'Early in the spring I spoke to my cousin about the mismanagement reigning here, told him without any reticence whatever all I had observed, and called upon him to take some active steps. I met with no success. You can summon your paternal authority to your aid; and Edmund will willingly agree to all you advise, if only you dispense him from the obligation of doing anything himself.'
Rüstow looked concerned and thoughtful. He did not seem particularly edified by the view of his son-in-law's character which Oswald's words, perhaps unintentionally, afforded him.
'Edmund is still so young,' he said at length, half apologetically; 'and he has hitherto resided little on the estate. With possession, pride and pleasure in his home will come to him, and interest in its welfare will spring up. In the first place, however, the senseless doings in the forests must be put a stop to.' Hereupon the Councillor began to develop his plans and ideas with regard to the new system to be pursued, and soon grew so absorbed by his subject that he failed to remark how completely he had the conversation to himself. Only when Oswald's answers, from being brief, became monosyllabic, when his assent to the propositions advanced came fainter and fainter, was Rüstow's attention aroused.
'Does anything ail you, Herr von Ettersberg?' he asked. 'You are looking so pale.'
Oswald forced a smile, and passed his hand across his brow.
'Nothing of any importance. Merely a headache, which has been tormenting me all day. If I could have chosen, I should not have appeared at all this evening.'
'In that case you were wrong to dance,' said Rüstow. 'It was sure to increase an ailment of that sort.'
The young man's lips quivered. 'You are right; I should not have danced. But it will not happen again.'
His voice was so low and agitated that Rüstow grew really anxious, and advised him to go out upon the terrace--he would get rid of his headache sooner in the open air. Oswald hastily seized the proffered pretext and went. The Councillor looked after him with a shake of the head, a little regretful that the pleasant chat was over already. Young Ettersberg's 'genius' had not displayed itself so obviously as usual on this occasion.
So the ball spent its course, noisy and brilliant as a ball should be, fully sustaining the castle's ancient renown for successful hospitality. No doubt, the Countess was a past mistress in the art of entertaining and in the ordering and arrangement of such festivities. The night was far advanced when the carriages containing the last departing guests rolled from the door, and the members of the family separated almost immediately. Edmund went down to see the Councillor and Fräulein Lina off on their return-journey to Brunneck, and Hedwig, who was to remain a few days longer with the Countess at Ettersberg, said good-night at once and retired to her own room.'