“I had asked him to lend me five hundred dollars, and to appoint an hour when I might call for the money. He named ten o’clock, and I went to his house, merely to leave it an hour after in a towering passion and with empty hands. Oh, it is infamous, it is dreadful! It is—”
At that moment the door opened, and the footman entered.
“From his excellency. General von Schulenburg-Kehnert,” he said, delivering to Gentz a small sealed package and a letter. “The servant who brought it has left, as he said no reply was required.”
Gentz beckoned his servant to withdraw, and he then hastily opened the package.
“Twelve fifty-dollar bills!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “One hundred dollars more than I had asked for! That is very kind, indeed.”
“May be he does not give it to you, but merely lends it to you,” said Gualtieri, smiling.
“Lend it to me!” exclaimed Gentz, scornfully. “People don’t lend any money to me, because they know that I am unable to pay it back; people reward me, sir; they show their gratitude toward me in a substantial manner, but they are not so mean as to lend me what I ask for.”
“Does the minister tell you so in his letter?” asked Gualtieri, dryly.
“Ah! that is true. I have not yet read the letter,” said Gentz, breaking the seal. While he was reading it, a slight blush suffused his cheeks, and an expression of shame overspread his features. “Here, read it,” he murmured, handing the letter to his friend.
Gualtieri took it and read as follows: