"You will never be able to do so, my poor, my beloved husband," cried the baroness, weeping, and throwing her arms about the baron's neck, while he sank down annihilated, and laid his head on her breast like a little child.
"I must know whether Wohlfart knows of this proposal, and what he says to it," cried Lenore, decidedly; "and, if you allow me, father, I will at once send for him." As the baron did not reply, she rang the bell for the servant, and left the room to meet him at the door.
Fink sat, meanwhile, in Anton's room, amusing himself with rallying his friend. "Since you have given up smoking, your good angel has deserted you, after having so torn his hair at your stiff-neckedness that there he is now sitting bewigged among the angel choir. As for you, your punishment is to be the having your soul sewed up in a turnip-leaf, and daily smoked by the smallest imps in the pit."
"Have you been a member of some pious fraternity in America, that you are so well acquainted with the proceedings of the spiritual world?" inquired Anton, looking up from his account-book.
"Silence!" said Fink; "formerly there were, at least, occasional hours when you could trifle too, but now you are always carrying on your everlasting book-keeping, and, by Tantalus, all for nothing—for nothing at all!"
The servant entered, and summoned Anton to the baron.
As the latter left the room, Fink called out, "Apropos; I have offered to rent the five hundred acres from the baron at two dollars and half the acre—the land to be made over in five years' time on repayment of the capital expended, either in money or by a mortgage. Off with you, my boy!"
When Anton entered the baron's apartment, he found the baroness at her husband's side, his hand in hers, while Lenore walked restlessly up and down the room. "Have you heard of the offer that Herr von Fink has made to my father?" asked she.
"He has this moment told me of it," replied Anton. The baron made a face.
"And is it your opinion that my father ought to accept the offer?"