"Very good, Michael. How much is there?"

"A thousand ducats."

"What!" cried Brazovics, and pushed Timea off his knee; "only a thousand ducats? Michael, you have stolen the rest!"

Something stirred in Timar's face. "Here is the autograph will of the deceased. He declares therein that he has given over to me a thousand ducats in gold, and his remaining property is contained in the cargo, which consists of ten thousand measures of wheat."

"That's something more like. Ten thousand measures of wheat, at twelve gulden fifty a measure in paper money, that makes a hundred and twenty-five thousand gulden, or fifty thousand gulden silver. Come here, little treasure, and sit on my knee; you're tired, aren't you? And did my dear never-to-be-forgotten friend send me any other directions?"

"He told me to tell you that you must be present in person when the sacks are emptied, lest they should exchange the grain, for he had bought a very good quality."

"Naturally I shall be there in person. How should I not be? And where is the ship with the grain?"

"Below Almas, at the bottom of the Danube."

But now Athanas thrust Timea right away, and sprung up in a rage. "What!

my fine vessel gone down, as well as the ten thousand measures of wheat!

Oh, you gallows-bird! you rascal! You were all drunk, for certain. I'll put you all in jail; the pilot shall be in irons; and I shall not pay one of you. You forfeit your ten thousand gulden caution-money: you shall never see that again. Go and sue me if you like!"

"Your vessel was not worth more than six thousand gulden, and is insured for its full value at the Komorn Marine Insurance Office. You have come to no harm."

"If that were true a hundred times over, I should still require compensation from you, on account of the _lucrum cessans_. Do you know what that means? If you do, you can understand that your ten thousand gulden will go to the last kreutzer."

"So be it," answered Timar, quietly. "We will speak of that another time; there's time enough. But what we have to do now is to decide what is to happen to the sunken cargo, for the longer it remains under water, the more it will be spoiled."

"What does it matter to me what happens to it?"

"So you will not take it over? You will not be personally present at the discharge of cargo?"

"The devil I will! What should I do with ten thousand measures of soaked grain? I am not going to make starch of ten thousand measures of corn; or shall I make paste of it? The devil may take it if he wants it!"

"Hardly; but the stuff must be sold. The millers, factors, cattle-dealers, will offer something for it, and the peasants too, who want seed-corn; and the vessel must be emptied. In that way some money may be got out of it."

"Money!" (This word could always penetrate into the cotton-stuffed ears of the merchant.) "Good. I will give you a permit to-morrow to empty the vessel and get rid of the cargo in bulk."

"I want the permit to-day. Before morning everything will be ruined."

"To-day! You know I never touch a pen at night; it is against my habits."

"I thought of that beforehand, and brought the permit with me. You have only to sign your name to it. Here are pen and ink."

But now Frau Sophie interrupted with a scream. "Here in my parlor I do not allow writing to be done! That's the only thing wanting--that my new carpet should be all spotted with ink. Go to your room if you want to write. And I won't have this squabbling with your people here in my rooms!"

"I should like to know if it isn't my house," growled the great man.

"And it's my sitting-room!"

"I am master here!"

"And I am mistress here!"

The screeching and growling had the good result for Timar that Herr Brazovics flew into a rage, and in order to show that he was master in his own house, seized the pen and signed the power of attorney. But when he had given it, both fell on Timar, and overwhelmed him with such a flood of reproaches and invective, that he would willingly have taken yet another bath in the Danube to wash them away. Frau Sophie only scolded Timar indirectly, as she abused her husband for giving such a ragged, dirty fellow, such a tipsy, beggarly scoundrel, a warrant like that.

Why had he not given it to any other supercargo than Timar, who would run away with the money, and drink and gamble till it was gone.

Timar stood the whole time with the same immovable calm in the midst of this tumult as that with which he had defied storm and waves at the Iron Gate. At last he broke silence: "Will you take charge of the money which belongs to the orphan, or shall I give it over to the City Orphanage?"

(At this last question Brazovics got a great fright.) "Now, then, if you please, come with me into the office and we will settle the affair at once, for I don't like servants' squabbles."

With this hundred-pound insult he succeeded in suddenly silencing both master and mistress. Against such scolds and bl.u.s.terers, a good round impertinence is the best remedy. Brazovics took the light and said, "All right; bring the money along." Frau Sophie appeared all at once to be in the best of tempers, and asked Timar if he would not have a gla.s.s of wine first.

Timea was quite stunned; of what pa.s.sed in a foreign language she understood not a word, and the gestures and looks which accompanied it were not calculated to enlighten her. Why should her guardian now kiss and hug her, the orphan, and the next moment push her from him? Why did he again take her on his lap, only to thrust her away once more? Why did both of them scream at this man, who remained as calm as she had seen him in the tempest, until he spoke a few words, quietly, without anger or excitement, and thereby instantly silenced and overpowered the two who had been like mad people the minute before, so that they could prevail as little against him as the rocks and whirlpools and the armed men. Of all that went on around her, she had not understood one word; and now the man who had been hitherto her faithful companion, who had gone "thrice" into the water for her sake, with whom alone she could speak in Greek, was going away--forever, no doubt--and she would never hear his voice again.

Yet no; once again it sounds in her ear. Before he stepped over the threshold Timar turned to her and said in Greek, "Fraulein Timea, there is what you brought away with you."

And with that he took the box of sweets from under his cloak. Timea ran to him, took the box, and hastened to Athalie, in order to present to her, with the sweetest smile, the gift she had brought from far away.

Athalie opened the box.

"_Fi donc!_" she exclaimed, "it smells of rose-water, just like the pocket-handkerchiefs the maid-servants take to church."

Timea did not understand the words, but from the pouting lips and turned-up nose she could easily guess their meaning, and that made her very sad.

She made another attempt, and offered the Turkish sweetmeats to Frau Sophie, who declined with the remark that her teeth were bad, and she could not eat sweets. Quite cast down, she now offered them to the lieutenant. He found them excellent, and swallowed three lumps in three mouthfuls, for which Timea smiled at him gratefully.

Timar stood at the door and saw Timea smile. Suddenly it occurred to her that she must offer him some of the Turkish delight. But it was already too late, for Timar no longer stood there. Soon after, the lieutenant took leave and departed. Being a man of breeding, he bowed to Timea also, which pleased her greatly.

After a time Herr Brazovics returned to the room, and they were now just the four alone.

Brazovics and Frau Sophie began to talk in a gibberish which was intended for Greek.

Timea understood a word here and there, but the sense seemed to her more strange than those languages which were altogether unknown to her.

They were consulting what to do with this girl whom they had been saddled with. Her whole property consists of twelve thousand paper gulden. Even if it were likely that the soaked grain should bring in a little more, that would not suffice to educate her like a lady, like Athalie.

Frau Sophie thought she must be treated as a servant, and get used to cook and sweep, to wash and iron--that would be some use. With so little money no one would marry her except some clerk or ship's captain, and then it would have been better for her to be brought up as a servant and not a lady.

But Athanas would not hear of it; what would people say? At last they agree on a middle course; Timea is not to be treated like a regular servant, but take the position of an adopted child. She will take her meals with the family, but help to wait. She shall not stand at the wash-tub, but must get up her own and Athalie's fine things. She must sew what is wanted for the house, not in the maid's room but in the gentlefolks' apartments; of course she will help Athalie to dress, that will only be a pleasure to her, and she need not sleep with the maids but in the same room as Athalie; the latter wants some one to keep her company and be at her service. In return, Athalie can give her the old clothes she no longer requires.

A girl who has only twelve thousand gulden can thank Heaven that such a fate should fall to her share.

And Timea was satisfied with her lot. After the great and incomprehensible catastrophe which had thrown her on the world, the lonely creature clung to every being she came near. She was gentle and obliging. This is the way of Turkish girls. It pleased her to be allowed to sit by Athalie at supper, and it was not necessary to remind her: she rose of her own accord to change the plates and wash the spoons, and did it with cheerful looks and kind attention. She feared to annoy her guardians if she looked sad, and yet she had cause enough. Especially she busied herself in trying to help Athalie. Whenever she looked at her, her face showed the open admiration which young girls feel for a grown-up beauty; she forgot herself in gazing at the rosy cheeks and bright eyes of the other. Those innocent minds think any one so lovely must be very good.

She did not understand what Athalie said, for she did not even speak bad Greek, like her parents; but she tried to guess by her eyes and hands what was wanted. After supper, at which Timea only ate fruit and bread, not being used to rich dishes, they went into the salon.

There Athalie sat down to the piano. Timea crouched near her on the footstool and looked with admiration at her rapid execution. Then Athalie showed her the portrait which the lieutenant had executed, and Timea clasped her hands in astonishment.

"You never saw anything like it?"

"Where should she have seen such things?" answered the father. "If is forbidden to the Turks to take a likeness of any one. That is why there is a revolution just now--because the sultan has had his picture painted and hung up over the divan. Ali Tschorbadschi was mixed up in the movement, and was forced to fly. You poor old Tschorbadschi, to have been such a fool!"