Anton tried to comfort her.
"We were obliged to leave the capital," cried Lenore; "we should all have perished if we had remained in that dreadful entourage. Our own property in other hands, cold, distant faces on all sides, every where false friends, smooth words, and a pity which maddened. I am delighted that we are alone here. And even were we to suffer cold and hunger, I could bear it better far than the shrugging of Madame Werner's shoulders. I have learned to hate my fellow-creatures," said she, vehemently. "When you have been with papa, I will come down, and then you must show me the house, the farm, and the village. I want to see where my poor pony is, and what the people about look like."
The baroness now returned, and led Anton into her husband's room. Helpless and confused, the baron rose from his chair. Anton felt the deepest compassion for him. He looked at his sunken face, bent figure, and the black bandage over his eyes. He warmly declared his ardent wish to be of use to him, and begged his indulgence if he had in any way erred in judgment hitherto. Then he proceeded to tell him how he found the estate, and what had been done up to the present time.
The baron heard the report almost in silence, only making a few short observations in return. But when Anton proceeded, with the utmost delicacy indeed, but still with the precision of a man of business, to state the obligations under which the baron at present lay, and his inadequate means of fulfilling them, the nobleman writhed in his chair like a victim on the rack. And Anton keenly felt how painful it must needs be to him to have a stranger thus introduced into his most secret affairs—a stranger anxious to spare his feelings, it is true, but at every moment betraying that anxiety, and so giving fresh offense. The baroness, who stood behind her husband, looked on nervously at the attempts he made to control his irritation, but at length she waved her hand so significantly that Anton had abruptly to break off his report.
When he had left the room, the baron flung himself back in the utmost excitement, and exclaimed, "You have set a trustee over me." He was perfectly beside himself, and the baroness vainly attempted to compose him.
Such was Anton's entrance into the family.
He too returned sadly to his room. From that moment he felt convinced that it would hardly be possible to establish a good understanding between himself and the baron. He was accustomed, in matters of business, to express himself curtly, and to be promptly understood, and he now foresaw long disquisitions on the part of the ladies, succeeded probably by no decision at all. Even his position with regard to them appeared uncertain. True, the baroness had treated him with the utmost graciousness, but still as a stranger. He feared that she would continue the great lady, giving just as much of her confidence as might be useful to herself, but warding off all intimacy by a cold politeness. Even Lenore's friendly voice could not restore his equanimity. They went over the premises silently and thoughtfully, like two men of business engaged in making an estimate.
Such as these first days promised was Anton's life for the next few months, anxious, monotonous, formal. He wrote, kept accounts, and ate alone in his room, and when invited to join the family circle the party was far from a cheerful one. The baron sat there like a lump of ice, a check upon all free and animated conversation.
Formerly Anton used to admire all the accessories of the family, the arrangement of their salons, and the elegant trifles around. Now, the self-same furniture stood in the drawing-room suite—even the little foreign birds had survived their winter journey—the same carpets, the same worsted-work, even the same perfume was there; but now the very birds seemed to him rather bores than otherwise, and soon nothing about the room interested him but the share he had himself had in putting it in order.
Anton had brought with him a profound respect for the polished tone, the easy conversation, and the graceful forms of social intercourse that prevailed in the family circle.