e
visit of the rich young heir, and kept repeating that he must be worth
more than a million. Even Bernhard's ingenuous spirit was captivated by
his manner and brilliant rattle. True, he had occasionally felt an
uncomfortable misgiving, as though Fink might be making fun of them all;
but he was too inexperienced to feel sure of it, and soothed himself by
thinking that it was only the way of all men of the world.

Anton alone was dissatisfied with his friend, and he told him so as they
walked home.

"Why, you sat there like a stock," replied Fink; "I entertained the good
people, and what more would you have? Change yourself into a mouse,
creep into the decked-out room, and hear how they are singing my
praises. What more can be wanted than that our behavior to people should
be what they themselves find pleasant?"

"I think," said Anton, "that our aim should rather be to behave in a
manner worthy of ourselves. You went on like a frivolous nobleman who
meant to ask a loan from old Ehrenthal on the morrow."

"I choose to be frivolous," cried Fink; "and perhaps I may want a loan
from the Ehrenthal house. And now have done with your preachments--it is
past one o'clock."

A few days later, Anton remembered, at the close of the office, that he
had promised to send on a book to the young student. As Fink, who had
gone out an hour before, had carried off his paletot, which indeed often
happened, Anton wrapped himself in Fink's burnoose, which chanced to lie
in his room, and hurried off to Ehrenthal's house. As he reached the
door, he was not a little amazed to see it noiselessly open, and a
shawled and veiled figure come out. A soft arm wound itself round his,
and a low voice said, "Come quickly; I have waited for you long." Anton
recognized Rosalie's voice, and stood petrified. At length he said, "You
are mistaken." With a suppressed scream the young lady rushed up stairs,
and Anton, little less confused, entered his friend's room, where he had
the shock of being at once addressed by the short-sighted Bernhard as
Herr von Fink. A dreadful suspicion crossed his mind; and, pretending to
be in the utmost haste, he carried the luckless cloak home, over a heart
full of grief and anger. If it were, indeed, Fink that Ehrenthal's fair
daughter had been expecting! The longer Anton had to wait for his
friend, the more angry he grew. At last he heard his step in the
court-yard--ran down to meet him--told him the circumstance--and ended