“Yes,” she replied, composedly, “not only hate, but scorn. Hush! no response. You knew it long before I was forced to stand at the altar with you. I warned you not to unite yourself to me, and you had the impious audacity to defy me with your riches. The seed of hate which you then sowed, you may to-day reap the fruits of. You shall recognize now that money is miserable trash, and that when deprived of it you will never win sympathy from your so-called friends, but they will turn from you with contempt, when you crave their pity or aid.”
“I think that you exaggerate, dearest,” said Ebenstreit, fawningly. “You have many devoted friends among the ladies, and I can well say that I have found, among the distinguished gentlemen who visit our house, many noble, excellent ones who have met me with a warmth of friendship—”
“Because they would borrow money of the rich man,” interrupted Marie.
“Of course my coffers have always been accessible to my dear friends, and I prized the honor of proving my friendship by my deeds.”
“You will realize to-day how they prove their gratitude to you for it. Go, receive the good friends whom you have invited. It is time that they were here, and I perceive the carriages are approaching.”
Marie motioned to the door, with a dictatorial wave of her hand, and Ebenstreit betook himself to the reception-room. Just as he crossed the threshold, the usher announced “Herr Gedicke! Ebenstreit greeted him hastily in passing, and the old man went on to meet the baroness, who was hastening toward him.
“You have most graciously invited me to your house to-day, and you will excuse me that my earnest wish to see you has brought me earlier than any other guest.”
“I begged you to come a quarter of an hour sooner, for I would gladly speak with you alone a few moments.”
“I thought so, and hastened up here.”
“Did not my old Trude go to see you some days since?” asked Marie, timidly.