"You're making a fool of yourself again unnecessarily," snarled his brother.
Gotthold had noticed that Hinrich Scheel always stood directly before the horse with his squinting eyes fixed steadily upon it, and whenever Gustav tried to mount, made an almost imperceptible motion with his head, upon which the animal, whose black eyes were fixed intently upon its trainer, either sprang aside or reared.
"I think you would do better if you told Hinrich Scheel to go away from the horse, Herr von Plüggen," said he.
"Oh! Gustav will give it up," cried Brandow hastily; "I only made the bet in jest; the fact is, that Hinrich Scheel has trained Brownlock not to allow any one to mount except himself or me; and I could not get into the saddle against Hinrich's will. This was the very trick I wanted to show you."
Every one, with the exception of Gotthold, took the whole thing as a joke, until Brandow proved the contrary before their own eyes. Brownlock would not allow him to mount, until Hinrich Scheel gave the sign. Now came the second part of the exhibition Brandow had in store for his guests. He rode Brownlock over the whole course, taking the most difficult obstacles with an ease which displayed in the clearest light his perfect horsemanship, as well as the almost wonderful strength and endurance of the noble animal, and filled the hearts of his three rivals with the bitterest envy.
"It's a shame for a fellow like that to have such a horse," said Gustav Plüggen, who had joined Gotthold, while the rest of the party went to visit the stables; "a downright shame. That is: he certainly rides splendidly--for a plebeian, I mean; but a plebeian never ought to be allowed to keep race-horses. I talked about it enough in the committee, when we were arranging the races at Sundin eight years ago; but I couldn't get my way. Now we have the consequences. For the last four years Brandow has taken all the best prizes; it's enough to drive one mad. The fellow would have been ruined long ago if it hadn't been for the races, the races--and his wife."
"His wife?" asked Gotthold.
"Why, of course. We wouldn't have lent him another penny long ago; but for the sake of his wife, who is really a lovely woman; we can't let him go to ruin entirely. Of course he knows that better than any one else, and so she is always obliged to be of the party when any new credit is to be obtained. A week ago to-day, when we were in Plüggenhof, Otto paid his attentions to her at the table in the wildest way--in the presence of his own wife, née Baroness von Grieben-Keffen--and half an hour after dinner Brandow had his five thousand thalers in his pocket. It was a piece of madness on Otto's part; we had agreed that we would not give more than five thousand together. It would have proved a capital thing for us, but that damned Jew has spoiled it again. The devil knows why he helped him. And the Assessor told me he had been paid too. Twenty-five thousand thalers at one slap! I don't understand it at all--and that's saying something, for I generally know all his tricks and turns. The Pastor thinks you, and nobody else, have given him the money; and in return Brandow will overlook it if you and his wife--there, you needn't fly into a rage. Parson's gossip, that's all. You would take care of yourself--twenty-five thousand--ridiculous! But he has it--that's a fact, as they say in England--ever been in England? I was there--eight years ago when we were arranging about the Sundin races--famous country! horses, women, sheep--famous!-what was I going to say? He has the twenty-five thousand, and Dollan's safe for five years, the Assessor says; and now Brownlock too! Damn! that is a horse! On my honor, I haven't seen his equal even in England. What action! What a hock! And how he went over everything! Magnificent! But too heavy! too heavy, 'pon honor--he won't cross the piece of marsh-land we have now taken into the race-course. They say Prince Prora declared it wasn't fair! It's all very well for him to talk, he has no interest in the racing! Won't you come in with us? I hear there is to be a little card-party made up."
"I have never gambled, and--my headache is coming on again."
"Strange, I've no more idea what a headache is than if I had no head--you artists probably get it from the oil paints; they smell abominably."