That same evening in the elegant salon of the Royal Hotel, Unter den Linden, sat Count Golm and Councillor Schieler at a table covered with maps and plans. The two gentlemen had conversed long and eagerly over a bottle of wine; the bright colour in the Count's cheeks was deeper, and a certain look of displeasure appeared in his face as he now leaned back in his rocking-chair, and began silently to rock himself backwards and forwards; the Councillor still continued to turn over the plans for a little while, sipped his wine, and then also leaned back, and said:
"I find you, take it all in all, Count Golm, less inclined to concur in our project than our correspondence had led me to believe."
"But is it our project?" cried the Count, rousing himself. "What does it signify to me if you want a harbour in the north instead of in the east? The railway will cut one of my properties in half, and come in contact with another. Voilà tout! I don't see why I should excite myself about that."
"We only want the northern harbour because we cannot get the eastern one," answered the Councillor coolly. "A harbour to the north might be conceded by the Government. As to one to the east--well, Count Golm, I think that after such very interesting explanations as you heard at your own table from the lips of the General and the President, we must give up any hope of it. Get the concession for the harbour to the east for us, and the Sundin-Wissow Railway Company will be formed to-morrow."
"How can I do so if you cannot, who are at the very fountain-head?"
The Councillor shrugged his shoulders.
"You know, Count Golm, that I no longer hold any office, and have only now and then to give an opinion; that I have not failed to do so on this side you will believe without my trying to convince you."
"And you have not been able to get the concession?"
"It is not so easily to be had, and especially now when he is busy getting that bill through. People do not dare go to him with many questions which would seem to touch upon the great principle of self-government, which is the order of the day. However--I say it in the strictest confidence--as soon as this bill, which you know goes very much against the grain with him, has been brought through the House of Lords by means of a new creation of peers, and at the same time as I and all patriots feel the grave of Prussia has been dug, he will retire in displeasure from his uncomfortably prominent position in the ministry, and we shall have a better chance next year."
"But I do not want to wait so long," said the Count. He had sprung up and paced up and down the room with hasty steps; now he returned to the table where the Councillor, certain that the interview would not be terminated thus, remained quietly sitting. "And supposing that I wished to wait so long--the very important question arises of whether I could. This is a confidential interview. Councillor Schieler. Well, I am in a bad way. The interest on my debts almost swallows up my income, and by the first of October there will be an additional sum of fifty thousand thalers."
"Have you spoken to Hugo Lübbener? I should have thought such a rich man, and your banker for so many years----"
"He has only been so for three years, since you recommended him to me so strongly, and besides now my account is very low; my banker's book has not been made up since last July. I cannot ask any more from Lübbener; I have not even once been to see him."
"Humph!" said the Councillor, with the air of a man who, thinking he knows something, now sees it in a new light. "I thought your affairs were--apart from temporary embarrassments--quite in order. What you now tell me, with I hope some of the exaggeration of despondency, surprises me very much indeed--very much."
"I do not exaggerate," replied the Count; "indeed I have said rather too little than too much."
"But then still less do I understand why our project does not suit you. The value of both your properties would be doubled, and a directorship is also certain. That is always something."
"It is nothing--nothing at all!" cried the Count vehemently. "A straw to a drowning man. What should I do with the paltry hundreds, which I can win in one evening atécarte? No! if once I go in for speculating it shall not be for nothing; if I make a haul it shall be a good one which shall compensate for the prick of conscience at going in direct opposition to all the traditions of my family and doing what Prince Prora would never condescend to, and which will make me secure in the future."
The Councillor scratched his long nose with a pencil to hide a smile, and suppressed the answer which was on the tip of his tongue.
"How can a gambler be safe in the future?" He said instead: "You should marry, Count Golm!"
"The three negro heads in my coat-of-arms would seem to indicate a dowry of a round million. Tell me of some fascinating young Jewess!"
"I could name several, but I had no lovely daughter of Israel in my mind; on the contrary, the daughter of a house which, even if the blood of the Wends flows in their veins, is nearly as old as yours: Fräulein Elsa von Werben."
"Are you joking?"
"I never was more in earnest; I have been turning the matter over in my mind for the last three days, that is to say since the luckiest of all accidents brought about a personal interview between you and the Werbens under circumstances which render further social intercourse a mere matter of duty on both sides. Think now, Count Golm; the chief opponent of the eastern line of railway is the General--upon strategical grounds perhaps, but I know the man well enough, certainly for personal motives also. The harbour can only be upon Warnow ground, so that the Warnow property must be bought by our company; but it cannot be bought, at least not at present, without his consent as co-trustee of the Warnow estates. Very well; marry the daughter, who must some day inherit half the property, and we shall soon see whether he will withhold from the son-in-law what he refuses to the Director of the Sundin-Wissow Railway and Harbour Company. It is not written in vain: 'Lead us not into temptation.'"
"I think I have learnt to know the General also," cried the Count, "and I bet a hundred to one he will resist the temptation."
"I never bet," answered the Councillor; "I always calculate, and I find that the calculation that drops will wear away a stone, though uncertain, is on the whole correct. But listen! Herr von Wallbach, as my colleague in the management of the Berlin-Sundin Railway, is as deeply concerned as I am that the Sundin-Wissow Railway, which would set us afloat again (you see, Count Golm, I am candour itself), should be carried out. But Herr von Wallbach, since the death of his father the minister, has taken his place as one of the trustees of the Warnow estate; and Ottomar von Werben, who is co-heir, is engaged--or as good as engaged--to Wallbach's clever sister. Wallbach is too good a man of business not to know that if half the property is sold, and sold to us, it will be worth double--double, did I say? it will be worth three or four times what the whole thing is now; but he is afraid--from some remnants of aristocratic prejudices (excuse the word) to push the General too hard. Make common cause with him! I mean marry the daughter, as his sister marries the son, and--why, I very nearly made a bet then!"
The Count, who, while the Councillor had been speaking, walked up and down softly over the carpet, and often stopped so as not to lose a word, now turned round sharply.
"Good!" said he, "charming! but in any case I am to be the vendor!"
"How do you mean, Count Golm?" said the Councillor.
"Why it is plain enough," answered the Count. "I as neighbour and son-in-law get the property considerably cheaper than the company, who, besides, cannot possibly want the whole thing. So I prefer selling what they want to the company, then buying back from the company what is necessary for the completion of my estate. I think that is clear."
It was very clear to the Councillor, had been quite clear from the first moment, and he had only wanted time to recover from his surprise. The Count's move was a masterly one, which he had never expected from the reckless young man. He was in the strange position of being obliged to curb the ardour which he had so artfully roused.
"Bravo!" said he. "We shall have a skilful director in you. I congratulate ourselves and you in the prospect. At the same time, we will not divide the skin till we have killed the bear. Till now we have been reckoning without one person, who is, however, very powerful--without the Baroness Warnow herself."
"But if she is in the hands of her trustee, and you and Wallbach could get the better of the General----"
"Only till the first of October! From that day, which happens to be her fiftieth birthday, the Baroness, by her husband's will, has a voice amongst the trustees, who then, if you like, become only a committee of management under her."
"And you think that the Baroness will be against our plan?"
"I think that the opinion of the Baroness upon this and every other matter is of infinitely less importance to us than that of Signor Giraldi."
"Her steward?"
"Steward--secretary--companion, I do not know what."
"They say that she is married to him?"
"She will take care not to do that!"
"Why?"
"Because by taking such a step she would lose all right to the estate, which would then fall immediately to Fräulein von Werben and her brother, provided they had not imitated the folly of their aunt in marrying below their rank. Then no one would have any of it except various benevolent institutions."
"I have, as you may imagine, heard all possible and impossible things of that wonderful will. Can you and will you satisfy my curiosity, which now hardly deserves that name?"
"Willingly," said the Councillor. "The slight indiscretion which I shall commit in so doing I will put down to my credit in our accounts; but where shall I begin?"
"At the beginning," said the Count. "I know a great deal--I know very little--I know nothing. You see I am already practising the jargon with some facility. Shall I send for another bottle?"
"Thanks, thanks. I have still another visit before me; but you are right, you must know all now, and I will endeavour to be as brief as possible."
He put his watch which he had just taken out back into his pocket; the Count leaned back in his chair, and began to rock himself, while the Councillor scribbled on a bit of paper, and was silent for a few moments, as if to collect his thoughts.
"You must not expect a private history from me; I could not tell it to you even if I wished, as in regard to the intimate relations and feelings of those concerned, I am no better informed than other people, and I never venture upon the dangerous path of guesses except in general meetings, when the shareholders are very unruly. So I must limit myself to relating the facts in chronological order. Well, you know that the Duchess of ---- is a distant relation of our royal family. Fräulein Valerie von Werben, as well as her elder sister, Sidonie, grew up here in Berlin with the Princess. When the Princess married she first took Valerie to her new court, and when the latter also married, she allowed the far less interesting and amusing Sidonie--I think out of charity--to take her place. But that is only by the way.
"Baron Warnow made Fräulein Valerie's acquaintance in ----, where--for in those days we were still courteous enough to send ambassadors even to small courts--he held that office. To see, love, and marry the handsome and clever girl, and to give up his office to be able to devote his whole life to her, was the result of a single impulse. That was in the year 1840.
"From '40 to '43 the young couple lived in Warnow--how? I should be sorry to say positively; but to judge from my knowledge of mankind, at first happily, then less happily, and at last--I infer from the disclosure made me by the Baron in '43--decidedly unhappily. The Baron and I were friends as students; from that time he honoured me with his confidence. I had repeatedly acted as his legal adviser, and so was to a certain extent entitled to receive his confidences, which however never entered into details.
"The Baron wished to try a different matrimonial régime, to travel with his young wife, to see the world. I urgently advised it. They went to London, Paris, and finally to Italy, where however they only stayed a very short time. When they returned the Baron again came to see me; he looked wretched; the perpetual change of place had upset his nerves; he had not been able to stand the climate, and so forth. The truth of the matter was that he was really ill, only that the seat of his illness was less in the stomach and nerves than in the heart; in fact he was jealous, and we may be quite sure not without grounds. At first he seems to have had various suspicions, but they finally concentrated in one person, who alone was named--a certain Gregorio Giraldi, whose acquaintance the Baroness had already made when she was a girl, while he held some subordinate position as secretary or something of the sort to the papal ambassador at the Court of ----. However that may be, they made or renewed acquaintance with Signor Giraldi in Rome. An old impression was revived, or a new intimacy formed, which certainly belonged to the category of 'dangerous,' though at least appearances were kept up, and a ray of hope was left for the miserable husband, or it would have been impossible that he could have given his consent to a second journey to Italy a year later. From this he did not return quite so quickly as from the first, but when he did, it was--alone! The climate had been even worse for his nerves, so that he could not recover from the shock, and in fact never did, but failed for six or seven months, and died in 1845, from a broken heart, as the novels say, or after long suffering from a heart complaint, as it appeared in the obituary announcement.
"Luckily death had left him time to make his will, which it took us an immense time to draw up through the obstinacy of the General, then a major lately married, and the father of two children since dead. Of those now living Ottomar was, if I am not mistaken, born in 1847, and the daughter some years later. From the first moment that the Baron made the acquaintance of his brother-in-law, which as far as I can recollect was about the time of his own betrothal with the sister, he formed the deepest friendship with him--a friendship which matrimonial disturbances the less interfered with that Werben, who from the beginning had sided with his brother-in-law, with his usual determination, held fast to this line of conduct, and in consequence had many a stormy scene with his giddy but tenderly-loved sister. By the first draft of the will he was to inherit everything in trust for his children, while the Baroness only received her legal portion. Werben positively refused the inheritance for himself, but accepted it for his children after long consideration, though with the strangest restrictions. From the very first he had advised and at last obtained that the possibility of marrying again should not be taken from his sister, as this step would help her to return to a proper life, provided that the marriage should be with an equal, and in every way fitting. Upon the equality and other proprieties of this hypothetic second marriage the trustees--Herr von Werben himself, Herr von Wallbach (the father of the present man), and I--had to decide, as well as upon every other detail of the will. If the Baroness made an unequal second marriage against the will of the trustees, she was then reduced at once to her legal portion. If she remained unmarried, then the use of half of the revenues of the estate would be left to her entirely. The other half was to accumulate as capital, deducting a very moderate sum for the education of the General's children, who on their side would receive equal parts of the revenues of the second half on attaining majority, only that the daughter would attain majority upon her marriage, whose propriety and equality were to be decided by the trustees as in the first case. If they, the children, whether son or daughter, contracted an unsuitable marriage, they lost thereby all claim to the succession, and their portion lapsed as if the delinquent were no longer alive.
"To put it shortly: the Baroness and the General's children succeed one another in turns, so that, for instance, if the General's children die or lose their rights in the way I have mentioned, the Baroness becomes sole heiress of the estates and has free disposal of everything, as, on the contrary, either of the other heirs would have free disposal if the Baroness died or forfeited her rights."
"A strange will," said the Count, who had listened with such breathless attention that he had even forgotten to rock himself.
"I am only answerable for the drawing up," answered the Councillor; "the actual provisions are entirely the General's work, who is, by the way, the most conscientious or rather pedantic of men, and with his speeches about uprightness and justice on all sides makes life intolerable to every one. I assure you he might have had the whole thing without any trouble, and now all these restrictions and obstacles! I have mentioned one already which especially for us just now is very important."
"The Baroness taking part in the management?"
"Exactly, which takes place in a few weeks. If we are then in a position to get the Baroness--or her factotum, which comes to the same thing--on our side, we shall certainly have the upper hand, and the General's opposition will be broken down, so far at all events. In any other case--and we must be prepared for such--our beautiful plan of getting the Warnow estates into our own hands is as like a soap-bubble as one egg is like another."
"And you have not once tried to sound the Baroness?" exclaimed the Count in a tone of reproach.
"I thought there would be time enough when the Baroness arrived here for the approaching arrangements for which her actual presence is indispensable. She is already on her way according to the last letter from Munich, where she proposes to spend this month. But now I will certainly do all I can to persuade her either to come sooner herself, or at least to send her factotum."
"You know this gentleman?"
"Not personally, only through letters. Signor Giraldi is unquestionably a remarkable individual; scholar, diplomatist, artist, and man of business--the latter of the very first rank; a contest with him--à la bonne heure! I would rather have the devil himself as an adversary. But I am wasting time in chatter, though in a very pleasant way."
The Councillor rose; the Count rocked himself again, looking put out.
"You are very kind," said he, "but excuse my observing that I am no wiser than I was before."
"Then excuse my remarking, Count Golm, that I think you are rather ungrateful," replied the Councillor, drawing on his gloves. "I have done more for you than I would for our own shareholders, even if they went down on their knees to me in a body. I have laid before you the actual position of the Berlin-Sundin Railway Company; I have confessed that our only hope is a continuation of the Sundin railway through your island to some harbour which will be, as it were, the head of the serpent; in other words that we can only save our first project by a second, which will be supported by the first. On this point our interests are common, however much apart they may be elsewhere. It is our interest to obtain this continuation, even if that head of the serpent, the harbour, were in the moon, let alone anywhere upon the island, even in the north. Your interests demand that an Eastern terminus should be chosen, to which the railway would run through your whole property. Good. I come to you--offer you, so to say, my outstretched hand, show you the means and the way, how, by some quite possible cleverness, you may set aside all present obstacles which are in your way--remember that, Count Golm--not in ours--for this object put you in possession of a family secret as I did before of a business secret, and finally offer you, if I may so express myself, the hand of a young, handsome, and charming woman, and you tell me that I have come in vain!"
The Councillor took up his hat, but the Count still did not move from his seat.
"It certainly is most ungrateful of me," said he, "but you know no one is pleased with the most agreeable of prospects when he is in such a disagreeable position as I am."
The Councillor slowly brushed the top of his hat round and round with his elbow.
"I am going to make a proposal, Count Golm. We have both spoken warmly; a walk in the cool of the evening will do you good also; take your hat and let me have the honour of taking you with me on my visit."
"Who are you going to see?"
"The contractor of our railway, Herr Philip Schmidt."
The Count raised himself in his chair, and then let himself immediately fall back.
"I hate the name," he said moodily.
"What in all the world has the name to do with the matter?" answered the Councillor; "and really Herr Philip Schmidt will take it as a matter of course that it should be a great honour to him to make the personal acquaintance of Count Golm; and, furthermore, Herr Schmidt is not only a rich but a rising man, and, as our contractor, is very intimate with our banker, Herr Hugo Lübbener, who is also Count Golm's banker--enfin, the most appropriate individual to arrange a temporary difficulty for the Count, or if as I can fancy this way would not suit him, to enable him to settle the various accounts with Lübbener in the most speedy manner."
"But one cannot storm a man's very door," cried the Count; "you must at least make some excuse for me."
"That is easily done," said the Councillor; "Herr Schmidt is the happy possessor of one of our finest private picture-galleries. Count Golm's passion for art is well known; what more natural than that Count Golm should call upon Herr Schmidt, as Herr Schmidt, with the best will in the world, cannot bring his gallery to the Count's hotel?"
"Only that nine o'clock in the evening is perhaps not the best hour for such a purpose," said the Count, looking at the clock.
"For what purpose were reflectors invented?" answered the Councillor, smiling.
"I will go with you!" exclaimed the Count, springing up.
The Councillor coughed behind his hat, and thus happily hid the smile that played about his broad, beardless lip.
"After all it will not do," said the Count. "I promised Herr von Werben----"
"The Lieutenant?"
"Of course, to be at home; he wished to fetch me at ten o'clock, to take me I do not know where."
"Herr von Werben would not think much of such an obstacle," said the Councillor, with well-acted repressed impatience; "write on a card that you are at So-and-so's, and beg him to come and fetch you."
"But he does not know this man!"
"Yes, he does; I happen to know it from Herr Schmidt himself."
The Count had rung for his servant to give him his hat and gloves. The two gentlemen went towards the door.
"If only his name were not Schmidt," said the Count, standing still.
"What a strange mania! all great men are afflicted with something of the sort!--After you, Count Golm."
"Not at all! I am at home here!"
And the gentlemen left the room.
Philip walked impatiently up and down his study, then seated himself at his writing-table, touched the spring of a secret drawer, and took out the Councillor's note, really only to assure himself that he had not mistaken the hour, but then as he had the letter in his hand, besides having nothing to do, he read it through as carefully as if it were for the first time:
"My Dear Friend,
"The Count is of the greatest importance to us, though you seem always to have under-rated him. The fact of his being over head and ears in debt is in my eyes only one more chance for us--we shall get him all the cheaper; and have him we must. The loss caused by Prince Prora's positive refusal to be one of the promoters, and taking part only as an ordinary shareholder, can only be met by the Count's siding with us. We must positively have a noble name to support us. You do not understand the insular feelings. The bell-wether must first jump over, and then, of course, the whole flock follow. You must provide a bait for the bell-wether; that is to say, in figures: you or Lübbener must advance fifty thousand thalers, which I know he is in great need of; then a promise of a tolerably big lump in case the Eastern Railway comes to anything--a case which is almost impossible; thirdly, to balance the fifty thousand and the big lump--a promise on his side to become a director of a Northern Railway. I will fire all these mines this evening, and bring him, with some excuse which I will notify on entering. Lübbener must be there too; or, still better, come later--quite by accident, of course! Should I still find the Count, contrary to my expectations, obstinate and quite disinclined to take the first step, I will break up the interview at nine o'clock, and come alone.
"P.S.--Get hold of young Werben. It is an expensive friendship, I know; but we must not shrink from cost now, and must encourage the relations between the Count and the Werbens in every way. It would be capital if you could serve him up this evening to us as dessert. But you must not openly invite him; and I beg you, above all things, to keep in mind that the whole thing throughout must have an appearance of accident and impromptu--you will understand that!"
Philip laughed to himself as he shut up the letter.
"I think I do understand it," said he; "but"--and he cast a glance at the clock--"if they do not come soon, all my beautiful arrangements may go to the devil."
He was about to rise impatiently, when the door-bell rang. He immediately seized some papers which he had laid ready on purpose, took up his pen, and was deeply engrossed in writing when the servant announced Count Golm and Councillor Schieler.
"Beg the gentlemen to come in," said Philip over his shoulder, bending again over the paper and scribbling away.
The servant had already opened the door for the two gentlemen. Philip threw down his pen, rose hastily, and passing his hand over his forehead, said:
"I beg you a thousand pardons! I had hoped to finish the thing--the report, you know, Herr Schieler. Count Golm, I consider myself happy."
"We disturb you, my dear fellow," said the Councillor; "but I have been saying so much about your beautiful gallery to Count Golm, and he is here for such a short time----"
"But quite long enough to be able to return at a more convenient hour," said the Count.
"I would not let you go on any account," exclaimed Philip; "there is no such hurry about this business."
"But we are keeping you from something else."
"From nothing more interesting or agreeable, Count Golm. I give you my word, I happened to have nothing for to-night--positively nothing. I think, any way, I should have stayed at home."
The Councillor shook his finger at him.
"Upon my honour, Herr Schieler." Philip rang the bell. "Light the lamps in the drawing-room and in the dining-room. And Count Golm, Councillor Schieler, will you do me the honour to join me in my bachelor supper? Now, that is most kind of you; so put three places, Johann."
"No ceremony, I beg!" said the Count.
"None, I assure you. May I show you the way?"
The servants had opened the folding-doors into the drawing-room.
"You seem to have some beautiful things here," said the Count, standing and looking round the exquisite little study.
"A few trifles, Count Golm, such as a man likes to have round him."
"But that is a Vautier," said the Count, stopping before a picture. "Do you call that a trifle?"
"Only from its size. I have a larger picture of his in the next room. And this little Scheurenberg ought to please you; at least, it is very much praised by connoisseurs."
"Charming--quite charming!" said the Count. "And this exquisite water-colour--Passini, of course?
"The office of showman is easy with Count Golm," said Philip to the Councillor.
"It runs a little in my family," said the Count. "My great-grandfather was a celebrated collector, also my father. You must some day come and see my small gallery at Golm."
"I only wish that you would give me an opportunity!"
"Is an invitation opportunity enough?"
Philip bowed. "I shall not fail, Count Golm."
"This autumn, I hope? Do you shoot?"
"Oh yes!"
"Then you will not lack amusement when you come to Golm."
"That I am certain of, in the company of the possessor of Golm."
The Count bowed. Philip turned to the servants who at that moment entered the room.
"How provoking! They have just let in a man who wants to see me for a few minutes on important business."
"I can only repeat my request," said the Count.
"And I protest again against your kind consideration, which is really quite unnecessary. I shall only be a minute."
Philip led the two gentlemen to the drawing-room, and shut the doors after him.
"Pleasant sort of fellow, this Herr Schmidt," said the Count.
"Is not he?" answered the Councillor. "This time your prejudices were at fault."
"It is not a prejudice. I made the acquaintance of a man of that name a few days ago--even had to entertain him at my own table--who was most objectionable to me."
The Councillor had heard from his friend the General an account of the circumstance, which had taken place at Golmberg, before he met the Count, and knew well enough whom the Count honoured with his dislike, and also in what relationship Reinhold stood to Philip. But why tell the Count that, and spoil his good humour? The Count cast a glance of astonishment through the splendid room, whose almost over-crowded pictures and magnificent furniture glittered in the light of chandelier and candelabra.
"But this is princely," said he.
"And still it is only a faint shadow of the splendour that the man has decked his new house in the Wilhelmstrasse with. It is all ready, except a few details; but will not, I think, be open before next spring. He must show it to you; you would delight in it."
"I don't know," answered the Count; "this luxury has something overpowering in the eyes of one of us."
"On the contrary, I should say something encouraging," said the Councillor. "When people with no name, or rather with such a name! without connections, without help from home--Herr Schmidt is by trade only a builder--bring matters to such a result, what is there in the world unattainable to such men as you who have such enormous advantages of birth, connections, and influence, provided that you free yourselves from certain very respectable prejudices and set to work heart and soul as these people do."
"And what has this man got to show that is so remarkable?"
"In the first place his intelligence, inventive genius and energy; in the second, certain lucky speculations in houses and lands, of which the crowning point is certainly the starting of our railway."
"Now it is quite clear to me why your shareholders are always lamenting so loudly that you build so extravagantly," said the Count, with a sarcastic smile.
"What do the poor devils understand about it?" answered the Councillor; "if they settled matters we should have to take the roasted chestnuts out of the fire without getting anything for it."
"Then there is fire?"
"Before which a man in his old age may warm his knees with much pleasure!"
And the Councillor waved his hand towards all the magnificence around them. The Count laughed, the Councillor himself thought that a smile was allowable. Philip came out of his study and shut the door behind him.
"I hope you will not mind," said he in a low voice, turning to the Count, "but I thoughtlessly mentioned your name, and my business friend begged so earnestly----"
"Who is it?" said the Count.
"Herr Hugo Lübbener."
The Count changed colour slightly and cast a quick furtive glance at the Councillor, who however met it unmoved.
"My banker," said the Count.
"He did not tell me that!" cried Philip; "then certainly I may venture."
"I shall be very happy," said the Count rather crossly.
"This all fits in wonderfully," whispered the Councillor to him, while Philip called through the door which he had left open into the study.
"Come in, you most discreet of men! I should have thought that the firm stood so well with the Count----"
"As well as the Count stands with the firm!" said Herr Hugo Lübbener as he came in. "Excuse my freedom, Count Golm, seeing you have not honoured me."
"Why, I assure you, I have not had time yet," exclaimed the Count, taking in the tips of his fingers the hand which Herr Lübbener offered somewhat timidly. "A world of business----"
"We can understand that, living in the business world as we do, can we not, Councillor?" said Herr Lübbener. "But now that I have had the honour and pleasure I will not stay a moment longer."
And he moved to the door; the Count glanced at the Councillor, who lifted his eyebrows.
"You are not going on my--our account, Herr Lübbener," said the Count; "we are here to admire the splendid collection of our kind host."
"Whose greatest admirer and appreciater is Herr Lübbener himself," put in the Councillor.
"Because I possess a few good things?" said Herr Lübbener. "Why, by Jove! a man must patronise art or at least the artists nowadays. Our friend Schmidt always fishes the best things away under our noses. Yesterday this Riefstahl was in Lepke's window, now of course it hangs here. What did you give for it?"
"What do you think?"
"Not more than half, I am sure."
Philip laughed as if he heard the old stockbroker joke for the first time; the Councillor cackled hoarsely like an old hen in rainy weather; the Count appeared highly amused.
"What would you have?" said he; "such a picture is really invaluable."
Philip turned the light of the reflector upon the picture, which now showed all its beauty for the first time.
"Really magnificent!" said the Count.
He had stepped a little nearer so that he himself was in the light of the lamp. The appearance of the Count standing there in the full light seemed to have something peculiarly comic for the three other men who were standing a little back. They glanced quickly at each other, and each face wore a malicious smile. The Councillor laid his finger on his long nose; Philip bit his lip.
"I have a Hildebrandt here," said he, "which I consider may be called the gem of my collection."
"At all events it is in his best style," said the Count.
They went from picture to picture, criticising and naming great artists, and not less great sums, till Philip, foreseeing danger to his plans, grew impatient.
"I do not know why," said he, "but nothing seems so good as usual to-day."
"It was just the same with me when I was a boy, I always thought my exercises were faultless till they came into the master's hands," said the Councillor.
"You really make too much of my small powers of criticising," said the Count in his best humour. "Why! are we not at the end yet?"
They were at the door of the dining-room, which the servants at that moment opened.
"You will find a few more pictures here," said Philip, "but before you look at them I must beg you to take some supper."
"Or the oysters will be cold," said Herr Lübbener.
"I begged there might be no ceremony," said the Count reproachfully as he took his place at table with the others.
"Not at all, Count Golm; the servants got the oysters from the nearest restaurant--and there is always a chicken to be found in a bachelor's kitchen."
"Long live the bachelors!" said the Councillor, lifting his glass.
"But how are they to do it?" cried Philip, swallowing an oyster.
"From hand to mouth!" said Herr Lübbener, who was busy in the same way.
"For heaven's sake, Lübbener!" cried Philip, "if you have no pity for us, at least spare Count Golm!"
"I think I can appreciate a good joke as well as the rest of you," said the Count.
"Listen to that!" exclaimed Herr Lübbener. "Come, Schmidt, forget your vexation! The fact is I came to tell him that with the best will in the world, I cannot allot him shares in the New Kaiserin-Königin for more than about a hundred thousand."
"If you say another word about business you shall not have a drop more of my Chablis," cried Philip.
"I was just going to ask for a glass of Bordeaux," answered Herr Lübbener.
The Councillor laughed aside to the Count, and shrugged his shoulders as though to say, "Boys will be boys! they go on like that all day." The Count returned the smile most courteously.
"At Rome one must do as the Romans do," said he. "I confess it would interest me very much to learn something authentic about the Kaiserin-Königin Iron Company which is so much talked about now."
The Count had given the signal; he could not be surprised that for the next half hour nothing was talked but business, in fact he was so interested and excited, that he drank glass after glass, while the blood mounted to his forehead. They went from the Kaiserin-Königin Company to the Lower Saxony Engine Manufactories; from that to the North Berlin Railway, and so arrived at the Berlin Sundin Railway. The other men were able to give him the most interesting details of the history of this railway, which after so glorious a beginning now stood on the verge of bankruptcy in the eyes of people who did not know that the stock had been artificially kept down in order to buy back the shares, shares which as soon as the concession for the construction of the railway was obtained, would rise like a Phœnix from the ashes.
Would Count Golm take any shares? Now was just the right moment! He had no spare money? Nonsense! Money had nothing to do with the matter. How much did the Count want--fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, a hundred and fifty? The Count had only to name the sum. It would be no gift to him. The statement that he would eventually be one of the directors of the Island Railway would be worth fifty thousand amongst friends!
"Take care that I do not take you at your word!" exclaimed the Count.
"Take care that we do not take you at your word!" answered Philip.
"By Jove! let us take each other at our word!" exclaimed Herr Lübbener.
"Had we not better put it in writing?" asked the Councillor.
"Are we not carrying the joke a little too far?" said the Count, with an uncertain, inquiring glance at the last speaker, who answered it with an encouraging smile.
But the right moment it seemed was past. For the first time there was a pause, which Philip assumed to think was caused by a servant bringing him a waiter, on which lay two visiting cards, and whispering something as he stood near him.
"Can't I have a moment to myself? Well, what is it?"
He took the cards from the waiter and broke into a laugh.
"This is a good joke!"
"May I ask what?"
"I hardly dare say, Count Golm, for fear of damaging my reputation as a serious man in the eyes of my friends here. I can show the cards to a man of the world."
"Then let us see the cards," said Herr Lübbener.
The Councillor looked astonished.
"Herr von Werben could not send in two cards!"
"But, good heavens!" exclaimed the Count, "don't let the ladies wait in the anteroom."
"Oh no. Ladies!" exclaimed Herr Lübbener.
"Two friends who are sometimes good enough to look in after the opera, or rather the ballet, to have a little supper," explained Philip. "I assure you, Lübbener, not what you are thinking of, so leave off grimacing, and imitate the deportment of our worthy friend the Councillor."
"Splendid fellow!" whispered the Councillor in Herr Lübbener's ear, as the gentlemen rose.
"He outdoes himself to-day," whispered Herr Lübbener in return.
Philip went to meet the two ladies, who stood in the doorway with well-acted dismay.
"Prisoners!" said he; "there is no use in resisting. Be reasonable!"
He seized them by the hands and drew them into the room.
"Permit me, Count Golm, to present you to Fräulein Victorine, the most beautiful mezzo-soprano that female throat can produce,--Fräulein Bertalda, called 'The Incomprehensible,' because no one can comprehend how she can jump so high off such little feet."
"You are intolerable!" said Victorine.
"For shame!" said Bertalda. "And give us something to eat instead, if you really won't let us go away again at once!"
"I will have another table laid," cried Philip. "Johann!"
"We will sit closer," said the Count, himself bringing a chair for Victorine, whose luxuriant beauty had delighted him from the very first moment. Bertalda seated herself opposite, between Philip and Herr Lübbener; two fresh places were laid in a moment; the Count had now nothing to say against champagne, which at first he had declined. He was already a little the worse for drink, and was the less likely to notice that the fumes were getting into his head; that since the entrance of these lively young ladies the tone of the party had become freer, and very soon got rather wild. It no longer surprised him that the young men called each other by their Christian names, to say nothing of familiar nicknames, such as "old fellow!" and "old boy!" and even the Councillor himself became a "dear old Councillor," and he thought it capital fun when Victorine drank off a full glass to Bertalda, saying, "Here's a bumper to you, Bertie!" and Bertalda replied, "Right you are, Vicky!" Presently they all moved from their places, and the Count seized the opportunity to seat himself by Bertalda, whose beautiful and, as he thought, inviting eyes deserved this response. Victorine pretended to be very jealous, and, to the intense delight of the other gentlemen, exclaimed, "Ungrateful man! he has forsaken me! Ungrateful!" while Bertalda, by her fascinating airs and graces, and other gestures, showed that she meant to keep the captive knight fast in her net. The Count, thinking it necessary to support the beauty in her part, put his arm round her--a spirited idea--which was loudly applauded by the company, when Bertalda suddenly sprang up from her chair with a slight shriek, and hastened forward to meet a gentleman, who had entered unperceived by the rest.
"Is it possible? No! is it possible? Herr von Werben--Ot----"
"Are you mad!"
The girl dropped her uplifted arms; the others had risen to greet Ottomar, whose apologies for coming so late were hardly heard amidst the din of voices which arose on all sides. A lecture at a military society which he had to assist at, endless discussions afterwards--his throat was dry with learned dust, pray let him have a glass of wine!
He tossed down the wine, certainly not the first glass he had drunk that evening; a gloomy fire shone in his beautiful eyes; he tried to drown memory in drink, and even if he could not accomplish that, in a few minutes he was the wildest of the wild. The Count, for his part, felt easier in the society of another man of his own rank, who, in passing him, whispered sarcastically in his ear, "Le roi s'amuse!" and proceeded to set him so good an example. They laughed, they sang, they romped; the young ladies' overflow of fun had hardly any limits. Being in the society of promoters, they would just like to know what promoters were? How did people promote? They would play at being promoters!
"Let the ladies form themselves into a provisional board!" cried Philip.
"But as an unlimited liability company, if I may venture to advise," said Herr Lübbener.
"Under the title of Love and Wine," said the Councillor.
"I propose as solicitor Councillor Schieler," cried the Count, who was not going to be behindhand.
The motion was carried with applause.
The Councillor accepted the honour with thanks, and began to draw up the prospectus of the company, in which the others helped, and each tried to outdo the rest in suggestions. The plan was of a railroad to the moon, with a proviso for a continuation of the line to the Great Bear as soon as the man in the moon should have converted his last silver crescent into cash. Philip proposed that the capital should be seven thousand million fixed stars; at which the company's lawyer thought it necessary to observe that this word might arouse an unpleasant connection of ideas on the Stock Exchange; would not "comets" inspire more confidence? But then it must be ten thousand million, as too many false ones were in circulation, which even in the weights could not be distinguished from falling stars. The ten millions were immediately subscribed. Ottomar and Bertalda, who subscribed for the smallest sums, were not permitted the honour of being amongst the directors, who were grouped at one end of the table, but had to take their places as mere shareholders at the other end. The Count was to be chairman, with Victorine as deputy. The Count protested that Victorine ought to be president; they argued, they fought, they quarrelled in due form. Bertalda seized the opportunity to draw Ottomar away from the table to a sofa close by.
"Why have you not been to see me for a year, Ottomar?"
"I am going to be married, my dear child."
"Have you got another love?"
"I have not got another love."
"Why are there clouds then on your beautiful brow? why do you look so sad, darling Ottomar?"
"Dear Bertalda!"
"Am I that indeed? Do you still love me a very little?"
"Yes! yes!"
"Then"--she throve her arm round his neck and, putting her mouth close to his ear, whispered a few words just as a roar of laughter came from the table. Ottomar sprang up. "They are calling us." The girl sank in the corner, and with closed eyes waited for his return and his answer, with her full lips pouting for a kiss.
She looked up and passed her hand over her heated eyes; what had happened? Ottomar was no longer in the room; perhaps he was in the anteroom? She stole in on tiptoe. Herr von Werben had taken his hat and coat and left the house. "Bah!" said the girl, "I must not make a fuss about it, I must laugh!" And she laughed madly as she sat down again at the table where Ottomar's disappearance was scarcely observed, and the others laughed wildly at a speech in which the Councillor, with wonderful dry humour, gave the health of the members of the committee, the first subscribers, the legal adviser and directors of the Earth, Moon, and Great Bear Railway, with double and treble honours, in case any of them should act in a double or treble capacity.
"The next step of respectable promoters will be made, according to all experience, behind the scenes," said Philip with a cynical smile, holding his glass out to the Count.
"In the green-room, in fact," replied the Count, casting a side-glance at Victorine.
"Long live the green-room!" cried Hugo Lübbener.
"Behind the scenes for me," said the Councillor.
The glasses rang together, the riot of mirth rose higher and higher, and finally overwhelmed the last remnants of propriety and good manners.