The degree of order and method which prevailed everywhere at Plagnitz delighted him, and no less was he pleased, when he sauntered through the fields in the immediate vicinity of the manor-house, with the kindly courtesy of those of his people whom he met, and who greeted the master without a trace of that slavish servility so frequently to be found in the Polish-German provinces, and so odious to Egon. Day-labourers and grooms took off their hats to him, but did not, half kneeling, offer to kiss his hand, as is the invariable custom elsewhere; nor were they at all embarrassed in the intelligent replies which they made to his inquiries concerning their various occupations. To the master's great satisfaction, he perceived that there pervaded Plagnitz an air of freshness and freedom beyond what was enjoyed upon most other large estates of the province; the people were treated like human beings, not like slaves, and, in consequence, manifested an interest and vivacity almost unknown to the ordinary imbruted Polish labourer. Here old Sieveking's influence had been admirable, and all that Egon had thought lacking upon his previous visit to Plagnitz had been largely supplied by Storting's diligence and experience.
A young man presented himself as the bailiff, Hensel, and modestly asked permission to show Herr von Ernau through the farm-buildings and to give him any desired information concerning them. When Egon accepted his offer, he showed himself so intelligent and well informed in all matters pertaining to his special province, that the master of Plagnitz was even more than ever impressed with the faithful care taken of his estate during his absence by old Sieveking, who, although he could not entirely fulfil the requirements of a disciple of the modern school of agriculture, had yet prepared an excellent foundation for the new methods which Egon hoped to introduce with Storting's assistance.
Even the slight inspection which he thus made, on the first day of his residence in his home, was condemned by the little doctor on his next visit. He declared that for a week at least nothing in the way of out-of-door exercise must be attempted. "As much fresh air as you please, my dear Herr von Ernau, but taken by an open window, or seated on your terrace, whence the prospect should surely content you for a while."
This enforced repose was particularly irritating to Egon just at the present time. The delicious weather lured him into the open air; he was feverishly desirous of beginning the work for which he had been preparing for four long years, and to sit quietly gazing abroad over his fields and meadows, at the groups of labourers, among whom he longed to be, was almost intolerable.
If Storting had only been at home he could have conversed with him. But he was entirely alone; old Sieveking was too ill and feeble to be disturbed, and young Hensel, although excellent in his way, was entirely unavailable for purposes of conversation that did not bear upon his vocation.
His only consolation during these wearisome days was the fine grand piano which he had had sent to Plagnitz from Berlin. During his years of study he had rather neglected his music, and he now found in it all the delight it had formerly given him. His feverish restlessness was soothed by giving it musical expression; as of old, he was able to forget himself in the world of harmony.
He was seated thus at his instrument, on the fourth afternoon after his arrival at Plagnitz; the last chords of a wild rhapsody had just died away, and his fingers were wandering over the keys in a dreamy fantasia, half memory, half hope. Lost in his fancies, he did not hear a footman announce an arrival, or the sound of footsteps in the room behind him. He suddenly seemed aware of a soft sigh near him; he turned hastily and gazed into a pair of dark eyes. At first he saw Bertha only; but she was not alone, behind her stood Wangen and Clara.
"If the mountain will not come to us, we must come to the mountain," Wangen said, with a laugh, holding out his hand. "You must not think us too eager to thrust ourselves upon you, Herr von Ernau, in coming thus soon to see how the patient is faring, since the doctor tells us that he may receive visits, although he can pay none."
Involuntarily Egon passed his hand across his eyes, as if to banish the vision of the moment. Yes, this was reality. Here was no Bertha von Massenburg, but Frau von Wangen, with her husband, and the charming child with whom he had exchanged a few words at Linau; and he was the lord of Plagnitz, whose duty it was to welcome his guests and pray pardon for having at first been unaware of their entrance.
Hugo von Wangen laughed in his good-humoured way. "We stood behind you listening for a minute," he said. "I do not think anything short of an earthquake would have aroused you when we first came in, you were so absorbed. We ought to ask pardon for disturbing you. My wife would not let me come alone, as I thought of doing. She was too anxious, she said, to see how the patient was getting on."