Did Marie know this, or did she let herself be deceived by these friendly protestations? Occasionally, when her friends embraced and kissed her, a languid smile flitted over her haughty face; and once as she wandered through the suite of rooms, awaiting her guests, she caught the reflection of a beautiful woman in the costly Venetian mirrors, sparkling with diamonds and wearing a silver-embroidered dress with a train. She gazed at this woman with an expression of ineffable scorn, and whispered to her: "Suffer yet awhile, you shall soon be released.

This miserable trash will disappear. Only be firm--I hear already the cracking of the house which will soon fall a wreck at your feet!"

Others heard it also. As preparations were being made for a grand dinner, with which the Baron and Baroness von Ebenstreit would close the season, the former head bookkeeper of the baron appeared at the palace, demanding, with anxious mien, to see the princ.i.p.al.

Just at the moment the baron and his wife were in the large reception-room, which the decorator was splendidly arranging, under the direction of the baroness, with flowers, festoons, columns, and statues.

Ebenstreit was watching admiringly the tasteful and costly display as the footman announced the former book-keeper and present banker, Splittgerber.

"He must come at another time," cried Ebenstreit, impatiently, "I am busy now; I--"

"Excuse me, baron," replied an earnest, gentle voice behind him, "that I have followed the lackey and entered unbidden. I come on urgent business, and I must indeed speak with you instantly!"

"Be brief then, at least," cried Ebenstreit, peevishly. "You see that my wife is here, and we are very busy arranging for a grand dinner to-day."

Herr Splittgerber, instead of replying, cast a peculiarly sad, searching glance through the beautifully-adorned room, and at the two lackeys, who stood on each side of the wide folding-doors.

"Permit that these servants withdraw, and order them to close the doors," said the book-keeper, almost commandingly. Ebenstreit, overruled by the solemn earnestness, obeyed against his will.

"Would you like me to leave also, sir?" said Marie, with a calm, haughty manner. "You have only to ask it and the baron will, undoubtedly, accord your request."

"On the contrary, I beg you to remain," quietly replied Splittgerber, "for what I have to say concerns you and your husband equally."

"Now, then, I beg you to say it quickly," cried Ebenstreit, impatiently; "I repeat, that we are very busy with preparing for to-day's festival."

"You will not give any fete to-day," said Splittgerber, solemnly.

Ebenstreit, cringing and frightened, gazed at the old man who looked sadly at him.

The baroness laughed aloud, sneeringly. "My dear sir, your tone and manner remind me of the wicked spirit at the horrible moment in the story when he comes to demand the bartered soul, and the enchanted castle falls a wreck!"

"Your comparison is an apt one, baroness," sighed the old man.--"I came to you, baron, because I loved your father. I have served your house thirty years, and ama.s.sed the little I had to commence business with in your service. Moreover, when you so suddenly dismissed me, you not only gave me my salary as a pension, but you funded the annuity with a considerable sum, which makes me, through your house, independent in means."

"You may thank my wife for that. She demanded, when I dismissed you, that I should compensate you with the liberality of a true n.o.bleman."

"Oh, would that you had not done it, baroness!" cried Splittgerber--"would that you had permitted the old faithful pioneer in the business to remain by your husband! He might have warded off this misfortune and saved you by his experience and advice."

"For this very reason I demanded your removal. You permitted yourself to proffer advice which I felt did not become you," replied Marie, with a strange smile of triumph.

"And, I repeat, would that you had not done it!" sighed the old man.

"I came to warn you, to conjure you, to save yourselves--to flee while there is yet time."

"Oh, mercy! what has happened?" cried Ebenstreit, terrified.

"The banking-house of Ebenstreit, founded under the name of Ludwig, a.s.sociated with Ehlert of Amsterdam, four months since, to buy and load ships for the Calcutta market. Herr Ebenstreit gathered together the last wrecks of his fortune remaining from his ruinous speculations, to win enormously in this investment. Besides, he indorsed the notes of the Amsterdam house for the sum of eighty thousand dollars, which has been drawn, so that their notes are protested there. Herr Ebenstreit will have to pay this sum!"

"What else?" asked Ebenstreit, almost breathless.

"The house of Ehlert, in Amsterdam, has failed; the princ.i.p.al has fled with the coffers; the notes for eighty thousand dollars were protested, and you, baron, must pay this sum to-day, or declare yourself a bankrupt, and go to prison for debt."

Instantaneously a suppressed cry and a laugh were heard. Ebenstreit sank upon a seat, concealing his pallid face with his hands, while Marie stood at his side, her face beaming with joy.

"I am lost, I do not possess the eighth part of that sum! I cannot pay it. I must submit, for there are no further means to prevent it."

"No," replied Marie, with haughty tranquillity, "you have no further means to prevent it. The rich banker Ebenstreit will leave this house, no longer his own, to enter the debtor's prison poor as a beggar--nay, worse, a defrauder!"

"Oh, how cruel you are!" groaned Ebenstreit.

"Did you say, baroness, that this house is no longer his?" asked Splittgerber, alarmed.

"No," she triumphantly cried. "It belongs to me, and all that is in it--the pictures, statues, silver, diamonds, and pearls. Oh, I am still a rich woman!"

"And do you mean to retain this wealth if your husband becomes bankrupt?

Do you not possess a common interest?" asked Splittgerber.

"No, thank Heaven, the community of interest was given up a year since,"

cried Ebenstreit, joyfully. "Baroness von Ebenstreit is the lawful possessor of this house and furniture. I was not so indiscreet as you supposed. I have at least secured this to my wife, and she will be a rich woman even if I fail, and will not let me starve. I shall divide about ten per cent with my creditors, but my wife will be rich enough for us both."

"This gives me to understand that you intend to make a fraudulent bankruptcy. You have settled every thing upon your wife to save yourself from the unhappy consequences of your failure. You will still be a rich man if your wife should sell her house, works of art, diamonds, gold and silver service, and equipages."

"Yes, indeed, a very rich man," said Marie. "In the last few weeks I have had my property estimated, and it would at least bring three hundred thousand dollars."

"If the baron only possessed this, he could pay his creditors, and have a small amount over, sufficient to live upon economically and genteelly.

But you would rather enjoy splendor, and are not particular about living honorably. You will undoubtedly sell your property, and go to Paris, to revel in luxury and pleasure, while your defrauded creditors may, through you come to poverty and want.--Baron, I now see that your wife did well to bring about my removal. I should have, above all things, given you the unwelcome advice to sustain your honor unblemished, and dispose of your costly surroundings for the benefit of your creditors, that when you die it may be with a clear conscience. You prefer a life of luxury and ease, rocking your conscience to sleep until G.o.d will rouse it to a fearful awaking. But do as you like. I came here to offer you a.s.sistance, thinking that you would dispose of this property, and after paying your creditors have sufficient to live upon. Then I could be permitted to prove my fidelity to you. I now see that I was a fool. Yet in parting I will still beg of you to avoid the unfavorable impression of this dinner. The bill of exchange will be presented at four o'clock, and the bearer will not be satisfied with the excuse of your non-payment on account of dinner-company. You will be obliged to settle at once or be arrested. I have learned this from your chief creditor, and I begged him to have forbearance for you. I shall now justify him in showing you none, as you do not deserve it!--Farewell!"

The old book-keeper turned with a slight nod, and strode away through the drawing-room.

"Have you nothing to say to him? Will you let him go thus?" asked Marie, impetuously.

"Nothing at all. What should I say?" he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Then I will speak with him." Marie called loudly after Splittgerber, saying, "I have a word to speak to you."

The book-keeper remained standing near the door, and turning with downcast face, demanded of Marie what she wished.

"I have something to tell you," she replied, with her usual tranquil, proud demeanor, approaching Splittgerber, who regarded her with severity and contempt, which she met with a gentle, friendly expression, a sweet smile hovering on her lips.

Marie came close up to the old man, who awaited her with haughty defiance, and never advanced one step to meet her--a lady splendidly bedecked with diamonds and gold-embroidered satin. She whispered a few words in his ear. He started, and, astonished, looked into her face, as if questioning what he heard. She nodded, smiling, and bent again to say a few words.

Suddenly Splittgerber seemed metamorphosed. His gloomy face brightened a little, and his insolent glance was changed to one of deep emotion, Bowing profoundly as he held the baroness's proffered hand to take leave, he pressed it most respectfully to his lips.

"You will return in an hour?" Marie asked.

"Yes; I shall seek the gentlemen, and bring them with me," he graciously replied.

"Thanks; I will then await you."

Splittgerber departed, and Marie returned to Ebenstreit who, amazed, muttered some unintelligible words, having listened to her mysterious conversation with the old book-keeper.

"Now to you, sir!" said she, her whole tone and manner changing to harsh command; "the hour for settling our accounts has arrived--the hour that I have awaited, purchasing it by four years of torture, self-contempt, and despair. This comedy is at an end. I will buy of you my freedom. Do you hear me? I will cast off these galley-chains. I will be free!"