In fact, Lieutenant von Osternau did not at all enjoy himself on this particular evening. Until now he had been the enlivening element of the little circle, he had, as it were, formed the centre of conversational interest, but he suddenly found himself superseded by the Candidate, who conducted himself with an easy assurance inconceivable in a man of his station, receiving Herr von Osternau's gracious advances as if they were a matter of course, and taking part in the conversation as though perfectly accustomed to intercourse with people of rank.
And yet, as the Lieutenant could not but admit to himself, the Candidate never thrust himself forward, never attempted to lead in the conversation. When it naturally turned upon his mastery of Soliman, he made no claim to any special bravery or skill, but smilingly put by all the compliments addressed to him, and skilfully changed the subject by remarking upon the interest he had felt in the harvesting, which had been to him so novel a spectacle. He thus gave Herr von Osternau an opportunity to expatiate upon his favourite theme.
When the lord of the castle was once fairly launched upon this subject he usually held forth at great length, but to-day, when Herr Pigglewitch mentioned the singing of the girls and men as they raked the hay, Herr von Osternau called to mind the praise given by Herr Kramser to Herr Pigglewitch's pleasing voice, and he suddenly closed his discourse by a request that the Candidate would gratify him with a song.
With ready amiability Egon went instantly to the piano, where he sang to his own accompaniment, and in a full, rich baritone, a simple Folksong:
"In Oden forest stands a tree
With branches fresh and green,
Beneath its shade a thousand times
I with my love have been."
The Lieutenant observed, with positive rage in his heart, the effect which this song produced upon every member of the family. Frau von Osternau, who was busy at her tea-table, dropped her hands in her lap at the first notes, and listened intently, with eyes fixed upon the singer. Her husband sat leaning back in his arm-chair, scarcely daring to move, for fear of losing one delicious tone, while Lieschen bent forward in rapt delight with sparkling eyes and parted lips, and when the last sounds had died away, and Egon arose to take his place again beside her at the tea-table, she looked up at him with a dreamy, far-away expression in her dark eyes, which told how great had been her enjoyment, although she said not a word.
"Charming! Delicious!" Herr von Osternau exclaimed. "Thank you! thank you! I never heard that song so exquisitely sung. Every note came from the heart, and, of course, went straight to the heart. You understand, Herr Candidate, how to render our 'folksongs' with the simplicity that belongs to them, without any of our modern frippery hung about them."