eased his demands up to a bill of exchange and a usurious rate of
interest. And now the vagabond grew insolent. Was he like the rat who
foresees the sinking of the ship, and tries to escape from it? The baron
laughed so as to make Lenore shudder; why, he was not the man to fall
resistless into the hands of his adversary; the next day would bring
help. Ehrenthal could never leave him in the lurch.

It was night when they reached home, and the baron hurried to his own
room and went to bed, knowing well, however, that sleep would not visit
him that night. He heard every hour strike, and every hour his pulse
beat more stormily and his anguish increased. He saw no hope of
deliverance but in Ehrenthal; yet his horror of appearing before that
man as a suppliant forced drops of sweat from his brow. It was morning
before he lost the consciousness of his misery.

Shrill sounds awoke him. The factory laborers, with the village band,
had prepared him a serenade.

At another time he would have been pleased with this mark of good
feeling; now, he only heard the discord it produced, and it annoyed him.

He hastily dressed himself and hurried into the court. The house was
hung with garlands, the laborers were all ranged in order before the
door, and received him with loud acclamations. He had to tell them in
return how much he rejoiced to see this day, and that he expected great
results, and while he spoke he felt his words a lie, and his spirit
broken. He drove off without seeing his wife or daughter, and knocked at
the door of Ehrenthal's office before it was open. The usurer was
summoned down from his breakfast.

Anxious to know the reason of so unusual an occurrence as this early
visit, Ehrenthal did not give himself time to change his dressing-gown.
The baron stated the case as coolly as he could.

Ehrenthal fell into the greatest passion. "This Pinkus," he went on
repeating, "he has presumed to lend you money on a bill of exchange. How
could he have so large a sum? The man has not got ten thousand dollars;
he is an insignificant man, without capital."

The baron confessed that the sum was not so large originally, but this
only increased Ehrenthal's excitement.

"From seven to ten," he cried, running wildly up and down till his
dressing-gown flapped round him like the wings of an owl. "So he has
made nearly three thousand dollars! I have always had a bad opinion of
that man; now I know what he is. He is a rascal--a double