Part 54 (2/2)

”Aha, Zdena! why must people marry because they love each other, hey?”

CHAPTER XLV.

OLD BARON FRANZ.

Old Baron Franz Leskjewitsch had changed greatly during the past winter. Those who saw most of him declared that he was either about to die or was growing insane. He moved from one to another of his various estates more restlessly than ever, appearing several times at Vorhabshen, which he never had been in the habit of visiting in winter, and not only appearing there, but remaining longer than usual. There was even a report that on one occasion he had ordered his coachman to drive to Zirkow; and, in fact, the old tumble-down carriage of the grim Baron had been seen driving along the road to Zirkow, but just before reaching the village it had turned back.

Yes, yes, the old Baron was either about to die or was ”going crazy.”

There was such a change in him. He bought a Newfoundland dog, which he petted immensely, he developed a love for canary-birds, and, more alarming symptom than all the rest, he was growing generous: he stood G.o.dfather to two peasant babies, and dowered the needy bride of one of his bailiffs.

In the beginning of April he appeared again at Vorhabshen, and seemed in no hurry to leave it.

The day after Harry's sudden arrival at Zirkow, the old man was sitting, just after breakfast, in a leather arm-chair, smoking a large meerschaum pipe, and listening to Studnecka's verses, when the housekeeper entered to clear the table, a duty which Lotta, the despot, always performed herself for her master, perhaps because she wanted an opportunity for a little gossip with him.

Studnecka's efforts at entertainment were promptly dispensed with, and the old Baron shortly began, ”Lotta, I hear that good-for-naught Harry is in this part of the country again; is it so?”

”Yes, Herr Baron; the cow-boy met him yesterday on the road,” replied Lotta, sweeping the crumbs from the table-cloth into a green lacquered tray with a crescent-shaped brush.

”What is he doing here?” the old man asked, after a pause.

”They say he has come to court the Baroness Zdena.”

”Oh, indeed!” The Baron tried to put on a particularly fierce expression. ”It would seem that since that money-bag at Dobrotschau has thrown him over, he wants to try it on again with the girl at Zirkow, in hopes I shall come round. Oh, we understand all that.”

”The Herr Baron ought to be ashamed to say such things of our Master Harry,” Lotta exclaimed, firing up. ”However, the Herr Baron can question the young Herr himself; there he is,” she added, attracted to the window by the sound of a horse's hoofs. ”Shall I show him up? or does the Herr Baron not wish to see him?”

”Oh, send him up, send him up. I'll enlighten the fellow.”

In a few moments Harry makes his appearance. ”Good-morning, uncle! how are you?” he calls out, his face radiant with happiness.

The old Baron merely nods his head. Without stirring from his arm-chair, without offering his hand to his nephew, without even asking him to sit down, he scans him suspiciously.

With his hand on his sabre, Harry confronts him, somewhat surprised by this strange reception, but nowise inclined to propitiate his uncle by any flattering attentions.

”Do you want anything?”

”No.”

”Indeed? You're not short of money, then?

”On the contrary, I have saved some,” Harry replies, speaking quite after his uncle's fas.h.i.+on.

”Ah! saved some, have you? Are you growing miserly?--a fine thing at your age! You probably learned it of your financial acquaintances,” the old Baron growls.

”I have saved money because I am going to marry, and my betrothed is without means,” Harry says, sharply.

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