"Anton," said Heinrich, during the packing, "didn't you see anything of Princess Ottilie on your way through H----?"
"No, Herr Baron. She seldom drives out, for she is much worse than she used to be."
"Anton, for Heaven's sake, do me the favor not to tell any one that! Do you hear? Finish the packing, and then go this very night to the Hohmeier'sche Restaurant; there you will find the valet of the prince's confessor, Ehrhardt,--they will point him out to you if you ask for him; join him as if by chance. Tell him about H----, and turn the conversation upon the Princess Ottilie. Then say what you know of her beauty, her piety, etc. See that you have as many listeners as possible,--the more the better. Speak of her hair, her eyes, but especially her generosity; in short, make their mouths water, but do not allow any design to be perceived."
"I understand, Herr Baron," said Anton, smiling. "I'll manage as carefully as possible, and to-morrow the whole city shall be full of the princess's praises."
"That is right, my old friend. I don't think you forgot anything in the village," said Heinrich, well pleased.
He wanted to see Cornelia again, but the evening was spent in making various preparations for his journey, and his plan of obtaining Ottilie for the prince required thought and time for consideration. He would compensate himself for the sacrifice after his return, and meantime devote himself entirely to his mission. "How am I to appear before her?--how am I to woo her for another without offending her, when I know that she has loved me, perhaps does still?" This question engrossed his mind, and its difficulties had a peculiar charm for him.
In the course of the evening a court official brought a bill of exchange for five thousand florins for "Count Ottmar's steward, Albert Preheim." The prince had given him this sum from his own private purse as a sort of compensation for his sufferings. He would not allow himself to be humbled by Heinrich's proud reserve, and thus made amends for the injustice which had thrown Albert entirely upon Heinrich for assistance.
Albert's joy knew no bounds, but his gratitude to Heinrich, whom he considered the indirect cause of this favor, was even greater. Thus they set out on their journey, Albert and Anton as happy men, while he to whom both owed their good fortune, whom both loved and honored, knew no happiness, no peace, destitute of support in himself, and unsympathizing even towards those to whom he showed kindness. Already the city lay behind him. He looked back towards Cornelia's house, from thence the dawn would crimson the horizon, from thence his sun would rise to pour light and warmth upon him, and with foreboding longing he gazed over the snow-covered fields towards the golden streaks in the east. The morning air blew icily over his brow; here and there under the snow lay dry branches of frozen weeds; not a bird, not an insect, was stirring far or near: frozen nature was silently awaiting the spring. It was even so with him. His mission, his petty intrigues, everything at that moment retreated into the background, and covered itself with the icy mantle of eternal indifference. From that strip of light life must come to rescue him and lure fresh germs from the frozen clods. The rising sun threw its rosy glimmer into his eyes till they filled with tears; it seemed as if they flowed from his own breast, as if his own feelings and not the light had called them forth, and he might shed more. But he was mistaken, for when he turned his eyes from the dazzling rays the treacherous fountain dried. The unfeeling man could not weep: the blessing of tears was denied him; and the vanished spell left the egotist cold and unsatisfied.