"Clear the Track!" A Story of To-day

by E. Werner

"And Dernburg is heir to several millions, people say," remarked Wittenau with undisguised bitterness. "So, he will be the one upon whom this honor is to be bestowed."

"It is not mere say so, it is fact. The great Dernburg iron and steel works are the most important in all Germany, and admirably conducted. Their present chief is such a man as one rarely meets. I speak from personal knowledge, having accidentally made his acquaintance a few years ago. But see, there are the Wildenrods coming back again."

There, indeed, was the Baron's equipage, which had left the Corso a little while ago, and was now on its way back to their hotel. The fiery horses, which had with difficulty been curbed in, so as to keep step with a procession, were now going at full speed, and rushed past the two gentlemen, who had stepped aside, and looked upon the cloud of dust that had been raised.

"I am sorry about that Oscar Wildenrod," said Stettin earnestly. "He does not belong to the ordinary herd of mankind, and might perhaps have accomplished great things, if fate had not so suddenly and rudely snatched him away from the sphere for which he had been born and reared. Do not look so downcast, dear Wittenau! You will get over this dream of your youth, and after you get home to your fields and meadows, will thank your stars that it was nothing but a dream."

The carriage, meanwhile, had gone on its way, and now stopped before one of those grand hotels, whose exterior sufficiently showed that it was only at the disposal of rich and distinguished guests.

The suite of rooms occupied by Baron von Wildenrod and his sister was one of the best, and, of course, most expensive in the house, and lacked none of the conveniences and luxuries to which pampered guests lay claim. The rooms were splendidly furnished, but there was about them that air of the public-house that takes away, in large measure, any sense of genuine comfort.

The gentlemen were already in the parlor. Cecilia had retired in order to lay aside her hat and gloves, while her brother, chatting pleasantly, conducted their visitor to the veranda, whence was to be seen a fine view of the sea and a portion of Nice.

Young Dernburg appeared to be twenty-four or five years old, his looks making an impression that was insignificant rather than disagreeable. His diminutive figure, with its somewhat stooping carriage and pale complexion, with that peculiar tell-tale flush upon the cheeks, betrayed the fact that he had sought the sunny shores of the Riviera, not for the sake of pleasure, but out of regard for health. His face had its attractive features, but its lineaments were much too weak for a man, and this weakness culminated in the dreamy, somewhat veiled, look of his brown eyes. The self-consciousness of the rich heir seemed to be entirely lacking in this young man, his manners being unassuming, almost shy, and had not the name he bore everywhere procured him consideration, he would have been apt to be overlooked by the generality of the world.

The Baron's personality was in every respect the reverse. Oscar von Wildenrod was no longer young, being already not far from fifty years old.

There was something imposing in his lofty stature, and his clean-cut, regular features could but be regarded as handsome still, in spite of the sharp lines engraven upon them, and the deep furrow between the brows, that lent a rather sinister aspect to his countenance. Only a cool, considerate calm seemed perceptible in his dark eyes, and yet they flashed occasionally, with a fierceness that betokened the existence of a passionate, unbridled nature. As for the rest, there was something thoroughly distinguished in the Baron's whole appearance, his manners united the complaisance of a man of the world combined quite naturally with the pride inalienable from the scion of an ancient stock of nobility, which was manifested, however, in a manner by no means offensive.