"You hope so?" inquired the invalid, doubtingly. "I do so too, at times; but often I grow faint-hearted, as you say. Yes, I will live, and I will live no longer as of yore. I will try hard to grow stronger. I will not dream so much as I do now, will not fret and excite myself in solitude. I will make trial of the life of a brave and wise man, who gives back every blow that he receives," cried he, with flushed cheeks, and holding out his hand to his friend. Anton bent over him, and left the room.
That evening Ehrenthal went to his son's bedside, as he always did, after having closed the office door and hidden the key in his own room.
"What did the doctor say to you to-day, my Bernhard?"
Bernhard had turned his face to the wall, but he now suddenly flung himself round, and said impetuously, "Father, I have something to speak to you about. Lock the door, that no one may disturb us."
Ehrenthal, in amazement, ran to both doors, locked and bolted them obediently, and then hurried back to his son's bedside.
"What is it that vexes you, my Bernhard?" inquired he, stretching out his hand to feel his son's brow.
Bernhard drew back his head, and his father's hand sank on the bedclothes.
"Sit down there," said the invalid, darkly, "and answer my questions as sincerely as if you were speaking to yourself."
The old man sat down. "Ask, my son, and I will answer you."
"You have told me that you have lent much money to Baron Rothsattel; that you will lend him no more, and that the nobleman will not be able to retain his estate."