I silently returned the letter to my friend.
He rose, and said as quietly as before: "Now you know why I am going to remain in Europe. Good-by for the present."
But when we had taken each other's hand in silence, the proud reserved man broke down utterly. With a low heart-broken sob, he ejaculated:
"Why couldn't it have been otherwise? Why?..."
I know not what answer to make to this question any more than he did, and so I do not venture to add another word to the story of Rachel Welt, who used to be known in Barnow by the name of "Esterka Regina."
"BARON SCHMULE."
(1874.)
When driving from Barnow toward the south, to Bukowina or Moldavia, a grand castle may be seen perched on the top of a hill at about three hours'[7] distance from Barnow. It is situated near Z——, at which place the highroad crosses the Dniester, and it stands so high that its white walls and shimmering windows may be seen from a great distance. It is surrounded by beautiful pleasure-grounds, which extend over the hill, and stretch far out into the plain below. It is, perhaps, the most beautiful place in Podolia, and is certainly better kept up than any other. Its owner is known far and wide as "Baron Schmule;" for although he is now the powerful Freiherr Sigismund von Ronnicki, he began life as Schmule Runnstein.
His success was rapid and wonderful, for he went straight as an arrow toward his object, without wasting time by looking to the right hand or to the left. Very few people can do that. Most men resemble tops, for they are quite satisfied with making rapid and noisy gyrations, and do not perceive that they never leave the spot from which they started, but are only turning round and round upon their own axis; while the arrow, which Baron Schmule resembled, neither hastens nor lags in its flight, but makes straight for the mark. Putting metaphor aside, let me say that Baron Schmule knew what he wanted, and attained the object for which he strove as quickly and certainly as if he had had two eyes to guide him on his way instead of one.