ght not even rejoice in his stainless honesty with the same perfect
confidence as in his betrothal.

Yes, he had cared for noble old Berthold Vorchtel's daughter as if she
were his sister. He had even found pleasure in the thought that Ursula
was destined to become his wife, yet no word either of love or allusion
to future marriage had been exchanged between them. He had felt free, and
had a right to consider himself so, when love for Els Ortlieb overwhelmed
him so swiftly and powerfully.

Yet Ursula and her oldest brother treated him as if he had been guilty of
base disloyalty. His pure conscience, however, enabled him to endure this
more easily than the other burden, of which he became aware on the
long-anticipated day when his father made him a partner in the old firm
and gave him an insight into the condition of the property and the course
of the business.

Then he had learned the heavy losses which had been sustained recently,
and the sad disparity existing between the great display by which his
father and mother, as well as his grandmother, the countess, maintained
the appearance of their former princely wealth, and the balances of the
last few years.

When he had just boasted to the reckless young knight that he had given
up gaming, he told but half the truth, for though since his period of
study in Venice, and later in Milan, he had not touched dice, he had been
forced to consent to a series of enterprises undertaken by his father,
whose stakes were far different from the gambling of the knights and
nobles at the Green Shield or in the camp.

Yet he intended to bind the fate of the woman he loved to his own, for
Els, spite of the opposition of his family, would have been already
indissolubly united to him, had not one failure after another destroyed
his courage to take her hand. Finally, he deemed it advisable to await
the result of the last great enterprise, now on the eve of decision. It
might compensate for many of the losses of recent years. Should it be
favourable, the heaviest burden would be lifted from his soul; in the
opposite case the old house would be shaken to its foundations. Yet even
its fall would have been easier for him to endure than this cruel
uncertainty, to which was added the torturing anxiety of bearing the
responsibility of things for which he was not to blame, and of which,
moreover, he was even denied a clear view. Yet he felt absolutely certain
that his father was concealing many