"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the baron, "it is quite possible after all that your fears with regard to Doctor Stein may be unfounded. I never have heard a word from him, as far as I can remember, which would confirm your terrible suspicion."

"Well, Mr. Jager," said the baroness, "are you also firmly convinced of the young man's innocence?"

"I should not honor the truth," said the latter, with an air of deep regret, "if I were to deny that I have heard him say things which approach to frivolity, I might almost say, to sacrilege; they pained me deeply. But I consoled myself with the thought that the best of wines is apt to be tasteless and muddy in the time of fermentation, and relied on the goodness of Him who changed Saul into Paul."

"That is very fine and very Christian," said the baroness, "but it does not comfort me at all. If my child's _soul_ is poisoned, then it matters very little to me whether the poisoner repents his crime or not, and I confess that the events of last night have almost convinced me of the suspicions which, I can safely say, I have cherished against Stein from the very first moment."

"Did anything special occur, madam?" asked the minister, drawing his chair half an inch nearer to her.

"I do not like to speak of it," replied the baroness; "and if I do it now, it is only because I know you as an old friend of our house, and can rely on your discretion."

"My sacred duty, madam," said the minister, bowing deep and putting his hand on his heart.

"You know Baron Oldenburg?" continued the baroness.

"Not personally, madam; only what I heard you and the baron say when I have been kindly permitted to listen to your conversation."

"Then you know what his sad reputation is! You know that we have to endure the sorrow of seeing the last scion of one of our oldest and n.o.blest families running with open eyes--for the baron is a remarkably gifted man--into his own destruction."

"But, dearest Anna Maria," said the baron, who was nervously moving about on his chair, "I should not think the subject of this conversation was exactly suited----"

"I know what I owe to my rank," said the baroness, "and I shall act accordingly. The baron's apostasy from the faith of his ancestors is unfortunately so notorious that I am sure I need not use any reserve on that subject with a friend of the n.o.bility (the minister bowed twice), and a friend of our house (the reverend gentleman placed his hand on his heart). You know, Mr. Jager, that the baron avoids our society in order to frequent that of all kinds of people whom we generally try to escape; that he is constantly talking of friends of the truth and lovers of the people, and that to be distinguished by him is almost equivalent to being a lost man, if his favor falls upon one whose social position is so very far below his own. Now, last night, the baron distinguished Mr. Stein in a most striking, not to say offensive manner; he not only did his best to introduce him to everybody, but he also treated him as his own and as our equal, and to crown his conduct, which I do not care to designate more accurately, he took him in his own carriage, because the Grenwitz carriage had not had time to come back for him. He actually brought him as far as the gates, thus making a detour of at least two miles!"

"But, dearest Anna Maria, anybody would----"

"Pardon me, dear Grenwitz; anybody else would not have done so, and least of all the baron, whose rough, unpleasant manner, even to men of his own rank, has become proverbial, if he had not found in Mr. Stein a man of his own way of thinking, an atheist, and an enthusiast for so-called Liberty, _enfin_, an immoral man, to repeat the word which excited your indignation, and which I hope you will now concede is not ill-applied in Mr. Stein's case."

The baroness paused, proudly conscious of having victoriously defended her view; the minister remained silent, in order not to interrupt his n.o.ble patroness in her enjoyment, and the baron said nothing, because he had nothing at all to say. This compound silence was suddenly interrupted by a noise from the hall, upon which the door opened, the mewing of a cat, and immediately afterwards the angry bark of a dog.

Such a noise was unheard of at Castle Grenwitz, where neither cats nor dogs were admitted, and hence all three looked amazed.

"What can that be?" asked the baron, rising and opening the door.

"Ah! I see you, baron!" a clear loud voice sang out.

"It is Mr. Timm!" said the latter, turning round to his ends in the room, and then to the person outside.

"Will you come in, Mr. Timm?"

CHAPTER V.

The invitation was immediately accepted by a young man of perhaps twenty-five, although the fresh complexion of a perfectly beardless face made him at first sight appear several years younger. The well-shaped head was covered with smooth blond hair, long enough to be brushed back, and to leave the very white forehead free, which rose boldly above his light-blue eyes; at least such appeared to be their color, as seen through the gla.s.ses which he wore. His figure was of medium size, but broad in the shoulders, and his compact muscular frame seemed to be made to bear fatigue easily. The young man seemed to care little for his appearance. His costume consisted of a light summer-coat of doubtful color, which seemed to have been exposed to many a tempest, and of trousers of the same material, color, and quality. His linen had evidently been whiter when it left the hands of the laundress. His carriage corresponded with his appearance: it was less elegant than easy, and agreed in this point also, that Mr. Timm might easily have improved it if he had chosen.

"Beg ten thousand pardons," he said, laughing, as he made a very informal bow to the baroness and gave a familiar nod to the minister, "if I have interrupted an interesting conversation by my lyric Intermezzo; but I really did not know what else to do, as I have not the honor, madam, to know your servants by name, and in vain looked for a bell in this part of the house. I had peeped into several doors already, and if I could have suspected that the fifth, which I had not even noticed before, should have been opened by the baron himself, I should have saved myself my musical performance, which was intended solely for the less sensitive ear of some serving spirit--How are you, madam? Fatigued by the heat? Shouldn't wonder--eighty-five in the shade--real hot-house temperature.--I bring you much love from your wife, Mr. Jager; saw her an hour ago in Fashwitz. She'll come towards evening with the one-horse chaise, to fetch you home. I have surveyed the whole of Sa.s.sitz, baron. If you agree, we'll draw up the plats at once, if the baroness will have the kindness to give me a room in the chateau."

Mr. Timm paused, and put his hand in his pocket to take out his handkerchief and to wipe his forehead, on which the perspiration stood in big drops. But as he recollected in time that this very useful part of his toilet was by no means in a fit condition to be exhibited in such company, he left it where it was, pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead and his hair, and looked as cheerful and happy as if he was the sole and legitimate heir to the Grenwitz estates, which he had to survey in the sweat of his face.

"Certainly," said the baroness, who liked Mr. Timm on account of his unpretending manner, and who, imperious as she was, or rather because she was so imperious, instinctively appreciated a man who was afraid of no one and whom nothing could disconcert for a moment; "certainly, Mr.

Timm. You know you are always welcome. You will be better able to work here, where nothing interrupts you, than in town, and it is our mutual advantage to have the work done as soon as possible. You have brought your things, I hope?"

"Is all in the hall, where the rustic youth, who guided the ponies which brought me here in a fair dog-trot, has put them down," said Mr.

Timm, whose "things" consisted of a small trunk of melancholy appearance, filled with some clean and not much soiled linen, a few articles of a wardrobe which no one could call extravagant, and a large portfolio with drawings, surveys, etc. "I only need the guidance of one of your serving-spirits to show me the room you may have kindly appropriated to my use, and I shall at once establish my domestic altars there."

"Will you have the kindness to pull that bell-rope twice?" said Anna Maria, with a gracious smile.

"With pleasure," said Mr. Timm; "this instrumental method of conjuring up the spirits of the deep is more convenient than my vocal method, and also more efficient, as I see."

The servant who entered received his orders to show Mr. Timm his room.

"It has been ready for you several weeks, Mr. Timm," said the baroness.

"You are kind and provident, like providence itself, madam," said Mr.

Timm, rising, and unceremoniously kissing the baroness' hand; "_au revoir_, gentlemen, till supper, at which I hope to see you in the same frame in which I shall appear--I mean in good-humor and with still better appet.i.te," and then he briskly followed the servant.

"Really a nice man, this Mr. Timm," said the baroness; "so harmless, so unpretending, so perfectly aware of his position in society, and never a.s.suming any airs, like certain other people."

"Yes indeed!" affirmed the minister; "a very nice, modest young man. He really deserves encouragement, both on account of his talents, which are quite eminent, and on account of the good family to which he belongs.

"Gustava knows his family and all about them very well; I also recollect, from my time in Grunwald, his father, a distinguished lawyer, who lost his large fortune, shortly before his death, by some unlucky speculation. His relations are still in very good places. One of his uncles is a major in the army. Mr. Timm himself was intended for the army, and, I believe, actually served as ensign; but his father's losses compelled him to abandon that career and to become an engineer or surveyor. He is very desirous to attend lectures at the Inst.i.tute at the capital, but unfortunately he lacks----" the minister here made a sign with his thumb and forefinger as if he were counting money.

"Why, what a pity!" said the baroness. "I wish we could help the poor fellow. Could not his uncle the major lend him a few hundred dollars?

But, to be sure, these gentlemen in the army have generally hard enough work themselves.--_Ah! mademoiselle, vous arrivez bien a propos!

Veuillez avoir la bonte!_"

The baroness had risen to give her instructions to Mademoiselle Marguerite.

"Would you like to see my beehives, Mr. Jager?" said the baron.

"With the greatest pleasure," replied the latter, taking his hat and cane.

"Don't stay away too long," said the baroness, "we shall have a little supper.--_Que voulais-je dire? Ah oui! Du chocolat, mais pas si enormement sucre que la derniere fois et prenez garde_, ..."

The evening had come, and with it Mrs. Jager, in the one-horse chaise.

Primula wore the same dress of raw silk in which she had appeared to Oswald last Sunday, and, fatigued as she was by the great heat of the day, she looked more than ever like a sick canary-bird. Her husband had taken the first opportunity, after the long-winded greeting between her and the baroness was finished, to whisper to her, that it would be better not to appear too enthusiastic about her new friend. He told her that the young man seemed by no means to enjoy the favor of the baron and the baroness in a very high degree--a piece of news which so astounded the "dweller in higher regions," that she was hardly able to return Oswald's salutation when he appeared in the parlor, shortly before supper was announced.

Oswald's good-humor would have probably been excited by this strange conduct of his enthusiastic hostess of the Sunday before, if he had only become aware of it. But unfortunately he was in that state of mind in which, as Oldenburg said, we have eyes and ears wide open without seeing or hearing anything. The shadow of the events of the last day and last night were still lying on his soul and on his brow. His usual vivacity had given way to melancholy calmness; he looked pale and thoughtful, but so very handsome and distinguished, that Primula's delicate soul began once more to feel the charm which the young stranger had exercised on his first meeting with her. She forgot, thus, the warning of her husband all the more completely, as she noticed the particular courtesy with which the baroness and her husband treated the man who had just now been denounced to her as a fallen greatness. She was in her heart preparing a sermon which she was to deliver to Mr.

Jager on their return journey, because he had, as usually, not seen "the forest amid so many trees." The worthy minister was himself, at first, not a little disconcerted by the contrast between the words and the actions of the baroness. But he knew better than anybody else that men do not always appear such as they really are, and that they are not always what they seem to be; he thought it best, therefore, faithfully to imitate the manner of his patroness, an effort which was not difficult for such a master in the n.o.ble art of hypocrisy.

Nevertheless, the conversation at the supper-table would probably have been very far from lively, in spite of the apparent concord and harmony of the company, if Mr. Timm had possessed the happy gift of a.s.suming the color of the company in which he found himself; this was, however, not at all the fact.

Mr. Timm had fully come up to his promise to appear at table in good-humor and with a better appet.i.te. He found the chocolate, which was by no means _enormement sucre_ excellent, the bread excellent, the b.u.t.ter excellent, everything excellent; and what a delightful idea to have the table set just on that part of the terrace from which one had such a charming view of the garden! How wonderfully fine those lights and shades were on the tall trees beyond the lawn! Really, a genuine Claude Lorraine! "Really, baron, if I were not Diogenes I should like to be Alexander! But then we cannot all dwell in marble palaces; there must be dwellers in tubs also, and happy the man whose tub is to him a castle! You ought to immortalize that thought in an epigram, Mrs.

Jager! You have such a decided talent for that branch of poetry; even in your best lyric poems I have often found an epigrammatic turn. Thus in the charming little poem on the May Bug. How was the last line, 'The false image of May?' or like that? That is in itself already an epigram. Do you know that in Grunwald they have never yet got over your desertion? Only quite lately Professor Shylight, whom I met at Dean Black's, said: It is unwarrantable that a certain great scholar, whom I will not name, should bury the great wealth of his erudition in the solitude of a village. I replied that it was still more unwarrantable in the author of the 'Cornflowers' to live forever among cornflowers."

Thus he rattled on with great alacrity, and yet all that Timm said seemed to drop accidentally from his lips, as if he had not the slightest idea of being clever or witty. One listened to him as to a merry canary-bird, too loud perhaps in his merriment, but who sees the sun come into his cage, and takes it into its little head to pour out all its songs and melodies for once. Oswald, however, could not help thinking at times that Timm's humor was, after all, not always quite as natural as it seemed to be. He fancied Timm was playing his well-studied and well-calculated part in a perfectly natural manner, to be sure, but so as to ridicule and chaff the whole company, while he seemed to be a good-natured _bon vivant_ and an ingenuous child of nature. He was confirmed in his suspicions by the fact that Timm always a.s.sumed an entirely different tone whenever he spoke to him, as if he meant: I must not venture upon such tricks with you; but they do not find me out so easily.