The intendant started. He had received an insight into this man's character. What grieved him most was the long period during which he would have to seem to be in mourning.
It could not have happened at a more unfavorable time.
Bruno had entered two of his best horses for the races which were to come off in a few days. He had intended to ride Zuleika himself in a trotting match, and, for the great hurdle race, he had carefully trained Fitz, his groom. The name was really Fritz, but Fitz sounded better. Fitz, Baum's son, was a thorough rascal, in whom his father took great pride. His future was assured, for there was no doubt that if Fitz did not break his limbs, he would be the first jockey in the stables. He sat his horse like a cat, and it was impossible to throw him.
The weather was charming. There were just enough clouds to shield one from the burning rays of the sun, and during the night there had been a gentle rain which had improved the course. Fitz, in his green and white suit, would surely win the first prize. Bruno was not a little proud of Fitz's livery. He had, as it were, divided him in two, from the crown of his head to his feet his dress was grass-green on the right and snow-white on the left. What a pity that there are but seven cardinal colors, thus affording so little chance to indulge one's love of variety. But still, persistence can accomplish much, and while Bruno held his handkerchief before his face, he smiled at the thought of Fitz with one boot green and the other white.
"Of course, I shan't ride," he said to the intendant. "Do you think I ought to allow my jockey to do so? I may do that; may I not?" he hastily added, as if fearing a negative reply. "They would think it mean of me, if I didn't. I have a large amount staked on the race. I shall let Fitz ride. Yes, I must; there's no harm in that." He had scarcely finished speaking, when Fitz entered the room. In a harsh voice Bruno told him to go away. He was determined to act as though he had forgotten all about the races. That would prove his sorrow far more effectually than if he were to withdraw his engagement. He would submit to the fine for non-appearance, and the world would thus perceive that his grief was deep enough to make him forget everything.
CHAPTER VIII.
The intendant sat on the sofa with Bruno. He held Bruno's hand in his--it was hot with fever.
Now that he had found the key to Bruno's character and present mood, he knew what was meant when the mourner exclaimed:
"I know how it is in the world. To-day and to-morrow there is hunting at Wolfswinkel; and day after to-morrow, the races. I am only surprised that I didn't forget everything in that one hour. His excellency Von Schnabelsdorf is now 'intellectualizing' with the handsome wife of ambassador Von N----. After that comes guard-mounting, and, this evening, there will be a banque at Prince Arnold's.--Ah! the world goes on in its beaten track. If I could only forget it; for it forgets me.--Who has a thought for the solitary mourner? Oh, forgive me, my beloved, my only friend in this world. You will stay with me. You will never, never leave me. Don't leave me alone, or I shall go mad?"
The intendant felt sincere pity for the poor man. He had been invited to dine with the master of the horse, and merely wished to leave for a few moments in order to present his excuses in person. But Bruno would not permit him to go, and induced him to send his excuse in writing.