"But I must remain behind," said the baron.
"And I rejoice that I, too, have seen our young master," continued Sturm, more fluently; "for you know that he was our young master then. You trusted my Karl with the whole management of the farm, and so it was an honor for me to be able to show that I trusted your son."
"It was wrong of him to borrow money from you," said the baron, shaking his head. And this he said, because he had often heard old Sturm's comforting reply, and longed to hear it again.
The giant laid his tool aside, ran his hand through his hair, and tried to look very bold as he began, in a light-hearted tone, "Do you know, sir, that one must make allowance for a young gentleman? Youth will be wild. Many have to borrow money in their young days, particularly when they wear such a beautiful coat, with silver fringe upon it. We were no niggards either, baron," he continued, deprecatingly, gently tapping the blind man's knee with his tool. "And the young officer was very polite, and I believe that he was somewhat bashful. And when I gave him the money, I could see how sorry he was to want it. I gave it him all the more readily. Then, when I helped him into the drosky, and he leaned out of the carriage, I can assure you he was much moved, and reached out both of his little hands to clasp my fist, and shake it once more. And while he was sitting there, the light fell on his face—a sweet, kind face it was, something like yours, and still more like the baroness, as far as I have been able to see her."
The blind man, too, stretched out his hands to grasp the porter's fist. Sturm pushed his bench forward, took the baron's hands in his right one, and stroked them with his left. Both sat silent, side by side.
At last the baron began with broken voice to say, "You were the last who showed kindness to my Eugene. I thank you for it from my inmost heart. An unfortunate, broken-down man thanks you. So long as I live I shall implore the blessing of the Most High on your head. My son will never support my feeble footsteps in my old age, but Heaven has preserved a good son to you. All the blessings that I wished for my poor Eugene, I now pray to God may be the portion of your Karl."
Sturm wiped his eyes, and then clasped the baron's hands again. The two fathers sat together in silence, till, with a sigh, the baron rose. Sturm carefully took his arm, and led him through yard and meadow to the castle terrace; for there is a road now up to the tower—a road with a stone parapet, and the door can be reached by carriages and on foot. Sturm rings the bell, the baron's valet hurries down, and leads his master up the steps, for Father Sturm still finds a staircase hard work.
Meanwhile a carriage stops in the farm-yard. Karl respectfully hurries from his room, and the new proprietor jumps down.
"Good-day, sergeant," cried Fink; "how goes it in the castle and on the farm? How are the Fräulein and the baroness?"
"All right," reported Karl, "only the baroness is very feeble. We have been expecting you for a week past. The family have been daily asking whether there were any tidings of you."