"Yes, yes, I will speak. Come to nothing, forsooth! I have seen it
coming--for a long time past--for the last four years at least--ever
since I started, in addition to all the other things, that confounded
sugar refinery. We made it a Company; but I hold all the shares myself
now--I could not bear to ruin the poor beggars who, trusting in me,
had taken up the rest. This has cost me untold money; and the whole
thing was a failure, and the building is ready to be pulled down
again--would already have been pulled down if that, again, did not
require money. Besides, a thousand acres of my best soil planted with
beetroot--food for the pigs now. And yonder is that porcelain factory,
year by year a balance on the wrong side; and then the mines--yes, yes,
formerly, but not now ..."
There had been one long series of enterprises, each of which had turned
out more unsatisfactory, and, in the long run, more ruinous than the
other; and with increasing swiftness they had swallowed up ever bigger
sums, and had now at length given at least a most severe shock to a
very considerable fortune. This much Bertram gathered clearly from the
statements of his friend, although he only understood a small part of
the technical and mercantile details.
"But how on earth," he exclaimed, "could a quiet, sensible man like
yourself ever dream of venturing on this 'inclined plane'? How could
you graft one reckless, foolhardy speculation upon another; neglect,
ruin those splendid estates, the legacy of your fathers; stake your
peace of mind, your happiness? And if it had been a question of
yourself only! But your child--your wife ..."
He paused abruptly.
"Poor chap!" he murmured. "I think I understand after all--poor, good
chap!"
He was pressing Otto's hand warmly. Their eyes met. His unhappy friend
was smiling, and a most melancholy smile it was.
"To be sure, to be sure," he said; "I did not want it cried from the
house-tops; I knew you would find the reason. I myself--dear, dear--I
would not have cared to increase my gains. I should have been more than
satisfied with the estates and the mines, or with the estates alone, if
the mines ceased to yield a profit. You know how as a young man I used
to be quite ashamed of having so much money, never a farthing of which
I had earned, when I saw how my betters had to toil and moil. And I
knew too that I was not good enough for her--that it was great
condescension on her part to marry me at all--that I must needs ever
be in her debt. From the very commencement I let her have her own
way--she should never be able to say that I, the _bourgeois_
proprietor's son, was ignorant of what befitted and became a beautiful
young lady of high degree. I even--don't laugh at me, man--even tried
to procure a patent of nobility, she wished it so very much; and I have
made many a sacrifice with that object. This whole, ill-starred
porcelain factory, for instance--I had been told that at Court they
would like me to establish one, and indeed they buy here what they
require, though, to be sure, only for kitchen and servants' hall--and
there was many another thing besides. And then she wanted the terraces
and the park and the mansion-house restored--in the true style, I think
they call it--and she takes delight in all this, trumpery rubbish of
dim old mirrors, and shaky old chairs, and worm-eaten old cabinets, and
coffee-coloured, pictures, and abominable old pots and pans; and I,
great God! would willingly buy the whole world for her--lay it at her
feet--if only she would love me a little in return. But--you see,
Charles, it has all been in vain--quite in vain!"
The big man had buried his face in his hands, and was sobbing like a
child. Bertram's soul was filled with pity. The wretched weakness of
his friend in reference to his beautiful and beloved, but cold,
unloving wife, and its mournful consequences--he now understood it all
too well not to be ready to pardon--to a certain extent. But that,
husband and wife must settle, must bear, among them--only Erna should
not be dragged to ruin, should not also be sacrificed to her mother's
unbounded selfishness. And perhaps this was the one bright spot in the
dark picture which his friend had drawn of his position.
"You have not endeavoured to give the Baron a clear view of your
situation?" he asked.
"For goodness sake--no; certainly not," exclaimed Otto, rising in
terror from his stooping position. "Anything but that!"
"And yet you will have to do so as soon as he formally asks Erna's hand
from you."
"How can I tell him the truth? He would withdraw immediately."
"Otto, are you not ashamed of yourself? And you would really give Erna
to such a cur?"
"What am I to do?"
"What you are simply obliged to do as a man of honour, not to say as a
father!"
"And he'll talk about it--here, in the town, at Court--and everything,
everything depends upon my credit remaining unquestioned, at least a
little longer. If the projected railway is made to pass through here in
lieu of through the valley below, it would be done mainly on account of
my establishments, my factories, and what not. And in that case I am
saved--nay, I must needs grow wealthier than ever I have been. But the
ultimate granting of the concession--our local Parliament
notwithstanding--rests with the Government; and Lotter, with his divers
relations, his well-known influence ..."