has stolen it from one
of the rebels, and now wants to tempt an honest soldier with it."

"How do you know that the horse is to be sold?" asked Anton, sealing a
letter at the writing-table.

"Don't you see that the creature is led about by a rogue to attract
notice?"

At that moment there was a light knock at the door, and Schmeie Tinkeles
first inserted his curly head, and then his black caftan, and gurgled
submissively, "I wished to ask their honors whether they would look at a
horse that is worth as many louis-d'or as it cost dollars. If you would
just step to the window, Mr. Wohlfart, you would see it--seeing is not
buying."

"Is this one of your mercantile friends, Wohlfart?" asked the
lieutenant, laughing.

"He is so no longer; he is fallen into disgrace," replied Anton, in the
same tone. "This time his visit is intended for you, Herr von
Rothsattel. Take care, or he will tempt you to buy the horse."

The dealer listened attentively to the dialogue, and looked with much
curiosity at the lieutenant.

"If the gracious baron will buy the horse," said he, coming forward, and
staring at the young officer, "it will be a beautiful saddle-horse for
him on his estate."

"What the deuce do you know about my estate?" said the lieutenant; "I
have none."

"Do you know this gentleman?" asked Anton.

"How should I not know him, if it be he who has the great estate in your
country, in which he has built a factory, where he makes sugar out of
fodder."

"He means your father," explained Anton. "Tinkeles has connections in
our province, and often stays months there."

"What do I hear?" cried the Galician; "the father of this worshipful
officer! Your pardon, Mr. Wohlfart; so you are acquainted with the
baron, who is the father of this gentleman!" A smile hovered over the
lieutenant's mustache.

"I have, at all events, seen this gentleman's father," replied Anton,
annoyed with the pertinacious questioning of the trader, and with
himself for blushing.

"And forgive me if I ask whether you know this gentleman intimately, and
whether he is what one calls your good friend?"

"What are you driving at, Tinkeles?" said Anton, sharply, and blushed
still deeper, not knowing exactly how to answer the question.

"Yes, Jew, he is my good friend," said the lieutenant, clapping Anton on
the shoulder. "He is my cashier; he has just lent me twenty ducats, and
he won't give me any money to buy your horse. So go to the devil."