Entering the large hall, Mrs. Maxa was filled with deep emotion. Here she had spent the most beautiful days of her childhood in delicious games with the unforgettable Leonore and the two young Barons. Everything was as it had been then. The large stone table in the middle, the stone benches on the walls and the niches with the old knights of Wallerstätten stood there as of yore.
When she went into the dining-hall, everything looked bare and empty. The portraits of ancestors had been taken from the walls and the glinting pewter plates and goblets were gone from the large oaken sideboard. Mrs. Maxa shook her head.
Going up the stairs, she decided first of all to go to the Baron's rooms, for she wondered what care he was receiving. Rigid with consternation, she stopped under the doorway. What a room it was! Not the tiniest picture was on the wall and not a single small rug lay on the uneven boards. Nothing but an empty bedstead, an old wicker chair and a table which had plainly been dragged there from the servants' quarters, comprised the furniture. Mrs. Maxa looked again to make sure that it was really the Baron's room. There was no doubt of it, it was the balcony room in the tower. Where did the Baron sleep?
As the sight proved more than she could bear, she quickly sought the late Baroness' chamber. Here, too, everything was empty and the red plush-covered chairs and the sofa in the corner over which all the pictures of the children used to hang were gone. Only an empty bedstead stood in the corner.
Mrs. Maxa went next to Leonore's room, which used to be extremely pretty. Lovely pictures used to hang on the walls, chairs covered in light blue silk were standing about, a half-rounded bed was placed in a corner, and she remembered the dearest little desk on which two flower vases, always filled with fresh roses, used to stand. Mrs. Maxa did not even go in this time, it was too horribly forlorn. The only thing which still spoke of old times was the wallpaper with the tiny red and blue flowers. She quickly went out. Throwing a single glance at the large ball-room, she likened it to a dreary desert. Not a curtain, not a chair or painting could be seen. Where could all the valuable damask-covered furniture have gone to? Was it possible that the castle had been robbed and no one knew of it?
It was probable, however, that Mr. Trius did not know about anything, and it was plain that the Baron himself had not troubled about these things. Mrs. Maxa hurriedly went back to him.
"To what a dreary home you have come back, my poor friend!" she cried out, "and I know that your mother never wished you to find it like this. How unhappy you must have felt when you entered these walls after so many years! You cannot help feeling miserable here, and it is all quite incomprehensible to me."
"Not to me," the Baron quietly replied; "I somehow felt it had to be that way. Did I value my home before? It is a just retribution to me to find the place so empty and forlorn. I only returned to die here and I can await death in daytime on my chair out here and at night time in my nest. I need nothing further; but death has not come as quickly as I thought it would. Why are you trying to bring me back to life again?"
"This is what I decidedly mean to do, so we shall banish the subject of death from now on, as I confidently believe that our Lord in Heaven has other plans for you," Mrs. Maxa said decisively. "I can see for myself that it is better for Leonore to stay with us, and I am ever so happy for your permission. May I write the ladies in Hanover that you do not want Leonore to be fetched away for the present?"
The Baron heartily gave this permission.