Debit and Credit Part 45

"He shall go," said Ehrenthal, readily; "he shall go this next quarter, if my son Bernhard wishes it."

"And will you give up the idea of buying the baron's estate for yourself?"

"When it comes to be sold, I will think of what you have said," replied his father. "And now speak no more about the estate; when you are my strong, healthy son again, we will return to the subject."

So saying, he seized the hand which Bernhard delayed giving, held it fast in both his, and sat silently beside him.

If ever in the course of his life Ehrenthal had known satisfaction, it was now, in having brought about this reconciliation with his son.

CHAPTER XXV.

Wave after wave broke over the head of the drowning man.

The factory had now been in operation for some months. The beet-root crop on the estate itself had been deficient, and the cultivation of it in the country round had proved unsuccessful. Many of the small farmers had failed to fulfill their contracts, and others had brought in inferior produce. There was a scarcity of beet-root as well as a scarcity of capital; the works stopped, the workmen dispersed.

Ehrenthal was gone off to the Polish property, and the baron was consumed by the fever of suspense. At last came the dark day when Ehrenthal appeared before him, a letter from Commissary Walter in his hand. The baron's capital had only been saved by his buying the estate.

The owners of the first mortgage of a hundred thousand dollars had raised the property, by bidding, up to a hundred and four thousand; they had then left off, and no other purchaser had come forward.

"The estate is now yours, baron," said Ehrenthal. "In order that you may be able to maintain it, I have negotiated with the owners of the first mortgage, and they will leave the hundred thousand upon the estate. I have advanced for you four thousand dollars and the legal expenses."

The baron said not a word; his head fell heavily on his writing-table.

As Ehrenthal left the room, he muttered, "It is all over with him. And the next quarter he will lose his old estate, and he has not energy to undertake the new. I shall have to buy the Polish property too, in the end."

And now term-time drew near, and the baron had the interest of all his borrowed money to pay. Once more he looked round for help. In vain!

Last of all he came to his neighbor, George Werner, who had for some years paid homage to Lenore, and then prudently drawn back, the baron's embarra.s.sments being no longer a secret. The young man showed all the sympathy conventional in such a case. He was very sorry, indeed, to hear that there was so large a mortgage upon the recently-purchased property.

"Whom did you send to the auction?" asked he.

"Hirsch Ehrenthal," was the reply.

George Werner waxed eloquent. "I fear," cried he, "that that fellow has played you false. I know the usurer well: years ago we lost a large sum by his villainy. My father had cut down a wood in the next province, and sold it to a timber-merchant. Ehrenthal made a cheating bargain with this man, got the timber from him at a nominal price, while the other fellow ran off to America. The two rogues shared my father's money."

The baron's face grew livid; he rose, said not another word about his concerns, and slunk out of his neighbor's house like a felon.

From that day he brooded darkly in his arm-chair, was harsh to his wife, unapproachable by his daughter. The two poor women suffered inexpressibly.

One ray of hope still remained to him--Bernhard's influence with his father. But he would not take the hand unselfishly offered him. He did not send for Anton, but for another, of whom the idea was repulsive to him, yet whose grotesque presence seemed to cheer him whenever they met.

Once more, at the last hour, a gracious destiny left his choice free.

But alas! he was himself free no longer. It was the curse of an evil deed that now confused his judgment.

Again Itzig stood before him, and the baron, looking askance at the bent figure, said, "Young Ehrenthal has offered to make up my difference with his father."

Veitel leaped up suddenly as if he had been shot. "Bernhard!" said he.

"That is his name, I dare say; he is an invalid."

"He will die," replied Veitel.

"When?" asked the baron, occupied with his own thoughts; but, recovering himself, he added, "What is the matter with him?"

"It is here," said Itzig, laying his hand on his chest; "it labors like a pair of bellows: when a hole is once torn, the breath ceases."

The baron put on an expression of sympathy, but, in reality, his only thought was that he had no time to lose. "The invalid," said he, "has sufficient influence over his father to give me hopes of Ehrenthal's consent to my wishes."

"What does Bernhard know of business? He is a fool," cried Veitel, unable to conceal his annoyance. "If you were to put an old parchment covered with ma.n.u.script before him, he would give you any mortgage you liked for it; he is half-witted."

"I see that you do not approve this plan," said the baron, again drifting hopelessly.

Before Itzig replied, he stood for a long time reflecting, and restlessly looking away from the baron into every corner of the room. At last he said, in a more self-possessed tone, "The baron is right. It will be best, after all, that you and Ehrenthal should go together to Bernhard's sick-bed, and there finally settle your affairs." Again he was silent, and his face grew red with stormy thoughts. "Will the baron be graciously pleased to leave me to fix the day and the hour when he can best speak to Bernhard Ehrenthal? As soon as you enter the office, I will go up and tell him that you are there. Meanwhile you will have the goodness to wait in the office, even if I should be half an hour away.

You will wait, whatever Ehrenthal may say. And when I take you up stairs, all will be right, for Bernhard can do what he likes with his father."

"I shall wait till I hear from you," decided the baron, distressed at the thought of the painful day.

Itzig then took his leave, and rushed in frantic excitement to his lair in the house of Pinkus. Arrived there, he ran wildly up and down, clenching his fist at the thought of Bernhard. He opened his old desk, and took out of a secret drawer two keys, which he laid on the table, and stood looking at them steadfastly and long. At length he pushed them into his pocket, and ran down to the caravanserai. There, cowering in a corner of the gallery, he found his sagacious friend Mr. Hippus, whose aspect had certainly not improved during the last few days. He was now sitting squeezed into a corner where the sunlight fell, and was reading a dirty romance. When Veitel hurriedly entered, he only buried his head deeper in his book, for which he appeared to care far more than for the young man of business before him.

"Shut up your book, and listen to me," cried Itzig, impatiently.

"Rothsattel will get his notes of hand back from Ehrenthal; he will give in the mortgage, and I shall have to pay him the remaining eight thousand dollars."

"Only think--only think," replied the old man, wagging his ugly head, "what things one lives to see! If Ehrenthal gives his money away to a vagabond who has broken his word, it will be time for us all to mend our ways and turn honest. Before, however, we speak further, you may just bring me up something to eat and drink. I am thirsty, and have not another word to say at present."

Veitel hurried down stairs, and the old man, looking after him, muttered, "Now for it! now for it!"

When Veitel had placed his meal before him, Hippus briefly inquired, "How much?"

"Three hundred," said the old man; "and even then I must have time to consider. It is not in my line, most worthy Itzig. I am willing to labor in my vocation for less, as you have experienced ere now, but for a n.o.ble exploit in the style of Cartouche and others of your friends, I require better compensation. I am only a volunteer, and I can't say that my preferences lie in this direction."

"Do mine?" cried Itzig. "If there be any other means to take, tell me them. If you know how the baron and Ehrenthal can be kept asunder, say so. Ehrenthal's only son will make peace between them; he will stand between them like the winged cupid on a valentine between two lovers, and we shall be done."

"_We_?" chuckled the old man. "_You_ will be done, you jackdaw. What are your affairs to me?"

"Two hundred," cried Veitel, drawing nearer.

"Three," replied the old man, tossing off his gla.s.s; "but even then I will not do it alone; you must be there."

"If I am to be there," said Veitel, "I can do it alone, and shall not require your help. Listen to me. I will contrive that the office shall be empty; that Ehrenthal and the baron shall leave the house at the same moment. I will give you a sign, to say whether the papers are on the table or in the press. It will be dark. You will have about half an hour's time. I will fasten the house door, and unbolt the back door, which is generally closed. It will all be so safe that a child of two years might do it easily."

"Safe enough for you," said the old man, dryly, "but not for me."

"We have tried what could be done with the law, and it has not answered," cried Veitel; "now we must defy it." He struck the bal.u.s.trade with his clenched fist, and ground his teeth fiercely. "And if you don't choose to do it, still it shall be done, though I know that all the suspicion will fall upon me, unless I am in Bernhard's room at the time."

"Very fine indeed, gallant Itzig," said the man, adjusting his spectacles, so as to observe more closely the expression of the other's countenance. "Since you are so brave, I will not leave you in the lurch.

But three hundred."

The bargaining then began. The pair squeezed themselves into the farthest corner of the gallery, and whispered together till dark.