“Nonsense!” said Conrad, taking the letter; “the professor is as bashful as a young girl. To read one’s praise, is no shame. Now listen: ‘My dear and honored professor, will you allow one of your pupils to seek a favor from you? I am rich! God has enriched you with the rarest gifts of mind and heart, but He has not bestowed outward wealth upon you. Your salary is not large, but your heart is so great and noble, that you give the little you possess to the poor and suffering, and care for others while you yourself need care. Allow me, my much-loved master, something of that same happiness which you enjoy. Grant me the pleasure of offering you (who divide your bread with the poor, and your last thaler with the suffering) a small addition to your salary, and begging you to use it so long as God leaves you upon earth, to be the delight of your scholars, and the pride of Germany. The banker Farenthal has orders to pay to you quarterly the sum of two hundred thalers; you will to-morrow receive the first instalment.”
“‘YOUR GRATEFUL AND ADMIRING PUPIL.’”
“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried Conrad, waving the paper aloft. “Now we are rich, we can live comfortably, without care. Oh, I will take care of you, and you must drink a glass of wine every day, in order to become strong, and I will bring your dinner from the best eating-house, that you may enjoy your meal in peace and quiet in your own room.”
“Gently, gently, Conrad!” said Gellert, smiling. “In your delight over the money, you forget the noble giver. Who can it be? Who among my pupils is so rich and so delicate, as to bestow so generously, and in such a manner?”
“It is some one who does not wish us to know his name, professor,” cried Conrad, gayly; “and we will not break our hearts over it. But now, sir, we will not content ourselves with bread and coffee; we are rich, and we need not live so poorly! I will go to the eating-house and bring you a nice broiled capon, and some preserved fruit, and a glass of wine.”
“It is true,” said Gellert, well pleased; “a capon would strengthen me, and a glass of wine; but no, Conrad, we will have the coffee; we have no money to pay for such a meal.”
“Well, we can borrow it! To-morrow you will receive the first quarterly payment of your pension, and then I will pay for your dinner.”
“No, Conrad, no!” said Gellert, firmly. “You should never eat what you cannot pay for immediately. Go to the kitchen and make the coffee.” Conrad was on the point of going discontentedly to obey the command of his master, when a loud and hasty ring was heard at the outer door of the professor’s modest lodging.
“Perhaps the banker has sent the money to-day,” cried Conrad, as he hurried off, whilst Gellert again took the letter and examined the handwriting.
But Conrad returned, looking very important.