"Come back," repeated Kranitski, "that is well. We shall have a talk--it is so long since I have had a talk with anyone--and I shall see Maryan, the dear, dear boy!"

Kranitski rubbed his hands; he walked with springy step, and erect shoulders, through the little drawing-room, but not even delight could round his cheeks, which had dropped during recent days somewhat; neither could it freshen the yellow tint on them.

Mother Clemens halted in the middle of the room and followed him with her two pair of eyes.

"See, my lords! He is as if born again, as if called back to life!"

He stopped confused before her.

"Knowest what? Let mother run for a pate de foie gras, and a bottle of liqueur."

Mother Clemens dropped back to the wall.

"Jesus of Nazareth! Hast thou gone mad, Tulek? Berek Shyldman--thy furniture--"

"What do I care for Berek Shyldman! What do I care for furniture!" cried Kranitski, "when those n.o.ble hearts remember me--"

"Hearts have no stomachs; there is no need of stuffing something into them the first minute."

"What does mother know? Mother is an honest woman, but her level is earth to earth--she only thinks of this cursed money!"

"But is pate de foie gras holy? Arabian adventure!"

Both voices were raised somewhat. Kranitski threw himself on the sofa, pressed his right side with his palm, groaned.

Then Clemens turned her face toward him; she had grown mild and seemed frightened.

"Well, has pain caught thee?"

It was clear that he was suffering. An old affliction of the liver, and something of the heart in addition. Mother Clemens approached the sofa in her clattering overshoes.

"Well, do not excite thyself. What is to be done? How much money will that Arabian pate cost?"

"And the liqueur!" put in Kranitski.

When he had grown calm he explained that the baron was fond of liqueur, and that Maryan was wild for pate and black coffee.

"Let mother prepare black coffee--thou knowest how to do it perfectly."

"What more!" snorted she. "Perhaps it would be well to take the panes from the windows, and throw the stove down?"

Kranitski spread out his arms.

"Why speak of the window-panes and the stove? What meaning can the stove and the gla.s.s have? There is no comparison between black coffee and window-panes, or the stove. Mother irritates me."

Again his face changed and he groaned; the old woman surrendered, but the question of money remained. Kranitski took a bill out of his pocketbook, held it between two fingers, and thought. This is too small. That kind of liqueur which the baron drinks is very expensive. Vexation was evident on his face. Clemens spoke up:

"Well, stop thinking, for if thou hast not a rouble thou wilt not think out one in a hundred years. Be calm. Only write all on a card for me; I will go and buy what is needed."

Kranitski struggled on the sofa.

"With what money wilt thou buy it, mother?"

But she was already in the doorway of the neighboring room, and gave no answer.

"Is it with thy own?" cried Kranitski, "surely with thy own! I know that mother is spending her capital this good while--"

She came back with the checkered kerchief over her head, without spectacles, and ready for the errand.

"Well, what if I do spend it? Hast thou not Lipovka? Thou hast, and what I lend thou wilt return. Oi, oi! I stand with one foot in the grave, and should I fight about a rouble when thou art in need of it?"

Kranitski raised his hands and his eyes:

"What a heart!" whispered he; "what attachment! No one can equal the old servants of our ancient families!"

After a few minutes steps were heard in the antechamber of people coming in, and the fresh voice of a man cried:

"May one see the master of this place?"

Kranitski ran to the antechamber.

"Of course, my dears! You make me happy, altogether happy!"

And indeed he had the face of a man made happy, and also tilled with emotion; for, taking his place in one of the armchairs opposite Maryan, who sat in another, he listened to the baron's narrative, which gave details of his recent expedition. Baron Emil was uncommonly vivacious, but at the same time he feigned to be more nervous and excited than usual.

He did not sit down for one instant.

"Merci, merci" said he to the master of the house who indicated a chair to him; "I am in such a condition, that really, I cannot sit in one place. Something within me is toiling, and crying, and biting. I am full of trembling of hopes, and of anger--" A brick-colored rosy blush appeared on his yellow cheeks; as usual, he spoke through his nose and through his teeth, but more quickly than common. While walking through the drawing-room he said, that in smaller and greater country residences which he had visited he had found a few remnants of former wealth, specimens of art, and of ornamental industry, which were of considerable, and sometimes even of high, value. A mult.i.tude of these rich things had been acquired by the English, who had circled about through the country more than once in pursuit of them; but much remained yet, and the only need was to inquire, seek, examine, and it was possible to find real treasures, even, often most unexpectedly.

He halted before Maryan.

"I say this because who, for example, could hope or expect to find in possession of a schoolmaster, a teacher of geography, an absolute Arcadian, a picture by Steinle hung behind a door, smoked befouled by flies--an undoubted, a genuine Steinle--Edward Steinle--"

"But is it undoubted?" interrupted Maryan; "once more I turn thy attention to certain traits which seem to speak in favor of Kupelweiser."

"What, Kupelweiser!" cried the baron, walking still more quickly through the drawing-room. "No Kupelweiser, my dear; not a shadow of a Kupelweiser. Kupelweiser, though the teacher of Steinle was considerably inferior to him in drawing--that firmness and elegance of outline, that harmony of composition, that piety, that genuine compunction which is dominant in the faces of the saints--that is Steinle, the purest Steinle, undoubted Steinle, whose collection of cartoons in Frankfort--"

"Was Steinle, for I do not recollect, pre-Raphaelite?" put in Kranitski timidly, somewhat ashamed of his ignorance.

"Yes, if you like," answered the baron, "we may reckon among the pre-Raphaelites the German school of Nazarenes. But this school is distinct."

"Then surely you examined this Steinle to-day, my dears, before you came to me?"

"Yes, we heard of it by chance; we went to examine it, and imagine, we found this pearl in the possession of an Arcadian who has neither a conception, nor the shadow of a conception of the Nazarenes, or who Steinle--"

"But perhaps we should pardon him," laughed Maryan, "for the Germans themselves know almost nothing of Steinle, who fell into disfavor among his successors."

"On the contrary!" exclaimed the baron, "I beg pardon, my dear, real judges always value him highly, and he is greatly sought for by museums. His cartoons when placed at the side of Overbeck's Triumph of Religion in Art lose nothing; on the contrary, that compunction distinguishes his figures."

"But thou canst not compare him with Overbeck!" said Maryan, with indignation.