Anton sat all day at his desk in a state of nervous excitement till then unknown to him. He was full of anxiety and suspense, and yet there was something of enjoyment in his feelings. He was keenly alive to the danger in which his principal and the business were placed, but he was no longer dejected or spiritless—nay, he felt every faculty enhanced; never had he written so easily; never had his style been so' clear, or his calculations so rapidly made. He remarked that Mr. Schröter moved with a quicker step, and looked round with a brighter glance than usual. Never had Anton so honored him before; he seemed, as it were, transfigured in his eyes. In wild delight, our hero said to himself, "This is poetry—the poetry of business; we can only experience this thrilling sense of power and energy in working our way against the stream. When people say that these times are wanting in inspiration, and our calling wanting most of all, they talk nonsense. That man is at this very moment staking all he has at a single cast—all that he holds dearest, the result of a long life, his pride, his honor, his happiness; and there he sits coolly at his desk, writes letters about logwood, and examines samples of clover-seed—nay, I believe that he actually laughs within himself." So mused Anton while locking up his desk and preparing to join his colleagues. He found them discussing, over a cup of tea, the news of the day, and its probable effect upon business, with a pleasant sort of shudder. All agreed that the firm must indeed suffer loss, but that they were the men to retrieve it sooner than ever was done before. Various views were then propounded, till at length Mr. Jordan pronounced that it was impossible to know beforehand what turn things would take, which profound opinion was generally adopted, and the conference broke up. Through the thin wall of his room Anton heard his neighbor Baumann put up a fervent prayer for the principal and the business, and he himself worked off his excitement by walking up and down till his lamp burned low.
It was already late when a servant noiselessly entered, and announced that Mr. Schröter wished to speak to him. Anton followed in all haste, and found the merchant standing before a newly-packed trunk, with his portfolio on the table, together with that unmistakable symptom of a long journey, his great English cigar-case of buffalo hide. It contained a hundred cigars, and had long excited the admiration of Mr. Specht. Indeed, the whole counting-house viewed it as a sort of banner never displayed but on remarkable occasions. Sabine stood at the open drawers of the writing-table, busily and silently collecting whatever the traveler might want. The merchant advanced to meet Anton, and kindly apologized for having summoned him so late, adding that he had not expected him to be still up.
When Anton replied that he was far too excited to sleep, such a ray of gratitude for his sympathy shone from Sabine's eyes that our hero was mightily moved, and did not trust himself to speak.
The principal, however, smiled. "You are still young," he said; "composure will come by-and-by. It will be necessary that I go and look after our merchandise to-morrow. I hear that the Poles show special consideration to our countrymen; possibly they imagine that our government is not disaffected toward them. This illusion can not last long; but there will be no harm in our trying to turn it to advantage for the safety of our goods. You have conducted the correspondence, and know all that is to be done for me. I shall travel to the frontier, and, when there, shall decide what steps should next be taken."
Sabine listened in the utmost excitement, and tried to read in her brother's face whether he was keeping back any thing out of consideration for her. Anton understood it all. The merchant was going over the frontier into the very heart of the insurrection.
"Can I not go in your stead?" said he, imploringly. "I feel, indeed, that I have hitherto given you no grounds for trusting me in so important an affair, but, at least, I will exert myself to the utmost, Mr. Schröter." Anton's face glowed as he spoke.
"That is kindly said, and I thank you," replied the principal; "but I can not accept your offer. The expedition may have its difficulties, and as the profits will be mine, it is but fair that the trouble should be so too." Anton hung his head. "On the contrary, I purpose leaving definite instructions with you, in case of my not being able to return the day after to-morrow."
Sabine, who had been anxiously listening, now seized her brother's hand, and whispered, "Take him with you."
This support gave Anton fresh courage. "If you do not choose to send me alone, at least allow me to accompany you; possibly I may be of some use; at least I would most gladly be so."
"Take him with you," again implored Sabine.