"Let them be," returned Sabine, with a smile.
"And the coverlet, and these towels—why, they are your best set. Good heavens! The coverlet with lace, and the rose-colored lining!"
"Never mind, cousin," said Sabine, blushing. "He whom we expect deserves the best that our old chests contain."
But the cousin went on shaking her head. "If I had not seen this, I should never have believed it. To give these for daily use! I can not make you out, Sabine. My only comfort is that he will never remark it. That I should live to see this day!" And, clasping her hands, she left the room in much excitement.
Sabine hurried after her. "She will go and tease Traugott about it," said she; "I must persuade her that things could not have been otherwise arranged."
Meanwhile the traveler felt like a son returning to his home after a long absence. At the nearest station to the capital his heart began to beat with delight; the old house, his colleagues, the business, his desk, his principal, and Sabine, all floated pleasantly before his mind's eye. At last the drosky stopped before the open door, and Father Sturm, calling out his name with a voice that sounded all over the street, ran and lifted him out of the carriage like a child. Then up came Mr. Pix, and shook his hand long, not remarking that his black brush, during the up-and-down movement, was making all sorts of hieroglyphics on his young friend's coat. Next Anton went into the counting-house, where the lights were already burning, and heartily cried out "Good-evening." His colleagues rose like one man, and with loud expressions of pleasure crowded about him. Mr. Schröter hurried out of his own room, and his grave face beamed with satisfaction. These were happy moments, indeed, and Anton was more moved than became such a traveled man. And on his way from the counting-house to his room, old Pluto sprang out impetuously, immoderately wagging his matted tail, so that Anton could hardly escape from his caresses. Arrived at his own door, a servant met him with a smile, and respectfully opened it. Anton gazed in wonder at the way in which it was decorated.
"Our young lady herself arranged it as you see," imparted the servant. Anton bent over the alabaster vase, and closely examined every flower as though he had never seen such before. Then he took up the cushion, felt it, stroked it, and, full of admiration, put it back in its place. He now returned to the office, to give Mr. Schröter the latest intelligence as to his proceedings. The merchant took him into his own little room, and they talked long and confidentially.
It was a serious conversation. Much was lost, much still endangered, and it would require years of industry to make good what was forfeited, and replace old connections by new. "To your judgment and energy," said Mr. Schröter, "I already owe much. I hope you will continue to assist me in regaining lost ground. And now there is still some one else who wants to thank you. I hope you will be my guest this evening."
Anton next went to his long-closed desk, and took out pens and paper. But much could not be made of writing to-day. One of his colleagues after the other left his own place and came to Anton's stool. Mr. Baumann often walked across, just to clap him on the back, and then cheerfully returned to his own corner; Mr. Specht kept knocking away at the railings which divided him from Anton, and showered down questions upon him. Mr. Liebold left the blotting-paper several moments on the last page of the great ledger, and came over for a chat. Even Mr. Purzel moved, with the sacred chalk in his hand, out of his partition; and, finally, Mr. Pix came into the room to confide to Anton that, for some months back, he had played no solo partie, and that Specht, meanwhile, had fallen into a state closely resembling insanity.
Later in the evening Anton entered the principal's apartments. Sabine stood before him. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were moist as she bent down over the hand that had saved her brother's life.