"Just wait, you out-of-the-common young man," Leo said to himself; "you shan't escape."

At this point a dear familiar voice sent forth an affectionate warning to the children--"Come in, or you'll catch cold." It was the voice in which, as long as he could remember, his vagabond spirit had ever found rest and steadfastness.

He bounded up and clasped the espalier with both hands. A sudden impulse seized him to rush out of his hiding-place and hug the dear old mother to his breast. But again he controlled himself. Before he returned to his own he must first surprise the curious company at the bailiff's house, and take them red-handed in their crimes.

The shimmering light which had made the chipped heads of the nymphs glow vanished. The terrace steps were lost in darkness, and the wooden outer door creaked on its hinges. Then all was still. The coast was clear for Leo.

He opened the wicket-gate which connected the park with the courtyard, and went by a familiar path in the direction from which the noises, becoming more and more tipsy and indistinct, echoed over the sleeping square of yard. Not a single dog barked, all apparently being too well accustomed to the manners of this particular household.

The windows of the bailiff's room were open. In the lamplight clouds of tobacco-smoke could be seen issuing through the c.h.i.n.ks of the venetian blinds. Leo leaned against the window-ledge so that he could look in on the topers at his ease.

The company lounged comfortably at the long green table, which was usually loaded with official papers concerning police-regulations, rents, and rates. Master Kutowski presided. With his bristly head cropped nearly bald, his long waving beard abundantly powdered with snuff, and shading from silvery white to yellowish-green, with his light gla.s.sy, moist little eyes, his red-lumpy and wart-covered nose, he presented a perfect picture of the convivial, st.u.r.dy, boon companion, yet one who, if brought to book, might pose easily as a sober worthy rather than a consummate rascal. He had pushed his Hungarian fez at a rakish angle over his left ear, and held a silver-set meerschaum between his black teeth. Leo recognized it. It bore the inscription, "In thanks for faithful friendship, from Leo Sellenthin, _stud-agri_."

On either side of him two guests had taken their places who were not resident on the Halewitz estates; on the left, an old animal-painter who for years had hung about the neighbourhood in summer, sponging on the hospitality of the bailiffs. He was nick-named "Cow-Augustus." On the right was a youth whom Leo seemed to know, but could not put a name to. His good-looking, smooth, but somewhat sallow face, cut about with diagonal scars like a rink with the marks of skaters, stood out with a cool, rather a.s.sumed air of distinction from the row of flushed, sunburnt, rustic countenances, from which type even the painter's, with its full stubbly beard, scarcely differed. The youth was apparently at the moment the only person sober at the table, and undoubtedly he was the only one who had cultivated the art of beer-drinking seriously and artistically, as if it had been his calling in life.

Next came, right and left, the two bailiffs of Halewitz, a couple of stewards from the neighbouring estates of Wengern and Kantzendorf, and four raw, rosy-cheeked lads, to all appearances pupils of the land-agent; lastly, at the bottom of the table was the lanky brewer, who superintended the pouring out of the drink. Thus the whole of the official staff to whom Leo's property had been entrusted for the last four years were a.s.sembled here in a jovial carousal. He propped his chin in his hands, feeling the grim humour of the situation, and awaited events, as the cat watches at a mouse-hole.

The young gentleman with the gashed face, who was addressed as "Herr Kandidat," and seemed to enjoy in a high degree the respect of the party, was loudly called upon to give them a solo. He affected to refuse at first.

"Have compa.s.sion on your own ears, gentlemen," he said mincingly, in the exaggerated lisping accent cultivated by our student contingent. He p.r.o.nounced _a_ like _ae_, _ei_ like _ai_, and his _r_'s like gurgling _g_'s. Then he began to sing--

"Oh, smile down, ye smiling stars, And let it be night around me ..."

Could he have guessed that some one stood listening at the window who hailed the first line of his song with a whistle of recognition, he would have chosen another. Nevertheless, he did not sing badly. In the deep notes his voice sounded soft and flexible, in the high it had the brilliant falsetto note which girls are apt to rave about. His delivery, with its sentimental diminuendoes and coquettish staccatoes, was reminiscent of the music-hall style, on which it was doubtless modelled. At any rate, it found an appreciative public now. A storm of enthusiastic applause broke forth when he had finished.

"Long live the singer. Vivat hurrah!" bawled Uncle Kutowski.

But the hero thus honoured thought fit to cavil. "One generally says 'health to the singer' in such cases," he said, stiffening into frigid dignity.

The old man suggested that it didn't matter as long as one was sociable and friendly--that was the chief thing; and the painter, who for some while had been gazing into his gla.s.s in a profound reverie, suddenly uttered a deep groan, which resounded terrifically down the table.

This e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of misery caused a fresh outburst of merriment. The revellers began to exceed all bounds; only the student with the slashed face smiled with meditative deliberation. He drank a special toast to the health of the despairing painter, and made him a bow fit for a prince.

"Silence, gentlemen," commanded Uncle, knocking on the side of his plate with his pipe. "Now I am going to make you a speech."

All at once forgetting his dignity, the Candidate yelled forth, "Long live all jolly good fellows."

"In the midst of our rejoicing," continued Uncle Kutowski, "we will not omit to think with grat.i.tude of our n.o.ble host, to whom we are indebted for this and other enjoyable evenings."

"Hear, hear!" chortled the Candidate. He hiccoughed, and then became stonily immovable again.

"My dear nephew Leo, who well knows what a treasure he possesses in his grateful old uncle, honest old Uncle Kutowski, who would rather drink nothing but water, and never go out with a girl, than not do his duty to the death.... Now then, you may howl, if you like, you colour-dauber."

Instead of the painter, the Candidate set up a howl, in which the whole company joined.

"This Leo," the old man went on, "knowing that in comparison with his old uncle's genius for management, his would be nowhere, shook the dust of the place from his feet, and has now been wandering about the world for years, in order, it would appear, not to disturb our pleasant little gatherings with the annoyance of his presence. The capital young man cannot be praised sufficiently for so much tender consideration.

Let us, therefore, drink to my aristocratic nephew, Leo von Sellenthin ... Long may he live and----"

"Good evening, my friends," Leo said, opening the door, and thinking that he could not possibly have had a better cue than this for his entry on to the stage.

There was a terrible silence. The brewer, who was a tall old Bavarian, crossed himself; the bailiffs ducked their heads, as if they expected blows. The Candidate stood with his hand glued to his budding moustache; and Uncle Kutowski--the honest old uncle--stared at his nephew with a face as white as chalk, a blue tip to his nose, and the tankard of beer still held in his upraised hand in an att.i.tude of involuntary welcome.

It happened that a diversion was made at this moment by the beer-barrel, to which the brewer had been clinging as to a rock of refuge, tumbling off its stand and rolling with a violent crashing noise under Leo's feet.

He kicked it aside, and let his glance pa.s.s contemptuously from one face to the other.

The student with the scarred countenance was the first to collect himself. He rose deliberately, and with a persuasive eloquence, which doubtless he had had opportunities of practising as university orator, he began--

"Really, you have come home just at the propitious moment, Herr von Sellenthin--just when your friends and confidential servants are festively met together to do honour to their absent squire, to-day being the anniversary of--of----" He hummed and hawed, trying to improvise speedily something that would give the day an important significance, which he probably would have accomplished had not Leo saved him the trouble.

"With whom have I the pleasure of speaking?" he asked, towering to his full height over the wretched youth.

"Kurt Brenckenberg--Guestphaliae Normanneaeque," he answered, beginning to swell visibly.

Leo grinned. "Do you belong to the house?"

"What, I? I am here as Herr von Kutowski's guest," answered the youth, loftily.

"That scarcely gives you the right to bid me welcome on my on domain.

Kindly do me the favour to put a bridle on your joy at seeing me, till you are asked."

The sharp, forward boy collapsed, and swore fearfully to himself.

"Well, hang it all!" Leo exclaimed, flashing a glance down the table, "does no one offer me a chair, a greeting, or a gla.s.s of beer now I am on my own property again?"

Every one jumped up, and the tankard fell clattering from Uncle Kutowski's rigid hand on to the board, which it flooded from one end to the other with brown streams.

Leo acted as if this mishap made him aware of the old man's presence for the first time.

"What, uncle! You here too?" he cried. "I was under the impression that I had strayed into a party of juveniles, who were enjoying a little harmless lark behind your back, and I was about to have a drink with them. But now, of course, the matter takes a different complexion....

Do things go on like this every night, dear uncle?"

He was answered by gloomy silence. One of the stewards of outlying estates had in the meanwhile made an attempt to get out at the door un.o.bserved, but Leo caught him by the sleeve in the nick of time.

"So, old friend," said he, "you want to be off without shaking hands?

Certainly at eleven o'clock at night, or rather"--looking at the timepiece--"at eleven-forty, there is precious little to do at Halewitz. It would have been better, perhaps, not to have let yourself been seen here at all. So off with you, and make haste."

At this bidding, not one but two men disappeared through the door.

Leo looked after them, laughing, and then turned to the two bailiffs, who, ashamed and anxious, stared into vacancy with watery eyes.

"We all know the pretty proverb, gentlemen, 'Run with the hare and hunt with the hounds.' You have all been hunting. Good sport. I can agree with you; but who the hounds are is what I am now elucidating."

He looked keenly at the old man, who seemed to have composed himself somewhat, and sat frowning moodily. The reprimanded couple fetched their caps and departed without a word.

Now it was the turn of the four half-fledged striplings. He measured the slight, narrow-chested, overgrown figures, that stood drawn up before him like a row of scarecrows, with a wondering, amused glance.

"Will you kindly introduce me to these gentlemen, dear uncle?"