"What is your opinion?" said the baron, turning to his wife.
"Choose what will soonest set you free from this estate—from the care, the gloom, the insecurity which are secretly preying on you. Let us go to some distant land, where men's passions are less hideously developed. Let us go far away; we shall be more peaceful in the narrowest circumstances than we are here."
"Thus, then, you advise the acceptance of his offer," said the baron. "He who rents a part will soon undertake the whole."
"And pay us a pension!" cried Lenore.
"You are a foolish girl," said her father. "You both excite yourselves, which is unnecessary. The offer is too important to be refused or accepted offhand. I will weigh the matter more narrowly. Your Wohlfart will have plenty of time to examine the conditions," added he, more good-humoredly.
"Listen, dear father, to what Wohlfart has already spoken, and respect what he keeps back."
"Yes, yes, he shall be listened to," said the baron. "And now good-night, both of you. I will reconsider the matter."
"He will accept," said Lenore to her mother; "he will accept, because Wohlfart has dissuaded him, and because the other offers him ready money. Mother, why did you not say that we could never look the stranger in the face if he gave us alms in our very house?"
"I have no longer any pride or any hope," replied her mother, in a low voice.
As Anton slowly re-entered his room, Fink called out cheerfully, "How goes it, man of business? Am I to be tenant, or will the baron himself undertake the matter? He would like it dearly. In that case, I lay claim to compensation—free room for myself and my horse as long as they play at war hereabouts."