The stuttering gardener made the proposal that they should remain, but should make a joint demand for higher wages. All agreed to do this, except Joseph and the Cooper, but were puzzled how it could be brought about.
The subterraneans were unanimous in their eulogies of Pranken. He was a nobleman whose like could not be found, who did not desert the master for a single moment. He had ridden out with him in the broad daylight, and did not concern himself as to what his noble relatives might say of him.
Here, underground, they were also glad to know that men were ungrateful and base. It was even known here that Sonnenkamp had made a present of the Villa to the Cabinetsrath, for what the latter had given for it was only a trifling sum; and now the gardener of the Cabinetsrath had reported that the country-house and the vineyard had just been sold to the American Consul, as a sort of gibe at Sonnenkamp; for the family of the Cabinetsrath wished to have no more intercourse with Villa Eden.
In just the same way, although by men of a different position in society, were Sonnenkamp's circumstances discussed in the military club-house of the capital, as well as in the beer-houses. For some time, Adams, the negro servant of the Prince, had everywhere been the topic of conversation. There were various wonderful stories how five men were hardly able to restrain the raving negro; that he had tried to choke Sonnenkamp,—only with the greatest difficulty had they succeeded in getting him out of the capital, and removing him to a hunting-seat. Then the conversation would turn upon Sonnenkamp. Everybody asked what he would do now; no one could understand how it was that Pranken stood by him, and how the family permitted such a thing. In the military club-house there was also an Ursel, but here she took the form of a pensioned lady of high rank, who also ate heartily, and, while eating, spoke very compassionately of the poor children of the millionaire.
But the conversation took a very peculiar turn in the house of Dr. Richard, where they were to-day giving a great coffee-party in honor of Frau Weidmann, who had come on a visit; it had been arranged several days before, and the Professorin, Aunt Claudine, Frau Ceres, and Manna had been invited; of course they did not come. Here and there they were earnestly discussing how they should treat the Sonnenkamp family, if they had the audacity not to leave the country as soon as possible.
Lina, who had returned from the trip with her betrothed, said that she would be the same in Sonnenkamp's family that she had always been, and that she would remain Manna's friend; for wherever the Professorin was, there any one might maintain social intercourse without detriment to one's honor.
The tone of the conversation became kindly as Frau Weidmann gave unreserved support to Lina; she spoke of the noble character of Roland, who had been on a visit to her house, and of the solid worth of Eric, whom her husband held in very high esteem.
Thus every one in the house, as well as in the neighborhood, seemed to be putting himself right, and adopting a moderate, kindly tone towards the Sonnenkamp family. But the bitter, detestable consequences of the occurrence manifested themselves in the green cottage on Sunday morning.
During the hour before mass, the indigent neighbors used to come for their regular weekly allowance; to-day there came only one solitary woman, in a sorry plight. She was a drunkard's wife, who was forever complaining and lamenting; she was constantly fretting about two children, one of which she held in her arms, and the other she led by her side.
It was only with some difficulty that the Professorin had brought herself to furnish assistance to this woman, because she was afraid that the drunkard would only be made more shiftless by so doing; she had yielded to the persuasion of Fräulein Milch, though she generally cut the talkative woman short. But she had to listen patiently to-day, now that the woman came alone and no others were there. The Professorin trembled when the woman said to her:—