"Egon, you have made an infernal fool of yourself," Pigglewitch muttered, when the young girl had left him. He felt really humiliated by the reproof uttered by those charming lips with so much girlish dignity. A mere child had ventured first to laugh at him, then to lecture him, and finally to act as it were as a kind of guardian over him. It was rather hard, especially as he could not but be conscious that Lieschen was right. Egon von Ernau, having taken upon himself Pigglewitch's name and social standing, must submit to be treated accordingly. He could withdraw from such treatment, for he was not as yet bound even by any promise. The idea occurred to him that he had best leave Castle Osternau as quickly as possible, but it was banished almost before it had taken shape. It would be unpardonable weakness, actual cowardice, he said to himself, to end the struggle for existence which he had hardly begun, by a flight from the scene of action. Was it the struggle only that interested him? Was there not an attraction in the image of a charming child, a fairy with golden curls, her dark-blue eyes now dancing with laughter, now frankly reproachful? No, he could not leave Castle Osternau at once, this child must learn to respect him, and if he stayed it must not be to afford the fairy occasion for mirth: he must lay aside the ugly mask which he had purchased of the real Pigglewitch. Perhaps the travelling-bag, as yet unopened, would furnish more respectable apparel than that which its owner had worn when travelling.
Egon had felt no antipathy to exchanging clothes with Pigglewitch, but he was suddenly seized with disgust for everything belonging to the man. He had laughed when he had first looked at himself in the glass, but as he now caught sight of his reflection he was positively ashamed. "She called me a scarecrow," he muttered, "and, by Jove! she was right. No scarecrow could be a more ridiculous object than I am at this minute."
He picked up the travelling-bag: it was locked and there was no key, there was nothing for it but to force the wretched lock with his pocket-knife. When it was opened, the contents proved worse than he had imagined. He found, to be sure, another suit of clothes rather better than Pigglewitch's travelling attire, but it was made after precisely the same fashion, and when Egon put on the coat he thought he looked more like a scarecrow than before. The real Pigglewitch must have purchased his wardrobe in some old-clothes shop, with a special view to a certain bygone fashion. The newer coat being less shabby than the other could be less easily forgiven for its antique cut.
The linen which Egon discovered formed no contrast to the suit, it entirely disgusted him. What should he do until other clothes could be procured? and when could he procure these? Should he use the money in his pocket-book? He had determined not to touch it. It had been a chief part of his wild scheme to live for a while like a poor Candidate, with no other means than his salary as tutor. He had thought it interesting to try for once how life looked to a poor man, who must economize and contrive. Was he at the outset to be false to this scheme? No. Disagreeable as he might find it, he had resolved to taste, as Gottlieb Pigglewitch, the joys and sorrows of a poor Candidate, and he would carry out his intention. What would Gottlieb Pigglewitch do in his place? This was a question difficult to answer. He would hardly have been very sensitive beneath the laugh of the charming fairy. His usual dress had not been odious to him, and he would not probably have wished to exchange it for any other. In vain did Egon attempt to devise some way of procuring decent habiliments without having recourse to his pocketbook. He was pacing his room to and fro, in a very unenviable state of mind, when there was a knock at his door, and a fine-looking young man made his appearance. An involuntary smile played about his mouth at sight of Egon's peculiar attire, as, with a courteous inclination, he said, "Allow me to introduce myself to you, Herr Candidate. My name is Storting. Fräulein Lieschen sends me to you. You know the purpose of my coming, and I need not tell you how happy I shall be to serve you. My wardrobe is well supplied, and I can easily provide for you until you can make other arrangements."
The frank kindliness of the young man's offer embarrassed Egon afresh. He felt an eager desire to accept it, but was reluctant to place himself under such obligations to a stranger. Herr Storting's tall, well-made figure was like his own. Fräulein Lieschen had truly guessed that the young inspector's coat would fit him, but---- "I really do not see how I can accept your exceedingly kind offer, for which I thank you most cordially," he said, with hesitation.
"But indeed you must accept it," Storting replied, with a laugh. "It is Fräulein Lieschen's wish, and, as you will acknowledge before you have passed many days in Castle Osternau, this is a sufficient reason with every one of its inmates, from Herr von Osternau to the gardener's boy, with the exception perhaps of the Herr Lieutenant, for turning the world upside down. It is Fräulein Lieschen's wish, and to this wish you must bend. Pray come with me to my room. We shall soon be able to equip you suitably. To be honest with you, the young lady's wish is perfectly justifiable. You must not take my frankness amiss, I cannot help telling you that it would never do to appear at dinner in that coat. You would expose yourself to the derision of the servants, and compromise your position in the castle."
"I understand, but----"
"Do not hesitate to accept my offer. What harm can it do to wear a coat which I do not need myself, for a couple of days, until you have fitted yourself out?"
"Until I have fitted myself out? But when shall I be able to do this?"
"Ah! yes, I understand you. You are for the moment in some pecuniary embarrassment."