"I do not wish to travel in the company of a man who has made me a beggar," said the steuerrath.
"Fudge!" said the commerzienrath, coming into the office that afternoon, in travelling dress, to bid me good-by; "he has been a beggar all his life. Would you believe it? five minutes ago he was begging from me again; he has not the money to take him home, I must advance him a hundred thalers. I gave them to him; I shall never see them again. By the way, I must see you again. Really I like you better every time I see you; you are a capital fellow."
"You will make but little capital out of me, Herr Commerzienrath."
"Make capital? Very good!" said the jovial old fellow, and poked me in the ribs. "We shall see, we shall see. Your very first movement when you leave this place must be to my house. Will soon find something for you; am planning all sorts of improvements on the estate--here the commerzienrath shut his eyes--distillery, brick-yard, turf-cutting, saw-mill--will find a place for you at once. How long have you still to be here?"
"Six years longer."
The commerzienrath puffed out his cheeks. "Whew! that is an awful time. Can I do nothing for you? Could I help you up there? A little cash in hand, eh?"
"I am greatly obliged to you, but cannot expect any advantage from your exertions."
"Pity, pity! Would have been so glad to prove my gratitude to you. You have really done me a great service. The man would have given me much trouble. Would a little money be of service to you? Speak freely. I am a man of business, and a hundred thalers or so are a trifle to me."
"If we are to part as friends, not another word of that," I said, with decision.
The commerzienrath hastily thrust back the thick pocketbook which he had half drawn out of his pocket, and for the greater security buttoned over it one button of his blue frockcoat.