They took their places at table. It was only a small company. The relatives that had come from a distance had taken their departure. Dr. Fixstern also had gone to Vienna, and only Miss Albertine, Cousin Coriolan, and the domestic chaplain were present besides Franka and the countess. So far, the affairs of the household had gone on without alteration—Countess Adele held the reins, and no instructions were asked from Franka.
Winter had set in. The trees were leafless and the first fires were lighted.
“We shall soon have snow,” remarked Coriolan. “Oh, how gay it used to be here in years gone by at this time of the year.... We always had great hunting-parties ... a thousand hares on one day and often twenty or thirty guests at the hunting-dinner—and then a famous jeu till late at night. Listen, Franka, next year you must certainly give a hunting-party....”
“I will look out for that,” remarked Countess Adele; “we shall keep up to the traditions of the Sielenburg. The Sielenburg Hunts were famous all over the country. So they were at our other estates.”
“Yes, the late count—blessed be his memory—was very fond of hunting on his estate in Carinthia,” said the reverend father; “there’s a splendid run for stags.”
“We let it this year,” said the countess.
“Not to any manufacturer or Budapest Jew, I hope?” exclaimed Cousin Coriolan. “I’d rather have the game run wild all over the forest than permit unsuitable persons to hunt on a preserve,—and big game, too,—so that brokers might put up a sixteen-horned stag in their offices where they speculate over futures in the grain-market.”
“Since you are talking about grain, Herr Baron,” said the reverend father, “the price of flour has gone up again and so have meat and milk. The poor people, especially in the cities, will soon be unable to exist. You will have an opportunity, Miss Franka, to practice charity. Truly, there is much poverty and the rising cost of provisions....”
“Who is at fault?” interrupted Coriolan. “The low classes no longer know what they ought to want. They want to have theaters and concerts, and there are always agitators who stir them up to discontent—unscrupulous people—the so-called leaders, always from the circle of the intellectuals, as the Freemasons and Jews like to call themselves. If some radical way is not adopted to put an end to this mob, I am in favor of driving them out, since it is against the law to shoot them down....”
“But, Baron,” said the reverend father soothingly, “that would be rather too drastic. The working-people are quite right in their desire to better their condition!”