took his leave, Ehrenthal accompanying him down stairs, and saying, "Be cautious about the mortgage, baron; it is good money, and there are many bad mortgages. To be sure, there are good mortgages too; and, of course, people will say a good deal to recommend their own. As to Löbel Pinkus, he is in but a small way of business; but, so far as I know, a trustworthy man. All you tell me about the mortgage sounds well, I own; but I humbly entreat you, baron, to be cautious—very cautious."
The baron, not much enlightened by this worthy address, went to his town house, and impatiently awaited for the arrival of the stranger, who soon came. His name was Löwenberg, and his appearance was a sort of medley of that of Ehrenthal and Pinkus, only he was thinner. He gave himself out as a wine-merchant, and appeared intimately acquainted with the count and his property. He said that the present possessor was young, and lived abroad; that his father had been rather a bad manager; but that, though the estate was burdened, it was not in the very least endangered. The land was not in high cultivation, therefore was susceptible of improvement, and he hoped the young count was the very man to see to it. On the whole, his report was decidedly favorable; there was no exaggeration about it—all was sensible and straightforward. The baron's mind was very nearly made up, and he went off straightway to one of his acquaintance, who knew the Zaminsky family. He did not hear much from him certainly, but still it was rather favorable than otherwise. On the other hand, Ehrenthal called to inform him that the wool of the sheep of that district was seldom fine, and to beg that he would consult his lawyer before he decided.
Ehrenthal's little office was on the same floor as the rest of the apartments, and opened out upon the hall. It was evening before he returned to it, in a state of great excitement. Itzig, who had been sitting before a blank book, wearily waiting for his master, wondered what could be the matter, when Ehrenthal eagerly said to him, "Itzig, now is the time to show whether you deserve your wages, and the advantage of a Sabbath dinner in good society."
"What am I to do?" replied Veitel, rising.
"First, you are to tell Löbel Pinkus to come here, and then to get me a bottle of wine and two glasses. Next go and bring me word to whom in Rosmin, Councilor Horn, who lives near the market-place, has written to-day, or, if not to-day, to whom he writes to-morrow. In finding this out you may spend five dollars, and if you bring me back word this evening you shall have a ducat for yourself."
Veitel felt a glow of delight, but replied calmly, "I know none of Councilor Horn's clerks, and must have some time to become acquainted with them."
He ordered the bottle of wine, and ran off into the street like a dog in scent of game.
Meanwhile Ehrenthal, his hat still on, his hands behind his back, walked up and down, nodding his head, and looking in the twilight like an ugly ghost who once has had his head cut off and can not now keep it steadily on.
As Veitel went on his way, his mind kept working much as follows: "What can be in the wind? It must be an important affair, and I am to know nothing about it! I am to send Pinkus. Pinkus was with Ehrenthal a few days ago, and the next morning he went to Baron Rothsattel's place in the country; so it must have something to do with the baron. And now, as to these letters. If I could catch the clerk who takes them to the post, and contrive to read the directions, I should save money. But how manage this? Well, I must find out some way or other." And, accordingly, Veitel posted himself at the door, and soon saw a young man rush out with a packet of letters in his hand. He followed him, and, turning sharply round a corner, contrived to meet him. Touching his hat, "You are from Councilor Horn's office?"
"Yes," said the clerk, in a hurry to get on.
"I am from the country, and have been waiting for three days for an important letter from the councilor; perhaps you may have one for me."
"What is your name?" said the clerk, looking at him mistrustfully.
"Bernhard Madgeburg, of Ostrau," said Veitel; "but the letter may be addressed to my uncle."
"There is no letter for you," replied the clerk, hurriedly glancing at the directions.
Do what he would, Veitel's eyes could not follow this rapid shuffling, so he seized the packet, and while the enraged official, catching hold of him, exclaimed, "What are you about, man! how dare you?" he devoured the directions, gave back the letters, and touching his hat, coolly said, "Nothing for me; do not lose the post; I am going to the councilor," turned on his heel and made his escape.
Spite of this bold stroke, he could only remember two or three of the addresses. "Perhaps I have made my money," thought he; "and if not, there's no time lost." So he went back, and, creeping to the office door, stood and listened. The worthy Pinkus was speaking, but very low, and Veitel could make little of it. At last, however, the voices grew louder.
"How can you ask such a large sum!" cried Ehrenthal, angrily; "I have been mistaken in thinking you a trustworthy man."
"I am trustworthy," replied Pinkus; "but I must have four hundred dollars, or this affair will fall through."
"How dare you say it will fall through? What do you know about it?"
"I know this much, that I can get four hundred dollars from the baron by telling him what I know," screamed Pinkus.
"You are a rascal! You are a traitor! Do you know who it is that you use thus? I can ruin your credit, and disgrace you in the eyes of all men of business."
"And I can show the baron what sort of a man you are," cried Pinkus, with equal vehemence.
At this the door opened, and Veitel plunged into the shadow of the staircase.
"I will give you till to-morrow to consider," were Pinkus's parting words.
Veitel coolly stepped into the office, and his patron hardly noticed him. He was pacing up and down the little room, like a wild beast in its cage, and exclaiming, "Just heavens! that this Pinkus should turn out such a traitor! He will blab the whole matter; he will ruin me!"
"Why should he ruin you?" asked Veitel, throwing his hat on the desk.
"What are you doing here? What have you overheard?"
"Every thing," was the cool reply. "You have both screamed so as to be heard all over the hall. Why do you keep the affair a secret from me? I could have compelled Löbel to give you better terms."
Ehrenthal stared in utter amazement at the audacious youth, and could only bring out, "What does this mean?"
"I know Pinkus well," continued Veitel, determined henceforth to take a part in the game. "If you give him a hundred dollars, he will readily sell you a good mortgage for the baron."
"How should you know any thing about the mortgage?"
"I know enough to help in the matter," replied Itzig; "and I will help you, if you trust me."
Ehrenthal continued to stare and stare, till at last it dawned upon him that his assistant had more coolness and decision than himself. Accordingly, he said, "You are a good creature, Veitel; go and bring in Pinkus; he shall have the hundred dollars."
"I have seen the directions of the councilor's letters: there was one to Commissary Walter."
"I thought so," cried Ehrenthal, with delight. "All right, Itzig; now for Löbel."
"I have to pay five dollars to the councilor's clerk," continued the youth, "and I am
