“Yes, indeed, a very rich man,” said Marie. “In the last few weeks I have had my property estimated, and it would at least bring three hundred thousand dollars.”
“If the baron only possessed this, he could pay his creditors, and have a small amount over, sufficient to live upon economically and genteelly. But you would rather enjoy splendor, and are not particular about living honorably. You will undoubtedly sell your property, and go to Paris, to revel in luxury and pleasure, while your defrauded creditors may, through you come to poverty and want.—Baron, I now see that your wife did well to bring about my removal. I should have, above all things, given you the unwelcome advice to sustain your honor unblemished, and dispose of your costly surroundings for the benefit of your creditors, that when you die it may be with a clear conscience. You prefer a life of luxury and ease, rocking your conscience to sleep until God will rouse it to a fearful awaking. But do as you like. I came here to offer you assistance, thinking that you would dispose of this property, and after paying your creditors have sufficient to live upon. Then I could be permitted to prove my fidelity to you. I now see that I was a fool. Yet in parting I will still beg of you to avoid the unfavorable impression of this dinner. The bill of exchange will be presented at four o’clock, and the bearer will not be satisfied with the excuse of your non-payment on account of dinner-company. You will be obliged to settle at once or be arrested. I have learned this from your chief creditor, and I begged him to have forbearance for you. I shall now justify him in showing you none, as you do not deserve it!—Farewell!”
The old book-keeper turned with a slight nod, and strode away through the drawing-room.
“Have you nothing to say to him? Will you let him go thus?” asked Marie, impetuously.
“Nothing at all. What should I say?” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“Then I will speak with him.” Marie called loudly after Splittgerber, saying, “I have a word to speak to you.”
The book-keeper remained standing near the door, and turning with downcast face, demanded of Marie what she wished.
“I have something to tell you,” she replied, with her usual tranquil, proud demeanor, approaching Splittgerber, who regarded her with severity and contempt, which she met with a gentle, friendly expression, a sweet smile hovering on her lips.
Marie came close up to the old man, who awaited her with haughty defiance, and never advanced one step to meet her—a lady splendidly bedecked with diamonds and gold-embroidered satin. She whispered a few words in his ear. He started, and, astonished, looked into her face, as if questioning what he heard. She nodded, smiling, and bent again to say a few words.
Suddenly Splittgerber seemed metamorphosed. His gloomy face brightened a little, and his insolent glance was changed to one of deep emotion, Bowing profoundly as he held the baroness’s proffered hand to take leave, he pressed it most respectfully to his lips.