Ere her departure she gave her jewels and the silver which her grandfather had bequeathed to her to Conrad Teufel, to satisfy the most urgent demands of her husband’s creditors. Her father and she had parted kindly, and he made no attempt to oppose her.
No one except the Sister of Charity was now in attendance upon the old gentleman; for his wife wept and wailed without finding strength to do anything, and even reproached her own mother, whom she accused of having plunged them all into misfortune, and caused the stroke of paralysis from which her husband was suffering.
The grey-haired countess, the cousin went on, had passed from one attack of convulsions into another, and when he approached her had shrieked the words “ingratitude” and “base reward” so shrilly at him, in various tones, that they were still ringing in his ears.
Everything in the luckless household was out of gear, and its noble guest, the Duke von Gulich, would feel the consequences, for the servants had lost their wits too. Spite of the countless men and maids, he had been obliged to go himself to the pump to get a glass of water for the sick man, and the fragments of the vase which the grandmother had flung at him with her own noble hand were still lying on the floor. His name was Teufel—[devil]—but even in his home in Hades things could scarcely be worse.
When Herr Teufel at last paused, the magistrate and his wife exchanged a significant glance, while Eva gazed with deep suspense, and Cordula with earnest pity, at Els, who had listened to the story fairly panting for breath.
When she raised her tearful eyes to Herr Pfinzing and Frau Christine, saying mournfully, “I must beg you to excuse me, my dear aunt and uncle; you have heard how much my Wolff’s father needs me,” all saw their expectations fulfilled.
“Hard, hard!” said the magistrate, patting her on the shoulder. “Yet the lead with which we burden ourselves from kindly intentions becomes wood, or at last even feathers.”
But Frau Christine was not content with uttering cheering words; she offered to accompany Els and secure the place to which she was entitled. Frau Rosalinde had formerly often visited the matron to seek counsel, and had shown her, with embarrassing plainness, how willingly she admitted her superior ability. She disliked the old countess—but with whom would not the self-reliant woman, conscious of her good intentions, have dared to cope? Since the daughter of the house had left her relatives, the place beside his father’s sick-bed belonged to the son’s future wife. Frau Rosalinde was weak, but not the worst of women. “Just wait, child,” Aunt Christine concluded, “she will see soon enough what a blessing enters the house and the sick-room with you. We will try to erect a wall against the old woman’s spite.”
Conrad Teufel confessed that he had come with the hope of inducing Els, who had nursed her own mother so skilfully and patiently, to make so praiseworthy a resolution. In taking leave he promised to keep a sharp lookout for her rights, and, if necessary, to show the old she-devil his own cloven foot.
After he, too, had gone, the preparations for the sisters’ departure were commenced. Whilst Cordula was helping Eva to select the articles she wished to take to Schweinau, and her older sister, with Katterle’s assistance, was packing the few pieces of clothing she needed as a nurse in the Eysvogel family, the countess offered to visit Herr Ernst in the watch-tower early the following morning and tell him what detained his daughters. Towards evening Eva could come into the city under the protection of her aunt, who had many claims upon her the next day, and see the prisoner.