At first Anton feared that the two would never suit. Two greater contrasts could hardly be imagined; the thin, transparent hand of Bernhard, and the healthy, muscular development of Fink; the bent form of the one, the elastic strength of the other; here, a deeply-lined face, with dreamy eyes; there, a proud set of features, lighted up by a glance like an eagle's—how could these possibly harmonize? But all turned out better than he had expected. Bernhard listened with much interest to what Fink had to say of foreign countries, and Anton did all he could to turn the conversation to subjects likely to bring out Bernhard.
The result was, that a few days later Bernhard found himself sitting in one of Fink's easy-chairs, and even ventured to invite him, with Anton, to spend an evening with him. Fink consented.
And now arose great excitement in the Ehrenthal circle.
Bernhard dusted his books and set them in order, and for the first time in his life troubled himself about household matters. "We must have tea, supper, wine, and cigars," said he.
"You need not be uneasy," replied his mother; "Herr von Fink shall find every thing well arranged."
"I will buy you some of the very finest cigars, and see to the wine," added his father.
As the hour drew near, Bernhard grew increasingly anxious, nay, irritable. "Where is the tea-kettle? The tea-kettle is not yet in my room! Nothing is ready!" cried he to his mother.
"I will make the tea and send it in—that is the fashionable way," replied his mother, rustling up and down in a new silk.
"No," said Bernhard, decidedly, "I will make the tea myself. Anton makes it, and so does Von Fink."
"Bernhard will make the tea himself!" cried the astonished mother to Rosalie. "Wonderful! he will make his own tea!" exclaimed Ehrenthal, who was in his room drawing on his boots. "He is going to make the tea!" cried the cook in the kitchen, clapping her hands in amazement.