



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books










Transcriber's Note:

   1. Moritz von Reichenbach is the pseudonymn for Valeska
      (von Reiswitz-Kaderzin) Bethusy-Huc

   2. Page scan source:
      http://books.google.com/books?id=bXs5AAAAMAAJ&dq

   3. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].





                   Mrs. A. L. Wister's Translations.

                     12mo. Cloth, $1.00 per volume.


   Countess Erika's Apprenticeship                By Ossip Schubin.
   "O Thou, My Austria!"                          By Ossip Schubin.
   Erlach Court                                   By Ossip Schubin.
   The Alpine Fay                                     By E. Werner.
   The Owl's Nest                                    By E. Marlitt.
   Picked Up In The Streets                         By H. Schobert.
   Saint Michael                                      By E. Werner.
   Violetta                           By Ursula Zoge von Manteufel.
   The Lady With The Rubies                          By E. Marlitt.
   Vain Forebodings                                   By E. Oswald.
   A Penniless Girl                                 By W. Heimburg.
   Quicksands                                 By Adolph Streckfuss.
   Banned And Blessed                                 By E. Werner.
   A Noble Name                               By Claire von Gluemer.
   From Hand To Hand                               By Golo Raimund.
   Severa                                            By E. Hartner.
   A New Race                                      By Golo Raimund.
   The Eichhofs                          By Moritz von Reichenbach.
   Castle Hohenwald                           By Adolph Streckfuss.
   Margarethe                                        By E. Juncker.
   Too Rich                                   By Adolph Streckfuss.
   A Family Feud                                  By Ludwig Harder.
   The Green Gate                                 By Ernst Wichert.
   Only A Girl                           By Wilhelmine von Hillern.
   Why Did He Not Die?                      By Ad. von Volckhauser.
   Hulda                                           By Fanny Lewald.
   The Bailiff's Maid                                By E. Marlitt.
   In The Schillingscourt                            By E. Marlitt.
   Countess Gisela                                   By E. Marlitt.
   At The Councillor's                               By E. Marlitt.
   The Second Wife                                   By E. Marlitt.
   The Old Mam'selle's Secret                        By E. Marlitt.
   Gold Elsie                                        By E. Marlitt.
   The Little Moorland Princess                      By E. Marlitt.

                           *   *   *   *   *

"Mrs. A. L. Wister, through her many translations of novels from the
German, has established a reputation of the highest order for literary
judgment, and for a long time her name upon the title-page of such a
translation has been a sufficient guarantee to the lovers of fiction of
a pure and elevating character, that the novel would be a cherished
home favorite. This faith in Mrs. Wister is fully justified by the fact
that among her more than thirty translations that have been published
by Lippincott's there has not been a single disappointment. And to the
exquisite judgment of selection is to be added the rare excellence of
her translations, which has commanded the admiration of literary and
linguistic scholars."--_Boston Home Journal_.

                           *   *   *   *   *

                J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.






                             THE EICHHOFS

                               A ROMANCE


                            FROM THE GERMAN
                                   OF
                         MORITZ VON REICHENBACH


                                   BY
                           MRS. A. L. WISTER
     TRANSLATOR OF "THE SECOND WIFE," "THE OLD MAM'SELLE'S SECRET,"
                       "ONLY A GIRL," ETC., ETC.




                             PHILADELPHIA:
                       J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
                                 1896.





                           *   *   *   *   *
               Copyright, 1881, by J. B. Lippincott & Co.
                           *   *   *   *   *






                               CONTENTS.


   CHAPTER
       I. Shadows of Coming Events

      II. Two Discontented Fathers

     III. Hidden Springs

      IV. Gossip

       V. Marriage

      VI. A Farewell Glass and a Death-bed

     VII. Unexpected

    VIII. At The Tomb

      IX. Cloudy Weather at Eichhof

       X. Found and Lost

      XI. Thea Rounds her First Promontory

     XII. Another Promontory Comes In Sight

    XIII. A Period put to a Long Row of Figures

     XIV. The Mistress of Eichhof and her Guests

      XV. In Berlin

     XVI. Revelations and their Consequences

    XVII. The Consequences begin to Appear

   XVIII. An Eventful Day

     XIX. The Shadows Gather

      XX. Dr. Nordstedt

     XXI. Summer Days

    XXII. A Crisis

   XXIII. A Short Chapter, with a Far Glance into the Future

    XXIV. Per Crucem ad Lucem

   CONCLUSION






                             THE EICHHOFS.



                               CHAPTER I.

                       SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS.


In a box of the Berlin Opera-House sat three young officers. All wore
the uniform of the same regiment of the Guards, and all three were
directing their opera-glasses towards the same opposite box.

"The girl has just got home from boarding-school, and will have a _dot_
of half a million in cash," observed Lieutenant von Hohenstein,
dropping his opera-glass.

"The deuce she will! No end of pity that I am such an infernal
aristocrat,--it would be such a fine morsel for a poor younger son,"
said the younger of the Von Eichhof brothers, with a laugh, as he
stroked his blonde moustache. "She has a good figure, too, and any
amount of fire in her eyes."

"True," said his elder brother; "but why under heaven does the portly
mamma, with her double chin, and huge satin-clad bust, plant herself so
close to her Rose of Sharon, proclaiming to all the world, 'As she is
now so was I once, and as I am now so shall she one day be'?"

"Take warning, Hohenstein," laughed Lothar Eichhof.

"Pshaw! there's no danger," the other replied, leaning back in his
comfortable chair and stretching his long legs as far out as the limits
of the box would allow.

"Councillor Kohnheim greeted you with extreme affability, I thought,
just now, and you are well informed as to the financial affairs of the
family," Lothar persisted, in a teasing tone.

Hohenstein put up his hand to conceal a yawn. Among his peculiarities
was that of being bored everywhere and always.

"Kohnheim thinks wealth no disgrace, and loves to acquaint people with
the amount of his own," he said. "Besides, he is my landlord; of course
we are acquainted. To my German eyes, however, the ladies are of too
Oriental a type. I have no desire to know them."

"Thank heaven! then there is nothing to fear from that quarter. I
confess it vexes me when one of our good old names is allied to such a
family."

"Make your mind easy on my account," rejoined Herr von Hohenstein. "I
do not undervalue wealth, but I prize blood rather more."

Lothar Eichhof meanwhile was scanning the house, while his elder
brother, Bernhard, had withdrawn into the shadow, and was steadily
scrutinizing through his glass the foreign ambassadors' box. He now
dropped his glass, shook his head, then put up his glass again, and
finally said, more to himself than to his companions, "That is--Marzell
Wronsky--and---- He bit his lip, and did not finish the sentence.

"Marzell Wronsky?" Lothar repeated. "Where?" But as he spoke he
discovered him. "I did not know he had come back!" he exclaimed. "I
wonder if the handsome blonde beside him is his wife?"

"Probably," said Hohenstein. "Where does the lady come from? Marzell's
marriage was so sudden that one hardly knows anything about it."

"She is a kind of cousin of his," said Lothar, "with a Polish name,
ending in 'ky' or 'ka,' and was formerly married to a Hungarian, who
either died or was divorced from her. Marzell met her last year at
Wiesbaden, and shortly afterwards they were betrothed and married."

"And where has he been hiding since?"

"He has been travelling with his bride. I must go over and see them in
the next entr'acte. You will come, too?"

"Of course; this new addition to society must be inspected."

Bernhard Eichhof had taken no part in the conversation, but had
frequently glanced towards the box where the persons under discussion
were sitting. When, at the close of the act, the other two men arose,
with the evident intention of visiting its occupants, he sat still, in
apparent indecision.

"Well, are you not coming?" asked Lothar "Marzell is more your friend
than ours. I confess I am going more from curiosity than from
friendship."

Bernhard looked over at the box once more. "They are just rising;
perhaps they are going to leave the house," he said, hesitating.

"Yes, they seem to be going," said Hohenstein, resuming his seat.

"Well, then, I will go and reconnoitre," said Lothar, "and if you see
me in the box you two can come over."

In five minutes he returned. "The Wronskys are really gone. Marzell
seems to have adopted high and mighty manners since his marriage. He
puts in an appearance only during a single act. However, we shall
certainly see his wife at Eichhof, if we should fail to meet her here."

"Quite time enough for the acquaintance. I have scarcely seen Marzell
since the old school-boy days, and am not at all intimate with him
now," Bernhard remarked.

If his two companions had been less occupied with the new prima-donna,
and with the champagne supper at a noted restaurant after the opera was
over, they must have noticed that Bernhard was unusually absent-minded
and monosyllabic all through the evening. But his mood was entirely
unnoticed by them,--all the more since several brother officers joined
their party, which did not break up until long past midnight.

When at last the young men separated, the two brothers Von Eichhof
walked together to their apartments, at present beneath the same roof,
and for a while not a word was exchanged between them.

Then the younger asked, suddenly, "Shall I tell you the news, Bernhard?
I'm at the end of my income,--the last thaler went to-night."

Bernhard turned with some impatience. "Lothar," he exclaimed,
reproachfully, "this is really too much! When I helped you out last
month you promised me----"

"Come, come, my dear fellow, there's no use in that," Lothar
interrupted him. "I know as well as you do that I partake largely of
the character of the domestic fly, provided, indeed, that that insect
is endowed with a character. I frisk in the sunshine and buzz or
grumble in the shade."

"I cannot understand your jesting in such a matter, Lothar."

"But what am I to do, then?" the other rejoined. "Whether I indulge in
poor jokes or sit in sackcloth and ashes, the confounded fact remains
the same. 'All I have is gone, gone, gone,'" he hummed, _sotto voce_;
but suddenly he grew grave and sighed. "Shall I go to-morrow to Herr
Solomon Landsberger, who has often and with great kindness offered to
give me his valuable assistance?" he asked.

They walked a few steps farther in silence, and then Bernhard said, "I
can't understand what becomes of your money. You have apartments just
like mine and live very much the same life that I do."

"With the exception of the extra bills, which I dare not send to
Eichhof."

Bernhard made an impatient gesture, but Lothar went on: "I know what
you mean. You mean that I ought to think of the future, when our
positions will be so different. I ought to consider that what is all
right for the future possessor of Eichhof is supreme folly for a petty
lieutenant. All true and just; but why the deuce, then, did our father
put me in the same regiment with yourself? and why does every one
expect exactly the same from the poor lieutenant as from the eldest son
and heir? and why are people so infernally stupid as not to take into
account the immense difference between us?"

"It was certainly unfortunate," said Bernhard, "that you joined just
this regiment; no doubt you are led here into many expenses that can
hardly be avoided; but still----"

"Well, then, I'd better go to friend Solomon to-morrow, and try my luck
with him," Lothar interrupted him.

Bernhard stamped his foot impatiently.

"Don't talk nonsense!" he exclaimed. "Of course I shall help you out,
since, as you justly remark, I may send in extra accounts when I
please; but pray listen to reason, Lothar. You know that we shall
shortly cease to live here together. When I marry I can no longer
place my means at your disposal as at present."

"Ah, when Thea is your wife, I shall quarter myself upon you so soon as
my money is gone. It usually lasts until the twentieth of the month,
and then I shall ensconce myself in your happy home. But I have not
thanked you yet. Indeed, old fellow, you are a brick of a brother. Then
I need not pay my respects to friend Solomon to-morrow?"

Meanwhile they had reached their lodgings, and, as Bernhard was putting
his key in the lock, he said, "I will help you through this time,
Lothar, but remember it is the last. You must learn prudence, and it is
in direct opposition to my principles to encourage this perpetual
getting into debt. I did not, as you know, make the laws controlling
inheritance, and I cannot alter the fact that our circumstances will be
very different in the future. But I say now only just what I should say
were you in my place and I in yours. Every man must cut his coat
according to his cloth."

"And if one is a six-footer and has only a scrap of cloth, he is in a
desperate case," thought Lothar; but he kept his thought to himself,
and softly whistled an opera air as he entered their apartments with
his brother.

"It's no end of a pity that we must leave our charming quarters so
soon," he sighed, as he threw himself upon a lounge in their joint
drawing-room, which was certainly most luxuriously fitted up for a
bachelor establishment, while Bernhard opened and read, with a smile, a
letter lying upon his table.

Lothar watched him for a moment, then folded his arms and raised his
eyes to the ceiling, with an expression half resignation and half
disdain, while his thoughts ran somewhat thus: "Of course that is a
letter from Thea. What under the sun can that little country girl have
to say to him? A deuced pretty girl, and she'll make a capital wife.
It's very odd that I'm not angry with her, for there's not another
creature in the world so confoundedly in my way. If it were not for
her, we should keep our comfortable lodgings, and Bernhard, who is
certainly a trump, would go on paying my bills; and, besides, he has
grown so infernally serious since he has had that little witch's
betrothal-ring on his finger; before then we lived a jolly life enough.
It is all Thea's fault,--his immense gravity, his ceasing to pay my
debts, and our having to give up our delightful rooms. It is,
therefore, Thea who prevents my enjoying my youth, as I should do
otherwise, and yet, in spite of all this, I am rather fond of her. But
it is not my nature to bear malice towards any woman, even although she
be such an unformed little country girl as Thea, who certainly might
have been content to wait a few years longer."

"Bernhard," he suddenly said aloud, "I will withdraw to my inmost
apartment, and leave you to your letter and to dreams of future
petticoat rule."

Bernhard put his letter in his pocket. "I have finished," he said, "and
am going to bed. Thea sends her love to you."

"Of course," yawned Lothar; "thanks. We'll talk about the other matter
to-morrow?"

"Yes. Good-night, Lothar."

"Good-night, old fellow."




                               CHAPTER II.

                        TWO DISCONTENTED FATHERS.


A forest bridle-path. The ground is covered with gnarled, twisted
roots, and the way is bordered with dark pines, and firs somewhat
lighter in tone, between which only a narrow strip of spring sky shines
down upon the two riders pursuing the dim pathway. Their horses, slowly
walking abreast, seem by no means content to saunter thus; the chestnut
upon which the man is mounted champs its bit impatiently, and the gray
by its side pricks its ears, but the girl upon the back of the latter
is as interested as her companion in the conversation going on between
them, and neither pays any heed to the signs of their steeds'
impatience, while the groom riding at some distance behind them is
enjoying a huge sandwich that he has produced from his pocket, in full
security from observation.

"It is too vexatious to know nothing about it all!" the girl exclaimed.
"I am almost ashamed never to have been in Berlin."

"But, good heavens, you are so young, Adela!" her companion rejoined.

"If we are to continue friends, Walter, you will not begin again about
my fifteen years, of which there can be no further mention after next
month, when I shall be sixteen," was the irritated reply. "I am in
reality much, much older, as you know, and I know that I look older.
Only the other day Lieutenant Muellheim took me for eighteen; and if
papa would only allow me to dress suitably, and if it were not for that
stupid Almanach de Gotha that tells everybody our ages----!" She sighed
pathetically.

Walter laughed. "That sigh would sound more natural from the lips of a
lady past her prime than from those of a budding girl in her teens," he
said; adding instantly, with a meaning glance at his companion, "You
must not look so angry with me, Adela dear. If you refuse to allow me
more license in speaking than you accord to the rest of the world, I
shall address you as Fraeulein von Hohenstein and think all our
good-comradeship at an end. Must I do so? In fact, you certainly are
too much of a great lady to be my 'good comrade' any longer." He spoke
without irony, and there was a mournful earnestness in his fine eyes.

She gave her horse a light cut with her whip, that his sudden start
might give her the chance to conceal the bright blush that overspread
her face. Then she looked up, half pouting, half in entreaty, and said,
"If you want to tease me, Walter, I can't see why you came for me to
ride; you might as well have stayed at home."

Walter smiled, and saluted with his riding-whip. "Well, then, let us be
good comrades for the future, as neighbors' children ought to be," he
cried.

Her reply was a merry glance from her blue eyes.

They had reached the borders of the forest, and before them a well-kept
road, bordered by fine old trees, led directly up to an imposing pile
of buildings.

"Let us have one more canter," said Adela; and away flew the two horses
so suddenly that the groom behind them was, in his surprise, nearly
choked by his last mouthful of sandwich, and followed his mistress
coughing and gasping all the way up the avenue to the court-yard, where
the two riders drew rein.

"It has really grown so late that I cannot come in with you," said
Walter. "I must hurry home; you know we are terribly punctual about our
meals at Eichhof."

"Well, then, good-by; for only a short time, I hope," said Adela,
giving her comrade her hand, and then vanishing with the groom behind
the court-yard gate, while Walter took the road to Eichhof.

He was the third and youngest son of the Baron or Freiherr von Eichhof.
A few days previously he had passed a brilliant preparatory examination
in Berlin, and was now spending a few weeks at Eichhof before leaving
home for some university.

As he rode on he looked so grave and thoughtful that one would hardly
have suspected in him the budding student for whom, so thinks the
world, everything must be _couleur de rose_. And yet it was the thought
of this very student-time that occupied Walter now day and night. He
knew that his father had destined him for the study of law, whilst his
own wishes led him in a contrary direction. He knew further that his
wishes would meet with obstinate opposition, and he had therefore
avoided hitherto all explanations with his father. This state of things
he felt could not possibly continue longer, and he was pondering, as he
rode on thus thoughtfully, how he should clearly explain his views.

Whilst Walter was preparing for a conversation with his father that
would in all probability be far from agreeable, Adela was in the midst
of an interview of a like nature.

The Baron von Hohenstein was in fact standing at the hall door as his
young daughter reached it. He was just inspecting some young horses of
his own breeding, from which he wished to select one for the use of his
son in the capital. A magnificent gelding that had been judged by him
quite worthy to support his son's soldierly form, and to maintain the
reputation of his stud, had just been discovered to be lame. The
Freiherr turned angrily from the horse to his daughter.

"You have been gone very long, Adela," he called to her. "And it's
great nonsense your riding half the day with Walter Eichhof; you're too
old for such pranks."

Adela curled her lip rebelliously as she dismounted, and without a word
took her father's arm and drew him with her into the house.

"Papa," she said, "you are always saying, 'You are not old enough for
this, you are too young for that,' and so on. What is the matter with
me, then, that I am always too old or too young?"

But the Freiherr was not disposed to jest to-day.

"Nonsense!" he growled. "I may not think you old enough to wear a
train, but you look sufficiently like a young lady to make people stare
when they see you always with that school-boy."

"I beg pardon, papa, Walter has passed his examination."

"What is that to me? The long and the short of it is, that I won't have
you riding with him."

"But, papa, Thea Rosen rode with Bernhard Eichhof when he was a
lieutenant and she was only sixteen."

"That's an entirely different affair. Theresa Rosen was afterwards
betrothed to Bernhard Eichhof, and has done very well for herself. But
when such rides end in no betrothal they are a great folly; and if a
fledgling scarcely out of the nest should have any entanglement with a
young fellow who has neither money nor prospects, it would be a greater
folly still; and I am not the man to allow my daughter to make such a
fool of herself."

Adela had grown pale, and she looked at her father in a kind of terror
as she left his side and slipped out of the room. What was all this?
Betrothal? Such a thing had never entered her head. And to Walter? It
was all perfect nonsense. Walter was her good comrade. What could put
such ideas into her papa's head? And must she give up the rides which
had been such a pleasure to her? No; it was simply impossible. She
would tell Thea and Alma Rosen about it. What would they say? And
Walter? Should she tell Walter too? She blushed, and discovered that it
would not be easy to tell Walter. And he really had grown very tall and
handsome since his last vacation. She must watch him, and see if he had
any idea of falling in love with her. How hard it was to have no mother
to turn to at such a time! Mademoiselle Belmont, her governess, was not
at all a person to invite confidence. Adela fell into a revery, and
then looked into her mirror.

"I wonder whether Walter noticed that I dress my hair differently?" she
thought; "and does he think it becoming? I can ask him that, at all
events, when I see him next."

Meanwhile poor Walter was thinking of anything rather than of the
fashion of Adela's hair.

The Countess Eichhof, his mother, had withdrawn to her room after
dinner, and Walter was sitting on the castle terrace with his father,
or, more correctly speaking, was walking restlessly to and fro, while
his father, leaning hack in a comfortable arm-chair, was smoking a
cigarette. Count Eichhof, in spite of his years and silvery hair, was a
tall, handsome man, with sparkling eyes and ruddy complexion. The early
bleaching of his locks was a family inheritance, and became excellently
well the present representative of the Eichhof estate and title.

In his youth the Count had been an officer in the Guards, in the same
regiment where were his two elder sons at present, and where he had so
enjoyed life as to become convinced that it was altogether a capital
invention, and might still be very entertaining even with three
grown-up sons about him. He was now watching with a kind of curiosity
the manner in which these same sons would turn it to account.

The eldest had betrothed himself quite young.

"He is a susceptible fellow,--he gets his temperament from me," the
Count said, with a laugh.

The second, Lothar, was forever at odds with his income, which never
sufficed for his expenses.

"He is sowing his wild oats with a free hand,--a regular
spendthrift,--but he gets that from me. I was just like him," the Count
said, and laughed again.

And now it was Walter's turn.

In conformity to the wishes of his mother, whose family were all
diplomatists and courtiers, he was not destined to enter the army, but
was to pursue a juridical career. The Countess already saw in him a
future ambassador or minister; the Count regarded him with a curious
mixture of compassion and resignation.

"Our youngest child really should have been a daughter," he was wont to
say. "Since that's impossible, they are going to make a quill-driver of
him. Well, well, there's no help for it. I must make some concessions,
and I had my own way with the two elder boys."

Thus, instead of entering a military school, Walter had been placed
under the care of a distant relative of the Count, residing in Berlin,
where he enjoyed the advantages of the principal preparatory school in
the capital, to the surprise of his father's 'good friends and
neighbors,' who thought that a first-class provincial establishment
would have served the boy's turn quite as well, and even better.

"It is a good thing for Walter to become familiar with the capital, and
to feel at home there while he is young," the Countess observed,
without explaining, or indeed understanding herself, in what this 'good
thing' consisted.

"Let him go to Berlin," thought the Count; "he'll have a chance there
to see his brothers and his cousins in the Guards more often than
elsewhere; and the deuce is in it if, after passing his examinations,
the boy does not 'boot and saddle' and be a soldier. I know I should
have done so in his place."

And now the 'boy' had reached this point of his career, and had already
been one week at home without uttering a word upon the subject.

"There's not much of me in him," the Count thought, smoking his
cigarette, as he watched his youngest son pace the terrace to and
fro,--"not much of me; but he's a handsome fellow for all."

"'Tis a pity; your figure would suit a hussar's uniform much better
than that dress-coat," he said aloud, involuntarily. "Walter stood
still, and observed, smiling, that he could easily serve his year in
the hussars.

"Are you really determined then to stick to the quill?" his father
asked, incredulously. "You mean to go to the university?"

"Most certainly, father," Walter replied, seating himself beside the
Count. "And, since we are upon the subject, let me tell you that I have
long desired to discuss my future career with you."

"Aha! you want to change the programme?"

"Yes, father, it is my sincere desire to do so; but----"

"Now, that you get from me, Walter," the Count interrupted his son,
with a laugh. "I should have done just so; there's no ignoring this
soldier-blood of ours."

Walter leaned forward and fixed his eyes upon the marble pavement of
the terrace. "I did not mean that, sir," he said, in a low tone.

The Count looked at him in surprise.

"You don't mean that?" he repeated. "What the deuce do you mean, then?"

"I wish to continue my studies, but I have not the slightest
predilection for the law," the young man began again.

The Count looked at his son as though he were speaking some unknown
tongue.

"What is there for one of your name save the law or the army?" he
asked, his expression, which had hitherto been one of amusement,
suddenly becoming very serious. "You must be aware that those are the
only careers open to a nobleman."

"Both cost too much money and insure no independence. As a lieutenant
of the Guards, or as an ambassadorial attache, my expenses would be
very great."

"The like of this I never before imagined!" the Count exclaimed, with a
resounding slap upon his knee. "The fellow is my son, nineteen years
old; and is thinking of the amount of his expenses. What the deuce put
that into your head?"

"I know that our property lies chiefly in real estate, and that Lothar
uses a great deal of money," Walter replied, shyly.

"Ha, ha!" laughed the Count. "You are a most extraordinary specimen of
an Eichhof. I can't tell where you got that economic vein; but since
there it is, let me tell you something, my boy. The net income of the
Eichhof estates amounts to some hundred and fifty thousand marks. I
have so improved and repaired everywhere that nothing more is required
in that quarter; and we are not going to Berlin any more, it is too
much for your mother's nerves. Well, then, we can easily live, and live
well, upon sixty thousand marks a year. Therefore, if you use only
sixty thousand marks yearly for the next five years, we shall have laid
up a capital of four hundred and fifty thousand marks, without
reckoning the interest. Add to that about a hundred thousand marks of
income derived from other sources, and--you need not tell Lothar, for
he spends quite enough,--but you can easily see that you will be very
comfortable one of these days. We enjoyed our youth. Age exacts less of
life; it will not be hard for us to retrench our expenses somewhat.
And since there never was an Eichhof who died before he was at least
fifty-five,--most of them live to be seventy or eighty,--there is quite
time enough to save money. Poor fellow! your prudence is quite thrown
away."

The Count was always rather inclined to pity his youngest son, and he
did so now from the bottom of his heart, as he twisted himself a fresh
cigarette.

But Walter did not yet seem quite satisfied.

"You are very kind to your children, sir," he began once more, after a
pause; "but it was not only pecuniary considerations that influenced my
desire to change my studies. There is a profession which I should
embrace with enthusiasm, yes, which would even be more attractive to
me, could I cease to see in it a means of income. There is a study that
interests me far more than that of law,--a science to which I should
gladly devote any talent that I may possess."

"Well, well, if we must discuss the matter, at least speak
intelligibly, Walter," the Count exclaimed, impatiently. "What's all
this about profession and science?"

"Father," Walter said, taking his hand and looking full into his face
