He reached a miniature lake, embosomed among proud, old firs, its surface glassy as a mirror held aloft by the nixies to the sky. Tall reeds with brown heads fringed its shores, and nodded to the white waterlilies reposing among their flat, green leaves. Perfect silence reigned; not only did the stately firs preserve their customary, dignified quiet, but even the leafy trees were too listless to-day to exhale their wonted 'murmur mixed with sighs.' Each leaf drooped wearily. No bird uttered a note, the stillness was as profound as in mid-winter. Nature lay motionless, no audible pulse throbbing, sunk, as it seemed, in a mysterious swoon.
Fritz sat down upon a bench rudely constructed of birch boughs, and gazed dreamily around. As always when alone, his thoughts reverted to the past, and now he smiled at a memory of langsyne. He recalled how as a child he had tried here to learn from the gardener's sons how to skip pebbles on the surface of the water. He had succeeded but ill; his pebbles all sunk directly to the bottom. He remembered too that very near this small lake there was once a little hut with a mossgrown, shingled roof, resting upon four fir-tree trunks. There the little Malzins had played Robinson Crusoe; the hut had been a fort besieged by savages. Perhaps it was no longer in existence; Capriani might have had it cleared away; Fritz arose to look for it.
It was still there; he could see the gilt crescent sparkling on the gable of the old, shingled roof. As he approached it he heard voices, and would have withdrawn, had he not recognized them as those of his wife and Capriani. In some irritation he drew nearer, but found nothing to justify any interference; Charlotte was sitting busy with some sewing, while the Conte was talking to her,--that was all.
When Fritz, with his pale face of disapproval appeared in the doorway of the summer-house, an ugly smile passed over the features of the Conte. "You come in the nick of time," Capriani said carelessly, and without the least embarrassment. "Sit down, we were just talking about you."
"Indeed? very kind," murmured Fritz, taking a seat, and glancing rather sternly at his wife.
"We were just speaking of your children. Hm, my dear Malzin,"--the Conte stroked his long whiskers,--"have you laid by anything for those youngsters?"
Fritz cast down his eyes. "How could I have done so?" he rejoined in a monotone.
"You certainly might lay by something from your present salary," the Conte said with emphasis.
"You seem entirely to forget that I have only had my present salary for two months," said Fritz bluntly.
The Conte bit his lip. "Oho!" he exclaimed, "have I offended you again? I assure you I mean well, very well by you. Tell me your views with regard to the future of your children."