Perhaps I have made my money," thought he; "and if not,
there's no time lost." So he went back, and, creeping to the office
door, stood and listened. The worthy Pinkus was speaking, but very low,
and Veitel could make little of it. At last, however, the voices grew
louder.
"How can you ask such a large sum!" cried Ehrenthal, angrily; "I have
been mistaken in thinking you a trustworthy man."
"I am trustworthy," replied Pinkus; "but I must have four hundred
dollars, or this affair will fall through."
"How dare you say it will fall through? What do you know about it?"
"I know this much, that I can get four hundred dollars from the baron by
telling him what I know," screamed Pinkus.
"You are a rascal! You are a traitor! Do you know who it is that you use
thus? I can ruin your credit, and disgrace you in the eyes of all men of
business."
"And I can show the baron what sort of a man you are," cried Pinkus,
with equal vehemence.
At this the door opened, and Veitel plunged into the shadow of the
staircase.
"I will give you till to-morrow to consider," were Pinkus's parting
words.
Veitel coolly stepped into the office, and his patron hardly noticed
him. He was pacing up and down the little room, like a wild beast in its
cage, and exclaiming, "Just heavens! that this Pinkus should turn out
such a traitor! He will blab the whole matter; he will ruin me!"
"Why should he ruin you?" asked Veitel, throwing his hat on the desk.
"What are you doing here? What have you overheard?"
"Every thing," was the cool reply. "You have both screamed so as to be
heard all over the hall. Why do you keep the affair a secret from me? I
could have compelled Löbel to give you better terms."
Ehrenthal stared in utter amazement at the audacious youth, and could
only bring out, "What does this mean?"
"I know Pinkus well," continued Veitel, determined henceforth to take a
part in the game. "If you give him a hundred dollars, he will readily
sell you a good mortgage for the baron."
"How should you know any thing about the mortgage?"
"I know enough to help in the matter," replied Itzig; "and I will help
you, if you trust me."
Ehrenthal continued to stare and stare, till at last it dawned upon him
that his assistant had more coolness and decision than himself.
Accordingly, he said, "You are a good creature, Veitel; go and bring in
Pinkus; he shall have the hundred dollars."
"I have seen the directions of the councilor's letters: there was one to
Commissary Walter."
"I thought so," cried Ehrenthal, with delight. "All right, Itzig; now
for Löbel."
"I have to pay five dollars to the councilor's clerk," continued the
youth, "and I am to have a ducat for myself."
"All right! you shall have the money; but first I must see Pinkus."
Veitel hastened to his lodgings, and found Pinkus still much excited,
and revolving all Ehrenthal's injurious speeches.
In a few decided words, he gave him to understand that he was quietly to
accept a hundred dollars, and to help Ehrenthal in this matter, else he,
Veitel, would give the police a hint of the mysterious chamber in the
next house, and of the smuggling guests; and further, that henceforth he
must have a comfortable room on reasonable terms, and be treated no
longer like a poor devil, but an equal. The result of which address was,
that, after a good deal of useless fuming and fretting, Pinkus
accompanied Veitel to Ehrenthal's house, where both worthies shook hands
and came to terms; soon after which Veitel opened the door for
Löwenberg, the wine-merchant, and was politely dismissed. This time he
did not care to listen, but returned to enjoy his supper in his new
apartment.
Meanwhile Ehrenthal said, over a glass of wine, to Löwenberg, "I have
heard that Councilor Horn has written for information respecting this
mortgage to Commissary Walter, in your town. Is there any thing to be
made of him?"
"Not by money," answered the stranger, thoughtfully, "but possibly by
other means. He does not know that I have been authorized by the count's
attorney to sell this mortgage. I shall go to him, as if on business of
my own, and take some opportunity of praising the property."
"But if he knows it himself, of what use is that?" said Ehrenthal,
shaking his head.
"There will still be some use; for, after all, those lawyers must trust
to us traders for details. How can they know, as we do, how wool and
grain sell on estates? At all events, we must do what we can."
Ehrenthal sighed, "You can believe, Löwenberg, that it makes me
anxious."
"Come, come," said the other, "it will be a profitable concern. The
buyer you have in view pays ninety per cent., and seventy is sent to the
count in Paris; of the twenty per cent. remaining, you pay the count's
attorney five, and me five for my trouble, and you keep ten. Four
thousand dollars is a pretty profit where no capital has been risked."
"But it makes me anxious," said Ehrenthal. "Believe me, Löwenberg, it
excites me so much that I can not sleep at night; and when my wife asks
me, 'Are you asleep, Ehrenthal?' I have always to say, 'I can not sleep,
Sidonie; I must think of business.'"
An hour later a carriage with four horses rolled away from the door. The
following morning Commissary Walter received a business call from
Löwenberg, and was convinced, by the cool, shrewd manner of the man,
that the circumstances of the Count Zaminsky could not be so desperate
as was commonly believed.
Eight days after, the baron received a letter from his legal adviser,
containing a copy of one from Commissary Walter. These experienced
lawyers both agreed in thinking that the mortgage in question was not
positively undesirable; and when Ehrenthal next called, he found the
baron's mind made up to the purchase. The irresistible inducement was
the making a few thousand dollars. He was resolved to think the
mortgage good, and would perhaps have bought it even had his lawyer
positively dissuaded him.
Ehrenthal, having a journey to take to that part of the country, most
unselfishly offered to complete the purchase for the baron, who was
pleased with this arrangement.
In about a fortnight he received the deeds. All were well contented with
their share in the business, but Veitel Itzig with most reason, for he
had by it got a hold over his master, and was now friend and confidant
in the most secret transactions. The baron took out his richly-inlaid
casket, and, in place of the fair white parchments, put in a thick,
dirty bundle of deeds. Having done this, he joined the ladies, and gave
a humorous account of Ehrenthal's bows and compliments.
"I hate that man," said Lenore.
"On this occasion he has behaved with a certain disinterestedness,"
replied her father. "But there is no denying that people of his class
have their absurdities of manner, and it is difficult to help laughing
at them."
That evening Ehrenthal was so cheerful in his family circle that his
wife asked him whether he had settled the affair with the baron.
"I have," he gayly replied.
"He is a handsome man," remarked the daughter.
"He is a good man," rejoined Ehrenthal, "but he has his weaknesses. He
is one of those who require low bows and civil speeches, and pay others
to think for them. There must be such people in the world, or what would
become of people of our profession?"
About the same time Veitel was relating to his friend, the ex-advocate,
the whole particulars of the affair. Hippus had taken off his
spectacles, and sat on a corner of the four-cornered chest Mrs. Pinkus
was pleased to call a sofa, looking like a sagacious elderly ape who
despises the race of men, and bites his keeper when he can. He listened
with critical interest to his pupil's narrative, and shook his head or
smiled, according as he dissented or approved.
When Veitel had done, Hippus cried, "Ehrenthal is a simpleton. He is up
to nothing great; he is always trying half-measures. If he goes on thus,
the baron will throw him overboard yet."
"What more can he do?" asked Veitel.
"He must give him anxieties--the anxieties of business, extensive
business, ceaseless activity, daily cares--that's what the baron could
not stand. That class is accustomed to little work and much enjoyment.
Every thing is made easy to them from their childhood. There are few of
them who may not be ruined by having some great care always boring at
their brains. If Ehrenthal wishes to have the baron in his power, he
must entangle him in business."
So said the advocate, and Veitel understood him, and looked with a
mixture of respect and aversion at the ugly little imp gesticulating
before him. At last Hippus took out the brandy bottle, and cried, "An
extra glass to-day. What I have just told you, you young gallows-bird,
is worth more than a bottle of brandy."