THE DRONES MUST DIE 
 
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 nAX N( 
 
 ORDAU 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 TWO FRIENDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 1934 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PT 2440.N8Z12 1897 
 
 The drones must die. 
 
 "5 1924 020 766 469 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924020766469 
 
THE DRONES MUST DIE, 
 
 BY 
 
 MAX NORDAU, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 « DEGENERATION." 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers, 
 
 MDCCCXCVII. 
 
 I r;:ivAJ;Y 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1897, by 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM CO , 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 
 
 \_A// rights reserved.^ 
 
 The Drones Must Die, 
 
 ,1,1 .ii^iiiii;) 
 
 VI li'MH VIKilJ 
 Y^iAH ;. I.I 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTIR 
 
 rAGK 
 
 I. 
 
 An Unexpected Guest 
 
 . 9 
 
 II. 
 
 Lost in Paris 
 
 . 35 
 
 III. 
 
 On the Eiffel Tower 
 
 . 70 
 
 IV. 
 
 A Dinner Party .... 
 
 . 103 
 
 V. 
 
 The Baroness tells Her Story 
 
 . 124 
 
 VI. 
 
 A Visit to Dr. Klein 
 
 168 
 
 VII. 
 
 Koppel's Temptation 
 
 181 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A Performance of Parsifal 
 
 . 213 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Salon, and a Birthday . 
 
 232 
 
 X. 
 
 What came of Asking a Favour 
 
 257 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Koppels go to the Seashore 
 
 281 
 
 XII. 
 
 What Occurred in October 
 
 307 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A Happy Winter .... 
 
 331 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oscar and Blanche . 
 
 345 
 
 XV. 
 
 What to do with Oscar ? 
 
 366 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The Fickle Goddess 
 
 404 
 
 XVIL 
 
 Atropos 
 
 451 
 
 <:viii. 
 
 After the Storm .... 
 
 498 
 
 [7] 
 
THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 
 
 " Look here, Kathe, see who this is that I've brought 
 home with me ! Here in Paris we find everybody, 
 sooner or later," Koppel called out to his wife, and 
 pushed his companion before him into the room. 
 
 " Even long-lost old friends," added the new-comer, 
 bowing and smiling. 
 
 Frau Kathe, who had risen from her chair, looked 
 doubtfully for a moment at the visitor, then exclaimed, 
 with delight and surprise : " But — this is Herr Dr. 
 Henneberg ! Well, I must say ! And you have 
 scarcely changed at all." 
 
 " You, certainly, gracious lady, have not changed in 
 the least." 
 
 " Oh, you say that, but we have been through a 
 great deal, haven't we, Hugo ?" 
 
 " I, myself, have not been packed up in cotton- 
 batting all this time." 
 
 " Oh, tell us all about it. And do sit down, Herr 
 Doctor. How good of you to look us up. We so 
 rarely see any one from home. It is a real treat for 
 us. How did you get our address ?" 
 
 " Your address ?" began Henneberg, with some hesi- 
 tation. And Koppel interrupted him : " It was just 
 an accident that we ran across each other. Henneberg 
 had no idea that we lived here. I went into the French 
 Oriental Bank to get those papers — here they are," and 
 
 [9] 
 
lO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 he pulled out of the breast-pocket of his coat, which 
 had bulged with it, a large package wrapped in a news- 
 paper, and gave it to his wife. 
 
 " I will put them away directly," said Frau Kathe, 
 laying the package on the table, and still looking at 
 Henneberg with a pleased smile. 
 
 "As I was going out, whom should I run against but 
 Henneberg, just coming up stairs, I recognized him 
 in a moment, but he did not know me." 
 
 "Oh yes, I did. Only I didn't think of seeing you 
 in that place." 
 
 " Of course I wouldn't enjoy him alone, but took him 
 straight in tow and brought him home." 
 
 " Delightful !" exclaimed Frau Kathe. " I suppose 
 you came for the Exposition ? A little late, are you 
 not ?" 
 
 " Oh, no.; I live here." 
 
 " What ? And we had no idea of it ? That is too 
 bad. Tell us, — are you married, Herr Doctor ?" 
 
 " Unfortunately, I am not, gracious lady. I am still 
 an incorrigible, God-forsaken bachelor." 
 
 " Sincere repentance may hope for forgiveness; it is 
 not yet too late." 
 
 " I am forty-two years old, gracious lady." 
 
 " Just the prime of life, Herr Doctor! However, if 
 we begin talking about marriage, I don't know when 
 we should be ready to stop. But you will stay to 
 dinner ?" 
 
 " I think I scarcely ought to give you the trouble." 
 
 " The trouble ? How unfriendly of you ! Beg my 
 pardon this moment." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, gracious lady." 
 
 " That is right. And for punishment you must 
 stay. You'll have to take pot-luck, you know." 
 
 " But you'll get real German dishes," broke in Kop- 
 pel, " which you don't find in Paris very often." 
 
 "Yes," the wife continued, " we are always faithful 
 to German cooking." 
 
 " Patriotism of the stomach," observed Henneberg, 
 smiling. 
 
 ■' I think it's habit," Frau Kathe said ; " my mother- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. ir 
 
 in-law was nearly seventy when we came to Paris, and 
 one doesn't change much at that age." 
 
 "You brought your mother, then?" Henneberg 
 said, turning to Koppel, who replied promptly : 
 
 " Oh, yes ; one couldn't leave the poor old lady 
 behind, all alone." 
 
 " And all this time she has never been willing to 
 give up the care of the housekeeping, marketing, 
 cooking and all. Now, please excuse me a moment, 
 Herr Doctor, and then we will sit down directly." 
 She rose, took the package of papers and left the 
 room. 
 
 Henneberg now for the first time cast a glance 
 around the room. It was rather a small parlour, with 
 low walls, two windows opening into a very large, light 
 courtyard. A red carpet concealed the floor, but near 
 the fireplace it had been cut away, showing that the 
 floor was laid with hexagonal red tiles. Between the 
 windows stood an upright piano, upon which the white 
 of a plaster bust of Schiller relieved the monotony of 
 a wall-paper striped with a pattern of small flowers. 
 Before one of the windows stood a little work-table 
 where Frau Kathe had just been seated. In front of 
 the chimney stood, as yet unlighted, a " Schuberski," 
 one of those sheet-iron stoves on wheels with a pol- 
 ished mar'ole top, which furnish the Parisians in winter 
 with a little warmth, and sure, though slow, gas-poison- 
 ing. Over the great round table in the middle of the 
 room, hung an uncouth, heavy chandelier of bronzed 
 metal, adorned with glass prisms, and on the table 
 there were stout photograph albums, a folio edition of 
 " Faust," Hamerling's " Amor and Psyche," and a tiny 
 gilt-edged copy of Storm's " Immensee." A set of 
 walnut chairs covered with green rep, having a red 
 stripe over the back and seat, curtains of the same, 
 and, on the walls, two large engravings, one from 
 Kaulbach's Hunnenschlacht, the other from his Zeit- 
 alter der Reformation, under glass, in black frames, 
 completed the furnishing of the room. 
 
 " You brought your furniture with you from Ber- 
 lin, I see," remarked Henneberg. 
 
12 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Yes. The womenfolk could not bear to part with 
 it. In one way it was a good plan to bring it. You 
 know how it is — what you buy with large expense you 
 can sell only for a trifle, and not easily at that. And 
 when we came to live in Paris we had but little. 
 Everything made it expedient to keep what we had. 
 Now, all this stuff is very dear to me by reason of my 
 sufferings on its account." 
 
 " How was that ?" 
 
 " If I ever am rich enough to be independent, I 
 shall employ my leisure in writing an epic poem about 
 our adventures with this furniture. It makes my hair 
 stand on end merely to think of it. When we first 
 arrived in Paris we stopped at a little hotel near here, 
 which Wolzen had recommended to us." 
 
 " Who is Wolzen?" 
 
 " He is the proprietor of the private school where I 
 teach; our furniture, meantime, was left at the station. 
 We hired this apartment, and brought our things. 
 Then our troubles began. Before each separate article, 
 as they took it from the wagon, the porters stood and 
 gazed, as if it were a hippogriff. There was a staring 
 and a shaking of heads, I can tell you ! When it came 
 to the beds, they really couldn't enjpy it alone, but 
 called other fellows in from the drinking-shop across 
 the street, to look and laugh, too. My mother was 
 ready to jump out of her skin, she was so angry. To- 
 day, after eleven years, she hasn't forgiven these Paris- 
 ians for the fun they made of our eccentric furniture. 
 
 "But that was not the worst of it. When we came 
 to getting our things into the house it appeared that 
 neither through the door nor up the stairs could they 
 be brought. Everything was too narrow, so I said : 
 but the porters declared that the stairs were wide 
 enough, but that the furniture was too large. My 
 mother wrung her hands, and even my wife lost pa- 
 tience, and reproached me bitterly for having hired 
 such a toy-place. Be it noticed, she had seen the 
 apartment herself before I took it. But this did not 
 help us out any. The porters tried to pull a wardrobe 
 through, and pulled it to pieces, the wall of the stair- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 13 
 
 way was badly scratched, the balusters wrenched, and 
 I had about seventy francs to pay for repairs. The 
 furniture, however, remained still in the courtyard," 
 
 " How did you get through finally ?" 
 
 " How did wc ? Listen and shudder. After the 
 sacrifice of the wardrobe, and after we had tried for 
 hours to push and pull, and nearly brought the old house 
 down about our ears I proceeded to measure things, 
 and very soon arrived at the discouraging fact that all 
 the entrances and apertures into the house were 
 smaller in every direction than the objects which we 
 had to carry in. 
 
 " A dealer in old furniture, who, as if providentially, 
 found himself on the spot where the tragedy was 
 going on, called out to me in a friendly way that I 
 would better leave the old stuff lying where it was, 
 and buy of him what I needed to take its place. He 
 began to enumerate, — but I am afraid my answer was 
 not so civil as he deserved, considering his desire to 
 oblige me. This was as far as we got, on our first day 
 of distress. The furniture stood in the courtyard, and 
 we spent another night at the hotel. 
 
 " The next day, the concierge told us that the only 
 way we could get the things into the house would be 
 by hoisting them with ropes into the windows. And 
 this was done. I will spare you the tale of the deadly 
 anguish we all felt, as we saw each object go aloft into 
 the air. I can only say that hanging does not seem to 
 be any better for furniture than it is for mankind. 
 This gruesome death-penalty occupied the whole of 
 the next day, and attracted all the children of the 
 neighbourhood to look on. The dear little creatures 
 amused themselves royally, especially when a writing- 
 table hit against the wall and broke a leg, or when a 
 wardrobe which had got as far as the window-sill 
 slipped out of the blockhead's hands and fell to the 
 ground, as happened once. We are fond of children, 
 and their laughter was quite a consolation in our 
 distress. So was completed our entrance into Paris. 
 Since then we have remained prisoners to our furni- 
 ture. The apartment is no longer satisfactory to us^ 
 
14 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 we have seen many that we should prefer ; but here 
 we stav, for the idea of going through the windows a 
 second'time fills us with too much horror. You know 
 how monkeys are caught ? With a basket shaped like 
 a bottle and filled with Indian corn : the open, empty 
 hand goes in easily, but the shut fist with its handful 
 of corn cannot be withdrawn. Likewise are we kept 
 here, these eleven years, and I shall never make an 
 attempt to leave this apartment until I am able to 
 furnish another, in the present fashion, with entirely 
 new things." 
 
 Henneberg had listened much amused, and now 
 Frau Kathe returned. 
 
 " I have been telling Henneberg how our furniture 
 was brought in." 
 
 " Yes, that was a great business, — through the win- 
 dow, almost through the side of the house. It had 
 such a charming suggestion of hobgoblin-rides, and 
 broomsticks ! It makes your flesh creep so enchant- 
 ingly, just to think of it now !" 
 
 " If you had foreseen what was going to happen, 
 you would have left your things safe in Berlin, would 
 you not, gracious lady ?" 
 
 " That would have been a mistake, Herr Doctor. 
 My husband tried to buy once, — no, I won't tell you 
 about that." 
 
 " You mean my experience at the Hotel Drouot ?" 
 asked Koppel. 
 
 " Tell me about that," interrupted Henneberg. 
 
 " Naturally we needed a good many things ; ways 
 of living are so different here in Paris from what they 
 are at home ; it was my idea to go simply to some 
 shop and buy what we had need of. But my husband 
 is much more practical than I, and he has better judg- 
 ment. To buy new things ? Oh no ; here is this 
 excellent Hotel Drouot, where every thing can be 
 bought much under price. There are such extraor- 
 dinary bargains there ! We needed poles for the 
 window-curtains. Our cornices were too large to put 
 in this baby-house. My little man goes swiftly to his 
 dear H6tel Drouot, spends half a day there, and comes 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUF.ET. 1 5 
 
 back at night with a wagon load of incredible trash. 
 The curtain-poles were there, but, besides, — so far as 
 I could sec at a hasty glance — a heap of broken chairs, 
 a dusty violin case, half of a bonnet-stand, and a col- 
 lection of other choice things, which I didn't dare to 
 touch. For Heaven's sake, Hugo, I cried in great 
 excitement, have you robbed a ragman ? No, Hugo 
 replied quite contentedly, these things were all tied up 
 together, and if I wanted the poles, I had to take the 
 whole lot. But it was so cheap ! Five francs twenty- 
 five with the costs. Also the wagon ? No, not with 
 the wagon. To make a long story short, Herr Doctor, 
 I paid the concierge a franc to have the other stuff 
 taken away. So the four poles cost about eight 
 francs. In the most expensive shops they can be 
 bought for three. And then the story of the pelt ? 
 No ! I will not put you to shame, my poor Hugo !" 
 
 " But how am I going to hear this story of the 
 pelt ?" exclaimed Henneberg, much amused : " I beg 
 expressly for it !" 
 
 " I will confess about that myself. I was in the 
 Hotel Drouot again, — there's no use in denying, the 
 place had an attraction for me, — and I was noticing 
 how prices of the most ordinary things were run up. 
 Suddenly a pelt of some kind was spread out for 
 inspection. I thought it was remarkably pretty." 
 
 " Ahem !" ejaculated Frau Kathe with emphasis. 
 
 Koppel took no notice of this and went on : " The 
 head of the animal, whatever it was, I could not see 
 plainly. But the pelt was lined with red cloth, it 
 was of a fine gray colour, as smooth as velvet, in 
 short, it seemed very handsome to me. There was 
 a bid, one franc ! Two, I called out, and looked 
 defiantly around for my rival. Three ! he retorted 
 sharply. Four ! I cried, and my voice must have had 
 rather an excited tone, I think, for I observed that 
 people began to look round at me. The pelt now 
 really fascinated my eye. It appeared to have the 
 splendid tropical stripings of the tiger's skin, the 
 smooth richness of some polar animal's coat, and an. 
 
l6 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 amplitude worthy of the lion. I felt that I must have 
 it at any price. 
 
 " But there was no need of my making any further 
 effort. My rival struck his flag, and the treasure be- 
 came mine at four francs. My neighbours congratu- 
 lated me. But later it occurred to my mind that they 
 seemed amused. Triumphantly I went forward, paid 
 for my pelt, and took it. Thereupon I went through 
 a rather extraordinary experience. The pelt appeared 
 to have entirely changed its aspect in the few minutes. 
 It was no longer large, but extremely small ; also it 
 was not smooth, but in places extremely rough ; also it 
 was soiled rather than naturally gray, — in short, it was 
 a dog-skin, the skin of some wretched little cur who 
 had died in quite a mangy condition and at an ad- 
 vanced age. It was a real Number Nip transforma- 
 tion !" 
 
 " The sort of transformation," remarked Henneberg, 
 "that usually happens when a man gets what he has 
 very much desired to have. You experienced the dif- 
 ference between longing and content." 
 
 " May be so. Much disappointed, I rolled up my 
 pelt, and, as I now became perfectly aware that every- 
 body was laughing around me, I sneaked out of the 
 hall and betook myself homeward. The nearer I came 
 to my dwelling, the more humble-minded I grew, and 
 I quite well remember standing on Pont Neuf for a 
 full minute, considering whether I might not as well 
 throw my purchase into the river. But a policeman 
 stood near, and it occurred to me that he would prob- 
 ably think I was seeking to hide the traces of some 
 crime. I came home, therefore, and brought my pelt 
 with me. I pulled myself together, and I said to 
 Kathe : ' Dear child, I have bought something at 
 Hotel Drouot.' From her face the smile of welcome 
 faded at once, and a melancholy pause ensued. 
 
 " Meanwhile, my mother had come in. I forced 
 myself to assume a mirthful tone. ' Come,' I said ; 
 " see what I have got ;' and I spread out my dog-skin 
 on the table. For one minute the two women looked 
 at the pelt ; then my wife, with an air of the deepest 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 1 7 
 
 disgust, flung it off the table, my mother silently went 
 to the door, opened it, and called the maid : ' Take 
 this away,' she said. I didn't dare to utter a sound, 
 and I felt most uncomfortable. Finally, Kathe asked 
 ' And what did that — that thing cost ?' ' Four francs,' 
 I said timidly. Followed a second pause ; then Kathe 
 remarked : ' Well, this time it is not a very great mis- 
 fortune, but now you must promise me that you never 
 will buy anything for the house again.' And then and 
 there I had to make a solemn promise to my wife and 
 my mother that I would never surprise them with 
 another bargain !" 
 
 Henneberg laughed heartily, and Frau Kathe re- 
 marked : " Hugo has kept his word faithfully about 
 this. I can say that for him." 
 
 " Yes," Koppel said, "that valuable object has found 
 shelter in a quiet place where stranger eyes behold it 
 not. But whenever I behold it, I am confirmed in my 
 good resolution." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and from the 
 adjacent room Koppel's mother came in, who mean- 
 time, had been occupied with making herself presenta- 
 ble. She had been fetched away from the kitchen 
 hearth by her daughter-in-law, had laid aside her cook- 
 ing-apron, and had put on a black silk gown. The old 
 woman, for all her eighty years, looked still fresh and 
 healthy. Her not over-stout figure was somewhat 
 bent, but her step was active, her eyes were bright, 
 thick, snowy hair covered her head, and her voice was 
 strong and clear. 
 
 " We have a very dear visitor, mother," Koppel said, 
 " Dr. Henneberg. Do you remember him ?" 
 
 Henneberg, who had risen, went forward and held 
 out his hand. She grasped it firmly, and exclaimed : 
 " But, Hugo, you are joking ! What is there to re- 
 member ? Herr Doctor was here not very long ago ! 
 And how is your dear wife ?" 
 
 " You are mistaken, dear mother," Koppel said 
 gently : " You have never seen Herr Doctor Hen- 
 neberg here in Paris." 
 
 " Is that possible ?" rejoined the old lady, dropping 
 
1 8 THE iDRONES MUST* t)IE. 
 
 Henneberg's hand and looking attentively at him ; 
 " my poor memory is always leaving me in the lurch. 
 I am just good for nothing, now." 
 
 " Ah ! gracious lady," Henneberg exclaimed, " that 
 is slander. There are many younger women who 
 might envy you your appearance. The air of Paris 
 seems to have agreed with you wonderfully." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; in other respects, it is not so bad, — only 
 my poor head fails me. But shall we not go to the 
 table ?" 
 
 "If you like, mother," rejoined Frau Kathe. 
 
 Through a smaller room, with but one window, 
 where stood Koppel's writing-table and bookcase, the 
 little group passed into the dining-room, whose win- 
 dows also looked out into the large, light courtyard. 
 The floor here was also of red tiles, covered for the 
 most part by a cork-carpet. Scarcely projecting from 
 a semicircular recess in the wall was a stove of brown 
 fluted tiles ; there was a three-foot high panelling 
 around the walls in imitation of walnut wood. The 
 furniture consisted of a large round table, some cane- 
 seat chairs, a massive cupboard, a mighty grand- 
 father's chair with foot-rest and, slung across the back, 
 a head-rest cushion ; and a German clock in a polished 
 wood case hung between the windows. 
 
 The son and daughter of the family were already in 
 the dining-room : Oscar, sixteen years old, — a tall 
 small-boned, rather pale lad, with an unruly shock of 
 light brown hair, dreamy blue eyes, and a serious 
 mouth, over which the first hint of a light moustache 
 was outlined ; and Elsa, a year his senior, who had her 
 mother's colourless complexion, but, in the girl, of very 
 fine grain, and of a transparency like that of alabaster 
 through which a light is shining. Her figure, of medium 
 height, had already developed graceful curves. The 
 great brown eyes looked merrily out into the world. 
 Contrary to the fashion of the hour, her hair — between 
 brown and old-gold in colour — ^was drawn smoothly 
 back and braided in a single heavy tress, hanging frte 
 and reaching below her waist. The rather full, fresh 
 red lips made a noticeable effect of colour, in the 
 
An unexpected guest. 19 
 
 creamy tint of the round face, and caught and charmed 
 whatever eye — especially whatever man's eye — rested 
 upon her. Henneberg's gaze, as her father presented 
 him to her, lingered so long upon this dazzling girlish 
 face, that it slowly reddened with a deep blush, which 
 lingered several minutes before the natural pallor 
 returned. 
 
 They all sat down, Henneberg between the old lady 
 and Frau Kathe, and while the maid, a gruff-looking 
 elderly person, served the fragrant, thick vegetable 
 soup, with bacon, Koppel said : " As you see, we live 
 entirely after the German fashion, — the dinner at 
 noon with the regulation soup." 
 
 Henneberg nodded, and turning to Frau Koppel he 
 said : " Did you find it difficult to get used to living 
 here in Paris ?" 
 
 " Ach Gott !" cried the old lady, and laid down her 
 soup-spoon, " can anybody really get used to living 
 here ? These slovenly habits, all these ready-made 
 things, all these unpractical ways, — it is really dread- 
 ful. And what makes me most disgusted is the way 
 that people twist their eyes when they just hear the 
 name of Paris. Paris! The wonderful Paris! The 
 first city of the world ! And now just look and see 
 what this first city of the world is !" 
 
 Oscar and Elsa, sitting side by side, exchanged 
 glances, and could scarcely repress a smile. Koppel 
 said, in a low voice: 
 
 " Mother, please, your soup is getting cold." 
 
 "Yes," the old lady answered, and quickly picked up 
 her spoon. Alternately eating and talking she went on 
 with great fluency and increasing zeal, as every one 
 does who has the good fortune to be able to let him- 
 self go, on a favourite topic. 
 
 " Just look at the places they live in ! Mere doll's 
 houses. You knock against the ceiling if you stretch. 
 We had to take the top off the cupboard, or it would 
 have been too high to get into the room. The hand- 
 some piece of furniture was almost spoiled. And 
 these brick floors in the sitting-rooms of respectable 
 people ! With us, stalls for cows have such a floor. 
 
20 THE Drones must die. 
 
 And you can't get anything here that you want. 
 Would you believe it, Herr Doctor, in this firstcity of 
 the world, you can"t get any Feltoner turnips?" 
 
 Henneberg smiled. 
 
 "And you want them very much, don't you ?" 
 
 " I don't even remember how they taste, now," la- 
 mented Frau Koppel. " In the twenty years since we 
 came from Berlin " 
 
 " Oh, mother, it's only eleven," interrupted Frau 
 Kathe. 
 
 " Well, say it is eleven years. At any rate, since I've 
 been here no Feltoner turnips have I had in my mouth. 
 But the worst is the servants. You may be thankful 
 you don't know anything about that. Forty, fifty 
 francs a month wages. I am ready to cry when I 
 think of it. Wine at every meal — just think of it, 
 Herr Doctor ! At home, in our finest country-houses, 
 one does not have it all the time. And dessert — yes, 
 indeed, dessert and black coffee they must have or they 
 will not stay. And in whatever is bought they expect 
 a sou out of every franc, and if I won't have it, the 
 tradesman will give them the money behind my back. 
 It is just clear stealing, and still I have to put up with 
 it, or I could not keep a servant a single day:" 
 
 " This exploitation that we have to endure through 
 the understanding that tradesmen have with our ser- 
 vants, is really unbearable," Henneberg said. 
 
 " A community that allows itself, without resistance, 
 to be robbed in this way, shows plainly that it no longer 
 has the strength or the courage to protect its rights 
 against impudent aggression," observed Koppel; 
 " people here let themselves be plundered by those 
 whom they deal with, acting with their servants, because 
 they feel that it is not any too well settled about their 
 own rights to what they possess. They sacrifice a 
 part in the hope of being allowed to keep the whole." 
 
 " Are you still such a raging sociahst as that ?" asked 
 Henneberg. 
 
 " Hugo keeps on talking that way in order to vex 
 me," the old lady replied, interrupting ; " but, happily, 
 he doesn't get beyond blood-thirsty talk here at home! 
 
AX UNEXPECTED GUEST. 21 
 
 From the actual movement, thank God, he has drawn 
 back." 
 
 " In a foreign land I have no right to meddle with 
 politics," Koppel said, in a low voice. 
 
 His mother, during this aside between the two men, 
 had not ceased thinking about her grievances at the 
 hand of Parisian maid-servants, and she at once went 
 on freeing her mind : 
 
 " And if they, at least, accomplished anything to 
 speak of ! But they are as idle as sin, and understand 
 as much about work as a curb-stone does. The person 
 has her bed-room in the attic ; evenings, she disap- 
 pears ; mornings, she comes down when she is ready ; 
 if a child is taken ill in the night, we must get up our- 
 selves and make the linden-flower tea ; in the morning 
 I am always in the kitchen when the person is so gra- 
 cious as to appear. She will do no washing. It must 
 be all put out of the house. And the way washing is 
 done in Paris appears to me to be dipping the clothes 
 into vitriol. Anything that has been twice sent to the 
 wash, falls to pieces like tinder. And it smells of pitch 
 and sulphur and all sorts of hell-spice. To scrub the 
 floor is entirely beneath the dignity of a maid-servant. 
 For that you must have a special man come, who once 
 a week infects the whole place. 
 
 " And as to the cooking ! Bouillon is made at once 
 for several days, or else it is bought by the quart at 
 the butcher's." The old lady shook herself at the 
 thought. " Above all things, not to make an effort, 
 to do everything with as little trouble as possible is the 
 great rule in the Paris kitchens. If there is to be a 
 meal at seven o'clock, at six the woman of the house 
 runs down into the street, she buys, without trying to 
 get it cheaper, some nasty thing out of a wagon, then 
 — scamper for your life — in five minutes everything is 
 ready — and it is what you'd expect it to be !" 
 
 " What you want, mother," Koppel said, " is to have 
 the mistress of the house stand sixteen hours a day 
 on the kitchen hearth. This is not a Parisian ideal of 
 life." 
 
 " What I want," said the old lady, hotly, " is that 
 
53 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 everything a person does should be done with affec- 
 tion. There is no such thing here, either in the case 
 of the mistress of the house or of the servants. What 
 is not actually sealed into the wall is very soon 
 broken ; the dish-cloths disappear as if by witchcraft ; 
 if one were not after these creatures all the timie we 
 should quickly perish with dirt." 
 
 The old lady's current of talk was only interrupted 
 from time to time by the entrance of the maid, who 
 brought in veal cutlets with cabbage, then a roast 
 fowl, and finally, a tart. The fowl, which was scarcely 
 lukewarm, and the artistic tart, had evidently been ob- 
 tained, at the last minute, from a shop, to do honour, 
 by a more generous repast, to the unexpected guest. 
 
 Koppel and his wife both made repeated efforts to 
 take the lead of the conversation, but the old lady 
 would not give it up, and went inexorably on, airing 
 her accumulated displeasure at the peculiarities of 
 Parisian life. 
 
 " We ought to be ashamed not to set before you 
 red whortleberries or a mustard-cucumber with the 
 fowl, but they can't be had in this first city of the 
 world. Instead, they have things here that we don't 
 have. What do you suppose was one of my first ex- 
 periences here, Herr Doctor? I bought at the mar- 
 ket a goose, which was unusually round and plump, 
 and not too dear. When I opened the goose, after I 
 got home, I found it was stuffed full of old greasy 
 paper. This is what all the poultry-dealers in 
 Paris do." 
 
 Henneberg did not appear quite so shocked as Frau 
 Koppel expected ; however he politely inquired if she 
 did the marketing herself, personally. 
 
 " That my mother-in-law will not give up to any- 
 body," answered Frau Kathe, speaking for the old lady, 
 as if to excuse herself. 
 
 " If I didn't do that, the servants would steal the 
 very whites of our eyes !" Frau Koppel exclaimed. 
 
 " How do you get along about understanding the 
 tradesmen ?" Henneberg said. " Or have you learned 
 French ?" 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 23 
 
 " I have done without it so far," answered the 
 old lady, quite seriously. " I speak German to them, 
 and they understand me well enough. They call me 
 an old Prussian, when I beat them down on their 
 prices, but I don't mind that, and I can do better than 
 these French women who, because they are so genteel, 
 will let the wool be pulled over their eyes, and smile 
 as if they enjoyed it." 
 
 " Are you as discontented with Paris as your grand- 
 mamma is, Fraulein ?" and Henneberg for the first 
 time turned to Elsa, who again blushed deeply, and 
 diffidently replied : " I don't know any other city than 
 Paris, and am very contented here." 
 
 " Yes ; the children are real Parisians," the old lady 
 grumbled ; " they talk with each other nothing but 
 French all the time, just to annoy their old grand- 
 mother." 
 
 " To annoy you ?" Elsa cried out vigorously this 
 time. " Is it kind of you to say such a thing as that, 
 when you know how dearly we love our Gross- 
 mamachen ?" 
 
 She spoke with the unmistakable Berlinese German 
 of her parents and her grandmother ; but the some- 
 what undue stress on the final syllable, the peculiar 
 pronunciation of certain consonants, and the cadence 
 of the sentence, gave her way of speaking a certain 
 foreign tinge. 
 
 " Elsa and Oscar were very young when we came to 
 Paris," Koppel said : " they have always been in 
 French schools, and French is more natural to them 
 in conversation." 
 
 " Do you have any German society ?" Henneberg 
 asked Frau Kathe. 
 
 " Scarcely any. We know the parents of a few of 
 my husband's pupils, but they are all very rich people 
 with whom we could have no intimacy. But at times 
 some German teacher, man or lady, will come to us, 
 hoping to find a position through our means. But 
 you could hardly call this society." 
 
 " And so you live quite isolated here?" 
 
 " We have tP content ourselves. But you were 
 
24 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 going to tell us about your doings, Herr Doctor, and 
 how you chanced to come to Paris also." 
 
 Frau Kathe was rejoiced that the talk about house- 
 keeping annoyances on the part. of her mother-in-law 
 had been interrupted, and she had the greatest desire 
 to prevent its being resumed. 
 
 Hennebergpassedhisjhand over his brown moustache, 
 which was carefully cared for as was the short pointed 
 beard which adorned his chin, and remained silent for 
 a few minutes. Then he said, with evident hesitation : 
 " Yes, gracious lady, it is quite a remarkable story. I 
 shall enjoy turning over with you some chapters of my 
 life's book, which will appear to you like a fairy tale, 
 when you remember my early days." 
 
 " So much the better, Herr Doctor ; let us turn the 
 pages. I am a great lover of fairy stories." 
 
 Elsa cast stolen glances now and then at Henneberg, 
 while Oscar looked him full in the eye with rapt atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " When you bade adieu to Berlin," said Henne- 
 berg, "you left me a teacher in the Gymnasium, 
 you remember? We had among our pupils there a 
 young fellow from South America, you probably 
 remember him, Koppel ? Pedro Moreno, he was." 
 
 " Oh yes, the little gingerbread-coloured boy, with 
 sleepy black eyes, who, in spite of all punishments, 
 could not be prevented from smoking cigarettes." 
 
 " Quite right. Perhaps you remember also that I 
 used to coach him out of hours?' Koppel nodded 
 assent. " Such a donkey of cheerful obstinacy and 
 patient resistance I never again have seen. He had 
 been four years with us and after your departure he 
 remained two years more. He had acquired at last as 
 much German as a Polish recruit. All other branches 
 of education were to him equally dismal, French being 
 the only thing for which he had a liking, and he got 
 a tolerable knowledge of that. In spite of all my 
 endeavours, it wasn't possible to get him through the 
 examinations. He slumped like an avalanche in every- 
 thing. There never had been such a universal wreck, 
 in the case of a fellow of his age, — he was then twenty. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 2$ 
 
 My good Moreno was not at all disturbed at this. In 
 spite of all I could say to the contrary, he was deter- 
 mined not to repeat the attempt, and returned home 
 to Venezuela. In this long, daily association with the 
 idle fellow I had become very fond of him, and we 
 maintained quite a regular correspondence, which 
 gave me the opportunity of supplying many industrious 
 boys with Venezuelan postage-stamps." 
 
 An appreciative grin appeared on Oscar's face. 
 
 " About a year after the boy had left Berlin, I 
 received a letter from him which exceedingly surprised 
 me, and then caused me wicked amusement. He 
 informed me, with his usual coolness, that his uncle 
 had become president of the Republic and had 
 appointed him prime minister. One of the first official 
 acts of his uncle had been, he wrote, to invest me (at 
 his request) with the grand cross of the Order of the 
 Bust of Bolivar. By this I would see what a true 
 attachment he felt for his teacher. My first impres- 
 sion was that the fellow was joking, or else, that he had 
 become insane. But no ; it was perfectly serious. A 
 few days later, there was sent to me by the Venezuelan 
 agent, who also offered his congratulations, the diploma 
 of the Order and the decoration, a star as big as a 
 mill-wheel." 
 
 " Have you it on, Herr Doctor?" Oscar broke in. 
 A severe look from his father silenced him. 
 
 " No," Henneberg replied, smiling, " one can only 
 wear it on horseback. It is too showy for a man on 
 foot. It was perhaps the dazzling splendour of this 
 star that suggested to me to apply for permission to 
 accept it. The Director of the school made a face, 
 when he looked at my application, but he said nothing. 
 Three weeks later he sent for me to come to his office, 
 and said abruptly : ' Do you care much for this Ameri- 
 can gewgaw ?' His tone ai^d expression of face did 
 not please me. I said : ' Gewgaw ? This a recog- 
 nized decoration presented by a civilized State. May 
 I ask, why this question, Herr Director ?' He was si- 
 lent a moment ; then he replied with assumed careless- 
 ness : 'Don't take it amiss. Dr. Henneberg, but, you 
 
26 THE DRONES MUST illK. 
 
 know, you arc as yet only an under-tcacher, and we 
 have professors here in the school, who have not even 
 a ribbon in the buttonhole. Perhaps it has not oc- 
 curred to you what an effect it would have upon your 
 elder colleagues, if you — excuse me, I mean no offence 
 — if you are seen strutting about with this negro-star.' 
 I remember that the colour came into my face, and that 
 I rose from my chair. The Director thereupon b.came 
 more fatherly than before, pushed me back into my 
 seat, and said persuasively : ' Take my advice, dear 
 Dr. Henneberg, and withdraw your application. Your 
 star will be very much in the way of your promotion ; 
 your modest withdrawal, on the other hand, will help 
 you greatly.' I thanked him, and said briefly that I 
 could see no good reason for withdrawing my request. 
 And so this curious interview ended. 
 
 " Fourteen days later, my petition was returned to 
 me with the notice that it had been refused. This 
 made me angry, and I went to the Department of 
 Education to ascertain the reason for this refusal. I 
 found some difficulty at first in attaining the desired 
 information, but finally I learned that the objection 
 came from the Foreign Office. I followed up this new 
 track, and obtained an interview with a councillor 
 who, in a very bad temper, made known to me that the 
 affair had caused great disturbance; that the Venezu- 
 elan government had acted contrary to all precedent, 
 in neglecting first to make inquiries here whether the 
 bestowal of the order would be agreeable ; and that it 
 would not do to present to a public servant who could 
 scarcely be included in the fifth class, a decoration to 
 which only a major-general or a privy councillor in active 
 service could have a right. Much displeased at this, I 
 took leave, and on my way home, I stopped a few mo- 
 ments to talk with one of my fellow-teachers, who was 
 a friend of mine, and here I reached the solution of the 
 riddle : the councillor himself had the commander's 
 cross of the Bust of Bolivar, and took it as a personal 
 injury that an insignificant little schoolmaster should 
 have a higher rank in the Order than himself." 
 
 " That's official !" remarked Koppel, smiUng. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 2/ 
 
 " This is tlie truth, Koppel ; about the glitter of the 
 thing I didn't really care at all. But I thought it was 
 unjust that my request should be refused, and the up- 
 pishness of the councillor made me angry. I did not 
 hesitate very long, and while in my first wrath, took an 
 extreme step, — I resigned my position in the school." 
 
 " What !" cried Koppel ; " on account of the Bust 
 of Bolivar !" 
 
 " No. On account of the ill-treatment I had received. 
 It was rather a crazy thing to do, for I had only two or 
 three private pupils, and I had not the least idea how 
 I was to obtain any more profitable employment. But 
 my prompt decision turned out well, as you will see. 
 I related to my little Moreno, in a long letter, my ad- 
 ventures, and ended by saying that since he was now 
 so great a personage, and since his first favour had had 
 the result of depriving me of my means of support, he 
 must ask his uncle the President to give me a position 
 as teacher in Caraccas. I regarded this as a joke, but 
 still I was not entirely without hope that my sugges- 
 tion might bear fruit, and I awaited Moreno's reply 
 with anxiety. It came almost by return of post, — that 
 is to say, after two really distressing months, — and it 
 was amazing. Here, gracious lady, begins the fairy 
 tale." 
 
 " Bravo !" cried Frau Kathe, and clapped her hands. 
 
 " Moreno wrote that he had something better for 
 me than a position as teacher, and that the employ- 
 ment which he proposed for me, though not concerned 
 with the higher mathematics, yet had enough to do 
 with arithmetic to be quite in my line. Venezuela 
 desired to place a large loan, six million pounds ster- 
 ling, either in London or Paris, as might be most 
 advantageous, and he had induced his uncle to entrust 
 to me the management of the affair. Further parti- 
 culars and a cheque for first expenses would be sent 
 within a few days. They arrived accordingly. I re- 
 ceived full powers, official introduction to the agents 
 of Venezuela and to the great bankers in London and 
 Paris, and a cheque for 200;£'. This turn in my affairs 
 threw me into a gentle tumult. You will laugh, how- 
 
23 The Drones must die. 
 
 ever, to know how much of a schoolmaster I still re- 
 mained. I set off at once for Paris, it is true, and 
 began to take hold of my new duties, but I begged, in 
 a timid letter to Moreno, to be informed whether I 
 was enrolled permanently in the financial service of 
 Venezuela, and with what salary, or whether I should 
 regard this as only temporary employment. Before 
 Moreno's answer arrived, I had had time enough to 
 appreciate the childishness of my inquiry, and to 
 share in the merriment to which Moreno had given 
 way on reading my letter." 
 
 " I am very dull," Koppel observed, " but I don't 
 really see why your inquiry was so childish." 
 
 " You are an upright man," replied Henneberg, for 
 the first time with a slight air of superiority. " When 
 the honest agent procures for a robber-State six 
 million pounds, he has his pay then, and has no need 
 of a permanent situation in Venezuela." 
 
 " A robber-State ? But just now you called it a 
 civilized State ?" 
 
 " In our day these two ideas are beginning to coin- 
 cide." 
 
 " Is the agent in such a transaction paid so well as 
 that ?" asked Frau Kathe. She was devoured by 
 curiosity, but too courteous to make herself more 
 clear. 
 
 "He pays himself," Henneberg said smiling, "and 
 he is under no obligation to be moderate in his 
 charges. The work required about three months 
 time. Its essential part was to dine every day — some- 
 times also, to take breakfast — with clever men and first- 
 class g-ourmeis ; and this brought me in many times 
 more money than I could have earned in thirty years 
 of schoolmaster life in Berlin, all promotions and in- 
 creases of salary included." 
 
 " I can't tell how much that would be, it's too com- 
 phcated," murmured Frau Kathe, disappointed. 
 
 Henneberg went on as if he had not heard her. " So, 
 from being a teacher of mathematics, I became a 
 financier, and such I have remained ever since, for I 
 see plainly that financial transactions are the real 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 29 
 
 'higher Mathematics,' not that branch of study which 
 I used to teach for a ridiculous little salary." 
 • " And have you been in Paris ever since that jour- 
 ney, Herr Doctor ?" asked Frau Kiithe. 
 
 " Not all the time, gracious lady. I travelled for 
 awhile ; I had known nothing of the world. After 
 knocking about for three years I believed my collec- 
 tion of impressions was sufficient, and I pitched my 
 tent in Paris." 
 
 " If I am not mistaken," remarked Koppel, " Vene- 
 zuela no longer pays the interest on her famous loan, 
 and the bonds are about worthless." 
 
 " That is quite true." 
 
 " Does this have no effect upon you ?" 
 
 " Not the slightest. You can't suppose that — I put 
 my money into any such thing }" 
 
 " No — but the people who did ?" 
 
 " Am I to be expected to make good their loss ? I 
 made no pledge to keep them secure. But I am sur- 
 prised to see that you have some knowledge of finan- 
 cial matters." 
 
 " A little. They interest me because here you see 
 Capital in the very act, as it were." 
 
 " It's the Socialist in you that is interested, I see. 
 As for me, I have learned to look at things differently. 
 I have eaten of the tree of knowledge. Then your 
 eyes are opened and you know neither good nor evil, 
 
 "The Bible doesn't say it that way," remarked Frau 
 Kathe. 
 
 "There's the difference between then and now," 
 Henneberg replied, and his eyes grew sad. 
 
 The cheese and grapes were finished, and Frau Kathe 
 rose to go back into the. parlour, where coffee was 
 usually served. At this moment arose from the court- 
 yard thin notes of a violin, accompanying a hoarse 
 voice which was singing ballads. Henneberg glanced 
 out of the window and saw below, a tall, haggard man, 
 with long, coarse, half-gray hair, a long overcoat of an 
 indescribable grayish, yellowish, brownish color, dang- 
 ling round his legs, a shabby felt hat lying on the 
 ground near him ; this man was accompanying his 
 
30 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 singing and fiddling by a sort of dancing. The skip- 
 ping measure of the merry street-song, whose rhymes 
 were emphasized and brought out triumphantly by 
 the fiddle-bow, and the curious, frisking leaps of the 
 performer made such a painful contrast to his thin 
 cheeks, the sallow, half-starved skin, and the general 
 wofulness of his appearance and his clothing, that any 
 sensitive observer would have been more ready to 
 weep than to laugh. 
 
 '' A court-singer, who fiddles and dances at the same 
 time, I have never before seen," Henneberg said. " The 
 poor fellow has a kind of talent. He has discovered 
 something new. He deserves to be rewarded for it." 
 He drew a gold-ringed purse from his pocket, selected 
 a two-franc piece, opened the window and threw the 
 coin at the player's feet. The man ceased playing, 
 picked up the money, stared at it with amazement, 
 then looked up to the giver who nodded back to him. 
 Then the fiddler began a new performance, shouting 
 the words as loud as his parched throat would allow, 
 and danced in a wide circle around his hat, with such 
 frog-like leaps that there seemed reason to fear he 
 might break a leg. Henneberg's liberality had pro- 
 duced a great effect upon the old lady and also upon 
 Oscar. It was also observed by two young girls, whose 
 pretty heads, side by side, were noticeable across the 
 courtyard, in a window of the lower storey. They 
 glanced inquisitively up, and smiled a greeting to 
 Oscar and Elsa, when the latter returned to the win- 
 dow to close it, after Henneberg and the Koppels 
 had passed into the parlour. Oscar and Elsa remained 
 with their grandmother in the dining-room. 
 
 " If you would like to smoke, pray do," Koppel 
 said, "my good Kathe has no objection." 
 
 Henneberg bowed, thanking Frau Kathe ; he placed 
 his coffee-cup on the mantel, detecting — with carefully 
 concealed annoyance — an odour of chicory about it, 
 drew out his silver cigar-case which had on it his full 
 name, crosswise, in raised gold letters, and took out of 
 it a corked glass tube in which was a cigar. Koppel 
 looked on with curiosity, while with a tiny corkscrew 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 31 
 
 which hung- at his belt-chain, he withdrew the cork 
 and took the cigar out of its glass case. 
 
 " What kind of a performance is that ?" he asked. 
 
 " At least it is a novelty. They say in this way the 
 weed keeps its fragrance better. Won't you try one ?" 
 and Henneberg held out to him a second glass tube. 
 
 " Thank you ; I think I prefer this," and Koppel 
 hung in the corner of his mouth the short cherry-wood 
 pipe which his wife had skilfully and affectionately 
 filled for him. 
 
 "And you live here permanently, then ?" Frau Kathe 
 went on, resuming the conversation. 
 
 " Permanently ? That I don't know. The most pre- 
 cious thing about independence is the chance that it 
 giv^es a man to allow himself vagaries. But for the 
 present, I am very well contented here. I have, in a 
 degree, bound myself to remain. I am, like you, a 
 slave to my abode. But now," continued Henneberg, 
 " I have told you enough about my detestable self ; 
 now relate your history to me." 
 
 Koppel pulled reflectively at his pipe for some min- 
 utes, then he said : 
 
 " Really I have no history at all, since you and I lost 
 gight of each other. Schoolmaster I was, schoolmaster 
 I am, schoolmaster I shall remain. Venezuelan fairy- 
 stories have never come into my life." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! There is a certain amount of 
 romance comes into every life. All you need is to 
 look for it. Don't you see how fabulous it is that you 
 and I here, as settled Parisian residents and tax payers, 
 should be talking together; the same two men who, 
 eleven years ago, had for occupation to contend with 
 the sweet youth of a Berlin high school." 
 
 " Yes, that is true. This scene shifting was unex- 
 pected. It did not require much more, however, than 
 on the old Shakesperean stage. A tablet inscribed, 
 ' Wood and field,' is taken down, another with the 
 words, ' Street before the Royal Palace,' is set up, 
 and the play goes on smoothly. My work is the same 
 as before ; only my share in public life is denied me. 
 That is the only difference." 
 
32 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Do you miss the tobacco smoke and the odour of 
 beer of the political gathering ?" 
 
 " 1 do, very much." 
 
 " You are an impressive enthusiast. How did you 
 get transported to Paris 7 You have not told me." 
 
 " Oh, don't you know ? Nothing could have been 
 more simple. You must remember my leaving the 
 school?" 
 
 " Certainly, old friend. You were spotted as an in- 
 dustrious Socialist, and the choice was offered you, 
 either to separate publicly from the destructionists, or 
 to resign your position. You hesitated not one mo- 
 ment, but sent in your resignation. That was bravely 
 done. Let me shake hands with you." And Henne- 
 berg stretched out his hand. 
 
 Koppel grasped it for an instant, and replied : 
 " Every decent man in my place would have done the 
 same. If there was any merit in the affair, it was 
 Kathe's. It was her bread and the children's that I 
 gave up, and if she had not been brave " 
 
 " Do not praise me, dear Hugo," the wife broke in, 
 " I would rather have had no bread, than that you 
 should have relinquished your convictions." 
 
 " Not every wife would say that," remarked Henne- 
 berg. 
 
 " I pity the woman who carries the consciousness 
 that she is a burden or a shackle to her husband," 
 Frau Kathe replied. 
 
 " Kathe's courage is all the more famous," Koppel 
 continued, " because she has never shared at all in my 
 Socialistic ideas. The sole aim of her curtain lectures 
 has always been to bring me back to Conservatism." 
 
 " Oh, Hugo ! curtain lectures !" 
 
 " Well ! — in short, we were out of house and home. 
 How to begin ? In som.e newspaper of the party 
 should I seek employment ? That would perhaps 
 have had some result, but we should have had very 
 short commons, and there would have been the perpet- 
 ual danger of being ordered to leave the country. In 
 the midst of this distress I chanced one day to see in 
 a paper an advertisement requiring for a German pri- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 33 
 
 vate school, in another country, an experien-ced 
 teacher of Greek and Latin, and also of History. I 
 wrote at once to the address indicated, mentioning, of 
 course, the reason why I had left the other school, and 
 had the joy of being favourably received. And so we 
 came to Paris." 
 
 " And here you have given up your socialistic 
 activity ?" 
 
 " That is the ridiculous point of the affair. For, as 
 it has come out, I might as well have remained in Ber- 
 lin. But here, to relinquish all share in politics 
 brings with it no sacrifice of my self-respect." 
 
 " Whether you are prosperous here, I don't have to 
 ask, since this very day I found you buying shares !" 
 
 Henneberg could not quite avoid the patronizing 
 tone of the millionaire, as he said these words. 
 
 Koppel exchanged glances with his wife and an- 
 swered, smiling : " You interpret that indication not 
 quite correctly, perhaps. My wife has lately inherited 
 a few thousand marks, and the money had to be in- 
 vested. Don't make up your mind then that I can't 
 make away with my enormous salary unless from time 
 to time I make purchase of consols." 
 
 " I wish from my heart it were so. You are con- 
 tented to live in Paris, gracious lady ?" 
 
 " Where my husband is, that is my country, Herr 
 Doctor. Within my four walls it doesn't make a 
 great deal of difference to me whether the city has 
 one name or another. It is true, the children are 
 growing up here, and that causes us anxieties. Here, 
 of course, they become French, and that is a very 
 serious thing. And to prepare a future for them in 
 Germany is, as we are situated, very difficult and very 
 expensive." 
 
 Koppel had smoked his pipe out: he laid it aside, 
 glanced at his watch, and rose. 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons, " he said, " but the 
 school-bell calls the master." 
 
 Henneberg also rose suddenly. " Why, certainly," 
 he said, " and I must go, myself. Shall I be permitted 
 to take my leave of your dear mother ?" 
 
34 
 
 THE DKo::::s must die. 
 
 " If she has not already begun her nap," Frau 
 Kathe said, and hastened to the door. 
 
 " I beg you will not awaken her, gracious lady," 
 Henneberg called after her ; but she had disappeared 
 .and came back with the old lady, who had been busy 
 still in the dining-room and kitchen. 
 
 " What, Herr Doctor, were you going without bid- 
 ding me good-bye ? That was not kind. You must 
 always take leave of old people, because you are never 
 sure of seeing them alive another time." 
 
 Henneberg grasped the thin and wrinkled hand 
 which Frau Koppel extended smilingly, and, while he 
 pressed it gently, he said in a tone of extreme cordiality ; 
 " Gracious lady, you will remain with us many years 
 yet." 
 
 " As God wills," she replied : " Give my best love 
 to your dear young wife, and bring her, when you 
 come again, will you not ?" 
 
 Koppel was about to correct again his mother's per- 
 sistent mistake as to the state of his friend, but 
 Henneberg prevented him, by a sudden grasp of his 
 arm. Turning to Frau Kathe, the parting guest said : 
 "Good-bye, gracious lady, and many thanks; you 
 have given me very precious hours to-day. It 
 refreshes one and makes him young again, to breathe 
 the air of such quiet domestic happiness for awhile." 
 And to Koppel he said : " I have to take a cab. Can 
 I set you down at your school ?" 
 
 But Koppel replied : " Thank you ; the school is 
 very near and I am not sorry to walk a few steps after 
 dinner. But I will go with you as far as the stand." 
 And the two went away together, after Henneberg had 
 promised Frau Kathe that he would come again very 
 soon. 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOST IN PARIS. 
 
 A FEW days after Henneberg's visit, as Koppel was 
 loitering, one Saturday morning at about eleven 
 o'clock, on his way from the school, — which was in the 
 rue Vaugirard, opposite the Luxembourg, — to his home 
 in the old, narrow cowpath of a street, rue Saint-Andr6- 
 des-Arts, as he reached the corner of that street and 
 the rue de I'Ancienne-Com^die, his son Oscar ran 
 against him, and — as soon as the boy could get his 
 breath — exclaimed : " Papa, please, you must come 
 home quickly." 
 
 Oscar was pale and excited ; Koppel caught his 
 hand and asked with great anxiety : " What is the 
 matter? has anything happened ?" 
 
 " I don't know," the boy answered : " I had just 
 come in from school, and mamma sent me out straight 
 to meet you." 
 
 Koppel wasted no further words but quickened his 
 pace almost to a run, and in a few moments was at the 
 door of the house. On the threshold of his loge, stood 
 the concierge, a giant Alsatian, formerly one of the 
 emperor's hundred horsemen of the Life-Guard, 
 Knecht by name, called by his French neighbo.urs, 
 Knetsch. 
 
 Koppel stood still a moment. " What's happened .''" 
 he said. 
 
 "Go up stairs, Herr Koppel," replied the concierge. 
 " It is something about your mother." 
 
 Koppel felt a sharp pain in his heart, and ran 
 hastily up the stairs. He scarcely observed that, on 
 the first floor, at the half-open door of their apartment, 
 the two pretty little neighbour-girls were standing, and 
 looked anxiously at him as he passed ; now, he had 
 reached his own door which stood open, and there in 
 the ante-chamber were Frau Kathe and Elsa, both 
 tearful. 
 
36 TITE DRONES MUST DJE. 
 
 " What ir, the matter ?" he panted breathlessly. 
 " Where is my mother ?" 
 
 His wife drew him into the parlour, and with diffi- 
 culty controlling her voice, she said : " Dear mother 
 went out early in the morning, and she has not yet 
 come home." 
 
 " What do you 'mean ? Not come home ? Where 
 is she, then ? Don't torture me, Kathe ; tell me the 
 whole. Did she meet with an accident in the street ?" 
 
 •' I hope not," Frau Kathe answered ; " but I don't 
 know where she is." 
 
 " Where did she go ?" 
 
 " She went out as usual in the morning with her basket 
 on her arm. She was to go to the baker, and the but- 
 terman, and the butcher ; and she has not yet come 
 back." 
 
 '' Where are these shops ?" 
 
 " They are all here in this street." 
 
 " Did you go to inquire ?" 
 
 " Of course I did. Mother went out soon after 
 eight. At nine o'clock, when she had not come in, I 
 noticed it ; at half-past nine, I became anxious and 
 went down to inquire. She had not been at any one 
 of the three places." 
 
 " Had none of the neighbours seen her?" 
 
 " Yes ; the woman in the tobacco-shop opposite was 
 quite sure she had seen her go by with her basket." 
 
 " She cannot have got lost, with such a short dis- 
 tance to go." 
 
 " It's a riddle to me ; nothing can have happened to 
 her, for that would have made a disturbance, and every \ 
 body must have known of it." 
 
 ■' It is inconceivable ; why did you not send to me 
 immediately?" 
 
 " Because I was expecting every moment to see her 
 come in. She cannot have lost her way, in a street 
 that she has lived in for eleven years." 
 
 Koppel took out his watch. " Over three hours 
 away, when she had gone out to do a few errands here 
 in this street. Something must have happened to her. 
 
LOST IN PARIS. n 
 
 I will go to the police-station. That seems to me to 
 be the next thing I can do." 
 
 "I have already spoken to the two patrolmen who 
 are in this street and in the rue de Buci. They would 
 make inquiries, they said, and would mention it at the 
 station. But I have heard nothing from them." 
 
 Koppel had taken his hat down from the stand, and 
 he turned toward the door. 
 
 '■ May I go with you ?" asked Frau Kathe anxiously. 
 
 " And I ?" said Elsa, who had been standing by the 
 door with Oscar. 
 
 "That is not worth while," the father said, "it is 
 better for you both to stay here, so that if she comes 
 back there will be some one in the house." 
 
 Frau Kathe looked down, and sighed deeply. 
 
 " Does Martha know in what shops mother usually 
 buys ?" 
 
 Martha was a Luxembourg girl, who spoke both 
 French and German. 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 " I will have her come with me." 
 
 Martha was summoned and bidden to lay aside her 
 apron and put on her shawl as quickly as possible. 
 She obeyed, grumbling, but Koppel took no notice, 
 and went hastily down stairs with her. 
 
 He went first to the baker's shop, and the stout wife 
 of the baker, from behind her marble counter, called 
 out, as soon as she recognized the maid : 
 
 " Is it about the old German lady ?" 
 
 "Yes; my mother," answered Koppel. * 
 
 A sympathetic shadow came over the woman's 
 cheerful fat face : " Oh ! and hasn't she got back 
 yet?" she asked. 
 
 " No. Has she not been here r" 
 
 " I am so sorry. I have already told Madame that 
 we have not seen the old lady this morning at all." 
 
 " Would you have been sure to see her, if she came 
 in?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! We all know her here in the shop. 
 My man always jokes with her. She speaks German 
 
38 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 and he, French, and then both laugh. Such a pleas- 
 ant old lady !" 
 
 Koppel 'listened in silence ; then said briefly, 
 " Thank you," and went out. " I wish you good 
 luck," the baker's wife called after him. " And keep up 
 your courage!" 
 
 At the butcher's and at the creamery, it was the 
 same thing. Everywhere great sympathy was ex- 
 pressed, and every one sought to encourage him that 
 all would yet be well. So much kind feeling expressed 
 by strangers was a comfort to him. It seemed to 
 inspire him with renewed hope, though it brought 
 him in no way nearer to his object. 
 
 He sent the maid back, and went on alone. At the 
 corner of the rue de Buci, he met the patrolman on 
 his beat. He stopped the man and inquired if any- 
 thing had been heard of the old lady for whom her 
 family were seeking. 
 
 "What old lady ?" The policeman said, and looked 
 distrustfully at Koppel. 
 
 " Has no one told you that an old lady from the 
 rue Saint-Andr6-des-Arts, has disappeared ■ " 
 
 " I don't know anything about it. I have only been 
 here since eleven, and the man whom I relieved said 
 nothing to me. If you want to hear any thing more, 
 you must go to the police station." 
 
 This advice Koppel followed. The station, recognis- 
 able by a red lantern and by a flag, consisted of two 
 smoky rooms. In the first one, which had an iron stove 
 and some wooden benches, a few policemen stood or 
 sat about, with an air of extreme fatigue ; in the 
 second, a little cleaner and somewhat better furnished 
 than the other, an officer was seated at a writing-table. 
 To this person Koppel was directed, when he inquired 
 of the policemen in the outer room, for the officer in 
 charge. 
 
 Koppel made known his case, adding that the patrol- 
 men on duty had probably mentioned it when they 
 came in. 
 
 '' Nothing has been mentioned here," the officer 
 said, curtly ; with that he picked up a pen, and began 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 39_ 
 
 to write down, in a very large book which lay before 
 him, the answers which Koppel made to questions on 
 the subject. The officer inquired about the residence, 
 the name, and the age of the missing person ; had her 
 personal appearance and her dress described to him, 
 and the hour of her disappearance given. This being 
 ended, he remarked : " Very well ! When we know 
 anything about the case, we will communicate with 
 you. 
 
 Koppel could not persuade himself to go away 
 immediately. ".What do you propose to do ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 The man glanced up sharply, and replied : " All that 
 is needful." 
 
 " Pardon me if I ask you to tell me what that will 
 be." 
 
 " Your description will be telegraphed to the pre- 
 fecture. The report as to all persons found in the 
 streets is also made at the prefecture, and if your mother 
 should be heard of in this way, we shall be notified." 
 
 " Shall I come again to see if you have any news of 
 her?" 
 
 " You may, if you like." 
 
 " Is there nothing that I can do ?" 
 
 " You can search in the streets where you think it 
 possible your mother may be, and if you find her, you 
 can take her home." 
 
 Koppel looked the man in the face. No. The 
 other was not making a jest of his mortal anguish. 
 This extraordinary answer was the natural product of 
 the man's mental ability, which could plainly enough 
 be estimated by his vacant look and his stupid mien. 
 He paid no further attention to Koppel, but turned to 
 a woman who, meanwhile, had come in. 
 
 Koppel left the station and went slowly homeward. 
 The nearer he came to his dwelling, the more rapid 
 became his step. The hope was growing within him 
 that, in the meantime, his mother had returned, and 
 would come, smiling, to meet him. So confident be- 
 came his expectation of this, that he almost cheerfully 
 called out to the concierge as he went by ; " Well, 
 
40 
 
 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 has mother come in?" But Herr Knecht shook only 
 a negative, with his huge head. 
 
 Frau Kathe and the children sat silent in the par- 
 lour, like mourners returned from the funeral after 
 some dear relative has been buried. They started up 
 when Koppel entered and fixed their eyes upon him 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Nothing," he said, in a dull voice, and dropped 
 into a chair, while Elsa took his hat and overcoat. 
 Frau Kathe silently wrung her hands. After a few 
 minutes' silence, he detailed the steps he had taken. 
 It was now noon, and the maid came in, asking if she 
 should serve dinner. Upon this, Frau Kathe almost 
 lost her self-control. How could one think of eating, 
 in circumstances like this ! But Koppel said : " Let 
 us have dinner. There is no use in sitting idly here, 
 and the children will be hungry." 
 
 Martha had set the table as usual, for the old lady 
 as well. The sight of the vacant place at the father's 
 right hand, between him and Elsa, produced a painful 
 effect upon them all. It was as if they saw a ghost 
 there. A cold chill passed over Koppel. Where, at 
 this moment, was the poor old lady ? Where was she 
 wandering up and down, lost ? Where was she lying 
 in agony, — perhaps stunned, — or perhaps already 
 dead ? He sought to banish the idea, unconsciously 
 shaking his head, but it would not depart. Would his 
 mother ever again sit in this chair, at this table ? It 
 clutched his throat like a fierce hand. And yet he had 
 not the heart to cause this significant gap to disappear 
 by bringing Elsa's chair nearer to his own, for it 
 seemed as if this would be a symbolic action by which 
 he accepted the changed situation. An old lady is 
 lost ; those who remain close up the broken rank; and 
 life moves on, as if the missing one had never been. 
 Oh, no! that was impossible. No one can disappear 
 in broad daylight in a great city, and no trace of the 
 lost person be found. It must be that he should 
 have his mother here again. 
 
 From the antechamber the bell sounded, suddenly. 
 They all ran to the door. There she is, surely! 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 4t 
 
 Martha was there as soon as the rest, and tore open 
 the door. Alas ! it was only the little daughter of 
 the concierge bringing a German paper, for which 
 Koppel was a subscriber. The family went slowly 
 back into the dining-room. Scarcely anything was 
 eaten ; scarcely a word was said. Koppel did not 
 take off the wrapper of the German paper, which it 
 was his custom to read at table. And when the cheese 
 was brought in, he no longer could endure to remain 
 in the house. 
 
 "I am going over to school," he said, "to excuse 
 myself for the rest of the day. Then I shall go again 
 on the search." 
 
 Oscar seized his father's hand. " And I cannot 
 possibly go to school this afternoon," he said plead- 
 ingly. 
 
 " You are right ; stay here with your mother ;" and 
 turning to his wife, Koppel added : " I shall come in 
 every little while, to see if there is any news." 
 
 " Yes," Frau Kathe answered in a broken voice : 
 " please do not leave us very long alone." 
 
 At one o'clock, Koppel was again at the police- 
 station. At the writing-table in the inner room, 
 there was now another official, a thin and smiling 
 person, in place of the other, stout and surly. Kop- 
 pel asked if any news had been brought in; the 
 man knew nothing about the matter, and required to 
 be told that Koppel was seeking his mother. Then he 
 took up a pen, inquired the name and residence, per- 
 sonal appearance, and hour when the old lady had last 
 been seen, and was about to write the answer in the 
 same big book. Koppel interrupted him : " Pardon 
 me, all this has been already done." 
 
 " Is that so ?" replied the ofificer, and turned the 
 leaves ; then finding the statement, exclaimed : 
 
 " Yes, here it is. Very well, monsieur, very well. 
 Now then, everything is as it should be." 
 
 Koppel was much displeased at this. " I should 
 like to know," he said, " what has been done in the 
 matter." 
 
42 
 
 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " My colleague has without doubt reported it to the 
 officer of the district. You may be quite at ease." 
 
 " Reported it to the officer of the district ? I 
 thought it was to the prefecture that the report would 
 be made." Koppel was by no means at ease. 
 
 " No. Later, it will go to the prefecture." And as 
 he saw Koppel's distress, he added kindly: "If you 
 like, I will make a second announcement. Be tranquil, 
 monsieur, be tranquil." 
 
 Koppel said : " Thank you," and took leave of the 
 cheerful officer. 
 
 What next ? He stood still for a moment and 
 thought about it. Since nothing further was done 
 here than to notify the district station, he could think 
 of nothing better to do than to go thither himself. 
 The place was much more pretentious in its aspect. 
 From a very large hall, which opened directly from the 
 street, at the right opened the office of the Secretary, 
 at the left that of the Commissary of police. The man 
 to whom Koppel explained his errand directed him to 
 the Secretary. 
 
 "You have doubtless heard from the police-station 
 of the rue de Buci that Frau Koppel, my mother, has 
 been missing, since early this forenoon." 
 
 The Secretary picked up the sheet of paper which 
 lay on the table, looked it through and then said : 
 " We have received no notification to that effect." 
 
 Koppel was furious, but he remembered in time 
 that, as a foreigner, as a German, he had no right to 
 express impatience at the administration of a country 
 not his own, and he only replied with a tremulous 
 voice : " I was told, however, expressly, that whatever 
 was needful would be done." 
 
 " What have you yourself done, thus far?" 
 
 Koppel narrated the steps he had taken. 
 
 "Very good," answered the official, "nothing has 
 been neglected." 
 
 Thereupon he opened a large book, addressed to 
 Koppel the same questions, as to the name, age, resi- 
 dence and personal appearance of his mother, and 
 having written all this down, he rose from his seat, say- 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 43 
 
 ing: "To-day is Saturday." He apparently went 
 through a little mental process of calculation and re- 
 sumed : " You will come again Tuesday, and sign the 
 minutes of the disappearance." 
 
 " Is this all," cried Koppel bitterly, " that the po- 
 lice can do to help me find my mother ?" 
 
 " Yes, what do you expect done ? The law must 
 be obeyed. If a person disappears, minutes of the 
 disappearance must be made. Accordingly, you will 
 come Tuesday and affix your signature to this docu- 
 ment, otherwise there will be trouble." 
 
 Koppel bowed silently and went out. As if he had 
 been beaten over the head, his brain a chaos of con- 
 fused ideas, stupified, he made his way homeward. The 
 occurrence had, meanwhile, beeq made known all 
 along the street where he lived, through the gossip of 
 maid-servants and concierges : and as Koppel passed 
 along, with depressed air and vacant look, all the little 
 tradeswomen of the neighbourhood came to their 
 doors and looked sympathetically after him. On the 
 ground-floor of the house in which he lived, the 
 concierge, with his family about him, stood waiting. 
 " Is there nothing ?" asked Koppel, before he entered. 
 " Nothing," answered the tall Alsatian. Koppel stood 
 still, on the sidewalk. His first impulse was to go 
 away again, and resume his search at random, with a 
 hope that some happy chance might help him. Then 
 it occurred to him that this would ^e unkind towards 
 the others, and he went up stairs. 
 
 They were still sitting together, silent, as before : 
 but the anxiety had deepened in their faces, and their 
 eyes were more tearful. Frau Kathe dared not ask a 
 question of her husband, and it was some minutes 
 before Koppel could pull himself together sufficiently 
 to tell them very briefly what he had been doing. 
 
 Frau Kathe was the first to make an effort to rise 
 above the extreme discouragement which they all felt. 
 When she saw that Koppel again picked up his hat 
 and rose from his chair, she laid her hand gently on 
 his shoulder, and said : " Hugo, there is no use in 
 walking the streets ; and the police are doing nothing 
 
44 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 for US, as far as I can see. Let us talk it over reason- 
 ably, what there is that we could do." 
 
 They discussed all sorts of possibilities, which, 
 hitherto, they had not done at all. Could it be that 
 the mothei had merely lost her way .'' That seemed 
 to be almost impossible. She would not willingly 
 have continued to wander about the streets for six 
 hours. Her strength would not admit of this. She 
 had with her some money for the purchases to be 
 made. She knew the name of the street where they 
 lived. She would have taken a fiacre, if she had 
 become aware that she could not find her way. Or if, 
 being tired, she had gone in somewhere, into a shop, 
 a house, the waiting-room of a line of omnibuses, she 
 would have inquired her way, and some decent person 
 would have come home with her. It was impossible 
 to suppose she was merely lost. Had some attack of 
 illness happened to her in the street ? That certainly 
 would have become known to the police. Could it 
 possibly have happened outside their district ? But 
 how could the old lady have been so far away ? Still, 
 this seemed to be the only theory at all tenable. The 
 poor old lady had, perhaps, first wandered away from 
 familiar streets, was then completely fatigued, and 
 then, in some remote street, far from her home — yes ! 
 surely, it must be that. If a person drops in the 
 street, helpless and ill, without doubt he is at once 
 carried to a hospital In this direction Koppel must 
 search for his motner. But anything that had hap- 
 pened to her must be quite serious, so that she was 
 not able to give her name and residence, and ask to 
 be carried home, or, at least, if that were impossible, 
 send word to her family what had happened to her. 
 
 " But perhaps not," Frau Kathe suggested, consol- 
 ingly. " She may have been unconscious for a time, 
 and when she was able to send a messenger, he may 
 have been for hours strolling about, these people are 
 so careless ; and so, a stupid attendant or hospital er- 
 rand boy has perhaps been the cause of all this dread- 
 ful anxiety that we are enduring." 
 
 Koppel was not really convinced, but it gave him a 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 4^ 
 
 certain relief that he again had some definite aim in 
 view, and that his thoughts and efforts were not abso- 
 lutely without plan or direction. The immediate duty 
 lay before him to search in hospitals. But in what 
 hospitals? The most reasonable thing to do was to 
 go to the general bureau of administration of all the 
 hospitals, where notification was at once given when any 
 patient had been received at any one of them. He 
 went out, a little less downcast than he had entered, 
 and rapidly directed his steps towards the not very 
 distant avenue Victoria. 
 
 The day, whose collective sum of accidents, sudden 
 illnesses, and deaths was to be investigated, was pecu- 
 liarly dismal. The sun was so densely shadowed that 
 not the faintest gleam of light gave any idea of its 
 place in the sky. There were no clouds, whose freak- 
 ishly changing form and varying light and shade lend 
 to the sky its attractive and consoling look, its charac- 
 ter of height and open space v/hich uplifts the human 
 heart ; the sky was like a low, flat roof, coated with a 
 dull, yellowish-gray, mud-coloured paint. As the day 
 wore on, this oppressive roof seemed to sink down in an 
 alarming way, as though it would at last crush what- 
 ever was between it and the ground. The same colour 
 of plastered mud met the eye from underfoot ; the 
 ground was wet and slippery like the bottom of a 
 drained pond, and splashed up beneath the tread. It 
 almost seemed as if the endless, thin sheets of the in- 
 cessant rain were not falling at all, but were rising 
 from below and polluting the sky with the liquid filth 
 of the great city gutters. Over all things animate and 
 inanimate there seemed to be diffused a certain repul- 
 sive ill temper that was more intolerable than an 
 equally profound melancholy. The houses dripped, 
 the windows stared black, and as if malicious, upon the 
 street. The drooping horses were coated, breast high, 
 with mud. The drivers of vehicles sat under the weight 
 of their bulbous cloaks, their necks sunken out of sight 
 between their shoulders. Pedestrians, some with water- 
 proof hoods over their heads, some sheltered under 
 umbrellas, went grimly along, each besprinkled or be- 
 
46 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 splashed by his neighbor, and looked at each other like 
 enemies. It was not really cold, but the heavy, damp 
 air seemed to penetrate the clothing and even the 
 shivering skin to the very bones, and give even the 
 healthiest person a sort of chill. 
 
 Koppel became again extremely discouraged. It 
 seemed that this leaden day, which took away all hope, 
 could never be succeeded by a brighter one. He ob- 
 served a lean, shaggy dog without a collar, trotting be- 
 fore him, who looked as if he had been dragged 
 through a morass. But the dog sought all across the 
 wide sidewalk the cleaner places for his dripping feet, 
 and avoided the deeper puddles whenever he could — 
 a sight at once droll and pathetic. 
 
 " And my mother," Koppel thought, " may be wan- 
 dering through the streets at this moment, like this 
 poor dog, — her clothes wringing wet, muddy to the 
 eyes, vainly avoiding the puddles, and feeling forlorn 
 and forsaken, like this masterless dog. And the men who 
 pass her by, hit her with their umbrellas, under which 
 they hide, like masked evil-doers ; she feels as if she 
 were in the frightful solitude of some trackless wood, 
 only that the solitude of the great city is more dread- 
 ful, because of the crowd of inaccessible human beings 
 who threaten her." 
 
 He had reached the huge stone palace of the society 
 for public charity in the avenue Victoria, and he was 
 introduced by a solemn looking servant, in a blue 
 cloth frock-coat with metal buttons, into a long hall 
 on the ground floor, which was divided in halves by a 
 wooden railing. A young man behind the railing 
 listened to him silently, and then replied : " We re- 
 ceive notice here from the hospitals, of the entrances 
 and departures, always in the morning, for the preced- 
 ing day, — the twenty-four hours from midnight to mid- 
 night. Of anything that occurs to-day, we do not hear 
 until to-morrow morning." 
 
 To-morrow morning! A whole night of this cruel 
 uncertainty to be endured ! 
 
 " And how early can I come in the morning ?" 
 
 " Excuse me. To-morrow you cannot come, for it 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 47 
 
 is Sunday. On Monday, however, at about eleven 
 o'clock, we shall have the lists." 
 
 " Can I not in some way see to-day's lists in the 
 morning, to-morrow ? I should be glad to give a 
 pourboire to any servant or concierge. You might thus 
 shorten by twenty-four hours the distress of a family." 
 
 " Impossible. You would find no one here to-mor- 
 row." When he saw the misery of Koppel's face, the 
 clerk added with sympathy : " But you might at- 
 tempt to obtain information yourself, at the different 
 hospitals. If the lady was taken ill anywhere in your 
 neighbourhood she would be carried either to the 
 Charit6, or to the Hotel Dieu, or else to the Pitie. 
 You can go and inquire." 
 
 The advice was useful. Koppel hurriedly gave the 
 friendly clerk the desired description of his mother, — 
 which the young man entered in a book, — and was 
 soon again in the street. He made inquiries first at 
 the Hotel Dieu. The official who had the list of 
 persons received, informed him that, during the day, 
 no Frau Koppel and no unknown patient had been re- 
 ceived. A woman, senseless, had been brought in to 
 the Charity, who seemed to have been attacked with 
 apoplexy. Koppel's heart stood still as he hastened 
 to the ward where the unknown person lay. But 
 from the door he could see that it was not his mother. 
 Who knows, he thought, but over this human wreck, 
 a whole family are at this moment in deadly distress ! 
 But his own anxiety quickly banished all thought for 
 others' sufferings. At the Piti6, he also found noth- 
 ing which concerned him. Again he had come up 
 against a blank wall, and could see no further steps. 
 Would it be well for him to go to the twelve or fifteen 
 other hospitals of Paris ? But how could it be that 
 his mother could have been a half an hour's or an hour's 
 walk away from home ? 
 
 "You would do \\'ell to inquire at the insane-ward 
 of the police-prison," the functionary at the Pitie said 
 to him. 
 
 "At the police-prison?" said Koppel, excitedly. 
 
 "Certainly. Old people sometimes lose their senses 
 
48 THE Drs.ONES MUST DIE. 
 
 suddenly. And then the police take them at once to 
 the insane-ward." 
 
 Ever blacker and more dreadful grew the outlook 
 before Koppel's eyes. He followed, however, this via 
 dolorosa. 
 
 At the remote end of the inner courtyard of the 
 police prefecture he was directed to a little entrance, 
 closed by a heavy, iron-bound oaken door. Over this 
 melodramatic dungeon door was legible the inscription : 
 hifirmerie du depot. Koppel pulled the bell, a large 
 one, evidently, for a tumult of sound resulted, at which 
 the man who sought entrance shrank appalled. The 
 door opened, and an official appeared on the thresh- 
 old. 
 
 '-'What do you wish ?" he said. 
 
 Koppel, commanding his voice with difficulty, nar- 
 rated his errand. He could not have told, at that mo- 
 ment, whether he would rather not find his mother at 
 all, or find her here. The man bade him come in. 
 He entered a somewhat dark, low room, which had in 
 it some wooden benches secured firmly to the floor. 
 
 " Here we have all the persons who have been 
 brought in up to noon. Look for yourself," the offi- 
 cial said. 
 
 Three figures were seated on the benches : a young 
 man with the suspicious, irritable look of the insane 
 person who believes himself tracked by foes ; a well- 
 dressed woman, who sat crying quietly, her tears con- 
 tinuously running down into the feather boa that she 
 wore round her neck ; and a strong-built middle-aged 
 woman, with disordered clothing, fiery red face, and 
 flashing eyes, who was talking loudly, gesticulating 
 with violence, and repeatedly springing from her seat, 
 to be forced back again by a second man in charge, 
 who stood in front of her. 
 
 Koppel, unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. 
 " And since noon ?" he asked. 
 
 " Since noon we have had four persons, all French, 
 and able to give their names." 
 
 " What would be done with any sick persons brought 
 in later ?" 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 49 
 
 " They remain here until the Doctor sees them and 
 gives orders." 
 
 " Will you let me know at once, if my mother should 
 be brought in ? I shall be very glad to pay for a cab 
 for the messenger, and to compensate you for your 
 trouble ; and I should be most grateful to you." 
 
 The man promised willingly ; he tore a leaf from a 
 memorandum book, and made a note of the name, 
 residence, personal appearance, etc., and somewhat 
 inconsiderately, expressed the hope that he might be 
 of service to Koppel. 
 
 As the heavy door swung to and locked itself behind 
 him, and he once more stood in the court-yard, the 
 thought occurred to him that this was the place to 
 which all police-returns from the whole city were sent 
 in. Here or nowhere, . could he find news of his 
 mother. He hastened to the doorkeeper, a haughty 
 person with ribbons and medals on his breast, and 
 asked eagerly to which functionary he must address 
 the inquiries he wished to make. 
 
 " It is not here," replied the lofty porter, " but in 
 the other building of the prefecture of police." 
 
 The place was a few steps distant on the river-bank. 
 Koppel entered a vast courtyard, surrounded on all 
 sides by arcades. In the courtyard stood about a 
 hundred horses, and, among them, separately or in 
 groups, guardsmen, some in full uniform, others in the 
 drilling-jacket of grooms. Men on foot and on 
 horseback were coming and going at every moment, 
 and uniforms of mounted police, municipal guards, 
 horse-guards and soldiers of the line, were mingled 
 with citizens' dress and the costume of under-officials. 
 There was a moving crowd in the courtyard, in the 
 arcades, on the stairs, at the gateway, as around the 
 entrance of a bee-hive. 
 
 All these men coming and going had some errand, 
 with each of them the prefecture must occupy itself ; 
 what chance for attention could remain over for a 
 man, poor, unknown, no longer young, who, alone and 
 anxious in the human wilderness of the vast city, was 
 feeling his way in any direction ? And yet this man 
 
50 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 was embittered against the police, who, since morning 
 either could not or would not do anything for him, and, 
 notwithstanding the conviction of his reason, his ex- 
 cited feeling found their obtuseness revolting. 
 
 Upon his statement of his errand, the porter said to 
 him, — without honouring him with a glance, and already 
 turning towards another inquirer : " Chef des Person- 
 als, first section, first bureau." It was not easy to find 
 the individual designated, especially to one not familiar 
 with the complicated building. With the aid of many 
 signs along the walls, and with assistance from the 
 marvellously numerous lounging servants, he attained 
 — after wandering through long passages and over 
 many stairs — his goal. 
 
 He found himself in a large, handsomely furnished 
 room, in the presence of a high official, who with a 
 politeness and affability, corresponding to his rank, re- 
 ceived the new comer. After having patiently and 
 with courteous mien heard the story out, he took his 
 pen, and said : " Have the goodness to repeat to me 
 some of your statements." 
 
 "Excuse me, but has the case not been reported to 
 you ?" 
 
 " Not as yet." 
 
 " The commissary of police in my district assured 
 me that it should be reported at once." 
 
 " At what o'clock was this ?" 
 
 " It was three hours ago." 
 
 Not a shade of change crossed the friendly face of 
 the cJief\ nor did he think best to .make any answer to 
 Koppel's last remark ; but he said dryly : " What is 
 the lady's name ?" * 
 
 Koppel went through his litany once more, and 
 could not resist adding: "This is perhaps the tenth 
 time to-day that I have dictated a description of my 
 mother." 
 
 "At least, this has done no harm," the official said 
 with invincible friendliness. When he ceased writing 
 he added: "It is very fortunate that madame your 
 mother speaks no French. That makes the case ex- 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 51 
 
 ceptional, you see, and will render it much easier to 
 find her." 
 
 " But how is it possible that for eight hours I have 
 no trace of her ? She cannot have been in the street 
 all this time. Whatever has happened to her, she 
 must have been noticed somewhere, there must have 
 been some information lodged about her." 
 
 The official made no answer ; but he inquired : " Have 
 you been in the hospitals 7" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; that is to say, in those of my district and 
 the one adjacent." 
 
 The official nodded approvingly. " And in the 
 Morgue ?" he said. 
 
 Koppel's heart stood still. He was conscious that 
 this idea, remote and vague, had already occurred to 
 himself ; and that he had not had the strength to make 
 it more distinct. He grew very pale, and said, in a 
 low voice : "No." 
 
 " Well, then, you ought to go," the other went on, 
 still in his pleasant voice ; " and, on our part, we will 
 do all we can for you." 
 
 " May I ask what you propose to do ?" 
 
 " I shall communicate with all the commissaries of 
 the districts, and desire them to make special search. 
 If the lady has not left Paris — " 
 
 " Why should she leave Paris ?" 
 
 — " you will very soon have news of her." 
 
 Koppel expressed his thanks ; the official rose to bid 
 him good-bye; and Koppel slowly left the room. It 
 was his intention to walk as far as the Morgue, but his 
 legs were like lead. He called a fiacre, and took it by 
 the hour. As the vehicle rolled easily along by the 
 full, yellow-gray Seine, and the rain beat more and 
 more violently against the window, so that he could 
 scarcely see through the glass, he seemed to see his 
 mother with the basket on her arm, slowly and dead- 
 tired, dragging herself in this cruel storm through 
 the fathomless mud of the streets, and his conscience 
 almost stung him, that he, meanwhile, should be com- 
 fortable and dry in his fiacre. 
 
 He had soon arrived before the long, low building 
 
52 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 behind Notre-Dame, which the hangman's mirth of the 
 common people call the Ice Palace, because the dead 
 awaiting recognition are kept there on ice. He got 
 out and stood for a few minutes before he had strength 
 to go up the three steps. He was breathless, and the 
 drops of sweat came out on his forehead. But he 
 must conquer this weakness. After he had entered 
 the hall where, behind a wall of glass, on slanting, lead- 
 covered tables lie the dead, their clothes removed and 
 hanging against the white-washed wall, above their 
 heads, he had not the courage, for a few minutes, to look 
 at the rigid forms. He noticed indistinctly that some 
 of the tables were not occupied, that the bodies, over 
 which a thin stream of water dripped from a faucet 
 above, were shining-wet, and that against the bar, 
 which in front of the glass, went the length of the 
 place, some men and women of the lower class were 
 standing or leaning, and through the panes were gaz- 
 ing at what lay on the other side. As soon as his con- 
 fusion and distress permitted, he looked round for a 
 servant or ofificial of whom he could ask a question ; 
 and, keeping his head still turned away from the glass 
 wall, he perceived at the extreme left a door with the 
 sign: Secretary's Office. He hastened to enter, and 
 was received by a fat little man, whose health and 
 cheerfulness were written upon his rosy face. 
 
 " Has there been an old lady brought in to-day, with 
 a blue cloth dress — " 
 
 " There has nothing been brought in to-day, so far," 
 interrupted the Secretary, with a loud voice that rang 
 like a trumpet in the little, over-heated room. 
 
 Koppel could have fallen upon the neck of this 
 domineering person. He drew a long breath. It was 
 like coming out of a cave into the open air, with sun- 
 light already breaking through the clouds. The 
 official noticed the effect of his words and he inquired, 
 still in his lordly tone, in which, however, there was a 
 certain expression of sympathy : " Have you lost 
 somebody ?" 
 
 Koppel related his story. The other listened ; then 
 asked, when Koppel had ended : " I suppose you 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 53 
 
 would like, if anything comes in, that we should let 
 you know, before we expose it ?"' 
 
 Koppel begged that he would do this, and was 
 obliged once more to give a description, and when it 
 had been entered in a book, the Secretary dismissed 
 him, saying with the same powerful voice : " Now, you 
 can depend upon us. And if you find the lost person, 
 let us know, that we may erase this entry. The pub- 
 lic is so inconsiderate. People never think of letting 
 us know, and so we have unnecessary trouble." 
 
 When he again stood in the hall Koppel was quite 
 a different man. He had now the strength to glance 
 at the bodies which lay on the tables. There were 
 five, — four men and a woman, melancholy wrecks 
 flung upon the strand by the Paris-ocean. But happy 
 though he was that he had no dreadful discovery to 
 apprehend, he still felt the shudder that had passed 
 over him at the thought that his mother might be ly- 
 ing here, her poor form exposed to the eyes of the 
 indifferent gazer. 
 
 He called out his residence to the cabman, leaned 
 back in a corner and shut his eyes. A peculiar hope- 
 ful gladness came over him suddenly. While he, with 
 inexpressible anxiety, had sought her in the Morgue, 
 very probably his mother had already been for some 
 time safe at home ! The thought grew to a fixed con- 
 viction in his mind. Very probably ? No ; most cer- 
 tainly, — his mother awaited him at home! How won- 
 derful are presentiments, he thought ; a certainty so 
 sudden, so without cause, yet so unquestionable, had 
 come over him ! 
 
 At the door of the house he got out of the fiacre and 
 went in to see the concierge. He had no doubt that 
 this man, or some of his family, would rush to meet 
 him with joyful faces, crying out before they came 
 near: " She has come back !" 
 
 Frau Knecht was the first person whom he saw. 
 
 " Well ?" he exclaimed, confidently, almost cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 " Nothing !" she answered. 
 
 All the castles in the air which his imaijination had 
 
54 
 
 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 built fell to pieces. As if struck by lightning he stood 
 for a moment motionless; then slowly and without a 
 word left the room. He took a few steps towards the 
 stairs, then turned, and went back to the carriage. 
 He had not the courage to go up. All his former 
 restlessness came back upon him, and besides, some- 
 thing like shame at appearing before his family with- 
 out bringing the lost one with him. He seemed to 
 himself very small and insignificant, without influence, 
 without power ; he was nothing and could do noth- 
 ing ; what he did was immaterial ; what he said was 
 the buzzing of flies. It seemed to him as if he must 
 hide his deep abasement in solitude and darkness. 
 
 " Whither, patron .?" asked the cabman. This 
 snatched him from his gloomy meditation. Yes, 
 whither ? That the authorities would not make the 
 .slightest effort in his behalf, had become perfectly 
 clear to him. To get the better of their indifference 
 he must have some very efificient aid from without. 
 But how to obtain it ? Should he ask help from Wol- 
 zen ? The proprietor of the school had many acquaint- 
 ances, but^ his was an arid, unsympathetic nature, and 
 probably there was very little that he could do, if he 
 should feel inclined, which was far from certain. The 
 German embassy ? But in the eleven years that he 
 had lived in Paris, Koppel had made no approaches 
 to the representative of his native country ; the circum- 
 stances by reason of which he had abandoned the 
 Fatherland had left him little inclination to come into 
 relations with official Germany. This he had reason 
 now to regret. How would he be received at the 
 embassy ? It was now five o'clock ; office-hours were 
 over; he would probably find no one there, and some 
 servant would advise him to come to-morrow, or pos- 
 sibly not before Monday. And this would not bring 
 help to the need of the moment. Never had his com- 
 plete isolation in Paris been so grievous to him as now. 
 He felt like a man from a wreck, alone in a little boat 
 upon the ocean. The two and a half millions of 
 human beings who, with incessant motion and noise, 
 surrovmcjed him, seemed to him like so many drops of 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 55 
 
 water, and an appeal to them as insane as it would be 
 to seek sympathy from the waves of the ocean which, 
 cold and unheeding, splashed, incessant, upon the 
 shore. Not a friend had he ! 
 
 Suddenly, the idea of Henneberg came to his mind. 
 He was ready to reproach himself that the thought 
 had not occurred to him before. " Rue de Teheran !" 
 he called to the cabman. As a matter of fact he 
 had not been extremely intimate with Henneberg in 
 Berlin. They had had simply the friendly relations 
 which naturally spring up between two persons of 
 about the same age and in the same position. Kop- 
 pel being married, while Henneberg remained a 
 bachelor, the latter often came to Koppel's of an 
 evening to pass the hours with serious talk and light 
 refreshment. The joy of the unexpected meeting in 
 Paris had, however, called up in Koppel's mind an 
 exaggerated recollection of their earlier acquaintance, 
 and it now seemed to him as if, in the old days in 
 Berlin, he had had no nearer friend. " How unfriendly 
 of me," he thought, " that I had not returned his visit 
 earlier ! And what a just punishment that I must 
 now go to him, seeking help !" 
 
 If only Henneberg would be at home ! All safety 
 seemed to him to depend upon this. It was now dark, 
 the street-lamps were lighted, and the rain poured 
 steadily on. How intolerably slow the cab crept on ! 
 Again and again Koppel put out his head, and by the 
 promise of a liberal pourl/otre endea.voured to stimulate 
 the driver. The latter, however, grumbled something 
 about the slippery pavement and his tired horse, and 
 kept on without increase of speed. 
 
 Finally the cab stopped before the designated num- 
 ber in the rue de T6h6ran. It was a very handsome 
 house, with a broad entrance ; the room of the concierge 
 was brilliantly lighted and very spacious, with oriental 
 divans and comfortable armchairs ; the concierge him- 
 self, a man with the shaven lips and chin and luxu- 
 riant side-whiskers of a solicitor-general, and an em- 
 broidered velvet cap upon his 'dignified head ; the 
 
56 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 stairs, shut in with glass, were heated, and covered 
 with a rich carpet held down by brass rods. 
 
 Henneberg occupied the first floor. A servant 
 opened the door when Koppel rang the bell, and con- 
 ducted him through a large antechamber adorned with 
 plants, and through a very elegant drawing-room, into 
 a smaller room opening at the left, and asked for his 
 name. Was Monsieur Henneberg at home ? He would 
 see. Until the servant returned, Koppel had time to 
 look around him. He was, however, in too much ex- 
 citement, to notice separate things; but he received a 
 general impression that, with rugs and portieres and 
 window-curtains, with oriental furniture, objects of 
 vertii, pictures and bronzes, the room was like a jewel- 
 box. In a few minutes, one of the portiferes was 
 lightly pushed aside, and Henneberg came in smiling, 
 with outstretched hand : " This is good, dear friend," 
 he began ; but he broke off, suddenly, as he saw Kop- 
 pel's aspect, and exclaimed : " What is it?" 
 
 Koppel grasped the other's hand and held it tight, 
 as he answered with a broken voice : 
 
 " Mother has disappeared, since early this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "What do you mean ? ' Disappeared ? ' " 
 
 Koppel gave him the details and described briefly all 
 the steps that he had taken in search of her. Henne- 
 berg became also greatly moved, and leading him into 
 another salon, much larger, which was adjacent, 
 made him sit down on a sofa. The hours of anxiety, 
 fatigue and hopelessness did their work. Koppel's 
 power of endurance was at an end, and as he finished 
 speaking he broke down and began sobbing violently. 
 Henneberg laid his hand on the other's shoulder : 
 
 "Take courage, my poor friend," he said; "all is 
 not lost." 
 
 " You do not know," Koppel said, with choking 
 voice, " what my mother is, and what she has done 
 and suffered for me." 
 
 _" I can sympathize with you fully," Henneberg re- 
 joined ; " I also had -a mother who was everything to 
 me, and to whom I owe everything. And I had not 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 57 
 
 the happiness of being able to show her my gratitude. 
 But what do you propose to do ?" he added, after a 
 moment. 
 
 " You are my last hope." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " You have very influential friends, who perhaps 
 know the prefect of police or one of the ministers ; 
 what I hope is that, in some way, the police may be 
 stimulated to greater activity." 
 
 " Hm ! Yes. Perhaps. Let me see." He rose 
 from his seat and paced the room silently for a few 
 minutes. Suddenly he stopped before Koppel. " I 
 have a plan. We will try." 
 
 He touched an electric bell and the servant stood in 
 the doorway. 
 
 " Have the horse put in at once." 
 
 " I have a cab below," Koppel interrupted. 
 
 " Pay the man," Henneberg said to the servant. 
 
 " But " Koppel again broke in. 
 
 " And dismiss him," Henneberg continued, without 
 noticing Koppel's interruption ; and when the servant 
 had gone, he said : " We shall get on faster with my 
 carriage. Excuse me for a moment." He disappeared 
 and returned almost immediately in an overcoat with 
 the parti-coloured rosette of an Order in the buttonhole. 
 " I am ready," he said, and went towards the door. 
 In the antechamber the servant handed him a stick, in 
 whose chiselled gold top a very small watch was inserted, 
 a smooth, tall hat, and a pair of new gloves. Kop- 
 pel began asking the servant what he had paid the cab- 
 man, but Henneberg briskly pulled him along, saying 
 in German : " Don't be so childish." 
 
 In the entrance-way stood the coup6, with its splen- 
 did bay in silver-mounted harness. The dignified con- 
 cierge stood in his doorway and pulled off his cap respect- 
 fully as Henneberg appeared. A servant opened the 
 carriage door instantly, then closed it softly behind 
 the two. Henneberg said a few words to him, which 
 the latter repeated to the coachman, and the carriage 
 passed out into the street. The interior of the coup6 
 corresponded to its outward appearance; the windows 
 
58 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 were of plate-glass, the cushions and sides were of 
 brown morocco, the little mirror was rimmed . with 
 oxydized silver, and the ash-tray beneath it was of the 
 same metal. Koppel had not a long time in which to 
 admire these splendours. The finely extravagant and 
 fleet trot of the thoroughbred brought the carriage 
 quickly to its destination, a very large, elegant private 
 house in the rue Fortuny. 
 
 " Is the baron at home ?" Henneberg asked, as they 
 entered the vestibule. 
 
 The lackey who advanced to meet him wore an 
 extremely rich livery : a dark blue coat with silver 
 stripes and brandebourgs, a scarlet waistcoat, light 
 blue breeches, and stockings of white silk. 
 
 The servant replied that his master was out, but 
 Madame la Baronne was at home. 
 
 " Announce me, please," Henneberg said, and at 
 once began going up the stairs, followed by Koppel, 
 while the lackey hastened on before, and whispering a 
 few words to another servant who came towards them, 
 he lifted a portifere for the two men to enter, while the 
 other vanished into some inner room. 
 
 Henneberg, who had seemed perfectly at home, and 
 had neither taken off his overcoat nor laid down his 
 hat and stick, went on through a first and second 
 salon into a kind of boudoir beyond, where the lady of 
 the house come forward to meet him, extending her 
 hand, which he bent to kiss. In German, he said to 
 her : " Permit me to present to you a fellow-country- 
 man, my friend Doctor Koppel — " 
 
 Koppel and the lady both suddenly paused an 
 instant, as they met each other's eyes, and looked 
 fixedly at one another, — Koppel, puzzled and hesitat- 
 ing ; the lady, surprised. Henneberg noticed this 
 singular effect of his introduction, but he forbore to 
 inquire about it. 
 
 The lady put an end to this embarrassment, as she 
 gave her hand cordially to Koppel : " I see," she said, 
 " that you know me. You are not mistaken. Baron- 
 ess Agostini is, as you think, Fraulein Hausblum, the 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 59 
 
 poor German teacher who came to you ten years ago, 
 and was so kindly received by you." 
 
 '' For whom, unhappily, I could do nothing," Koppel 
 stammered. 
 
 " That was from no lack of good will," she said, 
 smilingly ; " but sit down, and tell me to what I owe 
 the honour of your visit." 
 
 Henneberg replied for his friend, and told the 
 story. 
 
 "The dear old lady!" exclaimed the baroness, 
 extremely shocked and affected, " that is most dread- 
 ful ! What is your idea ? What is it that I can do ?" 
 
 " The baron undoubtedly is acquainted with the 
 prefect of police," said Henneberg. 
 
 " Oh certainly," answered the baroness eagerly, 
 " and so am I. He has often dined with us." 
 
 " That is good !" Henneberg said. " I came with 
 the idea of asking the baron to interest the prefect in 
 my friend's behalf. It is unfortunate that we do not 
 find him at home." 
 
 " He must be at home before seven, to dress for 
 dinner," the baroness said, " but naturally you would 
 not be willing to wait till then." 
 
 " Of course, the case is urgent," Henneberg said ; 
 and the tears gathered again in Koppel's eyes and be- 
 gan to fall slowly. 
 
 The baroness started up. " The baron is probably 
 now at his club. Let us go and try to find him, and 
 if we do not, I will go myself with you to the 
 prefect's." 
 
 " Will you do that.?" Koppel said, with emotion. 
 
 " Indeed I will. I will not leave you without help 
 in such a case as this is. I will be ready as soon as 
 possible." And she glided swiftly from the room. 
 
 The baroness Agostini was a beautiful woman about 
 thirty years of age, who, under any circumstances, 
 must have made an impression. At this moment, to 
 Koppel, she seemed like a creature from a nobler 
 world, with her tall and vigorous, yet slender figure, 
 her proud head with its masses of dark hair, her great 
 brilliant dark eyes, her classically correct, rather long, 
 
6o THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 nose, and her imperious mouth whose smile revealed 
 faultless teeth. A victorious and tranquillizing in- 
 fluence seemed to radiate from her. Whatever this 
 strong woman with the light, resolute motion, the mas- 
 terful eyes, and the clear, positive speech, took in hand, 
 could not, it seemed, fail of success. 
 
 " Now we are all right," Henneberg whispered, 
 when the two men were alone ; " then you knew the 
 baroness ?" 
 
 " Oh, very slightly, and it is so long ago ; I never 
 should have recognized her had she not been a per- 
 son so extraordinary in appearance and character. 
 But what is she now ? or rather, what is her hus- 
 band ?" 
 
 Henneberg could not but smile. " If you were not 
 so entirely out of the world," he said, " you could not 
 help knowing that baron Agostini is one of the fore- 
 most figures in the high finance. He is the president 
 of the French Oriental bank ; he has uncounted 
 millions and unlimited influence. I have taken you to 
 the right shop, depend upon it." 
 
 Koppel grasped warmly his friend's hand, then sank 
 back in a silence which the other respected. 
 
 It was, however, shortly interrupted by the return 
 of the baroness, in a queenly cloak of old-gold velvet 
 trimmed with costly fur, and a rich little bonnet with 
 a gleam of gold about it. 
 
 " Come, please," she said and went before them. 
 The lackeys were on duty at the street door and hast- 
 ened to open it as the baroness approached. Outside 
 stood a victoria with two chestnut horses, and a servant 
 in dark street-livery had his hand on the silver handle 
 of the door. 
 
 "You ordered your horses?" Henneberg ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Your coupe would scarcely have been comfortable 
 for three," she rephed; "and besides, I am used to my 
 own carriage." 
 
 She entered, while Henneberg directed his coachman 
 to follow the victoria. There was a courteous dispute 
 between the two men as to which should take the front 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 6l 
 
 seat, and the baroness put an end to it by decisively 
 calling Koppel to sit at her left. 
 
 Noiselessly, on its rubber tires, the carriage rolled 
 along the fine pavement of the boulevard Malesherbes, 
 and thence, through the place de la Concorde, to the 
 baron's club. 
 
 " Will you see if the baron is here," the lady said, 
 " and if you do not find him, we will go on to the pre- 
 fecture." 
 
 Henneberg and Koppel got out of the carriage and 
 went into the building. They breathed more freely, 
 when the servant in the hall assured them that the 
 baron was in the house. He appeared almost immedi- 
 ately in the salon where they awaited him, a short, 
 thin old man, nearly bald, his face yellow and incred- 
 ibly wrinkled ; on his upper lip, a fiercely black, dyed 
 moustache; on his under lip, a no less inexorably 
 youthful mouche ; in his eye, a monocle ; in his button- 
 hole, a red ribbon. His appearance struck Koppel 
 with a sudden feeling of distress. Like a flash came 
 to him the contrast between this whited sepulchre and 
 the splendid vitality of the woman outside, in her car- 
 riage with its silken linings of soft blue ; and some con- 
 sciousness of a concealed tragedy rushed upon him. 
 But the image of his mother quickly banished these 
 thoughts. 
 
 The baron affably held out two fingers to Henne- 
 berg, and inquired what he wanted. When informed, 
 he turned very kindly to Koppel and said : " I shall be 
 delighted to be of service to you." Then he went to 
 the telephone, and called up the prefecture of police. 
 The response was prompt. After a few sentences had 
 been interchanged he turned to Koppel, who had been 
 waiting in a state of the keenest anxiety. 
 
 " Monsieur le pr6fet says to me that he is at this 
 moment dressing to go out to an official dinner, and 
 must go at once. He, however, places at my disposal 
 his secretary who, in this matter, will be as useful as 
 the prefect himself. The secretary begs you to come 
 to him at once. That is the best which you can do, I 
 think. He is expecting you." 
 
62 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Koppel thanked him with great emotion, but the 
 baron interrupted him : " Oh, please ! It is a pleasure 
 to me. And now, lose no time. I wish you success!" 
 
 Meantime he had called for his hat and overcoat, and 
 accompanied his visitors to the carriage, where he gal- 
 lantly kissed his wife's hand, and told her what the 
 present situation was. Henneberg and Koppel were 
 about to take their leave, but she remonstrated : 
 " What are you thinking about ? I am going with 
 you." And the three went away together, while the 
 baron returned to his club. 
 
 At the palace of the prefecture on the boulevard du 
 Palais, they went upstairs to the room of the secretary, 
 which was in the story above the prefect's apartment. 
 The secretary rose to his feet in much surprise, as they 
 entered, for he had not expected to see a lady of such 
 evident distinction, and he manifested a quite extra- 
 ordinary alacrity as she mentioned to him her own 
 name and that of her two companions. 
 
 Koppel again recounted his sad story, for the tenth 
 time in this wretched day. The secretary listened 
 with the greatest attention until he had finished speak- 
 ing, and then sat silent and reflective for a few mo- 
 ments. The baroness interrupted his meditations. 
 " Since Frau Koppel seems not to have met with an 
 accident, or to have been taken ill in the street, what 
 can possibly have happened to her ? A crime in clear 
 daylight, in the midst of a city is most unlikely ? Ab- 
 ductions are mostly matters of romance, are they 
 not?" 
 
 " Madame la baronne," the secretary replied, "the 
 most improbable things happen in a great city like 
 this. But it is useless to puzzle ourselves over con- 
 jectures. To act is better. I will order the police- 
 commissaries of all the districts to send in to me at 
 once the returns of the day. Thus we may get some- 
 thing useful." 
 
 " This very thing monsieur le chef des personels has 
 already done, or promised to do, two hours ago," 
 Koppel interposed. 
 
 The secretary cast a rapid, and not particularly 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 63 
 
 friendly, glance at him, was silent a few seconds, then 
 said: "Excuse me, madame la baronne;" and went 
 into an adjacent room, where he was heard to speak, 
 with carefully lowered voice, through the telephone. 
 When he returned there was an expression of annoy- 
 ance in his face, which he seemed vainly to endeavor 
 to conceal. 
 
 "I will now take charge of the matter personally," 
 he said, without explaining the result of his questions 
 through the telephone. '' Be sure, madame la baronne, 
 that we will neglect nothing which promises to help." 
 
 " The baron and myself will be most heartily grate- 
 ful both to you and to monsieur le prefet," replied the 
 baroness, and took leave as a queen might do. The 
 secretary accompanied them to the stairs, and remained 
 standing till they had reached the next floor. 
 
 " Permit me to take you home," the baroness said, 
 when they came to the street. '' Up to this moment 
 evidently nothing has been done but I have an impres- 
 sion that the secretary will fulfill his promise." 
 
 Koppel grasped the strong, slender hand of the 
 beautiful woman and raised it to his lips in a transport 
 of gratitude. 
 
 When the victoria stopped before the house in the 
 rue Saint-Andr^-des-Arts, the baroness shook hands 
 with Koppel. " I will not go up now. At a moment 
 like this I should fear to be intrusive. Permit me, 
 however, to send at a later hour this evening, to see if 
 you have news. And remember me cordially to 
 madame." 
 
 Henneberg also bade Koppel good-bye, and begged 
 to hear as soon as news were received. 
 
 In his own apartment Koppel found the two young 
 neighbours from below, who modestly slipped away as 
 he came in. Frau Kathe threw her arms around his 
 neck. " We have been anxious also about you," she 
 said. " How could you have staid away so long?" 
 
 He released himself from her embrace, and, in as 
 few words as possible, narrated what he had done. 
 He was extremely fatigued and seemed very much dis- 
 couraged, Frau Kathe perceived this, and did not 
 
64 
 
 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 insist on a more detailed account. She took his arm 
 and let him into the dining-room. " I cannot eat," he 
 said, but she begged him tenderly : " Be good, Hugo. 
 You are suffering for food. Besides, we don't know 
 how much need you may yet have for your strength." 
 
 During supper, not a word was spoken. In Kop- 
 pel's mind, one idea was prominent, — the agony of the 
 coming night. That he could not go to bed was clear 
 to him. But what was there that he could do ? Sit 
 at home, and endure tortures ? Or, uselessly, wander 
 about the streets ? And the most horrible thing of all 
 was that this might last long, perhaps always. He had 
 come to this, that he would have regarded it as a relief 
 to know even the worst, even that his mother was 
 dead, if only he could have certainty of some kind. 
 Unendurable to him, on the other hand, seemed the 
 thought that perhaps this mystery would never be 
 cleared up. What if she had disappeared without 
 leaving any trace behind her ? That he should never 
 to his life's end recover from the blow, he felt with 
 shuddering certainty. The thought of his mother would 
 beset him as a vision of agony, destroying his mental 
 balance. She would forever come before his mind 
 in circumstances of horror, — mangled and bleeding, 
 calling for help, the victim of robbers and murderers,- — 
 conscious yet speechless among strangers and persons 
 regardless of her suffering, stretching her hands out to 
 her son, moaning out his name unintelligibly, drifting 
 down the muddy, ice-cold river, under the knives of 
 medical students, thrown into a pauper's grave by 
 drunken labourers. 
 
 Supper was ended ; Martha had, as quietly as pos- 
 sible, cleared away the dishes ; the four agonized 
 human beings were still sitting around the family 
 table ; when, suddenly, there was a loud and authori- 
 tative ring at the bell. All four started up, and rushed 
 to the door. Koppel was first, and opened it. With- 
 out, stood a policeman, and the giant concierge was 
 visible behind him. 
 
 " Monsieur Koppel ?" the policeman said. 
 
 " Yes," was the breathless answer. 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 65 
 
 " An official despatch," the man said and handed him 
 a folded paper without an envelope. 
 
 Koppel did not wait to return into the apartment, 
 but where he stood in the open door, he read it, by 
 the gas-light on the staircase : " From the prefecture 
 of police to the police-station, rue de Buci. Notify 
 Monsieur Koppel, rue Saint-Andre-des Arts, No. 222, 
 that Madame Koppel, his mother, is at the police- 
 station, rue d'Auteuil, and is at his disposal." 
 
 He gave a cry of joy, and began to tremble so 
 violently that the paper almost dropped from his 
 hand. Frau Kathe snatched it and read it aloud. 
 She and the children began sobbing, and the con- 
 cierge crept quietly downstairs to carry the news to 
 his own family and to the neighbourhood. 
 
 With shaking hand, Koppel drew a five-franc piece 
 from his pocket, and offered it to the policeman, but 
 the latter, with a gesture of decision, refused to accept 
 the coin. 
 
 " I beg you to take it. You have brought relief to 
 a family in despair." 
 
 " Say no more," the policeman replied, gruffly. " I 
 am not allowed." 
 
 " At least, then, let me shake hands with you." 
 
 Upon this the policeman's stern look softened, and 
 he gave a friendly grasp to the outstretched hand, 
 then strode away. 
 
 Koppel and his family returned into the dining-room 
 and clung together, parents and children alike cry- 
 ing. 
 
 Koppel was the first to rally. He called for his 
 coat and hat, and while Oscar ran to fetch them, he 
 said to Frau Kathe: "You must send for the doctor, 
 to have him here when I bring her home. Have her 
 bed warmed, and have hot water ready. He will tell 
 us what else to do." 
 
 " But how in all the world did she get to Auteuil, 
 which is a good hour's walk from here ?" Frau Kathe 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " We shall soon know all about that. Or, if we don't 
 
66 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 know, it is no matter. The important thing is that we 
 have her back." 
 
 He hastened down stairs and took the first fiacre 
 that came past without a fare. He took the cab by 
 the hour, and promised the man double pay and more 
 than that, if he would drive as rapidly as his horse 
 could possibly go. The cabman accepted the proposal 
 and laid on the whip. It was not a smooth motion, as 
 in Henneberg's coup6, or the victoria of the baroness 
 Agostini, but the fiacre dashed through the streets, 
 while the sparks flew from under the horse's hoofs, 
 and the motion almost satisfied his eager impatience. 
 Nevertheless, it was fully a half-hour before he reached 
 the designated place, which was at the opposite ex- 
 tremity of Paris. 
 
 In front of the building stood two policemen, who, 
 as they saw Koppel spring out of the vehicle before 
 even it had stopped, called out : 
 
 " Ah, it is for the old lady !" and they went in ahead 
 of him. 
 
 The first object that Koppel perceived, as he entered 
 the over-heated room, was his mother, who sat on a 
 wooden bench in the middle of the room, and was look- 
 ing around her with the mien of a scared and anxious 
 child. As soon as she perceived him, her face bright- 
 ened, and she called out, smiling : " Well ! here you 
 are !" 
 
 He took her in his arms and kissed her, at first quite 
 unable to speak. How she felt to his touch ! And 
 how she looked ! Her outside garments were wringing 
 wet. Her gown was wet, also : she was bespattered 
 almost to the eyes with the thick, ropy mud of the 
 Paris streets, her hands were clammy through the 
 knitted mittens, and she looked almost too tired to 
 hold .herself up. Near her, on the floor, stood her bas- 
 ket, into which had been forced a monstrous cabbage, 
 almost too large to remain in it. 
 
 The presence of three policemen and a sergeant, 
 who all looked on with curiosity, enabled Koppel to 
 rnaster his first emotion. In obedience to the ser- 
 
LOST IN PARIS. &•] 
 
 g-eant's order, he went to the desk and signed the in- 
 evitable document. 
 
 " How long has my mother been here ?" he said. 
 
 " For about two hours. It was about six o'clock 
 when our men noticed her in the street. She was 
 stumbling and slipping along slowly with her basket. 
 At first they thought something else was the matter — 
 no offence meant ! — and brought her in. Then we 
 soon saw that it was nothing of the kind, and that the 
 old lady had lost her way. She talked a great deal, 
 but none of us could understand what she was saying. 
 We offered her some warm soup, but she would not 
 take any." 
 
 "Two hours in these dripping clothes?'' Koppel 
 could not help saying. 
 
 " Yes ! What could we do ? we were obliged to 
 keep her here." 
 
 " What should you have done with her to-night r" 
 
 " We should have sent her to the prefecture, or else to 
 some hospital. But about an hour ago came inquiries 
 from the prefecture about an old lady, so and so, who 
 could speak no French. When I said : This is our 
 guest ! and I sent back the message : We have her. 
 As you see, I was right." And the sergeant rubbed his 
 hands contentedly, as he spoke. 
 
 Koppel was eager to get his mother home. He 
 suppressed his desire to have further particulars, and 
 said only : " May I show my gratitude to your men 
 for their kindness to my poor mother?" 
 
 "They have only done their duty," was the firm 
 reply. But the sergeant added, in a more friendly 
 tone : '^ We ourselves are not allowed to accept any- 
 thing, but if you really would like, you can ask our 
 superintendent to give us permission to receive your 
 gift." 
 
 Koppel thanked him, then gave his arm to his 
 mother to assist her to the cab. " My basket ?" she 
 cried anxiously. A policeman guessed her meaning: 
 picked the basket up laughing, and handed it to her. 
 The cabman seemed in the meantime, to have obtained 
 information as to what was going on, for he laughed 
 
68 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 out, as the two emerged from the doorway, and 
 exclaimed : " Now this is good ! this is good !" 
 
 " Yes ; now home as quickly as possible, as quickly 
 as you can, please," Koppel replied, while he lifted 
 the old lady — now quite unable to raise her feet 
 from the ground — into the cab. He pulled oS his 
 own overcoat, and wrapped it around his mother, who 
 was beginning to shiver with the cold and dampness. 
 And he rubbed her hands, warming them in his own. 
 
 " What tiresome men !" began the old lady quite 
 peacefully. " They were scribbling all the time, and 
 stupid as oxen, too!" 
 
 '• How ever did you wander so far away from 
 home ?" 
 
 " I don't know, myself." She spoke in a low voice, 
 and seemed ashamed. " But it can happen to any- 
 body in a foreign city." 
 
 " Did you not inquire your way from any one ?" 
 
 " Certainly. But people don't understand what you 
 say to them. One man looked at me and laughed and 
 shook his shoulders — you know how they do here. 
 Then I spoke to a woman and she didn't even stop. 
 After that I didn't try any more." 
 
 " Have you had anything to eat all day.?" 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 She looked at him with surprise. 
 
 " Where ?" she said. " Why at home, of course, as I 
 do every day. Are you joking?" 
 
 Koppel perceived that it was useless to question her 
 further and he remained silent. His mother fell 
 asleep, leaning against his shoulder. 
 
 When they reached the house, the cabman, whose 
 expectations were fully satisfied by the pourboire 
 that he received, assisted in carrying the old lady 
 as far as the stairs. A dozen of the inmates of the 
 house and some of the neighbours from outside were 
 standing in the hall, and they welcomed Koppel with 
 cordial congratulations. Knecht, the concierge, by 
 force of arms, took his mother away from him, and 
 himself carried her up-stairs. The doctor had arrived, 
 
LOST IN PARIS. 69 
 
 and directed that the old lady should be at once put 
 to bed. Koppel gave her over to his wife, listened for 
 a moment to the childrens' eager delight and questions, 
 then bade them wait until he had sent certain mes- 
 sages by telephone. 
 
 It was now nearly nine o'clock, and at nine the 
 office would be closed. But he arrived in season to 
 get off three despatches — one to the secretary of the 
 prefecture ; another to the Baroness Agostini ; and a 
 third to Henneberg ; and he only breathed freely 
 when this duty was performed. 
 
 His day's work was ended. For the first time in 
 ten hours he was tranquil, notwithstanding the new 
 anxiety about his mother's health which had sprung 
 up. 
 
 Returning home, he found the doctor just going 
 away. " It is evidently a case of sudden loss of m'em- 
 ory," the latter said, " as often happens with old peo- 
 ple. The attack, however, is entirely over." 
 
 "And the results of the fatigue and exposure ?" 
 
 " About that we cannot yet say. But we must hope 
 for the best." 
 
 In his mother's room, Frau Kathe sat by the bedside 
 and held the old lady's hand in hers. Frau Koppel 
 had been washed clean, her hair had been brushed 
 smooth, she had taken a quantity of warm milk — of 
 which a further supply stood ready, if she should 
 wake — and she now lay breathing quietly, and peace- 
 fully asleep. Koppel stroked his wife's hair and 
 cheek, and with brimming eyes she leaned her head 
 against his breast. 
 
70 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 
 
 " It is really incredible," the doctor said, the next 
 morning, after carefully observing Frau Koppel : 
 "there is not the slightest fever, no difficulty in 
 breathing, not so much as a cold in the head. Such 
 power of resistance in a person of her age I have 
 never seen in my life. You have every reason to hope 
 that your mother will be spared to you many years 
 yet. But she must not again go out alone." 
 
 Koppel and Frau Kathe shook hands with the doc- 
 tor in great delight, and he went away, saying that 
 there would be no occasion for him to make another 
 visit. 
 
 Indeed, the old lady was in high feather, and it was 
 a difficult task to keep her in bed the one day which 
 the doctor advised. Only her right arm was some- 
 what lamed from the weight of the basket with its 
 enormous cabbage which she had carried about for so 
 many hours. It was evidently very painful to her, 
 however, to be questioned about her adventure ; and 
 her family, therefore, avoided reference to it. Only 
 to Elsa, who was her favourite, she related in frag- 
 ments during the day, all sorts of reminiscences that 
 awakened in her mind : how, in her wanderings, at 
 first' she was merely surprised, and then became 
 alarmed ; how she seemed to find many places famil- 
 iar, especially when she came near the river, which 
 happened several times; how then, all the street 
 sights seemed to swim before her eyes, and she went 
 along as if in a dream, without thought, or idea of 
 time or space, almost without anxiety, or only with 
 an uncomfortable feeling that they might be anxiou.s 
 about her at home because she was so long away: 
 and Elsa listened, smiling, but sometimes, also, tear- 
 ful. 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. J I 
 
 From the other inmates of the house, and from 
 neighbours outside came many inquiries about the 
 finding of the old lady. The great publisher, who 
 lived in the private house between the courtyard and 
 the garden, sent a servant to ask if she were doing 
 well. The famous counsellor who occupied the bel 
 e'tageon the street, did the same. It was the first time 
 in eleven years that Koppel had been in comunica- 
 tion with these rich neighbours of his. From Bar- 
 oness Agostini came congratulations and a great 
 splendour of hot-house flowers. Henneberg came 
 himself, but stayed only a few minutes, feeling that 
 the whole family needed rest. 
 
 On Monday morning early, appeared an unknown 
 individual who desired to speak with Koppel. When 
 the latter came into the parlour, the visitor said : " I 
 am a police Inspector. The chief of the personal 
 section sends me to you to express to you his regret 
 that, in spite of every effort, no trace of your mother 
 has been found. Also, he desired me to inquire if 
 you have obtained any news of her." 
 
 Koppel listened, astonished and amused. 
 
 " I am deeply obliged to monsieur le chef for his 
 attention. My mother has been at home since night 
 before last. She was found through the agency of 
 the police. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the Inspector, astounded. 
 " You have found her, and through the agency of the 
 police ?" 
 
 Koppel brought the telegram, that blessed bit of 
 paper which, thirty-six hours earlier, had changed his 
 distress into joy, and handed it to the Inspector. The 
 latter read it attentively, and shaking his head, he 
 murmured : 
 
 " Extraordinary ! most extraordinary!" 
 
 " I also, the same evening, sent by telephone to the 
 secretary of the prefecture my sincerest thanks," Kop- 
 pel added. 
 
 " The secretary did not communicate this to us, and 
 we have been occupied with the search." He seemed 
 much discomposed and expressed himself with a cer- 
 
72 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 tain awkwardness. After a moment he rose and took 
 leave, saying, with an assumption of good feeling : 
 "All's well that ends well ! The principal thing was 
 that you should find her." 
 
 This visit reminded Koppel that he had promised to 
 notify the overseer at the Morgue if his mother was 
 found. As he wrote the note, he experienced some- 
 thing like a repetition of the anguish that had over- 
 whelmed him on entering the dead-house. With new 
 forcR he felt his indebtedness to Henneberg and the 
 Baroness Agostini ! Without their interposition he 
 would, perhaps, still be suffering the torture of uncer- 
 tainty. The coming of the police Inspector made this 
 almost positive. And how improbable it was that the 
 old lady, in spite of her toughness, could have come 
 out safe, if she — in dripping clothes and unfed — had 
 been obliged to remain for hours longer at the station. 
 
 That same Monday, early in the afternoon, the Bar- 
 oness Agostini drove to the house in the rue Saint- 
 Andr6-des-Arts. She had an uncommon memory for 
 places. Although it was nearly ten years since she 
 had called upon the Koppels, and then only two or 
 three times, she remembered the house perfectly, and 
 even the apartment, without inquiring of the concierge, 
 who looked with surprise and respect at the very tall 
 and elegant woman in her sealskin coat who passed 
 rapidly by his door ; and he followed her to the foot 
 of the stairs, to see whither she was going. He had 
 the idea she might be on her way to the Masmajours, 
 the milliners on the first floor of the interior, and he won- 
 dered much that the two young girls in the short time 
 they had been in Paris, should have obtained such dis- 
 tinguished clientile. But when he saw the unknown 
 lady go past the Masmajours' door, and ascend the 
 next fiight of stairs, he went slowly and majestically 
 back into his loge. 
 
 Frau Kathe would never have recognized the baro- 
 ness, if Koppel had not very enthusiastically described 
 her, and the wife now looked at her visitor with ex- 
 treme curiosity, not without a certain embarrassment. 
 The remembrance of the poor young teacher of ten 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 73 
 
 years earlier interfered with the present personality, 
 and it was not without great difficulty that the two 
 could be blended. It was indeed the tall figure of 
 Fraulein Hausblum, but it seemed broader than of old, 
 perhaps the effect of the changed fashion in dress ; 
 formerly there had been clinging garments, now the 
 puffed sleeves stood out wide ; but the sovereignty in 
 the eyes, which even a woman could not help feeling, 
 the decision of the mouth were unknown to the face 
 of Fraulein Hausblum. Or could it be only that Frau 
 Koppel had never noticed them ? 
 
 The baroness held out both hands as the other en- 
 tered the room, greeted her with winning friendliness, 
 and congratulated her warmly on the happy ending of 
 the afifair. 
 
 " How thankful to you we must be !" Frau Kathe 
 said. " I cannot bear to think what would have hap- 
 pened if we had not found you." 
 
 " I am most happy," the baroness said, " to have 
 been able to give any assistance ;" and she accepted 
 the offered seat upon the sofa. 
 
 Frau Kathe felt as uncomfortable as if she had had 
 something upon her conscience. It appeared to her as 
 if they had not been kind enough, ten years before, 
 to the poor, solitary young teacher alone in the great 
 city ; as if they had not made effort enough to find 
 for her the desired employment, as if it had been very 
 heartless in them never to make any search for her, 
 when she did not reappear at their house. 
 
 As though she could read what was now passing in 
 Frau Kathe's soul, the baroness said, with a smile : 
 " How chance separates human beings, or throws them 
 together! It is as wonderful as the wildest romance. 
 Fortunately, we meet again in circumstances which I 
 hope will render pardonable my long neglect in the 
 matter of our acquaintance." 
 
 " It is very good of you to put it in that way," Frau 
 Kathe said, earnestly. " On the contrary, it was a 
 great fault of ours that we took no more trouble 
 about you. But we had no acquaintances and no in- 
 fluence, and there was nothing we could do " 
 
74 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Had it not been that her embarassment almost took 
 away her good sense, Frau Kathe would never have 
 been guilty of the fault of reminding a brilliantly 
 successful person of her less imposing beginning. 
 
 The baroness seemed either not to notice this want 
 of tact, or to think it of no consequence. " Well, all 
 that is past !" she said, with a simplicity so admirably 
 assumed that not the slightest self-importance showed 
 through it. " In good fortune and in ill, I have 
 always remembered gratefully you and your kind re- 
 ception of me." 
 
 "What ! Have you ever had ill fortune ?" 
 
 " Yes, very ill." 
 
 " But I hope not for any length of time ? And fate 
 has made amends to you now for any former ill-treat- 
 ment, surely." 
 
 " I have been obliged to assist my fate a good deal," 
 the baroness said ; " I have very little reason to trust 
 to destiny unaided. But no matter about that. 
 Could I, perhaps, see madame, your mother-in-law, if 
 she is not too tired ?" 
 
 " Certainly," rejoined Frau Kathe, and hastened to 
 call Frau Koppel. 
 
 The old lady, conscious of her loss of memory, was 
 accustomed to practice — in the hope of concealing 
 this misfortune — the innocent device of meeting every 
 person who was presented to her with a joyous recog- 
 nition and warm greeting. It must be confessed that 
 the frequently inappropriate degree of warmth often 
 had an effect of reducing the advantage of this child- 
 ishly sly endeavour. 
 
 The tall and richly-dressed woman who rose as she 
 entered the room caused Frau Koppel at first a little 
 embarrassment, but as the visitor held out both hands 
 and most kindly smiled at her, she soon recovered her 
 equanimity and cordially returned the greeting. 
 
 " Baroness Agostini," Frau Kathe said. 
 
 " Excuse me, Kathe, I know ! Of course I know 
 the lady," Frau Koppel exclaimed, briskly. "How 
 have you been ? That you are well and lively now, I 
 can see plainly." 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 75 
 
 The baroness smiled and tenderly patted the old 
 hand. She well understood the innocent stratagem, 
 and also its motive. " Yes, thank you ; I am very 
 well," she replied, " and I wanted to come and see with 
 my own eyes that you were well, too." 
 
 Frau Koppel glanced up quickly. She was not quite 
 sure whether to take this as a reference to her recent 
 adventure, or whether it was simply a general expres- 
 sion of kind feeling. But the baroness went on talk- 
 ing in a cheerful, pleasant way ; not a word followed 
 relating to the adventure, and the old lady became 
 quite at her ease and chatted away about the weather 
 and about housekeeping, endeavouring every now and 
 then to draw the visitor out as to herself, in the hope 
 of being thus enabled to identify her, until at last 
 Frau Kathe gently suggested that it was time for the 
 afternoon nap. 
 
 " Your husband is a man of great feeling," the baro- 
 ness said to Frau Kathe, when Frau Koppel was gone, 
 " how devoted he is to h'is mother ! When I remem- 
 ber in what a condition I saw him while he was search- 
 ing for her " 
 
 " Yes," Frau Kathe replied, " she is so much to him 
 that I could almost be jealous. If he had lost her — no, 
 I cannot bear to think of it ! But my husband owes 
 it to her." 
 
 " Does not every child owe it to a mother ?" 
 
 " Certainly. And still, his case is different. My 
 mother-in-law had four children. The oldest son fell 
 in the war of '66. The daughter died when her first 
 baby was born. My husband and his younger brother 
 had diphtheria while they were boys in school. The 
 brother died, but the mother's care succeeded in sav- 
 ing Hugo. She took the disease herself, and for 
 months remained an invalid. A son can never forget 
 such devotion if his heart is in the right place." 
 
 The baroness nodded silently. 
 
 " Besides, my mother-in-law was a widow with 
 three half-grown children, without means except a 
 small pension — her husband was also a teacher — 
 and she kept the boys in school till they had entirely 
 
76 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 finished their studies, and she married the daughter to 
 a very respectable man. That was a success!" Frau 
 Kathe sighed deeply, perhaps unconsciously. " Hugo 
 is the only one of the children now living, and he has 
 to be grateful to her not only for himself, but for those 
 who are gone." 
 
 " It is a great happiness that he can do so much and 
 that he has been able to do it so long," the baroness 
 said, almost as if speaking to herself. There was a 
 moment's pause, and then she asked : " Ai'e you con- 
 tented in Paris, Frau Doctor ?" 
 
 " We are very much strangers here." 
 
 " That, one must always be, in a great city." 
 
 "But not people who were born here." 
 
 " It is almost the same thing. It is a mistake to 
 think otherwise. Where millions of human beings 
 are crowded together and thrown in each other's 
 way, every man naturally is the enemy of every 
 other man. There is an incessant pushing and sup- 
 planting. Either a man exploits others, or is himself 
 exploited." 
 
 " But there are also good people, who are kind to 
 otherSi We had, happily, the experience of this our- 
 selves day before yesterday." 
 
 " That is true. There is goodness in a great city 
 as there is on a battle-field in the midst of carnage, a 
 Samaritan impulse towards the wounded and dying, 
 the Red Cross following the army's advance." 
 
 "You distress me, Frau Baroness." 
 
 " That is not my intention, Frau Doctor. On the 
 contrary, I meant only to show you that it was not 
 your situation peculiarly, to be a stranger here. It is 
 the fate of us all. A person living altogether within 
 the warm nest of home, with parents and chil- 
 dren " 
 
 " Pardon me, Frau Baroness, have you children ?" 
 
 " I have not," answered the baroness, speaking 
 briefly and coldly. 
 
 " It is just one's children for whose sake one is anx- 
 ious. And suppose all goes well with them — mein 
 Gott ! one asks no very great thing from life — 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 'j') 
 
 still the children grow up ; and what is to become of 
 them ? On their account I regret that we are so much 
 strangers here. How can we marry our daughter if 
 we have no society ? Unless we try the no longer un- 
 usual method of the matrimonial advertisement !" 
 
 The baroness remained silent. 
 
 " And what prospect is there for the boy," Frau 
 Kathe went on, " who has no solid ground of Father- 
 land under his feet, but is as if suspended in the air? 
 He grows up to be a foreigner in Germany, a visitor in 
 France." 
 
 " Fortunately these are anxieties for the future 
 merely. Your children are yet very young." 
 
 '■ Yes. But later it will be too late for us to make 
 any change in the situation." 
 
 " Have you plans, then, Frau Doctor ?" 
 
 " Not plans. Only wishes." And she sighed again. 
 
 Again there was a brief pause, and then the baron- 
 ess broke the silence, asking if she could see Frau 
 Kathe's daughter, whom she remembered as a fair- 
 haired child. 
 
 Elsa was busy drawing in her own little room. 
 Since her twelfth year she had drawn in pencil; and, 
 more recently had begun the use of chalks and water- 
 colours, always encouraged by the friendly praise of 
 her teachers. Any professional use of her talent had 
 hitherto been debarred her by the uncompromising 
 scrupulousness of her parents, as well as by her own 
 self-depreciation, but she worked diligently for her 
 own improvement. 
 
 Being summoned into the parlour by the maid, she 
 came at once, with the linen sleeves still drawn over 
 her house-dress, and blushed deeply when she saw the 
 Baroness Agostini. The latter was surprised at the 
 beauty of the girl, who, moreover, appeared quite too 
 old a person to be kissed and caressed ; this was unex- 
 pected, and the visitor, therefore, did no more than 
 shake hands with her, and ask if she remembered see- 
 ing her many years ago. The baroness, also, asked 
 some questions about Elsa's studies, and, as the girl 
 replied, with her French accent and, now and then, a 
 
78 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 French idiom put into German words, the Baroness 
 Agostini said smilingly to Frau Kiithe : 
 
 "You have a real little German-speaking Parisian 
 here !" And as her admiring, half-envious glances 
 dwelt on the creamy cheek, the lovely mouth, and the 
 shining eyes of the seventeen years old Elsa, who was 
 a real rosebud to look at, she added : " About this 
 young lady you need have no anxiety, Frau Doctor, if 
 men have eyes to see." 
 
 "A light under a bushel is no light at all," the 
 mother answered. " But we must not say that in her 
 presence ; the little girl is quite conceited enough 
 already." 
 
 " Mother, how can you ?" Elsa cried, laughing and 
 pouting, and the two exchanged a loving kiss. 
 
 The baroness rose. " Give my regards to Herr 
 Doctor Koppel," she said. " I trust that you will 
 never again have such anxious hours to go through 
 with as you have just had !" 
 
 " They have had their advantage," answered Frau 
 Kathe, " since they have brought us together, Frau 
 Baroness." 
 
 " This has been my good fortune only. If you 
 knew what I felt as I entered your dwelling ! I have 
 grown ten years younger since I have been here; and a 
 great deal better," she added, with k sad smile. 
 
 With a cordial good-bye she parted from Frau 
 Kathe and Elsa, who had accompanied her to the door 
 and now looked after her until her tall figure disap- 
 peared at an angle of the stairway. 
 
 Frau Kathe was extremely surprised that the baroness 
 had not invited her to return the visit. Was this mere 
 carelessness or was it intention ? She talked with her 
 husband about it later, and agreed in his opinion that 
 they had no occasion to force themselves into the so- 
 ciety of people of wealth and distinction ; he should 
 pay his visit of thanks alone, and then it would appear 
 whether or no the baroness desired to continue their 
 acquaintance. But the visitor's uncommon personality 
 had made a strong impression on Frau Kathe, and she 
 could not easily forget her. When Henneberg came 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 79 
 
 again, she overflowed with questions about the Baro- 
 ness Agostini. What had been her hfe in the ten 
 years since they had met ? How had she happened 
 to marry the baron? How long ago was the mar- 
 riage ? Where and how had Henneberg made her ac- 
 quaintance ? Did he often see her? Had she really 
 a well-assured position in high Parisian society ? 
 
 Henneberg seemed to be rather ill at ease, under 
 this questioning. He answered briefly, and sometimes 
 evasively. He had first met the baroness some four 
 years ago, about the time when she married the baron. 
 With Agostini, he had made acquaintance through 
 business transactions. About her previous life, he him- 
 self was not well informed. That she had been a 
 teacher, Frau Koppel herself already knew. About 
 her past and about her own family, she was not com- 
 municative. From facts which she had, from time to 
 time, incidentally mentioned, he had been able to put 
 together a fairly complete outline. She was the 
 daughter of an army-surgeon, who had been severely 
 wounded in the war of 1870, and, after several years 
 of invalidism, had died. She had been her father's 
 constant companion and nurse, scarcely ever absent 
 from his side. Dr. Hausblum had married twice. 
 After her father's death, the baroness had remained 
 for a time with her stepmother and the children of 
 the second marriage ; but as there was very little 
 sympathy between her and the widow, she had left the 
 house, which could no longer be to her a home, and 
 had undertaken by herself the struggle for existence, 
 in which, apparently, she had not always been 
 successful. She now, in spite of her great wealth, 
 lived a somewhat secluded life — her husband being no 
 longer young, and she herself preferring quiet inter- 
 course with people of high intelligence to the giddy 
 tumult of society. At the same time the position of 
 the baron brought with it the necessity for exercising 
 a certain amount of hospitality, and her receptions had 
 the peculiarity that, besides rich and socially eminent 
 people, one would often meet at her house the most 
 famous artists and literary men of the time. 
 
8o The drones must die. 
 
 Frau Kathe greatly desired to know more. Espe< 
 cially she would have liked to hear how Fraulein Haus- 
 blum came to make the acquaintance of Baron 
 Agostini. She, however, feared to question Henne- 
 berg further, especially as she perceived that the 
 whole subject was one on which he spoke reluctantly. 
 
 During the week that followed Frau Koppel's adven- 
 ture, the last night-festival on the Exposition grounds 
 occurred. Koppel invited the family of the floor be- 
 low to have supper with them and later to drive to the 
 Champ de Mars with them, after Frau Koppel, at her 
 usual hour, had gone to bed. Frau Kathe felt much 
 gratitude towards these neighbours for, on the memor- 
 able Saturday, the mother and daughters had mani- 
 fested great sympathy with herand the children, and had 
 passed several hours with them during Koppel's 
 absence 
 
 The Masmajours were natives of Nimes. Monsieur 
 Masmajour had been the agent of an Insurance Com- 
 pany of which an uncle of Madame Masmajour was 
 president. The position involved little work and 
 brought in but a small income, but it was valuable to 
 Masmajour rather as an occupation than for its pro- 
 fits, he being well off himself, and having married a 
 girl with money, so that their joint means were nearly 
 sufficient for the family's support. 
 
 By the advice of a cousin, who was the manager of the 
 Nimes branch of a great Paris bank, Masmajour, early 
 in the eighties, converted into Panama bonds both his 
 own property and his wife's dowry, which had been in 
 French bonds, railway stocks and mortgages, all pay- 
 ing but low rates of interest. His income was thus 
 nearly doubled, and the family were enabled to adopt 
 an extremely comfortable style of living. They began 
 keeping two servants ; they had a very handsome resi- 
 dence in town and a little place in the country ; they 
 formed the habit of making holiday trips to Paris and 
 Italy ; the girls had a governess, and the best private 
 lessons in music and drawing that the town could 
 furnish. This condition of prosperity lasted seven or 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 8 1 
 
 eight years ; then came the Panama disaster. The 
 Masmajours were ruined. The blow fell so heavily on 
 the father, that for weeks he was in danger of losing 
 his reason. At first he was resolved to shoot the 
 cousin who had advised the Panama investment. His 
 wife was but just in time to get the revolver away 
 from him as he was rushing out of the house, and to 
 persuade him, with the greatest gentleness, to remain 
 quiet, at least for a day. Then his rage turned against 
 himself ; and the poor wife was now only just able to 
 keep him from hanging himself with a curtain-rope, in 
 their own bed-room. From that time on, she never 
 left him alone for an instant. And at the same time 
 the brave woman made her plan for the future of the 
 family. She perceived at once that they must leave 
 Nimes. Her husband had no longer the head for his 
 insurance agency, and even if he could have become 
 sufficiently composed to carry on this work, the income 
 of the place, from two to three thousand francs, would 
 be quite insufficient for the family's support. She was 
 unwilling that her rich relatives and her wide circle of 
 acquaintances in Nimes should be the witnesses of 
 their distress, and her pride could not endure to seek 
 for employment in a city where she had always filled 
 an envied place. 
 
 She decided to go to Paris. In the great city they 
 would be unknown and unobserved. There they 
 could live as frugally as their situation required, and 
 could labour, without humiliation, for their daily bread. 
 She had unusual taste and deftness of hand, — qualities 
 of a refined race, inherited also by her daughters, — 
 and in all their prosperity she had delighted to make 
 her own bonnets, — " poems," Masmajour was wont to 
 call them ; — and she had been much admired by all 
 Nimes for this skill, even by indignant milliners, who 
 nevertheless as eagerly copied her " creations," as they 
 did those that came direct from Paris. This talent 
 she now designed to make useful. Accordingly in the 
 spring of the exposition year she removed to the capital, 
 took a very modest apartment in the rue Saint-Andr6- 
 des-Arts, set up house-keeping with the remains of the 
 
82 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Nimes plenishing, and with quiet, invincible courage, 
 began the battle for existence. 
 
 It was harder than she had thought it would be. 
 Her first idea was to place her two daughters, Adfele, 
 seventeen, and Blanche, sixteen years old, in some 
 fashionable house ; but she found there was no oppor- 
 tunity for this. To obtain a place in a first-class 
 establishment was about as difficult as it would be to 
 be made ambassador ; urgent recommendations were 
 necessary from public men, senators, — if possible, 
 ministers, — or else from "friends" of the fore-woman, 
 who, as a rule decides on applications. This path 
 Madame Masmajour could not, and would not, tread. 
 
 Milliners on a smaller scale required sureties, and 
 preferred to have trained the girls themselves, or, at 
 best, would accept them as paying assistants. There 
 was nothing left to do but to take in work at home. 
 With great difficulty and much solicitation, work was 
 obtained from a great Bazar. The material furnished 
 was trash, and the pay was inconceivably small. Their 
 miserable earnings did not so much distress the mother 
 and daughters, as did the worthless quality of the ma- 
 terials and designs, on which they were obliged to 
 waste their skill. That was a sad time, but fortunately 
 it lasted only a few weeks. Then Madame Masmajour 
 chanced to meet, one day, when she was carrying back 
 some completed work to the Bazar, an agent who had 
 South-American custom. He ventured at first a small 
 order ; the result was satisfactory, and from that time 
 on he supplied them with work, not all that they could 
 have wished, it is true, but still coming in regularly. 
 Still, it was not what Madame had hoped ; the agent 
 kept down the price, with the coolness of a rich em- 
 ployer, dealing with poor and unresisting employees ; 
 and the taste of the South-American ladies inclined to 
 rich fringes, and parti-colored enamel buckles and pins, 
 and brilliant hues in ribbons, flowers and feathers, 
 rather than to finely grouped shadings, very delicate 
 ornaments, and graceful originalities in outline, in the 
 use of varied material and in tlie placing of a bow, a 
 clasp, a flower ; but now the silk was heavy, the velvet 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 83 
 
 fine, everything was of the most expensive kind, nor 
 was there required a strict copying of a model, but 
 many pleasing varied effects could be introduced at 
 will. With her optimistic nature, Madame Masmajour 
 soon became reconciled to these beginning's, and it 
 was her hope in time to be able to establish a business 
 of her own, and be free to work entirely in accordance 
 with her own taste. 
 
 Her husband was to her, in these early days of en- 
 deavour and disappointment, of no assistance whatever. 
 At first, he remained plunged in the deepest depression, 
 and seemed to be stupified by the violent and extreme 
 change in all his surroundings. In the relinquishnnent 
 of the house in Nimes, in the removal to Paris, and the 
 establishment of the family there, he was like one 
 more piece of furniture that must go too, with the dis- 
 advantage of being more inconvenient to carry than 
 the rest were, because it moved and got in the way of 
 the people who were busy. In the fatiguing days 
 of looking for an apartment and for work, Madame 
 Masmajour, not to be hindered by her husband, often 
 took him to the Louvre and left him there, either 
 alone or accompanied by Blanche, seated before some 
 beautiful picture, with the injunction to remain until 
 she should come to fetch him to dinner; and after 
 dinner she would plant him in the same way again, to 
 remain till five o'clock. 
 
 Later, when the new house-keeping fell into its reg- 
 ular routine, and mother and daughters began to work 
 silently and methodically, and all the little acts of 
 daily life were punctually done, and everything was in 
 its place, then Masmajour awakened, as if from a bad 
 dream, and recovered all the indestructible self-confi- 
 dence of a son of the South. 
 
 He said not a word about it, but he recognized per- 
 fectly the fact that, at the present moment, he was to 
 his family a burden, and nothing else. He had 
 brought them to ruin, and now they had the additional 
 task of finding him food. They were very far from 
 making this appear ; on the contrary, Madame Mas- 
 majour would often say at table how grateful she felt 
 
84 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 to him that he had been so heroically willing to aban- 
 don his beloved Nimes and begin a new life in Paris ; 
 how hard it would have been for her if she had been 
 alone in a strange city to contend with circumstances ; 
 how much easier and smoother everything went when 
 there was a man at the head of the family ; but all 
 these consoling remarks, so kindly meant, failed to 
 delude his conscience. Manly ambition seized upon 
 his soul. He would show his own family and all the 
 world, of what he was capable. Since he had — not 
 through his own fault, oh, no ! but through the wick- 
 edness of others — lost one fortune, he would gain 
 another, a greater one! 
 
 His first thought, when he began to get his head 
 again, was to find a position under government. 
 Why not? Was he not an educated and capable 
 man, experienced in keeping accounts and in the con- 
 duct of affairs? Was he not a victim to his patriotic 
 feeling ? Had he not sacrificed his property in the 
 support of a gallant French enterprise, set on foot to 
 carry the fame of France to remote shores ? Did not 
 the country, indeed, owe him gratitude and indemni- 
 fication ? 
 
 He began by going to see the senators and deputies 
 from his department. He was well received at first, 
 for he had been an influential man in Nimes, and for 
 many years a member of the electoral committee of 
 the predominating party there. When he stated his 
 errand, the statesmen from his department took a dif- 
 ferent tone. They promised, as if by common consent 
 and with curiously similar, vague phraseology, that 
 they would talk with everybody, and would let him 
 know when there was anything of interest to report 
 to him ; they gave him to understand that they would 
 zealously exert themselves in his behalf, but that they 
 were extraordinarily busy, and would be obliged to 
 him if he v/ould abridge his visit, and would not come 
 again. Verysoon they were denied to him altogether. 
 They were not at home if he called, they made no 
 answer if he wrote, would not come if, in the Palais 
 Bourbon or in the Luxembourg, he sent by the door- 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 85 
 
 keeper to ask an interview in the antechamber where 
 the public may meet and talk with senators or dep- 
 uties ; and one day when at the entrance to the Palais 
 Bourbon he met the deputy of Nimes, for whom he 
 had been lying in wait, and unexpectedly buttonholed 
 that gentleman to inquire how his affair was getting 
 on, he had to endure being roughly shaken off by 
 the deputy, who hastened to escape into the palace, 
 and not without an audible grumble : " How tiresome 
 you are !" 
 
 Madame Masmajour abstained from any indiscreet 
 inquiry as to his plans, and he spoke of them only in 
 \'ery general terms. But after this affair, at first so 
 hopeful and later so disappointing, which he, undis- 
 ciplined and eager for sympathy as he was, could not 
 quite keep to himself, she became perfectly aware 
 which way the wind blew. She based no expectations 
 on his attempts, and depended completely upon her 
 own work. But she was glad that he busied himself, 
 were it but with the riding of a hobby-horse, and that 
 he was content with himself, however discontented with 
 others he might be. 
 
 Every morning, before he rose, she brought him his 
 coffee and his Petit Journal : the morning air, in Paris, 
 was unwholesome, she said, and he must take care of 
 himself until he should be quite acclimated. The 
 dangerous quality of the morning air did not, however, 
 prevent her from being up and about her housework 
 by six o'clock. When he, finally, was up and dressed 
 also, and was making ready to go out, he always found 
 in his porte-monnaie two francs, which his wife put 
 there daily when she brushed his clothes. When he, 
 one day, assured her with a kind of shame, that he did 
 not need so much, she would not let him finish speak- 
 ing. A man in his position, who had to associate with 
 people of distinction, could not be without a sou, she 
 said ; he might wish to take a cab, or, at least, an 
 omnibus ; he must go into a cafe sometimes ; he must 
 sometimes invite a friend, for it would not do to act 
 in a shabby way ; the money was not wasted ; when 
 he should have attained his object, it would be repaid 
 
86 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 to liim a thousandfold. And Masmajour said : " That's 
 true ; from nothing, nothing comes ; sometimes we 
 must cast our bread upon the waters ;" and he ac- 
 cepted, with a pacified conscience, the two little pieces 
 of silver, without noticing how hard the toil some- 
 times was by which his wife earned it. When he came 
 home to his dinner, there was always some favourite 
 dish for him, a well-seasoned bouillabaisse or a steam- 
 ing cassoulet, a brandade or ayolei, a stuffed aubergine. 
 For Madame Masmajour had all the southern cuisine 
 at her fingers' ends. She had the good will and the 
 patience that their elaborate preparation demands, the 
 correct taste, the activity, and that atom of fancy, 
 without which no cook can be an artist. Madame 
 Masmajour understood everything and took care 
 about everything. She planned the work for the two 
 girls, advised them as to designs and colours in the 
 trimming of the bonnets ; she ran to the Halles to buy 
 provisions, and she made ready the meal ; she carried 
 the completed bonnets to the agent, and brought 
 home fresh materials ; in the afternoon, she sat for an 
 hour at the work-table designing some new modsl ; she 
 washed and scoured in kitchen and bedrooms, for the 
 girls must not injure their skilful artist-fingers with 
 rough work ; and finally at eleven or later, she sought 
 her bed, the last person up in the house. 
 
 It was three or four months before Masmajonr 
 clearly understood that the government would not pro- 
 vide him with employment. Then, however, he be- 
 came a bitter enemy to the administration, and a pas- 
 sionate Boulangist. The Petit Journal was no longer 
 peppery enough for his taste. He read only the 
 Intransigeant, and the Petit Caporal, clenching his 
 fist as he read and grinding his teeth, till Madame 
 Masmajour took alarm, and implored him to consider 
 his health. He frequented public meetings of the 
 Boulangist party, and delivered in his own house at 
 table the bloodthirsty talk which he had not had the 
 courage to utter publicly. He did not content him- 
 self merely with unfruitful complaints about false 
 Republicans, who plundered the country and were the 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 87 
 
 destruction of true patriots ; he thought out a lum- 
 inous plan for the salvation of the people. The val- 
 iant Boulanger should be made president of the Re- 
 public, and be brought back in triumph to Paris ; he 
 should then, at once, declare war upon Germany, con- 
 quer her, and recover the indemnity of twelve milliards. 
 With this money the Panama bonds and the unlucky 
 certificates of interest should be at once brought to 
 their face value ; then the canal should be built ; and 
 thus the war would be made to produce a colossal 
 work of civilization. He put this plan on paper, for 
 the purpose of sending it to General Boulanger in his 
 place of exile, and was so satisfied with his work that, 
 to share this pleasure, he read the paper aloud to his 
 family. Madame Masmajour looked perplexed, and 
 offered the advice that it should not be sent, the post- 
 ofifice being rather untrustworthy, and there being 
 a possibility of annoying results ; but the excitable 
 Blanche, in spite of her mother's significant look and 
 gesture, spoke out boldly, crying impatiently : " But, 
 papa, you are not serious ; you don't know any more 
 about politics than a whey-cheese !" 
 
 Masmajour was much displeased and withdrew 
 silently into his bedroom. Blanche at once regretted 
 her outbreak and ran after her father, begging him to 
 forgive her. This was done after some grumbling ; 
 but the letter to Boulanger remained unsent. 
 
 The Masmajours were extremely reserved. Their 
 pride prevented them in their present distressful cir- 
 cumstances, from making acquaintance with strangers 
 who could not know that they had seen better days. 
 However, between them and the Koppels friendly re- 
 lations sprung up very early. The new neighbours 
 were interesting to Frau Kathe and Elsa. Through 
 Martha, who, in spite of her surly nature, was much 
 given to gossiping with the family of the concierge, 
 they learned the previous history of the new-comers ; 
 and they noticed, with the warmest sympathy, the 
 slender little mother, with her refined features and pal- 
 lid complexion, her brilliant black e}^es and her rapid 
 movements, who, though she looked so delicate, was 
 
88 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 busy from morning till night, ran up and down stairs 
 twenty times a day, had no servant at all to assist her 
 in the housework, and always looked so neat in her 
 black woolen gown, over which she wore a white apron 
 when indoors. 
 
 Of the two girls, Adfele, the elder, closely resembled 
 her mother. There were the same brilliant dark eyes, 
 the same very thick-growing black hair, the high-bred 
 face, with its straight nose, its small and rather thin- 
 lipped mouth, and the well-rounded chin ; there also was 
 the same extremely dainty figure. Blanche, the 
 younger, resembled her father in some degree, whose 
 low forehead, very thick eyebrows, aquiline nose and 
 heavy under-j^w, she — with wonderful beauty added 
 — repeated. The shy look of Masmajour, the peevish 
 droop of his thick lips, were apparently not original 
 traits of his physiognomy but traces of the experiences 
 of his life, for Blanche's brown eyes looked out straight 
 and somewhat daringly, and her full, scarlet lips, 
 though usually serious and firmly shut together, could 
 often part with ringing laughter. She was small, like 
 her father; and, in fact, the whole Masmajour family, 
 in contrast with the tall Koppels, had something like 
 the effect of Tanagra figurines. It was Koppel's idea 
 that Madame Masmajour and Adele had preserved 
 the features of some old Greek ancestor, either one of 
 the Greek colonists of ancient Marseilles or a soldier 
 in a Roman legion, while in Masmajour and Blanche 
 the still more ancient Phoenician ancestry showed it- 
 self. At first, the two families looked at each other in 
 a friendly way and with a slight salutation as they 
 passed on the stairs ; but soon the greeting became 
 more cordial, and when Frau Kathe sent Martha to 
 inquire if Madame Masmajour would make their spring 
 bonnets for herself and Elsa, the former came at once 
 to call on the neighbour who desired to become a cus- 
 tomer. The visit was returned on the same day, and 
 an acquaintance sprung up, which, on the part of Elsa 
 and the two sisters, soon became an intimacy. 
 
 Elsa had a few school acquaintances, but she had 
 had very little young society, and she at once attached 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 89 
 
 hefself to the quiet, gentle, dreamy Adfele, with all the 
 fervour of a nature already half aware of its capacity 
 for affection, but hitherto without opportunity to ex- 
 ercise it outside her own family. Adfele interested 
 and enraptured her by all the individualities of her 
 girl's nature. Her southern accent was as entertain- 
 ing as a play. Her account of the brooding silence of 
 the old city of Nimes, of the lizard-like life of the in- 
 habitants in the deserted streets, of the heavenly blue 
 skies and the lavish splendour of the sunshine of Pro- 
 vence, filled Elsa with a dreamy delight and longing 
 for romantic experience. The sudden change in the 
 circumstances of the family shocked the young Ger- 
 man girl, and the patience with which Adfele, who had 
 been brought up as a young lady, supported her new 
 life as a poor, dependent working-girl, inspired her 
 with devout admiration. 
 
 On their part, the Masmajours were greatly pleased 
 with Elsa. At first, for her youthful beauty, which 
 charms women's hearts as well as men's, and the entire 
 simplicity of her nature ; and then, because she was a 
 foreigner, a German. It is true Elsa spoke better 
 French than any of the Masmajours, but for all that, 
 she was not a French girl ; and it pleased Madame 
 Masmajour and her daughters that they, notwithstand- 
 ing their narrow circumstances, could regard them- 
 selves as politically better off, — as friendly hosts, so to 
 speak, — that they could consider their German neigh- 
 bours as prot^g^es, as guests, without legal rights, 
 dependent upon their kindness, their chivalrous cour- 
 tesy. 
 
 Elsa went often to visit her friends on the lower 
 floor, sat with them for hours, read aloud to them, 
 observed the dainty touches with which they handled 
 their velvet and flowers, and sometimes herself sat 
 silently drawing near their work-table, whereat the 
 sisters admired her, in their turn. Now and then Elsa 
 must say a word in German to them or recite a Ger- 
 man ballad, upon which Madame Masmajour wondered 
 greatly at the barbaric sound of the hitherto unheard 
 foreign tongue, while the girls would listen silently 
 
90 TH£ DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 and when Elsa had finished, break out laughing, as if 
 something tickled them in the back. On holidays and 
 Sunday afternoons, Adele and Blanche often came up- 
 stairs, and enjoyed using the piano, as they had none 
 themselves, and were glad not to lose what skill 
 they had already acquired. Frau Kathe made them 
 very welcome, but she took no large share in the 
 young folks' conversation, for her French was not 
 available for any very long and rapid chit-chat. The 
 old lady contented herself with patting the brown 
 cheek of Adele or Blanche, and allowing herself to be 
 smiled at and hugged ; while Oscar was useful and 
 companionable, did the honours of the salon to the 
 young visitors, and when they went away, escorted 
 them to their own door. The parents permitted the 
 four on summer evenings to walk together in the Lux- 
 embourg garden or along the quays, and Oscar felt 
 himself very important as the masculine protector of 
 the little flock. 
 
 Masmajour, himself, to tell the truth, saw the estab- 
 lishment and growth of this intimacy with very little 
 delight. He did not wish that there should be any- 
 thing more than the politeness which was due between 
 neighbours and towards a customer. Undoubtedly the 
 Koppels were Prussians ; and against Prussians, he 
 said, one should be always on one's guard. Nobody 
 knew anything about these people, where they came 
 from, what was their object in being in Paris. Experi- 
 ence had shown that foreigners were usually spies. 
 
 Further than this, he was scarcely ever permitted to 
 go in his harangue, for at this point he was commonly 
 interrupted — by Blanche with laughter, and by her 
 mother and sister with the entreaty that he would 
 drive such fables out of his head. After many vain 
 attempts to bring his family to adopt his reserve 
 towards their neighbours, he relinquished the attempt, 
 but never could persuade himself to abandon his pre- 
 judice against them. 
 
 An important landmark in the relations between 
 the two families was the first invitation to tea ; it came 
 from the Koppels. The invitation, and its acceptance, 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 9I 
 
 were preceded by serious consultations in each house- 
 hold. The Koppels had to become satisfied that they 
 were not throwing themselves at their neighbours' 
 heads ; the Masmajours had to determine a question of 
 principle, whether they might properly accept invita- 
 tions from strangers, since they, in their present situa- 
 tion, could not make the return which their feelings 
 would dictate. The frank, ingenuous manner of Elsa, 
 upon whom devolved the role of ambassadress smoothed 
 away the difficulties. She explained that it was a 
 very unceremonious affair, only a kind of object lesson 
 in ethnology, — the Masmajours were to be instructed 
 as to the German cuisine. Upon this, the Masmajours 
 consented, having certain wonderful secrets of Pro- 
 vencal cookery to reveal in return. 
 
 On the day of the Koppels' great distress about the 
 old lady, both families showed how near each other's 
 hearts they had gradually come. The Masmajours 
 were almost as much excited as the Koppels ; all day 
 long the sisters could neither work nor eat ; they sat 
 for hours with Frau Kathe and Elsa, not with any 
 idea of bringing consolation — which their natural 
 refinement of feeling prevented — but seeking only to 
 keep the others' hearts warm by sympathy ; and upon 
 the happy termination of the adventure scarcely less 
 tears of relief were shed by Adfele and Blanche, than 
 by Elsa and Frau Kathe. And the Koppels now felt 
 that they must, after the distress endured together, 
 have a few merry hours in company with their neigh- 
 bours. 
 
 This meal, to which they invited the Masmajours, 
 went off finely. Its most brilliant feature was a goose, 
 stuffed with apples and plums after the German 
 fashion, a dish new to the French guests, but one 
 towards which they at once became friendly. The 
 beverage was Bayrisch beer, which the girls gallantly 
 accepted, — at which Madame Masmajour sipped, not 
 venturing on a long draught,- — and to which Mas- 
 majour was the only one who preferred the usual red 
 wine, — whether from taste or from principle no one 
 knew. After supper the maid called two fiacres ; in 
 
92 'THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 one, the elder Masmajours with Elsa and Oscar took 
 their seats, in the other, the Koppels with Adfele and 
 Blanche ; and so the party drove to the Champ de 
 Mars. In paying for the fiacres, and in buying 
 entrance tickets of howling boys at a very small price, 
 a polite strife ensued between Koppel and Mas- 
 majour, — which the former finally brought to an end 
 by reminding the latter that, on this occasion, he had 
 the honour to be his host. 
 
 All day long it had rained and the weather was still 
 threatening ; that, however, did not prevent an enor- 
 mous crowd from being present at this last evening- 
 festival of the Exposition. Two hundred thousand 
 persons had decided to amuse themselves that evening, 
 let come what come might. They were not deterred 
 by the tremendous crowd at the entrance-turnstile ; 
 they tramped unterrified through the sloughs and 
 ponds of the soaked gravel-walks ; they penned them- 
 selves up in the crowded restaurants and drinking- 
 stalls ; or they stood, unrelenting, in the mud, and 
 gazed at the illumination of the Champ de Mars and 
 the Trocad^ro. Everywhere triumphed electric lights 
 and gas-lights, — some unsheltered, others with coloured 
 shades. Mostly they were arranged following the 
 hackneyed architectural scheme, — along the outline of 
 bridges and buildings, cruelly revealing the ungrace- 
 fulness which the darkness of the night would kindly 
 have concealed ; but sometimes, on the front of great 
 buildings, following a crude style of decoration, repre- 
 senting monstrous and grotesque combinations of col- 
 oured gems. The whole vast place, with its multitude 
 of disconnected buildings, its rows of flag-staffs with 
 their flags and pennants, — its extravagance of lights 
 and swinging Chinese lanterns, its uproar of barbaric 
 music, the brawling extortion in a thousand booths, — 
 the push and shock of actual army-columns of untir- 
 ing, gaping spectators, — seemed a startling materializa- 
 tion of the vagary of some insane peasant lad, who in 
 his delirium represents to himself a frightfully over- 
 grown village kermesse. The only beautiful thing in 
 all this repulsive, confused scene, was the sky over- 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 93 
 
 head : a low-hanging, reddened cloud-roof, so entirely 
 lustreless, that it did not seem to reflect the lights of 
 this great Jahrmarkt, but rather to glow with an in- 
 ward fire of its own. 
 
 The little group of the two families made its way 
 with difficulty through the aimless, whirling, rather 
 than streaming, crowd, towards the basins where the 
 coloured jets were to play. The party were crowded 
 and knocked about, so that the girls uttered many little 
 outcries, and every minute one or another was in 
 danger of being torn away and carried off by the 
 rush. Koppel, as the tallest and strongest of the 
 group, had the duty of serving as its breakwater. 
 Wedging himself into the ever aggressive human mass, 
 and cleaving it for the others to get through, there 
 came over him a pity which was almost painful, for 
 this crowd of human beings, and unconfessedly, a little 
 pity for himself. Such is the pleasure of the popu- 
 lace ! Each man struggles in the extremest discom- 
 fort, to the most profound exhaustion, to reach the 
 best place for looking at a fountain, which then, he 
 cannot enjoy, because others, crowding upon him, 
 dispute every foot of ground. He returns home, after 
 hours of uncomfortable wading in mud, dead-tired, 
 bruised black and blue, with frightfully soiled, perhaps 
 torn clothing, poorer in strength, poorer in money, 
 and not even the richer by one pleasant recollection. 
 What an enemy to the common man, the unprivileged 
 man, is the great city! 
 
 Meantime, they had gotten as near to the basin as 
 it was possible to come, since in front of them the 
 crowd was already wedged firmly to the water's edge. 
 If it were not possible to bring for them some of the 
 iron chairs which were scattered through the park, 
 the ladies could not hope to see anything. Koppel 
 begged Masmajour to take charge of the party, and, 
 with Oscar, hastened to one of the roofed passage- 
 ways where there were a few chairs. Oscar snatched 
 one and hastened back with it, not noticing the out- 
 cries which followed him from persons who were 
 stroked, none too softly, by the chair-legs as he ran. 
 
94 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Koppel seized another, but almost at the same instant, 
 a trifle later, another person, a man in a silk hat and 
 fashionable overcoat, laid his hand upon it. 
 
 " Excuse me," Koppel said, grasping the chair. 
 
 " Certainly not !" rejoined the other roughly, trying 
 to pull it away. 
 
 " I was the first," Koppel remarked, still peaceably, 
 and held on. 
 
 "That's a lie," said the other sharply, and gave 
 another pull. 
 
 The insult angered Koppel. " You impudent fel- 
 low!" he cried, and dragged at the chair so violently 
 that the other nearly fell down. He recovered his 
 balance quickly, and grasping the object in dispute 
 with both hands, retorted: "Impudent yourself! 
 And you won't get this chair." 
 
 The reddened faces and flashing eyes of the two 
 men were very near each other, and Koppel in an- 
 other instant, would have struck a blow, if some uncon- 
 scious restraint had not kept back his fist. The quarrel 
 had been in so loud tones that it had drawn quite a 
 row of spectators. A young fellow, apparently of the 
 higher working-class, with clever and decided face, who 
 had happened to see the affair from its beginning, 
 stepped forward from the generally evil-disposed row 
 of lookers-in, and laid a hand on the shoulder of each 
 of the disputants: " Bourgeois," he. said, "it is not 
 worth while to bite each others' noses ofT. Draw lots 
 for the chair." A few of the spectators cried out half- 
 joking, half-approving: "Good!"' Koppel at once 
 recovered his equanimity and nodded : " I am will- 
 ing," he said. His opponent cast an angry look at 
 the uncalled-for conciliatory, but offered no objection, 
 noticing that the general opinion seemed to approve 
 the proposed means of settling the dispute. The 
 workman drew from his pocket a five-franc piece, 
 then as quick as a flash returned it again, — a coin is 
 easily flung into the air, but how easily, in falling, it 
 might go astray ! — and he took out instead a ten- 
 centime piece. " Heads or tails ?" he said to Koppel, 
 who instantly answered : " Heads !" The coin went 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 95 
 
 up into the air, came down, and ten hands were 
 stretched out for it. "Stop!" the workman cried, 
 and the others obeiyed. He was one of those born 
 rulers, who, in any occurrence in a crowd, at once 
 take the lead. He picked up the piece of money : 
 " Heads !" he said ; " the chair is yours." 
 
 "Thank you," Koppel replied, with a smile. His 
 opponent still held on to the chair, but the workman 
 said to him ; '■'Bourgeois, let it alone!" upon which he 
 released his hold, shrugged his shoulders, and walked 
 away, muttering: "These Prussian vermin!" It 
 was evident that he had remarked Koppel's German 
 appearance. 
 
 Quite self-content, his hands in his pockets, the 
 workman disappeared into the crowd, and Koppel, 
 with the chair, sought to rejoin his party. It was ex- 
 ceedingly difficult to do this, for from all sides people 
 were now rushing tov/ards the place where he had 
 lately been. As he made his way on, he heird ques- 
 tions and answers all about him : " What is the mat- 
 ter ?" " Some one is pushing behind us." " A drunken 
 man." " They have caught two Prussian spies." 
 " They have caught a pickpocket." " A woman has 
 fainted." Koppel found no lack of material for 
 reflections on the psychology of a crowd, when sud- 
 denly a hand went under his arm, and a familiar voice 
 sai-d in French : " This is something I did not ex- 
 pect !" Koppel looked round, and perceived Henne- 
 berg, who strenuously endeavoured to pull him out of 
 the crowd. 
 
 "You ?" cried Koppel in German. 
 
 " Sh I" Henneberg said, and went on softly : "Where 
 are you going ?" 
 
 " I have my family and some neighbours, guests of 
 ours, there by the basin, and I want to get over to 
 them with this chair, so that they may see the lighted 
 jets." 
 
 " You will not be very comfortable;'' Henneberg 
 said. " I'll go with you and say good-evening to the 
 ladies. I was sitting just now in the beer-house and lis- 
 tening to the Gypsy Rand, when I saw some disturb- 
 
90 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ance, I came out to investigate, and there you were 
 in the midst of it." 
 
 Koppel told his story, as they made their way to 
 where the party had been left. The situation there 
 had changed for the worse, during his absence. The 
 surrounding people would not allow their view to be 
 impeded by the use of chairs, and insisted that 
 the party with the chairs should fall back. To 
 this Oscar would not agree, and exchanged sharp 
 words with everybody, while Frau Kathe sought to 
 quiet him, and Masmajour made small strategic move- 
 ments with a view to separate his ladies a little from 
 the Koppels. 
 
 Frau Kathe was delighted when Henneberg came 
 up, with her husband. He shook hands with her, and 
 said at once : " Please come out of this crowd." 
 
 " But we are waiting to see the coloured jets." 
 
 "And so you shall, Frau Doctor," he replied, still 
 holding her hand, and beginning to make his way out. 
 
 But Frau Kathe held back : " We have friends here 
 with us," she said. 
 
 " They must come, too," he rejoined, and he drew 
 her after him, as he moved. 
 
 There was nothing else for Koppel to do but to col- 
 lect his children and the Masmajours, and, notwith- 
 standing Masmajour's discontented murmurs and the 
 surprise of the girls, to follow Henneberg. 
 
 Getting out of the crowd around the basin was 
 much easier than forcing a way in. Very soon they 
 were all in the open space at the foot of the Eiffel 
 Tower, Henneberg the centre of the group. Masma- 
 jour, with an air of disapproval, held off ; and at this 
 moment it suddenly occurred to Koppel that he had 
 committed a sin of omission. He hastened to present 
 Henneberg in due form to his guests. Masmajour 
 took off his hat ceremoniously. Madame Riasmajour 
 bowed, and Mademoiselle Adele blushed. To her, 
 the German gentleman was a well-known figure ; she 
 had noticed him when he visited the Koppels. 
 
 " The gentlemen would perhaps prefer to be by 
 themselves, to use their own language," Masmajour 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 97 
 
 said ; " I would not inconvenience them for anything 
 in the world." 
 
 Henneberg and Koppel, speaking at once, both dis- 
 claimed any such wish ; and Henneberg begged the 
 honour of inviting the party to ascend the Eiffel Tower. 
 Koppel endeavoured to make objections ; Henneberg, 
 however, did not listen to him, but conducted Frau 
 Kathe and Madame Masmajour to one of the lifts ; 
 the others were obliged to follow whether they liked 
 it or not, and a few moments later, they were all on 
 the first platform of the Tower. 
 
 Henneberg hastened into the restaurant, which here 
 offered its expensive hospitality to visitors of the Ex- 
 position. He was evidently quite at home in the 
 place. The cashier, the head-waiter, all the attendants 
 greeted him respectfully. The place was very full, 
 but the head-waiter obsequiously conducted him at 
 once to a reserved table at a window, overlooking the 
 fountains and the so-called Midway Cupola. At this 
 moment the coloured jets were beginning. The girls 
 ran to the window and devoured the scene with their 
 eyes. Blanche, especially, was so enraptured that she 
 could not suppress small screams of delight, every time 
 the liquid column with magical rapidity changed 
 colour, whereupon Adfele gave her a little tap, and 
 whispered: " But, Blanche, don't be childish." 
 
 Henneberg invited them to take seats, since at the 
 table they could more comfortably enjoy the sight. 
 While they gazed with rapture at the splendidly 
 coloured water-jet springing up into the air, clear-cut 
 and impetuous as molten metal, then spreading out, a 
 sheaf of fire, then falling in a rain of sparkling rubies, 
 emeralds, sapphires and amethysts, Henneberg whis- 
 pered an order to the head-waiter. 
 
 " Permit me — " interposed Koppel. 
 
 " I permit nothing," said Henneberg, gaily ; " You 
 arc my guest, or if that annoys you, my prisoner." 
 
 " Entirely apart from this question — it is only an 
 hour since we finished supper." 
 
 " A drop of sec and a biscuit can be endured, even 
 if it is only an hour since supper." 
 
98 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 The waiter and the wine-drawer soon brought the 
 order. Masmajour felt ill at ease, and threw glances 
 at Koppel, in which were to be read inquiry, reproach, 
 surprise, and protest. 
 
 " My friend Dr. Henneberg is somewhat tyran- 
 nical," Koppel said, turning to the Masmajours, " he 
 has taken you away from me. We must submit." 
 
 Henneburg began talking with them about the Ex- 
 position and its great success and the fame which 
 France had thus gained for herself in both hemi- 
 spheres. He made all the specialties of the Exposition 
 ■ — the buildings, their tone of colouring, the machinery- 
 halls, the streets of Cairo — the object of appreciative 
 and evidently sincere compliments. Masmajour felt 
 the delicate flattery, became enthusiastic also, and no 
 longer refused the sparkling champagne. 
 
 Everybody at the table soon felt very contented. 
 It was quite a change from the preceding situation. 
 What had been detestable, wearisome, uncomfortable 
 down there in the Exposition-park, was here changed 
 into beauty and delight. The muddy paths among 
 the grass-plots, which splashed back under the tramp- 
 ling feet, were now winding ribbons of bronze-brown, 
 set into fine green lawns, and here and there present- 
 ing a dark-hued mirror to the lights. The crowd of 
 human beings who, when one was amongst them, were 
 an ill-smelling, pushing crowd, were now like proces- 
 sions of ants in active motion, creeping about, getting 
 in each other's way, becoming disorderly, swinging 
 round and forming rank again, and, under the observ- 
 er's dreamy eye, traversing the animated scene from 
 end to end. Suddenly flamed up a red blaze and cast 
 over the whole place a dusky glow, in which the build- 
 ings seemed to smoulder, and the human figures as- 
 sumed the aspect of the scriptural men in the burning 
 fiery furnace. This was the conclusion of the show, 
 the lighting up of the Eiffel Tower. Koppel's imagin- 
 ation took a wide flight. It seemed to him that he sat 
 upon a throne, while at his feet, blazed dazzling parti- 
 coloured Bengal lights, and, amid the lights and the 
 flags, to the sound of softened and blended music from 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. 99 
 
 near and far, two hundred thousand persons were ex- 
 ecuting compHcated naovements for the gratification of 
 his eye. A popular festival, in which the whole populace 
 of one of the great cities of the world takes part, is 
 indeed something peculiar ; the impression which the 
 huge mass, in its rest and in its motion, produces, is 
 overpowering in grandeur, if — yes, if one is- not a sup- 
 ernumerary on the stage, but a spectator in his box. 
 So from this evening, also, came forth the moral : it is 
 essential to belong to the privileged minority. 
 
 It grew late, and it began raining outside, so that the 
 windows were veiled with moisture and the parti- 
 coloured scene beneath was as if washed out or, at 
 least, seemed so to sleepy eyes ; the restaurant was 
 nearly empty. Frau Kathe exchanged a whispered 
 word with Madame Masmajour, and said : 
 
 " Hugo, it is time to go home." Henneberg beck- 
 oned to the waiter and asked for his bill. It lay ready 
 on the cashier's desk, and was at once brought to him 
 on a plate, whereon he laid in return, as secretly as 
 possible, a hundred-franc bill. Three bottles of cham- 
 pagne stood empty and a fourth had been uncorked. 
 The waiter brought back only a few small coins, and 
 Henneberg nodded to him to keep them. Masmajour 
 could not help whispering to his wife, as the party 
 broke up : 
 
 "It is not cheap in this place," to which she, in the 
 same low tone, replied : 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but there are some people who earn 
 their money easier than others." 
 
 At the great gate, the Porte Rapp, the crush was 
 really dangerous. At the point where the horse-cars 
 and omnibuses were waiting, on the avenue Rapp, there 
 were struggles of the raging multitude comparable 
 only to the storning of the Malakoff tower. Wagons 
 and fiacres were captured en route as they came up, 
 and occupied by agile runners and climbers. No one 
 not past master in all the arts of the arena, and more- 
 over an accomplished pugilist, had the remotest chance 
 of obtaining a vehicle. 
 
 " We shall have to walk," Koppel said, casting a 
 
lOO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 troubled glance at the tumultuous mass of carriages 
 and men, which reached as far back as the steps of the 
 Tower. 
 
 " It will do us no harm ; we are well rested," Frau 
 Kathe replied. 
 
 " Permit me to find carriages for you," Henneberg 
 interposed. 
 
 " Are you a magician ?" Koppel asked. 
 
 "There's no occasion for that; you shall see." 
 
 He cast a searching glance over the crowd in front 
 of the gate, and beckoned to a half-grown lad, who 
 slipped like a lizard between the horses and through 
 the thickest crowd of human beings, and hastened 
 toward him. Almost immediately the gamin had 
 reached the party. Henneberg said a few words with 
 emphasis ; the boy replied, " I understand, Prince !" 
 and shot away like an arrow. 
 
 •'We will wait here quietly a few minutes. If the 
 fellow cannot find a fiacre, three of the ladies, or per- 
 haps four, can take my coup6, which is here in the 
 avenue de la Bourdonnaye, and the rest of us can 
 walk on until we meet one." 
 
 But this was not necessary. The gamin did not 
 have the trouble of searching far. Noticing an ap- 
 proaching vehicle, on whose steps stood one of his 
 comrades, he thrust this boy off without ceremony, 
 took his place, and, coming up to the Tower entrance, 
 invited, with a triumphant wave of the hand, his em- 
 ployer, who stood a little aside, to take possession of 
 the fiacre. He, himself, meanwhile, did not leave the 
 carriage-step or let go the door, but guarded it val- 
 iantly against numerous outstretched hands. The 
 dispossessed lad, whom he had re-assured with a few 
 whispered words, quietly stood by. 
 
 Henneberg came carelessly forward, and as the boy 
 threw open the door, handed him a five-franc piece. 
 
 " Pardon me, Prince," the gamin said fearlessly ; "I 
 have promised two francs to my friend here ; he had 
 to go to the Champs Elys^es for it." 
 
 Henneberg, smiling, took out a second coin and 
 
ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. lOI 
 
 threw it to the lad, who, crying out : " Thanks, 
 Prince !" disappeared into the crowd. 
 
 Henneberg then assisted the five ladies to enter the 
 four-seated vehicle, closed the door, and was about to 
 thrust a five-franc piece into the driver's hand, as he 
 gave him the street and number ; but this time Koppel 
 objected positively, and paid the fare himself. But 
 Henneberg's liberality had set for him a standard, 
 below which he could not fall, without giving offence 
 to the cabman. 
 
 When the ladies were gone, Henneberg conducted 
 the men to his coup6, which was standing half-way 
 between Porte Rapp and the Seine : " Now,'" he said, 
 " please get in. You will be a little crowded, but 
 there is room for three, in case of need ; and you have 
 not very far to go." 
 
 " But you }" Koppel said : 
 
 "I shall loaf quietly homeward. I like to do it." 
 
 " Since we cannot all four sit in the carriage — " 
 began Masmajour with much embarrassment. 
 
 " 1 will sit with the coachman," interposed Oscar, 
 and was about to get up outside. 
 
 Henneberg caught him : "Inside, my lad," he said, 
 " inside !" He gently pushed Masmajour into the 
 coupe, Koppel and Oscar following ; then shook hands 
 with them rapidly, gave his orders to the coachman, 
 the carriage rolled proudly away, and its inmates 
 quickly lost the owner from sight. 
 
 In both carriages, on the way home, Plenneberg was 
 discussed. Blanche considered him handsome and 
 agreeable — objected to him, however, that he was not 
 very attentive to young ladies, that he had scarcely 
 once spoken to them, and had talked only with their 
 mothers and the gentlemen. Adfele listened dreamily. 
 Her sister rattled on, and when she said finally to Elsa : 
 " Why don't you marry your countryman ?" Madame 
 Masmajour reproved the girl sharply, and bade her be 
 silent. 
 
 In the coupd Masmajour was inquiring, though 
 discreetly, about Henneberg's position, — was he an 
 officer ? He had always imagined the Uhlan officers 
 
I02 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 were like that, — tall slender, active, elegant, of com- 
 manding appearance, speaking French fluently — as he 
 looked at HenneJDerg it seemed to him the man only 
 needed the uniform. On Koppel's reply that his friend 
 was not an officer, and, as the only son of a widow, 
 had never served in the army ; also that, notwith- 
 standing his commanding air, he had followed in earlier 
 life the peaceful vocation of a schoolm,aster, all kinds 
 of silent thoughts took possession of Masmajour's 
 mind. 
 
 At home Frau Kathe said, when they were in 
 their bedroom : " Do you know, Hugo, I have no 
 real pleasure in our new relations with Henneberg. 
 He seem to me too lavish. He tjirows his money 
 about too much." 
 
 " By no means," Koppel answered ; " that's a mere 
 illusion. If you consider carefully, he did not spend 
 so very much. We might have done it ourselves, with- 
 out extravagance, but we did not care to do it. Do 
 you know why he makes this impression of being so 
 lavish ? It is from his impulsive character. When 
 anything occurs to him, he doesn't wait one minute to 
 think, but puts it in action immediately. Whether it 
 costs much or little, he does not inquire. Generally 
 it is the case that it costs little. But the grand air is 
 the same as if it were expensive. Where you or I feel 
 under restraint, he stands erect. We creep carefully ; 
 he steps out. He seems to me like a man who pos- 
 sesses a magic wand. What can interfere with him ? 
 He pays no attention to obstacles, because he knows 
 that they vanish when he lifts his wand. The aspect 
 of the world must be quite different to the possessor 
 of such a tool from what it is to us." 
 
 Frau Kathe had yawned several times during her 
 husband's long monologue. "Your imagination is 
 flying off with you again 1" she murmured, half asleep, 
 and wished her husband good-night ; but Koppel, 
 though rather tired, for a long time lay awake. 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. IO3 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 A FEW days after this evening, the Koppels received 
 a letter from Henneberg, inviting them to dinner on 
 the following Saturday to meet a few friends ; the 
 Baroness Agostini with her husband would be there. 
 
 Frau Kathe's first thought was to decline. She had 
 no toilette with which to go among millionaires and 
 baronesses, and since she felt herself as good as the 
 others, she could not endure to appear among them 
 as Cinderella. Koppel, however, talked her out of 
 this idea. It wouldn't do to refuse the invitation, he 
 said, after Henneberg had been their guest. Henne- 
 berg was too considerate to bring them into collision 
 with mere money-bags and fashion-plates. To meet a 
 new circle, might bring about relations that would be 
 of use to the children. This process of reasoning did 
 not at all convince Frau Kathe ; in fact, she was par- 
 ticularly unwilling to think of possible results from 
 the new acquaintances to be made. But since she 
 never opposed her husband unless the need were ex- 
 treme, she consented to go. 
 
 When the Koppels, on the designated evening, pre- 
 sented themselves at Henneberg's residence, it was 
 all alight with countless electric lamps. In the great 
 antechamber, four servants in dress-coats with metal 
 buttons, white gloves, and white ties, were making 
 themselves useful to the guests. The splendour of 
 the rooms and the richness of their furniture amazed 
 Frau Kathe, who had never before seen anything of 
 the kind except as Baedeker-sights in palaces of king::. 
 
 The walls of the great, four-windowed salon, into 
 which they were ushered, were covered with Lyons- 
 silk tapestry of a delicate salmon-pink, bordered with 
 narrow panels, gold-rimmed, and having in low relief 
 motifs of golden quivers and arrows, and. rose-garlands, 
 
J04 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 The portiferes and window-curtains were of heavy red 
 velvet with gold fringes and cords ; between the win- 
 dows stood ebony cabinets, inlaid with ivory, contain- 
 ing collections of Dresden china, of painted fans, and 
 of eighteenth-century miniatures in very valuable set- 
 tings. Bronze tables, some with mosaic tops, others 
 with plate-glass, supported vases of malachite and 
 jasper, silver-gilt cups with embossed figures, oriental 
 long-necked cans and beakers, and Chinese sword-hilts 
 of jade. 
 
 The furniture, of silk tapestry to match the walls, 
 had gilded wood-work. Under the mantelpiece of 
 very rich different coloured marbles, big logs were blaz- 
 ing upon the great iron fire-dogs, topped with chimsera- 
 heads in bronze, and the heat was pleasantly lessened 
 by tall embroidered screens. The eye, at first caught 
 by the dominant splendour of gold and polished mar- 
 ble and silk, presently found time to appreciate the 
 softer charm of the artistic wealth which adorned the 
 room : a vast ceiling-painting showed nude Loves and 
 goddesses upon the airy clouds of a delicate blue sky, 
 an agreeable harmony of rose, white, and forget-me- 
 not ; on ebony easels, draped with purple velvet and 
 twisted gold cords, in odd, whimsical, frames, were little 
 pictures of Van Beers and Weerts, — elegantly-dressed 
 young women, some of whom with a refined attractive- 
 ness, others with sheer impudence, solicited a glance ; 
 on the walls a few Raffaellis, where were to be seen 
 rag-pickers, beggar-women with hungry children cling- 
 ing to them, — forms of poverty cruelly depicted, — 
 a heartless intentional contrast to the luxury of the 
 room, making it more piquant, but also a Mene, 
 Tekel, to the revelers going to and fro here ; on 
 the mantel, between two beautiful vases and a pair of 
 many-branched ingeniously twisted rococo silver-can- 
 dlesticks, there was a rare marble by Clodion, a Leda 
 with the Swan, of affected refinement and insolent 
 sensuality. Along the edge of the ceiling ran a cornice 
 of flameless lamps ; every picture in the room had its 
 own light, also the mantel, the cabinets and the divans 
 in the corners. There was no uniformity as to the 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. lO^ 
 
 lighting, and this made it somewhat confusing, but it 
 brought out various details in the general effect with 
 great picturesque strength. 
 
 In the salon, as the Koppels entered, there stood 
 by the fire, surrounding Henneberg, a group of four 
 men, whom the master of the house introduced as ; 
 Count Beira, Monsieur Kohn, Pierre, the famous 
 painter, and Martini, a distinguished sculptor. 
 Henneberg at once devoted himself to the somewhat 
 intimidated Frau Kathe, showing her pictures and 
 little things, and urging her especially to feel herself 
 perfectly at home. Koppel, meanwhile, joined in the 
 conversation of the group of men, to whom Monsieur 
 Kohn was talking fluently and brilliantly on the 
 sculpture of the eighteenth century, in words of no 
 great meaning, but weighty and connoisseur-like to 
 the ear. He interested Koppel, who sought to 
 determine what the man was ; the voice was the 
 voice of Jacob, but the hands were the hands of Esau : 
 according to what he was saying, he might be a jour- 
 nalist, or an author, or perhaps even a professor of the 
 History of Art ; but his early fatness, the young head 
 already bald, the luxuriant side-whiskers, the gardenia 
 in the button-hole of the evening-coat, the great cat's- 
 eye which was his only shirt-stud, indicated him as a 
 financier or stock-jobber. 
 
 The servant at the door announced : M. le G^n^ral 
 et niadame Zagat!" and following their name and 
 title appeared a short, fe^t man of dark complexion, 
 short, bulbous nose with round nostrils, and thick lips ; 
 on his arm an also short and also fat lady, the tint of 
 whose complexion could not be discovered under the 
 geologic strata of powder and paint, but whose 
 features showed a certain race-resemblance to those 
 of her husband'. Both were still young ; the general 
 wore immense, apparently somewhat barbaric, Orders 
 on the breast of his coat, and the lady was attired in a 
 bottle-green silk with lace overdress, and wore so 
 many jewels that she clanked at every step, as if she 
 were clad in scale-armour. An overpowering perfume 
 of corylopsis went before her and followed after her, 
 
Io6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 so that she was an unpleasant neighbour to persons 
 whose sense of smell was acute. The lady spoke 
 somewhat loudly ; the general, in a scrupulously low 
 voice ; both with an accent strong enough to disperse 
 a thunder-cloud. The entrance of this new couple 
 caused Koppel to draw nearer to Kohn. The latter, 
 at once began using German, of an accent that be- 
 trayed the Frankfort man. To these two Count Beira 
 joined himself, who also spoke German, and very 
 plainly showed himself a Hamburger. When some 
 movement among the different groups, on the entrance 
 of another guest, the painter Recollet, caused the Count 
 to move away, Koppel said to Kohn : " How did this 
 Portuguese gentleman get his native German, and his 
 Hanseatic dialect ?" 
 
 Kohn laughed. 
 
 " Portuguese is complimentary. The only Portu- 
 guese about the gentleman is his title of count, which 
 he has not had very long. He is a worthy Herr Dett- 
 mer from Hamburg, who has been establishing street 
 railways and founding banks in Goa, Macao, and Por- 
 tugal. The heavy millions that he has brought home 
 are much more useful to him than his title." 
 
 Again was heard the voice of the servant at the 
 door : 
 
 "■Monsieur le baron Agostini et niadame la baronne," 
 Henneberg hastened to meet them. The baron was 
 more tired, more shrunken, and more wrinkled 
 than ever. But the monocle was firm in his- eye, 
 and the stiff moustache and mouche were of the 
 same impossible black. The baroness wore a two- 
 toned silk, dove's breast and pale lilac, with a rose- 
 coloured vest and lace sleeves, through which her arms 
 showed bare to the shoulders. In her dark hair glit- 
 tered a very remarkable diamond star ; around her 
 neck were three rows of a necklace of pearls, as large 
 as peas and of the purest water ; and in her hand she 
 carried a fan gold-mounted and painted by Fragonard. 
 She looked very different from the person whom the 
 Koppels had lately seen. She carried her head high, 
 her mouth had a hard expression, her dark eyes had a 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. 10/ 
 
 Strange and fixed look ; she seemed an angry and scorn- 
 ful queen, who had come forth from her fast-locked 
 secret life for no other purpose than to maltreat her 
 subjects. When, however, she saw Frau Kathe seated 
 near the chimney, the hardness for a moment disap- 
 peared from her face. With a slight response to the 
 salutation of the men and the bow of the general's 
 wife, she crossed to Frau Kathe — an extremely sim- 
 ple and humble figure in her plain gown of dark 
 blue silk — extended her hand cordially, and took a 
 seat beside her in the arm-chair which Koppel had 
 hastened to bring. There remained nothing of the, so 
 to speak, official expression, which her whole bearing 
 had had when she entered the room ; she looked gentle 
 and kind, as she began to chat with Frau Kathe. 
 
 While Henneberg presented the artists, one after 
 another, to the ladies and left them there, the general 
 paid his court to Baron Agostini. 
 
 " All the professions are represented here this eve- 
 ning," Kohn said jokingly ; " the military, the educa- 
 tional, and the millionaire." 
 
 "You, I suppose, belong to the last?" Koppel re- 
 joined. 
 
 " I am quite aware," replied Kohn, with hypocritical 
 modesty, " that I have, unhappily, neither the honour 
 to be a general or a professor." 
 
 "Accept my congratulations !" s 
 
 " Oh, there's no cause, Herr Professor, in the pres- 
 ence of such multi-millionaires as Henneberg, Herr 
 Dettmer, or even Baron Agostini. I am a very insig- 
 nificant person." 
 
 — " His Majesty the King of Laos, and the gentle- 
 men of his suite!" was the sudden announcement 
 from the doorway. Koppel looked in amazement. 
 The foreign potentate was a tall man of about thirty- 
 five, with very thick hair standing up like a brush, a 
 very long, thin moustache under the hooked nose, 
 and a very noticeable, dull white, streaked scar in the 
 left cheek. Behind him came an older man and two 
 younger men, all three with the ribbon of a Grand 
 Cross, red, with green edge, under the waistcoat. The 
 
Io8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 elder man, short of stature, with a respectable bald 
 head and a moustache, was solemn and stiff. Henne- 
 berg presented him as the Duke of an unpro- 
 nounceable name, the king's chancellor. The two young 
 men, — the "Court Chamberlain, vicomte d'Idouville," 
 
 and the "Aide-de-camp, baron de " and again a 
 
 name which no one understood, — were, on the contrary, 
 lively, smiling, and skipping personages. 
 
 At the entrance of this train, Koppel unconsciously 
 wrinkled his brows. Being a German, he was rather 
 vain of his knowledge of geography ; but of a kingdom 
 of Laos, in ancient or modern history, he had never ' 
 yet heard. Was this a very undignified joke ? He 
 could not think it possible. The character of Henne- 
 berg himself, and of, at least, some of the guests present, 
 rendered this incredible. Moreover, no one seemed 
 to be smiling when Henneberg addressed the king as 
 " Sire," and some of the guests, especially the general 
 and his wife and the artists, made a circle around the 
 newcomer, in true courtly fashion. But if it were no 
 joke, what could be the position of this unexpected 
 king? 
 
 He had, for some time, no opportunity to gratify 
 his curiosity ; at last Henneberg came up to him, 
 took his arm, and drew him towards the king. " Sire, 
 a friend and fellow-countryman. Professor Koppel." 
 
 " Very glad, Herr Professor," said the king, " very 
 glad," and he graciously extended his hand to Kop- 
 pel. The latter took it in his own without enthusi- 
 asm. The king stood thus, his hand in Koppel's for 
 a moment and exclaimed to his suite : " Look here, 
 gentlemen ! The German professor, the secret of 
 Germany's strength, — the German professor and the 
 army! I wish that we were so far along in Laos, that 
 we could have professors to depend upon!" And he 
 gave way to a short, self-satisfied, royal laugh. The 
 three gentlemen in attendance, with a simultaneous 
 movement, bowed, and also, they all smiled. Gen- 
 eral Zagal laughed. The king turned away, leaving 
 Koppel standing, and went across to where the Baron- 
 ess Agostini sat, before whom he bowed low. 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. IO$ 
 
 "Madame la baronne," he said: "may I have the 
 honour to kiss your hand ?" 
 
 The baroness, on the king's entrance had resumed 
 her stately frigid mien, and she now replied to him in 
 the most distant way : " Excuse me — " laying her 
 fingers in his extended hand, and drawing them back 
 at once, as he bent to kiss them. " I hope that you 
 are well," she said coldly. 
 
 "You are most kind, baroness," the king replied. 
 " My duties give me much toil and many cares, but I 
 take care of myself. Is monsieur le baron well ? 
 Dh ! there he is." And he went across the room to 
 where the baron, turning his back to him, stood, with 
 Count Beira before one of Van Beers' pictures. 
 
 Frau Kathe also had been much astonished on the 
 announcement of a royal guest. Her woman's quick- 
 ness of observation however, soon detected that 
 Henneberg took no special trouble about the king, 
 while the great people in the salon. Baron Agostini 
 and Count Beira scarcely noticed him, and the baroness 
 seemed to repel his advances : whereupon Frau Kathe 
 decided that his majesty was of no consequence to 
 her. 
 
 " What sort of a king is that ?" she asked, as he 
 moved away. 
 
 " His real name is Paul Maigrier," the baroness 
 replied. " He is said to have been a naval officer. 
 Malicious tongues assert that he was a waiter on 
 board ship. He is said to have seized the territory of 
 a savage tribe in Eastern Asia ; another story is that 
 the inhabitants willingly chose him for king. I don't 
 know the truth of it. There are people who take him 
 seriously. He has founded an Order, he has issued 
 postage-stamps, he bestows titles of nobility, and it is 
 said that he is trying to establish diplomatic relations 
 with the courts of Europe." 
 
 " How very extraordinary ! But what is he doing 
 in Paris ? Is he here on a visit ?" 
 
 " He says that he is here to obtain recognition from 
 the French government. He is canvassing among 
 
no THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 officers and officials. I think he is specially endeavour, 
 ing to obtain money." 
 
 " So ?" This evidently cleared up the subject for 
 Frau Kathe ; the riddle was solved. 
 
 At this moment the maitre-d'h6tel announced that 
 dinner was served. To her amazement Henneberg 
 gave his arm to Frau Kathe, after he had whispered 
 Koppel to take out the baroness : the king made 
 Madame Zagal extremely happy, who really reddened 
 with delight under all her paint, and the other gentle- 
 men followed singly. Next to the salon was a musicj, 
 room without portiferes, having only muslin curtains at 
 the two windows. The white-lacquered walls were 
 panelled with narrow gilt mouldings and there was no 
 carpet of any kind on the polished floor ; a grand piano 
 with rich decorations on a gold-lacquered ground, two 
 pedal-harps, some ebony music-rests, and a row of light, 
 gilded, red-silk cushioned chairs were its only furniture. 
 Beyond, was the dining-room, where six servants, 
 standing at regular intervals around the table, awaited 
 the entrance of the host and his guests. 
 
 Henneberg, with a bow, indicated to Frau Kathe 
 her place at his right hand. She coloured violently, 
 and said in a low voice : " It is impossible ! The 
 baroness " 
 
 But the baroness at that moment passed her, and 
 whispered : " It was at my special request, gracious 
 lady," and thereupon took her seat at the left of the 
 host, whence she looked smilingly across to Frau 
 Kathe, who, also smiling, now seated herself without 
 further objection. Her neighbour at the right was 
 Baron Agostini ; beyond him sat General Zagal, while 
 the baroness had Koppel at her left and beyond him 
 the painter, Pierre. Across the table from himself, 
 Henneberg had placed the king, with Madame Zagal 
 at his right, then Kohn, and the painter Martini ; and 
 at his left, Beira, the court chamberlain, vicomte 
 d'Idouville, and the painter Recollet, while the aide-de- 
 camp and the chancellor were at the two ends of the 
 table. 
 
 While Frau Kathe drew off her gloves and folded 
 
A DINNER-PARTY, III 
 
 them carefully she looked around her at the room. 
 The walls were panelled to shoulder height with wal- 
 nut-wood, finely carved, in high relief, in garlands of 
 fruit and flowers, here and there picked out with gold 
 or colour. Thence to the panelled ceiling, the wall 
 was covered with golden-brown leather, with stamped, 
 coloured arabesques. There was something barbaric 
 in the display of a collection of plates and dishes 
 which covered the walls ; — among which Cypriot ware 
 with copper glaze and yellow Italian majolica were 
 conspicuous. Frau Kathe had no idea of the value of 
 these keramic treasures, but she had a consciousness 
 of being in the presence of vast wealth, which also 
 was exhibited in the three-winged buffet, suggestive 
 of a high altar, and in the dazzling gold and silver 
 plate of a tall cabinet opposite. 
 
 The table itself was extremely elegant. The silver 
 dishes were not round but square, and on one rim 
 decorated with a coat-of-arms in heraldic enamel- 
 colours. The same coat-of-arms was on each of the 
 seven or eight glasses of the finest crystal which 
 stood at each plate, and was engraved on all the silver 
 table-utensils of the dinner, and the smaller gold 
 dessert spoons, knives, and forks. There was a large 
 silver centre-piece, the triumph of Venus ; and two 
 lesser groups, at the ends of the table, represented a 
 Bacchante and Silenus, and a Bacchus with two 
 thyrsus-bearers. There were innumerable flameless 
 lamps along the walls, but, besides, four enormous 
 seven-branched candelabra stood on the table, each 
 branch carrying seven pink-shaded candles. In two 
 interlocked wavy lines, there lay, the whole length of 
 the table, garlands of rare dahlias, expensive orchids 
 and forced delicate lilg.cs. Before each of the three 
 ladies lay, in a silver bouquet-holder, a great bunch 
 of carefully-selected unfragrant flowers, — gloxinias, 
 stanhopeas, and very large, pinkish chrysanthemums. 
 The menu was in the form of a gilt-framed picture on 
 a little silver easel. 
 
 For a time Frau Kathe was lost in observation of all 
 this display. A servant pouring golden-tinted, fra- 
 
Hi THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 grant Madeira into the smallest of the glasses at her 
 plate, startled her back into real life. 
 
 " I shall never have the courage to invite you to our 
 table again," she could not resist saying to Henne- 
 berg. 
 
 " Gracious lady, do not be so cruel !" he exclaimed, 
 almost shocked. " If you knew how I enjoyed that 
 day ! All was again so home-like — I was again young 
 and merry !" 
 
 " But a person who is accustomed to such magni- 
 ficence " 
 
 " Oh, that doesn't mean so much after all ! It seems 
 like a good deal, I know, but the whole thing, just as 
 it stands, cost me but a trifle." 
 
 " Nay, nay !" 
 
 " Just as I tell you, Frau Doctor. I must explain 
 that I took the apartment furnished. It cost its 
 former owner half a million to fit it up ; I have his 
 original bills. I gave him about one-seventh of the 
 whole sum. The poor fellow had speculated, was 
 ruined, and had to sell." 
 
 " One-seventh of the value ?" 
 
 " The value? Let us see. To the seller this would 
 mean one thing, and to the buyer another. If the 
 owner had been obliged to resort to the dealers in 
 second-hand things, he would have got far less than 
 what I gave him." 
 
 " I think I should haunt my possessions like a ghost 
 if I had paid so much for them and sold them for so 
 little." 
 
 " Now, gracious lady, in the first place, I have no fear 
 of ghosts ; secondly, the seller is, all this time, still alive ; 
 and thirdly, his half-million did not cost /lun much 
 either. He gained it at the Bourse." 
 
 " Then he won it from some other man ; and what 
 it cost that man, we do not know." 
 
 " Oh, well ! if you are going into the question so 
 deeply as that, everything we have is, in the first in- 
 stance, a sun-gift." 
 
 Frau Kathe smiled at this idea of dragging into busi- 
 ness-life the comparative philologists' haunting mythus, 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. II3 
 
 and asked, amicably changing the subject : " The coat 
 of arms, then, is that of the previous owner ?" 
 
 " Well! — no," replied Henneberg, hesitating slightly, 
 " it is my own ; that is to say," he continued, as she 
 glanced at him suddenly, " it is really my mother's, 
 who was a von Milowitz." 
 
 Frau Kathe regretted her inconsiderate question, 
 and it was a great relief to her when a formal, polite 
 remark of Baron Agostini enabled her to let the sub- 
 ject drop completely. 
 
 Meantime the king was talking louder all the time, 
 and in drawing the general attention to himself put 
 an end to the conversation of neighbours with each 
 other. 
 
 " Yes," he exclaimed, " we have in our country all 
 the material for prosperity : a fruitful soil, valuable 
 forests, water-routes, gold mines, and mines of precious 
 stones. We need only immigration, especially Ger- 
 man," and he bowed to his host ; " but, most of all, 
 capital." 
 
 No one made any answer, and, turning to Agostini, 
 he continued : 
 
 " Yes, monsieur le baron, capital is all that we need, 
 to form a new centre of French — of European — civil- 
 ization out there." 
 
 " Capital would be somewhat endangered," the baron 
 said, with a faint smile. 
 
 " Only if it came in too small an amount. In that 
 case, I could not, perhaps, carry the work through. 
 Let me have money enough, however, and the thing is 
 dead sure. Gentlemen fail to consider that Europe is 
 now over-populated. What are you doing here in this 
 old corner of the world ? You are buying three per 
 cent bonds, which, by and by, will beco.me one per 
 cents or may have no more value than so much wall- 
 paper. You do not appreciate men of determined 
 character, who open up new countries. You do not 
 understand what we are doing for you. I call upon 
 you to testify, Count Beira, whether Eastern Asia is 
 not a place where a man may get millions." 
 
 The person addressed nodded affirmatively. 
 
114 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " I tell you," the king went on, with increasing 
 fervour, " it will be well for those who grasp in time 
 the great historical fact that the business role of 
 Europe is played out. We are too close to each 
 other, here. To-day we nearly all have the same 
 wants ; to-morrow we shall be exactly alike in this 
 respect. To satisfy these wants is, however, impossi- 
 ble. We have not sun enough for that in Europe." 
 
 " Again the sun-myth," Frau Kathe whispered to 
 Henneberg. 
 
 " That is no harm," returned the latter ; " it pays to 
 listen to the man." 
 
 " Of itself, without our effort, our parsimonious 
 soil will bring forth rye and oats," the king con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " Also truffles and the juice of the vine," interrupted 
 Kohn, pointing with his knife at the plate and the 
 glass. 
 
 " But not for all men," replied the king, stimulated 
 by his own talk. " There you have the secret of your 
 wretched Socialism, of which we, in Laos, know noth- 
 ing at all. The aim of prudent governments is how- 
 ever to secure truffles and wine to everybody." 
 
 " If you can work this miracle," Baron Agostini 
 remarked. 
 
 " I have the best chance in the world to do it, in 
 Laos! But let us understand each other : when I say 
 for all, I mean for all white men. Of course I am 
 thoroughly convinced that there is an order of preced- 
 ence among the races. It is our affair to subjugate 
 the coloured races. W^e are the natural robbtr- 
 aristocracy, — or let us say, the sword aristocracy — 
 of humanity, and have our duties and our rights as 
 such. We protect the inferior races against each 
 other, we give them with wise moderation as much 
 civilization as they can bear, and, with this, security 
 and the administration of justice ; and it is only equit- 
 able, that they, in return, should work for us and obey 
 us. The only remunerative work for white humanity 
 in the future is to take possession of the rest of the 
 world, some directly through the use of their two hands, 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. 115 
 
 others indirectly, tiirougli the use of money. The 
 former class eat the pineapple in the place where it 
 grows ; the latter have it brought to them : this is a 
 matter for individual choice." 
 
 " I will have my pineapple sent here," Kohn de- 
 clared, " I am afraid my appetite wouldn't be very 
 good in Laos." 
 
 " That is where your theory is wrecked, sire," said 
 Count Beira ; " the food is better in those lands 
 favoured by the sun, but life is not so agreeable, and 
 it is not so long, there. Better rye-bread and health 
 in Europe, than pineapples and a liver-complaint in 
 Laos !" 
 
 " Bah !" cried the king contemptuously, " I say, 
 better a short life as owner and ruler, than a long one 
 as dependent and labourer. And, after all, what is 
 long? What is short ? The length of a life is not 
 measured by calendar years, but by the number and 
 variety of sensations. A shepherd in my native Ca- 
 margue remains a boy, without experiences or mem- 
 ories, though he live to be a hundred. I am now 
 thirty-six, and were I to die to-day, I could not com- 
 plain that my life had been a barren one." 
 
 Koppel at last struck in: "What you are deveh 
 oping," he said, "is the theory of exploitation. 
 White men shall no longer exploit each other ; 
 unitedly, they shall exploit the coloured races ; but, 
 through transformation into parasites, they will perish. 
 For what has made the white race strong, what has 
 given them their superiority over the others, is exactly 
 that inexorable stress under which we have been 
 obliged to live here in our barren Europe. The nig- 
 gard sun has compelled us to labour and to be self- 
 denying ; and to this we owe our ability." 
 
 '' Very well," rejoined the king, who was a ready 
 disputant, " but we have been storing up strength all 
 this time that we might be ready one day to spend it. 
 Economy is not an end in itself. A man economizes 
 in order to be able, at some future time, to spend 
 freely. The white race has, until now, guarded its 
 treasure ; it is time to break open the money-box and 
 
Il6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 convert the yellow-boys into pleasure. Observe, my 
 dear professor, that the exploitation which I preach, 
 is more moral and credible, also a trifle more danger- 
 ous and therefore braver, than that of the white race 
 by the white race." 
 
 "I am, on the whole, of the king's opinion," re- 
 marked Henneberg, " only I am not fond of the word 
 you use. Why talk about exploitage, when individuals 
 and classes simply live according to their natui'al apti- 
 tudes and inclinations? Some are stronger and some 
 are weaker, and each acts as he has the strength to 
 act. The sheep modestly eats grass, and would not 
 touch lapwing's eggs. The animal's modesty is no 
 merit. The wolf eats the sheep ; no one ought to 
 blame him for this repast. Man has not chosen his 
 place in the animal kingdom ; it is allotted to him by 
 nature. His only duty is to fill that place with com- 
 plete self-development." 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the king, " I tell you, my dear 
 Baron Henneberg, I shall never be content till I have 
 you in my cabinet." 
 
 Baron Henneberg ! Koppel and his wife pricked up 
 their ears, but avoided the interchange of even a single 
 look. They were learning, by degrees, to be surprised 
 at nothing, in this house. 
 
 " You are too good," Henneberg returned in a 
 slightly sarcastic tone. " I should only be qualified 
 for the ministry of finance, or for that of public in- 
 struction ; and either of these, in your kingdom, will I 
 fear, remain sinecures for awhile." 
 
 " Oho ! Just what I am working for is to find some- 
 thing that, at least, a minister of finance can occupy 
 himself with." 
 
 Over Baron Agostini's wrinkled face again flitted a 
 faint smile, while Kohn winked across the table at 
 Koppel, and said softly in German : " What a joke !" 
 
 Meantime the luxurious dinner went on, with its 
 successive courses and its variety of wines in swift 
 succession, and the pitch of the talk grew constantly 
 higher. Between the king of Laos and Kohn there 
 began to be a farcical contest for the lead in the con- 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. II7 
 
 versation. Kohn had a desire to talk with his neigh- 
 bour the sculptor Martini, and with the painter Pierre 
 across the table, about art ; the king domineered over 
 the whole party, with considerations on the financial 
 future of his kingdom. In spite of the Annihilating 
 looks of the royal suite, in spite of repeated demon- 
 strations of displeasure from his majesty personally, 
 who would suddenly break off in the middle of a sen- 
 tence and allow a significant pause to ensue, Kohn held 
 his ground, and the king was obliged to content him- 
 self with a considerably reduced audience. 
 
 The ices, the bonbons, the delicious fruit were 
 eaten, the champagne glasses stood empty, the maitre 
 d'hotel opened both leaves of the dining-room door, and 
 the party returned into the salon, to take their coffee, 
 and to choose among the six or eight liqueurs which 
 were immediately brought in. The king, with his 
 sharp eyes, had observed that both his host and the 
 Baroness Agostini showed special attention to the 
 Koppels ; and he accordingly, as soon as they had re- 
 turned into the salon, approached Koppel, and drew 
 him into a friendly conversation as to his work in 
 Paris. The king's suite made a half-circle behind him 
 as he talked, and General Zagal added himself to the 
 group as file-leader. 
 
 Koppel was secretly displeased at the situation, 
 which to him appeared a ridiculous parody, and be- 
 came angry. The king seemed not to notice this, and 
 after he had kept up the conversation for a few 
 minutes, he said suddenly, and speaking in a loud 
 voice : " You please me. Professor, you please me 
 greatly. You have an extraordinary mind." With a 
 rapid movement, he drew from his button-hole the red 
 and green rosette of his Order, and continued : " Ac- 
 cept this. It is a gratification to me to appoint you 
 commander of my Order of S. Paul ;" and he attempted 
 to put the rosette into the buttonhole of Koppel's 
 coat. But this buttonhole was sewed up ! The king 
 was somewhat disconcerted, for the unexpected 
 obstacle destroyed the effect of his act, and the situ- 
 ation threatened to become ludicrous, if he struggled 
 
Il8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 long with the refractory lappel of the Professor's coat. 
 His suite came to the rescue. The aid-de-camp sprang 
 forward and took the rosette from the royal hand, 
 the chamberlain hastened to the dining-room and 
 brought, triumphant, a knife with which he opened the 
 buttonhole, and the rosette could now be suitably 
 inserted. It all hnppened so quickly that Koppel had 
 time neither to make any movement himself, nor to 
 utter a word. The king also had already moved away 
 to another group, and was making an attempt to draw 
 Baron Agostini into a corner. But the chancellor 
 approached Koppel, who was half-embarrassed, half- 
 amused, and said solemnly : " Monsieur le comman- 
 deur, accept my congratulations. The chancery will 
 complete the formalities of investiture, and will send 
 you the diploma." Also, General Zagal congratulated 
 him, and asked in a low voice if he had had the honour 
 to know his majesty for a long time. On being told 
 that Koppel had met the king this evening for the first 
 time, the general became thoughtful, moved away 
 from Koppel, and organized strategic movements to 
 reach the king's side. 
 
 Koppel was still undecided whether courtesy re- 
 quired him to endure the ridiculous gew-gaw in the 
 lappel of his coat so long as he was in the king's sight, 
 or whether he might follow his inclination and fling 
 the rosette at once into a corner, when Henneberg 
 touched him on the shoulder and said : 
 
 "Perhaps you would like to smoke ?" 
 
 "Thank you : I should," and followed him into the 
 cosy room at the left of the great salon, which was 
 fitted up as a kind of Spanish mirador : a stalactite- 
 ceiling ; azulejos, with blue, gold and red arabesques, 
 on the walls ; broad divans around the sides of the 
 room ; in front of them, very beautiful Persian prayer- 
 rugs, small, pearl-inlaid sandal-wood tables, silver 
 narghilehs with inlay of turquoises, and even Chinese 
 opium-pipes, the latter only as curiosities, however. 
 On the tables lay a variety of consequential cigars, each 
 in its corked glass-reed. 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. II9 
 
 While Koppel was selecting one of these, he 
 narrated to Henneberg his adventure with the king. 
 
 Henneberg laughed at his vexed tone, and said : 
 " Yes ; he plays these tricks now and then. He has 
 conferred upon me the Grand Cross of his toy. You 
 are displeased, — do you know that the man is overun 
 by people who beg him, as the greatest favour, for the 
 simple cross of his Order, and are ready to pay round 
 sums for it ?" 
 
 " Such things make one proud of being a civilized 
 man ! But who is the fellow, really ?" 
 
 " Fellow, if you choose; but, really, an extraordinary 
 person. Of his early life I know nothing ; all sorts of 
 things are said but nothing is proved, or at least noth- 
 ing disgraceful. Some years ago he went, I don't 
 know how, to Indo-China ; he there in some way 
 bewitched some odd sort of forest-people, and it is 
 said that they did actually choose him for their ruler. 
 The country appears to have been independent at the 
 time, but China, Siam, England and France now lay 
 claim to it, and so it is not very probable that he will 
 be permitted to play the part of king for any length 
 of time. It is possible, however, that in the end he 
 will be appointed Resident, or that he will in some 
 way obtain possession of land or mining properties. 
 Meanwhile, with an amusing blend of slyness and 
 boyishness, he is trying to get as large a loan of money 
 as possible." 
 
 " That is, he is in short, an adventurer on a large 
 scale." 
 
 " You are rather too severe ; he is an imaginative 
 person — " 
 
 " That, to a certain extent, all swindlers are." 
 
 " But he is really something more than that. He is 
 an adventurer of the grand breed, daring and fearless, 
 one of those domineering natures that, sword in hand, 
 hew out for themselves their own fate in this world. 
 Clear-headed enough, besides, to philosophize about 
 his beast-of-prey career, and to make his own case part 
 of a system. He interests me much. He is a late 
 scion of the race of the conquistadore, the fillibusters, 
 
120 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 and the corsairs, with a highly piquant, extremely 
 modern disregard of all principles. Again, I find in 
 him traits which I have good reason to recognize. 
 This makes him attractive to me." 
 
 Koppel shook his head. 
 
 " But the suite ?" he said. 
 
 " Sure enough. These people are thrown in. They 
 are, however, inoffensive idiots, who do very well as 
 supernumeraries. The chancellor, with his solemnity, 
 his Grand Cross, and his ducal title, is worth a journey 
 to see. He is said to be a book-keeper out of employ- 
 ment, and for stipend to have his meals at the king's 
 table and his lodging at a tailor's. The aide-de-camp 
 has really been a subaltern in an Algerian regiment. 
 The vicomte is genuine, a real vicomte d'Idouville, a 
 stylish little fellow, with neither brains nor money nor 
 occupation ; he is really pathetic, for out of what little 
 self-respect he has left, he persuades himself to take 
 his position seriously." 
 
 " And who is this general, that is as be-ribboned as a 
 Whitsun ox .''" 
 
 " He comes from Honduras, and has been minister. 
 He has carried on extensive financial operations, and 
 has been in consequence obliged to flee his country. 
 His fellow-countrymen first erected an equestrian 
 statue of him and then picturesquely hanged it on the 
 gallows. However, that did him no harm, for he had 
 brought off with him to Europe a prodigal number of 
 millions, and is now about to double that number by a 
 great financial undertaking. Did you notice how he 
 swelled up when the king was talking about the des- 
 tiny of the white race as rulers ? He had to laugh out 
 of the wrong side of his mouth, for of course you see 
 that the fellow is a full-blooded Indian." 
 
 "I can't understand why you associate with people 
 like this." 
 
 " Why not ? I find them more amusing than 
 correct people are. The latter are always more insipid, 
 not always more honourable, and unquestionably more 
 tiresome than the former. Without going to the the- 
 atre, I have a comedy performed in my own draw- 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. 121 
 
 ing-room. Only one must never forget that he is 
 looking on at a harlequin act." 
 
 " Hm ! Are you sure that your guests enjoy per- 
 forming with harlequins ?" 
 
 "They are not doing it!" Henneberg exclaimed 
 " they are spectators like myself. Do you know, I think 
 you are a little ungrateful! I brought these people 
 together expressly for your amusement. When you 
 honour me again with your presence, you shall meet 
 truly right-angled society, gray on gray, and we will 
 perform our devotions with chamber-music and cards, 
 like the gentry in Spremberg." 
 
 At this moment Kohn came into the smoking-room, 
 and remarked, with an odd smile, as he took a cigar : 
 " Doctor, there are dreadful things going on in your 
 salon !" 
 
 " Since you mention them so cheerfully, my dear 
 Kohn " 
 
 " I smile because I am safe out of it ; but cold chills 
 are still running down my back." 
 
 " Tell us all about it." 
 
 " The king seems to be determined to raise a forced 
 loan. Agostini has craftily taken shelter between 
 Frau Professor and the baroness, and there, he is at 
 present safe from attack. Upon me, however, his 
 majesty fell with full violence. Vainly I sought 
 refuge behind the artists. He requires — to carry on 
 the business of the State — instantly and uncondition- 
 ally, a thousand francs, or, it may be, two thousand. 
 The man has the strength of a force-pump ! At this 
 moment he has the Indian by the nose-ring. That 
 poor fellow is lost beyond recovery !" 
 
 Henneberg grew serious. " But I forbade him to 
 operate in my salon," he said, in a displeased voice ; 
 he rose from the divan and left the room. 
 
 " I am really hard on the rascal," Kohn said ; " he 
 will have nothing for breakfast to-morrow, very likely, 
 if he gets no money here. But when he asks for a 
 
 thousand francs " 
 
 • " That does not prevent your offering him twenty." 
 
 " Bravo, Herr Professor ! You appreciate the situa- 
 
122 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 tion. But that is the way it is ; we may understand 
 that it is all a swindle, but we can't quite get over the 
 impression such words as 'king,' and ' chancellor,' pro- 
 duce upon us from the force of habit." 
 
 Henneberg, at this moment, returned, and tranquilly 
 seated himself again. 
 
 " Well, have you tied him up ?" asked Kohn. 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Did you give him the thousand francs ?" 
 
 " Five hundred did the business." 
 
 " He must have got the rest out of Zagal. He 
 seemed to me very eager." 
 
 " An expensive amusement !" Koppel said, under 
 his breath. 
 
 " That is what it's for !" replied Henneberg cheer- 
 fully. " What other use is there for money ? Our 
 coins at the present epoch are not so very handsome 
 that we want to keep them for scarf-pins. The only 
 other thing is to use them lor pourboires." 
 
 " And for the purchase of fine pictures," Kohn inter- 
 posed and went towards the painter Pierre, whose 
 figure, at the moment, framed itself in the door-way. 
 
 " Y or pourboires J" cried Koppel. " Have you come 
 to despise your fellow-creatures to that degree ?" 
 
 " My dear friend, perhaps you do not know the 
 pleasure of smelting an insolent, obstinate clown into 
 a servant as flexible as a snake. You have to do it, 
 before you know what a talent in this direction human 
 nature has. I said to you just now that I enjoyed see- 
 ing harlequins perform. But that is not all. I seem 
 to myself like the ring-master, who stands in the 
 centre, and cracks his long whip, and calls out to a 
 dozen horses : Leap ! halt !" 
 
 The sec of the dinner had manifestly had its effect 
 upon Henneberg. His eyes glittered, and he showed 
 an almost feverish vivacity which Koppel had never 
 before seen in him. Koppel looked at him surprised, 
 and said, after a brief silence, in a tone of honest sym- 
 pathy : " I had not noticed before that you were so 
 frightfully unhappy." 
 
A DINNER-PARTY. 123 
 
 Henneberg replied: "You have singular fancies! 
 Do I look like an unhappy person ?" 
 
 " We may go beyond appearances," Koppel an- 
 swered. "I have no right to try to win confessions 
 from you ; but I am perfectly conscious of an intol- 
 erable bitterness behind your vindictive pleasure in 
 debasing men by the use of your money." 
 
 Henneberg remained silent, and Koppel resumed : 
 " I remember once a very different ambition of yours. 
 At that time you were poor. Were not those days 
 better than these ?" 
 
 " Ach !" cried Henneberg, vexed that he had allowed 
 himself to be taken by surprise, " you mean the time 
 when it was my ambition to send in to the Academy 
 a paper upon the commonly-received theory of alge- 
 braic equations. What would have come of it ? The 
 highest satisfaction that I could expect was that some 
 old professor would nod graciously and mutter : ' Not 
 bad.' That was the life-purpose of a school-boy. We 
 have outgrown that !" 
 
 " I can only wish that in the following out of the 
 present purpose of your life, you may find self-ap- 
 proval." 
 
 •' Do you doubt it ?" Henneberg questioned, almost 
 angry. 
 
 " That I would not allow myself to do," Koppel 
 answered kindly, as he looked at his watch and rose. 
 
 " What, are you going?" 
 
 "Yes, dear friend, and you will let me slip away 
 quietly, not to take ceremonious leave of your king. 
 And would you have the kindness to let my wife 
 know ?' 
 
 There was nothing Henneberg could do but quietly 
 to call away Frau Kathe from the side of the baroness, 
 around whom the artists had made an admiring group, 
 and conduct her through the smoky little room into 
 the antechamber. He expressed the hope of seeing 
 them soon again at his house, and another time more 
 with friends, and he put his coup6 at their service for 
 the homeward drive. Koppel sought to refuse, but 
 Henneberg insisted ; he had ordered the carriage ex- 
 
124 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 pressly, and it was at the door, upon which they could 
 do no otherwise than accept the offered kindness. 
 
 As they drove away from the house, Frau Kathe 
 said at once : " Do you know, Hugo, we shall never 
 go there again .?" 
 
 " But why not ?" ask-^d Koppel, amazed. 
 
 " There is something wrong about it all ; and I am 
 sure it cannot last. These kings, these dukes ; a col- 
 league of yours who reappears as a baron ; a girl, once 
 a poor teacher, who now has, heaven knows how many 
 millions to spend, and orders statues and pictures 
 from artists — there's something about it that makes 
 me uneasy. The only thing about which I rejoice, is 
 that I have induced the baroness to have her bonnets 
 made at Madame Masmajour's." 
 
 "Did you think of that ?" 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? I didn't care about anything 
 else, this evening ; nor taste comfort in anything 
 else," she added. 
 
 " I don't understand your feeling, dear Kathe." 
 
 "Will you promise not to call me superstitious.? 
 I was very much oppressed the whole time in the 
 gilded salon. I was constantly asking myself : What 
 will be the end of all these people ?' You may laugh, 
 Hugo, but it seemed to me like a Belshazzar's Feast." 
 
 Koppel made no answer, but his wife's words sank 
 deep into his mind. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 
 
 " Is madame la baronne at home ?" asked Henne- 
 berg, in the vestibule of the house in the rue Fortuny ; 
 and, with the demeanour of a master in his own right, 
 he handed his stick to the lackey in blue and silver, 
 who had opened the door to him. 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 125 
 
 The servant took the stick with a sort of hesitation, 
 made no offer to remove Henneberg's superb fur coat, 
 and finally said, with a glance at the stair-landing 
 where stood a second lackey : " I do not know — that 
 is, I mean — madame la baronne is in-doors, but she 
 does not receive. She has a headache." Henneberg 
 was surprised. The word " headache," he had never 
 before heard in this house. The evening before, when 
 he had taken leave of the baroness, in her box at the 
 Grand Opera, at the close of the second act of Faust, 
 she had been, as usual, perfectly well. 
 
 " Is she in bed ?" 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 " Has she seen the doctor?" 
 
 " I do not know. I have not seen him come. Per- 
 haps Jean would know." 
 
 The second lackey had meantime come down. 
 "Oh, monsieur le baron," he whispered submissively 
 confidential, as a servant will be, who has received 
 many pourboires, — " we are having a hard day ; 
 madame la baronne is in a state ! But no doubt mon- 
 sieur le baron will be admitted. Perhaps monsieur le 
 baron will be able to soothe her." With an aimable 
 grin he assisted Henneberg to take off the fur coat, 
 and as he hung it up, he said : " I will send the femme 
 de chambre to monsieur le baron." 
 
 A few minutes later this person appeared in the 
 first salon, where Henneberg awaited her. 
 
 '■ What is the matter?" he asked, going to meet the 
 woman as she came in. 
 
 The maid cast an anxioug glance at the door leading 
 into the next room and answered hurriedly and in a low 
 voice : " madame la baronne is impossible to-day ! Her 
 parrokeet died in the night. We found the bird early 
 this morning lying on the floor of its cage. Madame la 
 baronne declares that some of us have killed it, and 
 she would like to kill us all. Monsieur le baron 
 Agostini tried to console her but he had no luck at all. 
 He had to have his breakfast alone, and looked very 
 unhappy when he went out." 
 
126 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Henneberg smiled. The death of a parrokeet ! 
 That was not such a very tragic affair. 
 
 " Will you announce me to madame la baronne." 
 
 The femme de chambre looked at him in alarm. 
 " Excuse me, monsieur le baron, I dare not. It would 
 cost me my place. Madame la baronne has expressly 
 forbidden me to disturb her until she rings." 
 
 Henneberg reflected a moment ; then he said : " I 
 will venture it ;" and passing through the second 
 salon and an adjacent smaller room, he reached the 
 boudoir of the baroness. Here he knocked, but there 
 was no answer, therefore he opened the door and 
 went in. 
 
 The December afternoon was gray with clouds and 
 fog, and although it was scarcely three o'clock, the 
 shadows of evening already filled the room, which was at 
 all times darkened by heavy curtains, and at this 
 moment received its only light from a blazing wood- 
 fire upon the hearth. Standing across in front of the 
 fire was a chaise-longue of the Empire style, wherein, 
 on gold-embroidered cushions of delicate colours, the 
 baroness reclined, the crimson velvet of her dressing- 
 gown lighted up by the blaze where its train lay in rich 
 folds upon the floor. One hand holding a closed book 
 hung by her side, and with wide-opened, wet eyes, she 
 was fixedly regarding herself in the mirror above the 
 mantel. Hearing some one enter, she started up, and 
 looked in the direction of the sound. She perceived 
 Henneberg, who at her abrupt movement stood still. 
 For a moment, contradictory feelings seemed to strive 
 for mastery in her face ; then she sank slowly back 
 again, and dropping her book to the floor, stretched 
 out her hand to him. " It is you," she said, " Henne- 
 berg !" 
 
 He at once came forward ; kissed the extended 
 hand, and drew up a low tabouret beside the chaise- 
 longue. " I have taken the liberty to make my way 
 in, notwithstanding your prohibition. Can you for- 
 give me ?" 
 
 She was silent a moment, then she said: "But 
 really, you deserve punishment. I require my com- 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 12/ 
 
 mands to be obeyed in all cases. But I shall forgive 
 you, for I am very weary of being alone." 
 
 She sighed, and passed her hand over her eyes. 
 
 " You have wept, dear friend," Henneberg said ; 
 " your bird is greatly honoured in his death since you 
 have shed tears for him." 
 
 " Do not be sarcastic to-day," she said and her face 
 grew sombre, " it displeases me." 
 
 Henneberg bowed. 
 
 " My poor lory was the best friend I had in the 
 world, — the only one." 
 
 " Your grief makes you unjust, dear friend," Henne- 
 berg said : " Do you doubt that you are much 
 beloved." 
 
 " Say not that word !" she cried hotly. " I will not 
 hear it. Love ? Oh yes, there is plenty, so long as 
 one is young and attractive. We have too much love, 
 but not enough friendship." 
 
 " Does not the one include the other ?" 
 
 "A singular question for so clever a man to ask! 
 The one excludes the other. The one is the opposite 
 of the other. The man who is my friend asks nothing 
 from me, he will not disturb my peace, he is glad to 
 have me content and tranquil. The man who is my 
 lover seeks my destruction, he is ready to sacrifice me 
 to his own passion. I will not have it." 
 
 Henneberg's monocle dropped from his eye ; he 
 twisted his moustache. "You should know better;" 
 he said, " there is a love that destroys not, that makes 
 no victim ; that waits silent and patient, asking noth- 
 ing, though," he added, slowly and in a very low tone, 
 " hoping for everything." 
 
 The baroness shook her head, as if to drive away 
 flies that annoyed her. " No, no," she said, " no more 
 of that, Henneberg. Ach !" she cried, after a minute's 
 pause, with a sudden change of ideas, " why can I not 
 be by the shore of some southern ocean, under a blue 
 sky, on a veranda with flowers about me ! With these 
 heavy gray clouds over my head I feel as if I were in 
 a tapestried coffin." 
 
 " If you really long for a bright sky and a glittering 
 
128 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ocean, come ! Oh, come ! It is only to be up and 
 away, — we two ! Now, once more ! Let us live over 
 again the beautiful days at Hy&res !" 
 
 " Henneberg," she said, sharply, " it is not true, 
 what you just said ! There were no beautiful days at 
 Hyeres ! I have forbidden you even to think of 
 them." 
 
 " Yes, you have forbidden me," he answered ; " and 
 it is the most marvellous thing, — this that you, cruel 
 enchantress, have done. Many times I ask myself if I 
 am deceived as to the reality of my memories, and 
 whether those two weeks at Hyeres really were noth- 
 ing but a dream." 
 
 " They were nothing but a dream. One wakes, and 
 a dream is gone ; all one has to do is to forget it." 
 
 " If you say so, it was a dream. It is forgotten. 
 But why not dream again, and then again forget }" 
 
 The baroness was silent, and looked into the fire. 
 
 "Why not, Augusta.? Why not?" Henneberg said 
 eagerly, and seized her hand. 
 
 The baroness drew her hand away, and started up. 
 " Henneberg," she said, and fixed her brilliant dark 
 eyes on his. " Are you mad ? Must I again do what 
 I did two years ago ?" 
 
 Henneberg bent his head. "You will not be so 
 cruel with me," he said. " It was very hard for me 
 then not to see you for months. It would be impos- 
 sible for me now to endure it." 
 
 " Very well. Then keep closely to our treaty of 
 peace. No memories ! No references to the past ! 
 The past is dead ! It never was alive. You do not 
 love me." 
 
 " Oh !" remonstrated Henneberg. 
 
 " You do not say it to me. I do not know it. 
 Otherwise — I must become a stranger to you." 
 
 " If you could but convince me that there is any use 
 in thus torturing me. Why do it ? for whose sake ?" 
 
 " But, my husband — " 
 
 " Baron Agostini ! You* are not serious, dear 
 friend—" 
 
 The baroness pushed away some of her cushions and 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 29 
 
 sat erect in her chaise-longue. Her voice was cold and 
 resolute : " I may have been a bad woman," she said, 
 "but, at least, I am not a dishonourable one. The 
 baron has the unquestioning confidence in me which I 
 require, because I deserve it. He has restored to me 
 the respect of society. On this account I owe him 
 some gratitude." 
 
 " Is it not gratitude enough that you give him the 
 happiness of seeing you in his house, at his table ? Is 
 it not enough for a feeble, broken-down old man like 
 that—" 
 
 " Henneberg !" 
 
 " If he is permitted to sun himself in your presence, 
 at every hour of the day or night ?" 
 
 " Henneberg, I forbid you to speak thus of Baron 
 Agostini. I owe to him more than mere sufferance ; 
 ?.nd I ewe to myself — listen, Henneberg, I owe it to 
 myself — to remain faithful to my promise and my pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Henneberg remained silent, once more twisting his 
 moustache. 
 
 The baroness went on more quietly: "Four years 
 ago you had the choice. You might have married me. 
 I should have been very, very happy, had you wished 
 it. You did not wish it, but Agostini did." 
 
 ■' But, dear friend," said Henneberg, dejectedly, " at 
 that time I could not really see that I must decide 
 upon the moment ; I think I ought to be allowed to 
 plead extenuating circumstances." 
 
 " You pronounce your own condemnation ! What 
 are you thinking about ? Four years ago your conduct 
 was that of a reasonable person ; all you have to do is 
 to be reasonable now." 
 
 "And now, you punish me?" 
 
 "You are mistaken, Henneberg, and I prove to you 
 your mistake daily. I call you my friend, I associate 
 with you freely " 
 
 " This is the crudest part of the punishment." 
 
 " Be silent, you are incorrigible. You do not know 
 how valuable your friendship must be to me, that I 
 continue to see you as I do. You are the only living 
 
I30 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 memento that I preserve in my new life of those 
 dreadful days of the past. Do not cause me to regret 
 this last remnant of feeling!" 
 
 Henneberg made no answer, but his face grew more 
 sombre. 
 
 The baroness remarked it. She held out her hand 
 and said, with a softness of manner of which in rare 
 moments she was capable: "Agree with me, Henne- 
 berg, you are an ungrateful person. It is so much 
 better to be my friend than my lover." 
 
 " That you might leave me to decide for myself," 
 Henneberg said, with a somewhat distressed smile ; 
 and he kissed her hand. 
 
 " My friend finds me always gentle, sympathetic, 
 ready to drive away the clouds from his brow, and to 
 make a pleasant hour for him. But a lover — that is 
 something very different ! He must tremble before 
 me, he must be the slave of my caprices. Upon him I 
 use my claws, if the whim pleases me, and he must be 
 silent; he must, suffer it." Unconsciously her hands 
 made a motion as of claws, while she spoke between 
 her shut teeth. 
 
 " You may do that," Henneberg said simply, and 
 lifted her hand to his breast. 
 
 She gently withdrew it. "Do not be foolish," she 
 said ; " you have no idea how decorous I must be to 
 regain the condition of mind in which I can endure to 
 be alone by day and sleepless by night." 
 
 Henneberg looked at her in a slightly derisive man- 
 ner : 
 
 " What ?" he said, " do you, the vigorous Augusta, 
 have need of anodynes ? Does your citified con- 
 science presume to cry out against your will?" 
 
 " Why do you speak of conscience ? As it seems 
 to me, I have sinned only against myself, and for that 
 I have only myself to settle with. That has nothing 
 to do with others. But my pride I have not yet been 
 able to heal — scarcely even to console." 
 
 " You, at whose feet lies the world ? You, the great 
 Baroness Agostini?" 
 
 " Yes — I, the great Baroness Agostini ! I see my- 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 13I 
 
 self still " She shuddered violently, and covered 
 
 her face with her hands. 
 
 She remained motionless for a little while, and Hen- 
 neberg- did not venture to interrupt her. It was very 
 ctill and warm in the perfumed half-light of the room, 
 and Henneberg found himself gradually overpowered 
 by the nerveless melancholy which, like a subtle con- 
 tagion, seemed to cling in the folds of the heavy drap- 
 eries. 
 
 The baroness let her hands drop upon her lap, gazed 
 fixedly at Henneberg, in a singular way, almost as if 
 she did not see him, and finally said, as if returning into 
 the present from some world of memories : " Do you 
 see this book ?" and she picked up the volume which 
 had slipped under the edge of one of her cushions. 
 " This is my journal, which I kept during the three 
 years that I lived in hell. To know me, a person must 
 read this book." 
 
 " You kept a journal ?" 
 
 " Yes. And after a method of my own invention. 
 It is a kind of book-keeping by double entry. On the 
 left page I wrote the actual events of my life ; on the 
 right page, my inward experiences. Do you see ? 
 Here, what happened to me ; here, what I thought and 
 felt about it." 
 
 "And you will entrust this treasure to me ?" Hen- 
 neberg said, extending his hand to take the book. 
 
 She held it fast. " A treasure ? Yes, a wonderful 
 treasure ! Touch it carefully. Where it does not 
 burn your fingers, it will besmirch them. No. I shall 
 not let it go out of my hands." 
 
 " I can read it here." 
 
 " There are five hundred pages. And I could not 
 sit calmly by, while you turned the leaves. It always 
 frightens me when I read in it by myself ; and yet I 
 often do read it, days like this." 
 
 " What an extraordinary creature you are !" 
 
 " Perhaps even more so than you think ! But here 
 is the complete explanation. When some feeling in 
 myself surprises me, perhaps shocks ine, I open this 
 
132 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 book. On the left page I can somewhere find an ex- 
 planation of it." 
 
 "It is wrong in you to make me so curious, if you 
 intend to withhold the gratification of my curiosity." 
 
 " I will not withhold it entirely, Henneberg. Have 
 you time?" 
 
 " The only use I have for my time is to devote it to 
 you." 
 
 ' Take a more comfortable seat. Here in the arm- 
 chair. You love me." 
 
 " Are you at last convinced of this, Augusta ?" 
 Henneberg said, again seizing her hand. 
 
 " Yes," the baroness replied with a quick, nervous 
 clasp of his. " And you love me as 1 desire to be 
 loved, patiently, submissively, and without seeking to 
 distress me." 
 
 "Unhappily, I must." 
 
 " It is, however, a merit in you, and I recognize it 
 from my heart. I feel it as a duty towards you to 
 give you, at last, the key to my conduct! I will do 
 what I have never done before. I will relate to you 
 briefly this book. Then you will understand that I 
 can be to you only a friend, and nothing more, noth- 
 ing else. The story of my friendless youth you al- 
 ready know, if you have not forgotten what I told 
 you at Hyeres." 
 
 " I have only forgotten what you bade me forget. 
 Every other word that you said to me, in those fabu- 
 lous days, I remember." 
 
 " Then you know that, in Kreuznach, as a child, I 
 was the petted darling of my parents ; then, for years, 
 the nurse and companion in my father's sick-room : 
 and that after his death I was left all alone with an 
 unloving step-mother. Perhaps I was in fault, also, — 
 obstinate and impatient I always was. In a word, we 
 could not get on, and I left home. I came to Paris, 
 with one introduction and a light, oh ! a very light 
 purse. For three months I sought in vain a place as 
 teacher. Those twelve weeks I shall never forget." 
 
 " Was that your time of torture ? ' 
 
 " Oh, no ; I rather like to look back on that time ! 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 33 
 
 I learned much, — for instance, how to live for a whole 
 day on ten centimes !" 
 
 " How can one do that?" Henneberg asked, amazed. 
 
 " It is quite simple. You buy, with this imposing 
 sum, a pound of stale bread; you eat half of it dry, 
 this is the first meal ; you eat the other half crumbled 
 into a kind of tea, this is the second meal. Tea ? — 
 You have some twice-drawn tea-leaves, dried a second 
 time ; you put them in cold water, and heat this 
 secretly over the flame of the gas-burner on the stairs. 
 This tastes very good, when one is young and very 
 hungry. At that time I also learned to black my own 
 shoes, and to perform all sorts of laundry-work in a 
 little earthern wash-basin. But it is not worth while 
 to relate these things. At the end of three months, I 
 found a place in a boarding-school au pair. Do you 
 know what that means?" 
 
 " Without salary, is it not ?" 
 
 " Yes. There is only board and lodging. Tne 
 lodging was a little bed in a corridor, from which I was 
 expected to superintend, during the night, the dormi- 
 tory in which slept sixteen young girls ; the board 
 consisted chiefly of bread, and the odour of the 
 viands at the pupils' table. But I had no choice when 
 I took this starvation place. I had three francs left, and 
 I was too proud to write home for more. In this school 
 I remained four months. Then I could bear it no longer. 
 I was entirely worn down with over-work and insufficient 
 food. Meanwhile, I had acquired quite a fair knowl- 
 edge of French, and I ventured to mention this to the 
 Directress. At one of the Teachers' Agencies I had 
 made the acquaintance of a girl employed there, and 
 now, six months later, I ran across her in very differ- 
 ent circumstances. She was splendidly well off, — poor 
 thing! She had a fine apartment, and beautiful 
 clothes, and drank champagne every day. She in- 
 vited me to come and stay with her till I found a 
 place. I was very glad to do it. She was like a sister 
 to me. She gave me dresses, and a good cloak, and 
 she lent me money. I remained with her about two 
 weeks. And I learned much there, also. The poor 
 
134 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 girl died before I could repay her. Brandy and dis- 
 ease of the lungs. That is one of my great griefs. 
 She was a gentle, careless little thing, — not able to 
 cope with you men." 
 
 The baroness closed her eyes ; she remained silent 
 for a few minutes ; then she resumed : 
 
 " In the next two years I changed my position four 
 times. First, I was in Passy, in a private family. I 
 received fifty francs, — somewhat less than the cook, — 
 and was ostensibly, the teacher of two children. I 
 was really the children's maid, to wash and dress them 
 and take them out walking, and, besides, I had to do 
 some share of the house-work. Still I should have 
 been very content, if I had not been obliged to pay 
 the Agency the whole of my first month's salary. A 
 second month's I did not get. The man of the house 
 soon became impudent towards me. Once he forced 
 an entrance into my room, and only went away when 
 he perceived that I was actually about to jump out of 
 the window. This was the first time ; I did not know 
 what else to do : I had not the presence of mind to 
 strangle him, though I could have done it ; I was 
 stronger than he. I passed a frightful night. I was 
 mortally ashamed. I asked myself what disreputable 
 thing I had done, — else how could he have dared ? 
 You see how absolutely childish my ideas were, at this 
 time. In the morning I went away, without assigning 
 any reason. I had not the courage to complain to the 
 woman of the house. At the Agency I related what 
 had happened to warn them against sending others 
 there. But the man in charge only shrugged his 
 shoulders. He seemed to be used to it. I was not. 
 He sent another girl at once into this den of horror, — 
 a very attractive young girl of a good Oldenberg 
 family. She remained. 
 
 " Quite soon, the agent sent me to another place, 
 again, of course, with the commission of a month's 
 salary. This time my employer was an elderly busi- 
 ness-man, the proprietor of a large procelain-shop. 
 For two weeks I was left alone, then he, too, began to 
 annoy me. Now, however, I was wiser. You must 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. I35 
 
 have noticed that I am quick at catching an idea. I 
 perceived what a teacher in all good families must 
 expect ; and as I had no desire to fret myself to death, 
 or lose another month's salary to the agent, I contented 
 myself with paying no attention to my employer's ad- 
 vances, and simply kept out of his way. This appeared 
 to displease him, and he ventured to put his arm 
 around me once. Upon this, I struck him in the face 
 a blow which it's a pleasure to think of now. Two 
 days, later, his wife dismissed me summarily, on the 
 ground that I was untidy. 
 
 " About my third place, I have no cause to com- 
 plain. It was with a family of Peruvians, people 
 about like the Zagals. They had a fine house in the 
 Champs-Elys6es, lived as if they were millionaires, 
 gave a dinner party every day, — for which I had to 
 write the menu, — had the wagons of the Louvre, the 
 Bon March6 and the Printemps forever at their door, 
 and never gave me my month's pay till I had dunned 
 them for it six times, — which, after a time, I did not 
 mind doing. They were kind, good people, disorderly 
 to a degree, hot-tempered, noisy ; and I remained 
 with them a year and a half. Then, something went 
 to pieces in Peru ; there was a war, or a revolution ; 
 and the word was : ' we are ruined ; we must leave 
 Paris !' The house was broken up in a day ; the people 
 vanished, and I have never heard of them since ; and, 
 as for me, I was again in the street. But now I was 
 not penniless, I had been able to lay aside something, 
 and this made me arrogant. I became critical, re- 
 fused some humble offers, and waited contentedly 
 until it was midsummer. Meantime my savings were 
 used up, everybody was leaving Paris, and I was 
 finally glad to accept a place with a family who were 
 going into the country." 
 
 The baroness stopped. She drew a long breath, 
 and said with dulled voice : " Henneberg, turn your 
 eyes away from me. Now comes the dreadful chapter 
 of my story. Now comes my journey through hell. 
 Perhaps it is better I should not tell you." 
 
 " Please go on," he said gently. "If you must go 
 
136 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 through hell, I will do the same. Wherever you are, 
 I want to be." 
 
 After a few minutes the baroness went on ; her voice 
 was hard and severe, and sometimes it seemed as if she, 
 as judge and avenger, were reciting over to some 
 wretched criminal the story of the miserable creature's 
 misdoings. 
 
 " These people were what is called ' distinguished,' 
 that is to say, canaille who had a title, a house in the 
 Faubourg Saint-Honore, and a chateau in Normandy. 
 The wife was the daughter of a well-known general of 
 the Empire ; and she loved to express her contempt 
 for ' shopmen-officers.' Her way of talking was rough 
 and noisy, real barrack-room talk, with as much 
 swearing as if she were a squadron gone astray. This 
 did not prevent her having an old lover who trembled 
 before her, and whom it is probable she caressed with 
 the dog-whip in her sentimental moments. I mean, 
 literally. The dog-whip was always at hand. The 
 husband had been for a short time in the diplomatic 
 service ; he was now occupied with horses, and with 
 the billet girls of the Grand Opera. 
 
 " This exemplary pair had two children — a boy, at 
 that time nineteen, and a girl of fifteen ; the latter 
 was to be my pupil. This poor girl was really under- 
 witted, and her parents had never taken any interest 
 in her at all. She had been left entirely to the .ser- 
 vants, and what they had made of her is simply inde- 
 scribable. Later on, however, she married well, and 
 she soon learned to lead as gay a life as anybody. The 
 boy ■ 
 
 Again the baroness stopped speaking, leaned back 
 in her chaise-longue, and shut her eyes. After a few 
 moments she once more sat erect and continued her 
 story : 
 
 " The boy was as handsome as a Greek god. It 
 would be useless to deny this. Slender, pale, with a 
 calm, classic face — like that statue of the young 
 Bacchus of which one can hardly tell if it represents a 
 youth or a girl — and with passionate, entreating eyes. 
 His voice was singularly gentle and sympathetic, and 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 3/ 
 
 when his lips parted and he spoke, it was like a flower 
 opening and exhaling its sweetness." 
 
 Henneberg moved uneasily in his chair. 
 
 " No retrospective jealousy, my friend !" the baro- 
 ness said ; " you have no cause for such a feeling. 
 Hear me further. R6my, for this was his name, was 
 indeed beautiful as a Greek god ; but his character 
 was hateful as — as nothing which I know on the face 
 of the earth. That fellow made me doubt if there 
 were goodness in the plan of Providence. It was in- 
 conceivable, otherwise, how so deep villany could wear 
 so captivating an exterior. Almost from the day of 
 my arrival at the chateau he attached himself to me. 
 From morning till night I could not shake him off. I 
 began by paying very little attention to him. It could 
 not be possible that I, twenty-four years old — no, I 
 was not quite twenty-four, but nearly that — must be 
 on my guard against this boy of nineteen, who looked 
 even younger than he was. But soon, it was impossi- 
 ble to disregard him ; from beseeching looks he came 
 to entreaties, imploring me to love him. 
 
 " I now began scrupulously to avoid his presence, or 
 rather, this was my constant endeavour, though it was 
 often unsuccessful. He came to the school-room 
 where I was with his sister ; I begged him to leave us 
 alone, but he would not go ; and the girl herself, no 
 doubt at his instigation, declared that she could study 
 better when he was there. 
 
 " Finally, I complained to the countess, who shrugged 
 her shoulders, called me prudish, and averred that it 
 would do the boy good to share in his sister's lessons. 
 This was quite true. He was both dull and idle. A 
 tutor had been for years endeavouring to fit him for 
 Saint-Cyr, and he was still not ready to try for admit- 
 tance, although he had nearly reached the limit of age. 
 It was not his intention, however, to profit by any in- 
 struction of mine. He sat in the room, indifferent to 
 what was going on, and doing nothing but follow me 
 with pleading eyes, until it became something unendur- 
 able and I would turn my back to him. 
 
 " His mother, wretched woman, seemed to favour her 
 
138 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 6on in his pursuit of me ; and later it became clear 
 that she had done so. At table, his seat was next to 
 mine, if there were no company. His room and mine 
 were adjacent, and going out or coming in, I was sure 
 to see him in his doorway, whispering caressing words 
 as I passed, or even stretching out a hand to detain 
 me. Safe in my own room, with the door locked and 
 bolted, I would hear him knocking softly on the parti- 
 tion. In vain I tried to be unconscious of all this ; I 
 could not keep him out of my mind. What could I 
 do ? how escape his pursuit ? An appeal to the coun- 
 tess was useless. I had indeed heard her say once, in 
 conversation with some guest, that a sensible mother 
 should take charge of a son's early amourettes, and see 
 to it that he fell into good hands, — some nice, quiet, 
 respectable person's. That was the very word she 
 used, — ' respectable !' " 
 
 " Horrid !" murmured Henneberg. 
 
 " I now became extremely unhappy, and many a 
 time I cried half the night. The right thing to have 
 done, of coUrse, would have been to leave the chateau 
 at once ; but for this I had not the courage. I was 
 so forlorn that I took a wrong step. I appealed to 
 Remy himself. 
 
 " The next time he attempted to detain me I stood 
 still willingly, and granted him an interview. ' What 
 do you mean by pursuing me in this way ?' I asked. 
 ' I love you,' he answered, with that voice of his that 
 would go straight to any one's heart. I told him he 
 must put such an idea out of his head at once ; he re- 
 joined that that was impossible, he could not, it was 
 his life. I asked him how he could be so cruel as to 
 make me the object of a dishonourable pursuit. He 
 swore, with every form of flattery and endearment, 
 that he had no other thought than my happiness : that 
 in two years he should be of age and would make me 
 his wife, if I would but listen to him. My brain grew 
 dizzy ; I bade him leave me, but he refused to go, — 
 I had been obliged to admit him into my room, as the 
 only place where he could talk undisturbed, — and it 
 was now only by the use of nerve-shattering violence 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 39 
 
 that I finally compelled him to go. But I passed a 
 frightful night ; and I could not help being aware that 
 he also was awake, and was seeking, by many little 
 signals, to communicate the fact to me. 
 
 " My reason assured me that all this was clear mad- 
 ness ; and yet, through it all, a persuasive voice kept 
 whispering in my heart, — why may it not be true ? 
 This voice took his part, and pleaded for him. And 
 he continued perpetually to dog my footsteps ; in the 
 house, in the park when his sister and I walked to the 
 village or by the river, there was Remy ever at my 
 side, with flattering, imploring eyes and caressing 
 words. 
 
 " One day he came to me, his eyes wet with tears : 
 ' Have you no heart in your breast ?' he said. ' Now 
 that you know I desire to marry you, why do you still 
 avoid me ?' I bade him be silent ; and as I remained 
 inexorable he drew a revolver from his pocket. 
 ' Augusta,' he said, ' if you continne to repulse me' I 
 will kill myself, I swear it to you by my mother's life, 
 by my own name, the only things I care for in the 
 world besides you.' He spoke quietly, and the very 
 look of a hero was in his face. I believed he would 
 do as he had said : even after all that I now know, I 
 am still not sure but he was in earnest. I snatched 
 the Vi^eapon from his hand. He made no resistance, 
 but s:iid calmly: 'I can find another.' ' I shall go 
 to the countess and tell her all,' I said. 'That you 
 can do,' he replied, 'but it will not change my resolu- 
 tion.' I was distracted. I seemed to see him lying 
 dead before me. How could I endure it ? I " 
 
 She stopped ; and when she resumed, it was in a 
 different tone. 
 
 " I am wrong in seeking to excuse myself. I do 
 not mean to do it. I only mean to tell you my story. 
 There came a time when I ceased to resist. Then 
 followed weeks of an indescribable life. And then — 
 there came a day when I sought R^my, and said to 
 him, wild with terror: 'What shall we do?' He 
 looked extremely vexed, and replied : ' How very 
 unlucky ! Well, there is no hurry ; you can stay here 
 
140 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 for some time yet, and then we shall all go back to town, 
 and I will find somewhere for you to stay ? ' Is that 
 all you have to say to me?' I asked. 'What did 
 you expect me to say?' he replied. 'And do you 
 think I could bear the disgrace ?' I said. ' They all 
 talk that way,' he answered ; ' you are not the first, 
 and you will not be the last.' Thereupon he ventured 
 to smile. I was desperate. ' Do you say this to the 
 woman who is to be your wife ?' 1 said. ' Ohj perhaps 
 you thought that we should be married at once,' he 
 rejoined. I said no, I knew it could not be at once, but 
 that he must make ready for it, he must go to his 
 mother and tell her all, and gain her consent. 
 
 " Upon this R6my shrugged his shoulders and was 
 about to leave the room, but I prevented him. Then 
 he became angry ; but anything was better than his 
 intolerable calmness : ' Yes,' he said, ' did you 
 really think in earnest that I could marry you ? How 
 could you be so foolish ?' ' But you swore to me 
 that you would,' I answered. ' Oh, well !' he said, ' I 
 had no such idea ; and you should not have attached 
 any importance to idle words spoken in a moment of 
 excitement.' 
 
 " My hand went involuntarily to my pocket. I had 
 there the revolver which, many weeks before I had 
 taken away from R^my. I drew it out and it was my 
 first impulse to kill the boy. But, like a flash, came 
 other thoughts. What would happen, if I killed him 
 and avenged my wrongs ? There would be a prosecu- 
 tion, imprisonment, disgrace for myself and my dear 
 father's name. I turned the weapon against myself ; 
 rapid as was the change of purpose, it gave time for 
 R^my to strike up my hand. The pistol went off acci- 
 dentally, and a bullet passed through his arm. It 
 was only a flesh-wound, but it bled and was painful. He 
 screamed and fell at full length upon the floor. I also 
 screamed for help ; his sister was the first to hear me 
 and ran in, followed by the maid of the countess ; there 
 was such an uproar that R6my recovered himself ; he 
 implored them to keep still, but they wailed the 
 louder ; the whole house was alarmed, and the count- 
 
The Baroness tells Her story. 141 
 
 ess herself appeared, the dog-whip, as usual, in her 
 hand. 
 
 " She understood the situation at a glance. ' R6my 
 is wounded !' I cried, scarcely able to speak. ' It is 
 nothing,' he said. The countess ordered her daughter 
 to go to her own room, despatched the maid for band- 
 ages and carbolic acid, and bade a servant take a car- 
 riage, and drive to Rouen for a surgeon. Then, 
 together, we' carried the boy to his room, cut the 
 sleeve from the wounded arm, and examined the in- 
 jury. Re-assured by the examination, the countess 
 became composed, and she inquired harshly what it all 
 meant. R6my remained silent. I looked at him im- 
 ploringly and with hands clasped in entreaty, but he 
 turned awaj' his head. Then the countess, in her 
 rough way, began to get angry, and screamed : ' What 
 is all this } shall I have no answer !' And then, I fell 
 at her feet and told her all." 
 
 The baroness ceased speaking, and her face grew 
 very stern and hard. " Yes, Henneberg," shejresumed, 
 " I knelt to that woman, then ; but she paid for it 
 later, I assure you. She let me remain kneeling, and 
 as she sat, she played with the dog-whip in her hand. 
 Not until she heard the step of the maid returning, did 
 she speak ; then she bade me rise, there had been 
 scandal enough made. She assisted the maid to wash 
 the wound and put on a temporary bandage, and then 
 bade me follow her to her own room. When we were 
 alone there, she said : ' How can you be such a fool ? 
 I am really surprised. I took you for a reasonable 
 person. To be married ! You are fit for a lunatic 
 asylum ! R^my is a child ; you are a mature person. 
 You knew what you were doing ; he did not know. 
 Look at yourself, and look at him !' I spare you the 
 story of what I felt while she talked. Every word was 
 like a white-hot knife in my heart. ' I have reason to 
 be very angry with you,' she continued; 'you have 
 brought my only son into peril of his life ; you have 
 made a scandal in my house ; you have given cause for 
 disgraceful talk; I entrusted to you my daughter, and 
 Heaven knows what she thinks of all this.' I attempted 
 
142 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 to leave the room, but she held me fast. ' Do not run 
 away,' she continued : ' I mean to do well by you. 
 Let it pass. I will not even inquire which of you is 
 most in fault. If you were in love with my son, a 
 mother should not be too severe. I might say to you 
 — go your ways. But you have persons of rank to 
 deal with. We will do something for you, if you con- 
 duct properly.' — This was too much. I interrupted 
 her saying that there was only one thing that could be 
 done for me, and that, I demanded, — that R^myshould 
 make me his wife. ' There is nothing that you can 
 demand, child,' she' said. 'You would like to be 
 Countess Rigalle, would you ? Otherwise, nothing ? 
 A nice, dainty person you are ! But let us talk seri- 
 ously. I will give you friendly, even motherly advice. 
 You will leave the chateau at once. We will give you 
 for the present a sufificient pension, and when the time 
 comes we will pay your expenses. If the child is likely 
 to be a burden to you we will take charge of it. You 
 will easily find, in your own country, the settlement 
 that an acceptable dowry is sure to bring. You can 
 easily marry, for the men of your country have not our 
 prejudices.' 
 
 " This filled the measure of my indignation. I 
 sprang to my feet ; I cried : ' You are a wretch !' She 
 also rose. Her face was distorted she grew white 
 about her mouth and called me vile names. I was 
 frantic and lifted my hand against her. She grasped 
 the dog-whip to strike me. I tore it from her hand 
 and struck her sharply across the face." 
 
 " Bravo !" cried Henneberg, involuntarily. 
 
 " The situation changed, suddenly. The woman 
 screamed as if flayed alive, and seemed about to fall 
 in a fit. I left the salon, and ran to my own room, 
 where I locked myself in, and for a time, really, I was 
 not proud in my demeanour. Meantime the chateau 
 rang with the shrieks of the countess : I heard frantic 
 ringing of bells and running hither and thither of 
 servants, and slamming of doors, and every moment I 
 expected a storm to break upon me. The revolver 
 still lay on my mantelpiece where I had thrown it 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 143 
 
 when Remy fell to the ground; I took it up, resolved 
 to use it if I were threatened with violence. Every- 
 thing had now become a matter of indifference to me. 
 
 " I did not long remain in this fearful uncertainty. 
 I heard a man's step in the corridor and then a knock at 
 my door. I did not stir. The knocking was repeated 
 and then a man's voice said : ' Fraulein, are you there .'' 
 I recognized the voice of R^my's father : ' What do 
 you wish ?' I said, ' I beg you to open the door,' he 
 replied : ' I come with no hostile intention.' I opened 
 the door. ' What have you been doing ?' were his 
 first words. ' What has the countess done 7 what has 
 R6my done?' I said. He shook his head. 'The 
 countess has such an unfortunate temperament !' he 
 said : ' and you really quite forgot yourself ! There's 
 no getting over this ; you will have to leave the house 
 at once.' I nodded assent. ' Pack your boxes at 
 once,' he said : ' I have no one here just now to send to 
 the station with you ; the horses are away ; but as 
 soon as they come in, the coachman shall drive you 
 over. When you are ready, go out to the lodge and 
 wait there for him.' 
 
 " I had two boxes, of which one was stored in the 
 garret. I mentioned this, and the count promised it 
 should be brought me. After awhile one of the ser- 
 vants brought it, and began talking to me with an of- 
 fensive familiarity that he had never before mani- 
 fested ; — the countess was well again, he said, but she 
 had a streak across her face like a red ribbon ; in the 
 servant's hall, they were all as pleased as the snow- 
 kings ; and so on. I bade- him leave me ; the man 
 looked surprised, made some familiar answer, and 
 went away. It had already come to that ; but this was 
 only the beginning. 
 
 " When my boxes were packed, I left the room. 
 Passing Remy's door, I stood a minute. It was my 
 wish to see him again. But I heard whispering and 
 laughing, inside ; I was surprised and confused, and 
 went on. Like a criminal, I crept to the gardener's 
 house at the entrance of the park. 
 
 " The gardener, his wife, and their eldest daughter, 
 
144 The Drones must die. 
 
 a girl of seventeen, were together in the room. They 
 already knew what had happened, and the mother 
 said to me : ' It was a pity that you did not shoot him 
 dead, the worthless fellow. He deserves no better, 
 and sooner or later, he will get a bullet through his 
 head.' As I made no answer, the gardener himself 
 said : ' I owe him a token of remembrance ! Two 
 weeks ago I told him he would make acquaintance 
 with my gun, if he didn't stop sneaking round after 
 our Th^rese.' The words smote me like a lash, — two 
 weeks ago ! Th6rfese ! My face must have showed 
 what I felt, for the woman spoke up : ' Yes ; were 
 you deaf and dumb, my poor young lady? Did you 
 not see that he was only amusing himself with you all 
 the time ?' 
 
 " And now, things began to be made clear to me ; 
 — an abyss, a sewer opened before my eyes, and I 
 sank irretrievably into hideous filth. Remy had for 
 months had well-known relations with his mother's 
 femme de chambre. The creature was not jealous. 
 She even secretly encouraged his transient affair with 
 me, and this made her own hold upon his fickleness 
 more secure. And to this shameless creature — I had 
 always felt an unaccountable aversion to her — the 
 wretch had narrated everything, by way of mere brag- 
 ging and gossip, — everything, the most confidential! 
 Day by day. Hour by hour. It could not be doubted, 
 for the woman herself carried it to the servants' hall, 
 and the gardener's wife told me of individual things, — 
 it was horrible ! 
 
 " It seemed I had lived all these weeks in a sort of 
 intoxication, unthinking, blinded, surrounded and al- 
 most overpowered with tenderness and passion ; and 
 during all this time, the wretch had gathered the maids 
 and lackeys of the chateau about me, and thrown mc to 
 them as a prey. That was simply a thing unfathom- 
 able. I have no clear idea what I did. I believe I 
 begged them at last to say no more. Even with these 
 people, who seemed to be sympathetic, I felt like a 
 person set in the stocks with a placard of disgrace 
 hung around my neck. 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. I45 
 
 " It was evening when the count came to the lodge 
 to tell me that the carriage was now at my service. I 
 left the place without turning my head towards the 
 gardener's family. I dared not meet their eyes, and a 
 gesture from the count restrained them from follow- 
 ing me out. On the doorstep the count said a few 
 words to me : the surgeon reported Remy's wound to 
 be of no consequence at all ; R^my himself bore no 
 grudge against me for it. He would have said more 
 but I made some movement of impatience. 
 
 " ' I see,' he said, ' that you are still too much ex- 
 cited. This is one reason why I do not invite you to 
 take leave of my daughter before you go. Also, there 
 might be danger of your meeting the countess.' I 
 nodded assent, and entered the carriage, which was 
 waiting at the gates. Here the count again stopped, 
 and placed a sealed letter in my hands. I cast an in- 
 quiring glance at him, and perceived a discreet smile 
 on his face. It was to me as if a frightful clang of 
 bells resounded in my ears. I tore the envelope off ; 
 within lay folded a five-hundred franc note. I was 
 unable to say a word, except ' Here !' And if he had 
 not instantly taken back the money, I have no idea 
 what I might have been capable of doing. ' Will you 
 not at least accept what you have earned ?' he stam- 
 mered. That made eighty francs. Certainly I would 
 do that, I had a right. I took the four gold pieces 
 which he drew from his pocket after he had put away 
 the banknote, entered the carriage and shut the door 
 without a look at the count. 
 
 " What was in my mind as I drove away into the 
 darkness, I will not attempt to describe to you. And, 
 indeed, my own recollection of it is confused. Dis- 
 tinctly I remember only two ideas, which alternately 
 took possession of me. I thought — the coachman is 
 saying to himself that he is driving an abandoned 
 creature, who has been chased out of the chateau with 
 a dog-whip ; and I saw R6my, swearing to me that if 
 I did not love him he would kill himself, and how he 
 then ran to the servants and his face of a young Greek 
 god became debased to that of a young blackguard of 
 
146 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the Paris streets as, grinning, he narrated to them his 
 scene with the romantic Prussian girl. The pain it 
 caused me " 
 
 " Then you must have loved this vermin ?" Henne- 
 berg growled. 
 
 " Do not ask me," the baroness said, with a kind of 
 torpor. " I never ask myself. At the station in 
 Rouen, I gave the coachman his ponrboire. He ac- 
 cepted the five-franc piece with an impudent air which 
 plainly said : ' You can afford it ; everybody knows how 
 you get your money ;' and asked : ' Any orders for the 
 Chateau ?' I said there was nothing, and he pro- 
 ceeded to inquire if monsieur le vicomte had my 
 Paris address. I left him without a word and gave 
 directions about my luggage. I had more than an 
 hour to wait for a train, and I thought uninterrupt- 
 edly, as I waited, whether one would have time to suf- 
 fer, if one were cut into three pieces by the locomo- 
 tive of an express. I will tell you an extraordinary 
 thing about that, — for more than a fortnight I had 
 two broad red stripes across me, at which the doctor 
 was greatly surprised. The idea had been very deeply 
 impressed. It was about half past eleven when we 
 arrived in Paris. I was extremely exhausted. That 
 this was, in part, hunger — for I had eaten nothing 
 since noon — I did not notice. I went into the first 
 hotel near the Saint-Lazare station, and was very soon 
 in a heavy sleep, haunted by painful dreams. I was 
 run over by a train myself, or else I saw Remy and 
 the countess drawn mutilated from under a locomotive. 
 The next morning I was so fatigued, so worn out, that 
 I had not the strength to rise, and it was fully noon 
 before I left my bed. I breakfasted at the Duval at 
 the corner of the rue d'Amsterdam, and there arose be- 
 fore me, grave and distressing, the question : ' What 
 next ?' 
 
 " The force of earlier habit drew my steps toward 
 the Louvre. I had been accustomed to go there when 
 I was out of a place and had nothing else to do. It 
 was a dreary day : I remember the date, — it was 
 Wednesday, the 27th of September. It was cold, the 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. I47 
 
 streets were niuddy, the sky was black, the air was 
 part fog, part rain. It was weather like to-day's, only 
 more dreary. Is it worth while to live ? I repeated 
 to myself, over and over again, as I walked down the 
 avenue de I'Op^ra. What will become of me, in my 
 disgrace? How can I find employment? Every one 
 would turn me away. Could I beg? Or should I do 
 as my friend did,— the girl who died? Or, should I 
 go out of the world ? That seemed the simplest ; and 
 why delay, since that is the only escape ? Why suffer 
 longer and endure further disgrace ? With these 
 thoughts in my mind I reached the Louvre. I went 
 into the Galleries of Sculpture, and sat down in the 
 room where stands the Venus of Milo. My own dis- 
 grace was ever more and more present to my thoughts. 
 A man sat down near me on the bench, and crowded 
 me insolently. And that too ! I thought ; any fellow 
 out of the streets picks a quarrel with me. 
 
 " I left the Louvre and went out by the river. 
 Another man drew near me, and began talking imperti- 
 mently. I was ready to scream. I cast a glance at 
 this man which caused him to stand perfectly still for 
 a minute, and then suddenly go across the street. I 
 followed the embankment as far as Pont Neuf, then 
 crossed the bridge to the deserted quay in front of the 
 prefecture. I looked at the water perpetually. The 
 Seine was very full and unusually rapid. It was 
 yellow and turbid. It is strangely attractive, and, 
 also, peculiarly tranquillizing, to follow with the eye 
 the whirling motion of a rapid stream. One must 
 have done this in the midst of great mental excitement 
 in order to understand what I mean. 
 
 " I fell into a dreamy condition in which my misery 
 grew constantly less acute ; on the other hand, the 
 feeling became more and more imperative — I must go 
 down there ! Soon I ceased to think of anything else. 
 Only one question remained in my mind : Would the 
 water be cold ? Yet it could be scarcely colder than 
 the soaking dampness of the atmosphere. From the 
 first feeling of the water, my clothing would protect 
 me, and before that was wet through, I should be past 
 
148 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 all discomfort. Which would be the surer, to go off 
 from a bridge, or, from the bank, at the foot of the 
 wall, and thence very quietly, very gently, to slip into 
 the water ? In the darkness of the night, it would be 
 better to swing oneself over the railing of the bridge ; 
 but by day, it would attract less notice to go from the 
 shore. Would it be well to wait till night ? No one 
 would believe on what trivial grounds such a question 
 may be decided. I said to myself, I am tired ; why 
 should I any longer run about the streets aimlessly ? 
 and where can I pass the time till night ? This con- 
 vinced me fully. Then, now ! I looked around. No 
 one was observing me. I went down the steps 
 quickly, at a point about opposite the apse of Notre 
 Dame, I took a short run and — was in the river. The 
 current seized me, and I was swept away from the bank. 
 The waves went over my head, a heavy sound was in 
 my ears, and, with the need to draw breath, I was 
 compelled to open my mouth. The water rushed in 
 violently, I seemed to be swallowing a whole ocean. 
 I tried to expel it, I tried to cry out, there came a 
 moment of extreme agony and a suffocation, which 
 really was unpleasant, and I died. You are not to 
 laugh becaue I say this." 
 
 " I had no idea of laughing," Henneberg said in a 
 low voice. Indeed his strained features betrayed 
 agonized attention, and nothing else. 
 
 " It is foolish to say, — I became senseless, or any- 
 thing of that kind. What I did was to die. I was 
 dead, and should have remained so had not help ar- 
 rived. My consciousness had gone away, over the 
 threshold. That is the decisive thing. Whatever else 
 may occur in my life, I have reached the ultimate ex- 
 perience of death. I can also inform others how it 
 feels to die, — at least, through being drowned. It has 
 been said that, at the last moment, one's whole life 
 comes before him in a flash. This is not so. One 
 thinks of many things and very rapidly, but discon- 
 nectedly. First I thought, the Morgue is very near ; 
 they will not have to carry me far ; then, it was very 
 painful to think that I should have to be exposed 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 149 
 
 there, and I banished the thought. Then, other things 
 came to me, concerning Remy and what had happened 
 and what would happen if I had lived. Then, would 
 they hear of this in Kreuznach ? what would they say ? 
 what would my step-mother say? Then, the image of 
 my father came before me, — in uniform, with his 
 Order. Was there a life beyond ? how would my 
 father receive me ? Would he know what had hap- 
 pened ? That was my last distinct thought ; then I 
 went beyond." 
 
 The baroness touched her bell, and waited silently 
 till the maid came. " Tea !" she called out, and when 
 the portifere had dropped, she went on : 
 
 " Here ends the story of the life and death of poor 
 Augusta Hausblum. What follows, concerns some one 
 else. When I again opened my eyes, I lay in a cot in 
 the Hotel Dieu. A house-doctor and a nurse were 
 busied about me. There was an unpleasant smell of 
 ether and I felt very ill. Also I felt very weak in my 
 head and very much confused, and could remember 
 nothing clearly. I wanted to ask many questions, but 
 the doctor bade me be quiet. It appeared to me that 
 he had spoken harshly. This grieved me, and I began 
 to cry. The tears had an uncommon effect. It 
 seemed as if they washed away the clouds from my 
 mind. I became clear and peaceful. The doctor 
 talked to me very kindly, some one brought me a warm 
 drink, and I fell asleep, for it was late in the evening. 
 I did not wake till morning. When the professor 
 came for his morning visit I learned what had occurred. 
 One of the steamboats was passing just at the decisive 
 moment. A workwoman noticed what took place. 
 She gave the alarm, the boat was stopped, and I was 
 sought for with a boat-hook. It appears that I was 
 not found at the moment. At last, however, my man- 
 tle was caught and also completely torn to rags, which, 
 by the way, caused me great trouble when I left the 
 hospital. The boat brought me in to the nearest life- 
 saving station where, after half an hour's work, they 
 restored me once more to life. I ask myself whether 
 so much labour was well expended. As soon as I 
 
ISO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 began to breathe again, I \yas carried to the Hotel 
 Dieu, and there, after about an hour, I recovered con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 " The professor and the students who accompanied 
 him seemed to interest themselves in my case. At 
 first there were but few, for it was still vacation. But 
 later they became very numerous, and that was ex- 
 tremely tiresome. The professor related to them my 
 story, and said that I had evidently made a previous 
 attempt at suicide, for I had thrown myself under the 
 wheels of a carriage. When I denied this, he asked 
 me how I came to have these red lines running across 
 my body, and then I became aware of them for the 
 first time myself. He would not, for a long time, be- 
 lieve that this was simply the result of an idea, but later 
 he published an account of it. It was my wish to 
 leave the Hotel Dieu that day, but I was urged to re- 
 main twenty-four hours, and the following day it was 
 evident that my deadly river-bath had other results. 
 And so, cruel death was not entirely deprived of its 
 prey. ' Now you are free from your trouble,' the nurse 
 said to me, after the doctor had gone. She meant 
 kindly, the rough, good-hearted creature. But I 
 seemed to myself a murderess." 
 
 The servant came in with the tea, placed it on a 
 small stand beside the baroness, and at a nod from her 
 turned on the flameless lamp ; then he went silently 
 away. She poured tea into one of the two cups of 
 the Sevres t§te-a-tete set, and passed it to Henneberg, 
 and then, for herself, in the other. Then, while she 
 stirred the sugar, she continued : 
 
 " One day early in October, I was surprised by see- 
 ing, the count enter the ward. My heart stood still ; 
 then, it began beating with great violence. I had but 
 one anxiety — had R6my come with his father ? I was 
 soon reassured on this point. The count approached 
 my cot, looked at me silently, and extended his hand. 
 I did not take it. 
 
 "' How could you — ' he began. I was not disposed 
 to listen, either to a sermon or to an attempt at con- 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 15I 
 
 solation, and I interrupted him. ' How did you 
 know ?' I said. 
 
 " He told me they had read it in the papers. It had 
 been in the papers, then ! This caused me great dis- 
 tress. I asked to see the notice. At first he refused, 
 but I induced him to show it to me. Fortunately a 
 mistake in the name had been made — Fraulein Nam- 
 blune, instead of Hausblum. No one would think of 
 me, in seeing this copied into the German papers. In 
 other respects, the story was correctly told — a German 
 teacher, twenty-three years old, and so on, as the po- 
 lice had found it in my certificate of naturalization 
 which I had with me. I asked the count if Remy 
 knew. The count replied, certainly, and that R^my 
 would have come with him, but was at the moment go- 
 ing through his examination for Saint-Cyr. ' So !' I 
 answered, ' that is certainly more important.' 
 
 " There grew in my mind an inexpressible hatred 
 for the whole gang. These murderers were perfectly 
 tranquil after they had slain their victim. What 
 cared they, if a poor girl drowned herself, whom they 
 had driven to despair ! And should I quietly and 
 resignedly accept my fate at the hands of such peo- 
 ple ? No. By no means, and never ! It should be 
 paid back to them, all of it ! I was an angry corpse, 
 who would seek revenge for being killed. It is well 
 for the living that the dead generally do not return ; 
 for if one does come back, one has unpleasant feelings 
 towards those who have done one harm. The count, 
 poor man, evidently had no idea of what was passing 
 through my mind. He was benevolent, impressive, 
 making the most of his opportunity, caressing, with 
 fatherly demeanour which something in his looks all 
 the time showed me to be a lie. I endured this 
 silently, and mentally added it to his score. After 
 some idle talk, he rose to go, promised to come again, 
 and asked if there were anything he could do for me. 
 There was something he could do. It was grotesque. 
 In the tragedies of poverty there are always contrasts 
 of harlequin-faces. At the time of my rescue some 
 one plundered the dead body. If the trifle of money 
 
1 52 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 fell to any of those who took so much trouble with 
 me, they are most welcome to it. It is not agreeable 
 to worry over a drowned person. Brr !" 
 
 The baroness shook herself violently, finished her 
 cup of tea, and poured out another. 
 
 " However, I was without a sou. Besides this, I 
 had to remember that the charge for my room was 
 still running up in the hotel ; when I left the hospital 
 I should owe a heap of money, and the proprietor 
 would undoubtedly detain my luggage ! I begged 
 the count to go to the hotel to give up the room and 
 to have my things stored, there or elsewhere, till I 
 should come out. Then I told him that I had lost 
 my money. He lost no time in placing himself at 
 my service, and I quietly accepted his offers. One 
 week before I had received offers of the same kind as 
 if they had been the bite of red-hot iron. But Au- 
 gusta Hausblum was dead, and the now living person 
 felt differently. 
 
 " The count came twice again to see me ; he was 
 more and more devoted and protecting ; he required 
 my promise that I would let him know where I was, 
 after I had left the hospital. This was in the middle of 
 October. I was now no longer the proud and brave 
 Augusta who seemed so self-reliant that other girls 
 unconsciously sought her protection. I was pale, 
 and still very feeble. 
 
 " It happened to be at that time exceedingly fine 
 weather. The sun shone warm in a blue sky like May. 
 That probably was decisive as to my life. If I had 
 come out into rain and darkness and cold and wind, I 
 should not have had the courage to take up the 
 struggle again. I could go without my mantle and 
 not feel the lack of it. Naturally I went first to the 
 hotel. There I found a bill for a week's lodging ; and 
 for the storing of my trunks in a corner of an attic, 
 two francs a day was charged. The whole bill 
 amounted to eighty-seven francs. I had not yet a fifth 
 part of this frightful sum. There was nothing to do 
 but to remain for the present in this den of thieves. 
 How should I now begin ? The future looked black. 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 53 
 
 But I positively shut my my eyes to that, and left it 
 to the care of Heaven. The present was my only 
 thought. I began with an idea of going to the 
 teachers' agency again, or to some girl of my acquaint- 
 ance, or even of looking up our old, new friends, the 
 Koppels. But this idea I quickly relinquished. No 
 further connection with the past. Henceforth, a new 
 life, with new people. Only one exception I would 
 make, and this in respect to my friend, the outcast 
 who had taken me to her home in '80. I still owed 
 her money. Probably it was for that reason that I 
 thought of her. I went to the place where she lived, 
 but she was no longer there. The poor girl was dead. 
 This gave me a slight shock. But I would not yield 
 to it. She had lived in the rue Byron. In returning 
 home, I went through the Champs-Elys6es. It was 
 about three o'clock, and the splendid afternoon had 
 lured all Paris into the open air. I mean the Paris 
 that keeps its carriage. In six lines, the coupes were 
 rolling by ; many of them were open, and the ladies 
 who sat in them seemed like jewels in a jewel-box : I 
 went to the edge of the sidewalk, in my brown woolen 
 gown, with a summer-jacket and a very shabby hat, 
 and old, worn Su^de gloves, and stood looking at these 
 ladies as they passed. What went through my mind 
 at that time, you will learn better by document. I 
 will read to you what I wrote that night in my journal. 
 On the right page." 
 
 The baroness opened the volume, turned its pages 
 with fingers so rapid as to endanger tearing the page, 
 and having found the desired place, she began to read : 
 
 " These be-rouged and tricked-out women display 
 their airs and graces with a naive insolence which is 
 absolutely regardless of the pain caused to others. I 
 have laboured and economized. I have humbled my- 
 self and striven hard. What have these done, that 
 they sit in their carriages like queens, and besmirch my 
 miserable clothes with the mud that spatters up from 
 under the rubber-tires of their laudaus ? Whence have 
 they the wealth that raises their lives above the com- 
 mon level ? They did not earn it themselves. Per- 
 
154 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 haps not one of them could maintain herself, as I have 
 done, now these three years. What would become of 
 these be-ribboned andbe-tinselled images, if they should 
 be thrown one day upon their own strength and capa- 
 bility ? Everything that they have comes to them 
 from some man, — a father, a husband, a lover,- — always 
 from a man. Am not I also a woman ? Which of 
 them is handsomer, younger, more vivacious than I ? 
 I believe, vanity aside, — not one. And I also know, I 
 have had the opportunity to experience, that I am not 
 less attractive to men than they are. But what has 
 man done for me ? He has hunted me down, has 
 caused me misery and disgrace, has given me anxious 
 days and sleepless nights, he has prevented me from 
 earning my bread honestly, he has caused me to loathe 
 humanity, and he has driven me to my death. Why 
 does he lie at the feet of these women, while he sets 
 his foot upon my neck ? Why is he their slave, and my 
 torturer? Why does womanhood bring to these an 
 endless feast in gilded palaces, and to me, shame and the 
 grave ? It seems to be because I am stupid, stupid, 
 stupid, — stupid enough to be whipped ! But I will be- 
 come sensible. Now I know that Nature has given 
 me power, as she has given it to you, and if, earlier, it 
 has been turned against me, for the future, it shall work 
 for me. Man has not scrupled to do me harm, I will 
 retaliate. I have been long enough a neuter working- 
 bee in the great hive ; I will now be like them, a queen- 
 bee, and the drones shall labour and die for nte." 
 
 For the first time in an hour Henneberg smiled 
 faintly, and observed : " Your picture is not perfectly 
 true ; the drones do not work ; they are as carefully 
 fed as the queen-bee herself." 
 
 " I will not defend my prose," the baroness said, as 
 she closed the book. " With my present taste I find 
 it, besides, rather over-strained. But I know it is the 
 trustworthy expression of what I at that time felt and 
 thought. This book did me invaluable service in 
 those days. I could not see a hand's breadth before 
 me. I was at my wit's end. I had no plan and no 
 vision of the future. At the same time, I was full to 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 55 
 
 overflowing of all the evil feelings that can seethe in a 
 human soul, of anger, envy, and Govetousness. And I 
 had no one to whom I could pour out my heart. It 
 was to me a real consolation to talk to my journal. I 
 spent almost the whole day in my room, pen in hand, 
 and I wrote as if for wages. I detect in myself a 
 literary streak, which becomes well-marked in critical 
 moments. In those days I used to think about writ- 
 ing a novel — my own story, of course." 
 
 " What a pity that you did not do it !" Henneberg 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, no ! A woman is much wiser to live a novel, 
 than to write one. And if I had very great talent, 
 do you think that editors and publishers would greet 
 me as they do now, if they have the honour to be 
 allowed to greet me at all ? As the world is organized, 
 man has the key to all successes, and to get equal with 
 man, a woman truly has no need to write a novel. 
 Our irresistible weapon against man is our personality, 
 ■ — not a pen ! A woman — at least, a young and pretty 
 woman — who proposes to write herself into position 
 and prosperity, appears to me like a bird, who, with 
 infinite trouble, wades through muddy ditches and 
 climbs high walls, to get inside a fortified position, 
 when all that is necessary is simply to fly in. Ach ! my 
 poor Henneberg, it is lucky for you men that most 
 women, as we are brought up, have no idea of their 
 power or any thought of using it, otherwise, you 
 would, all of you, lie helpless at our feet." 
 
 " We do lie helpless at your feet," Henneberg re- 
 joined, "and just in that consists our happiness." 
 
 " That is gallantry, not truth. But let this pass ; I 
 want to go on with my story. On the third day after 
 I had left the hospital, the count came to my hotel. 
 'You have not written to me,' he said, reproachfully. 
 'You have found me, however,' I rejoined. 'You ex- 
 pected that I should search for you, then ?' he said. 
 This seemed to me presuming, and I made no answer. 
 He looked around the room. ' You have no fire ?' he 
 said. ' It is not cold,' I replied ; but, in truth, I should 
 have been glad of a little warmth. ' It is not very 
 
156 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 pleasant here,' he remarked. ' Much pleasanter here 
 than in the hospital, or in the river,' I rejoined. 'Al- 
 ways bitter, always excited !' he murmured, shaking his 
 head ; ' how very resentful the German character is !' 
 To this opinion in ethnology I had no reply to 
 make. 
 
 "There followed a few minutes silence, and then 
 the count said, hesitatingly, and, as it seemed to me, 
 watching the effect of his words : ' Have you any idea 
 what brought me to Paris to-day ?' I expected he 
 would mention some errand, but it was more impor- 
 tant than I thought. ' I came to ship off R^my at 
 noon from the Montparnasse station to Brest.' I am 
 certain that I did not change colour in the least. It did 
 not even occur to me to ask if his son had wi.shed 
 to see me. My indifference was evidently a great re- 
 lief to the count, and no longer embarrassed, he went 
 on : ' The idle fellow, of course, could not pass his 
 examinations. That's the end of Saint Cyr for him. 
 He has always some nonsense in his head. Now it 
 was the gardener's daughter. Her father threatened 
 to kill R6my, and it took a large sum to. buy him off. 
 Then we determined to put him into the marines ; 
 and it is to be hoped that will be a good school for 
 him. He needs it. Do I give you pain in speaking 
 of the good-for-nothing boy ?' ' Not at all,' I said ; 
 and this was perfectly true. All that Augusta Haus- 
 blum had felt, lay buried under the Seine. And, to 
 end the subject of R^my, I will say, that a year later, 
 he made the Tonkin campaign with distinction, and in 
 the spring of '84 was about to receive promotion and 
 become an officer, when he had a quarrel with a sub- 
 altern in the foreign legion, of course, on account of 
 an affair with some woman ; they fought, and R6my 
 was shot through the body, and died a few weeks later. 
 His end was what one might have expected. He was 
 too handsome and too wicked. And now, never again 
 a word about him ! 
 
 " The count watched me narrowly after making this 
 communication, and then he said, in a voice as coaxing 
 as he could make it : ' You will not visit the sins of the 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 57 
 
 son upon the father, I trust ?' I repHed coldly that 
 everyone was answerable for himself alone. He drew 
 nearer, took my hand, and became sentimental. 'Ah !' 
 he said, ' if you would allow me to atone for the boy's 
 transgression !' That appeared to me a creditable 
 impulse, — the first which I had ever observed in this 
 family. I was still singularly innocent, in spite of all 
 I had passed through. As I did not offer any objec- 
 tion, he believed himself understood, and went on to 
 explain the situation. He was in distressful circum- 
 stances. A ballet-dancer whom he had loaded with 
 benefits, had just now been snatched from him by an 
 airy Neapolitan prince. Snake that she was ! Ungrate- 
 ful wretch ! He had obtained an engagement for her 
 at the Grand Opera, to him she owed all her successes. 
 Without him she would have been ere this in a 
 pauper's grave in Montmartre ; and now she had 
 treated him in this scandalous wa)'. I must not trifle 
 with him. He had need of friendship and kindness. 
 The disorder in his married life, which he felt keenly, 
 would render existence unendurable to him, if he could 
 not have one heart to help him forget his misfortunes. 
 I had been extremely attractive to him from the first, 
 but he had felt that I was unapproachable. Now, he 
 ventured — " 
 
 " For shame!" Henneberg exclaimed. 
 
 "Wait," the baroness said, in her severest tone, 
 " save your contempt for what is to follow. I con- 
 sented. Yes ! I told you before that I should lead 
 you through depths unfathomable. If you have had 
 enough, you can go." 
 
 " Go on," Henneberg said, almost inaudibly. 
 
 " I will have pity and be brief. For this reason, I 
 would not give you my book to read. The same day 
 1 took possession of a human habitation, and I bought 
 a winter cloak. But I still keep the old garment, torn 
 by the boat-hook. It is my fetisch. From time to 
 time I open the shrine and perform my devotions be- 
 fore it. It has saved me from many things. It and 
 my journal — would you like to see it ?' 
 
1S8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Please not !" Henneberg exclaimed, with 
 a gesture of repulsion. 
 
 " That is true ; I ought not to be cruel ; indeed, you 
 have not deserved it. I will go on. After a week, 
 during which I was very busy, I was able to settle 
 down into a home. Now, for the first time, I was 
 housed like a respectable woman — I do not mean to 
 jest — I had my own carriage, I learned for the first 
 time in my life to know that comfort which doubtless 
 contents the body, however the soul may complain. 
 As I have said, Augusta Hausblum ceased to live. I 
 was another person and must have another name. I 
 took the name under which you first knew me. I 
 called myself Countess Rigalle. I felt that it was 
 mine by right. Remy's oath had given it to me. Also, 
 it was the beginning of my revenge upon the countess, 
 who had not thought me good enough to bear her 
 name. One feels an indescribable self-contempt in 
 takinga name for the purpose of disgracing it. I know 
 this by experience. And the count was shocked at 
 first, but he had to bring himself to it. He was my 
 house-dog. He was my chattel. 
 
 " The countess learned very soon what had happened. 
 For I took care to have my name very soon in the 
 papers, as present at concerts and first performances 
 at fashionable theatres. And now began a battle be- 
 tween this woman and myself which made life endur- 
 able to me, and the count, interesting. For he was the 
 prize, and my whole personality was staked. I had no 
 hatred for the count ; I was angry with him only be- 
 cause, on his account, I had to loathe myself. But I 
 was resolved the countess should feel my power. You 
 have no idea what a victory over a strong and unrelent- 
 ing foe means, when one is in a state of humiliation. 
 It gives you back your self-esteem in a degree." 
 
 Henneberg thought silently that this depended 
 altogether upon the means employed in the struggle, 
 but he did not allow himself to say it. 
 
 " At first the count's wife made violent scenes, and 
 threatened him with dog-whip and revolver. The only 
 result of this was that he fled, and remained all the 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 159 
 
 time with me. Then she sent her lover to endeavour 
 to intimidate me. The conversation that took place 
 would be really worth reading to an audience. But I 
 spare you. The poor man was very glad to get into 
 the street again. Then came a notary from the count- 
 ess to offer me money in her name. I derided him. 
 ' I am much richer than your employer,' I said, 'and 
 she will soon have to beg me for support.' I happened 
 to know that she had married according to a law which 
 limited her rights over the count's property, and that 
 her own income scarcely sufficed to pay her tailors' 
 bills. The next thing was that she applied to the 
 police to send me out of the country, of course on the 
 charge of- being a Prussian spy. This was a dangerous 
 attack. The count was a Legitimist and without influ- 
 ence in the Republic. The countess had inherited 
 from her father important military friends. Why I did 
 not seek protection from our embassy, you will under- 
 stand. I sent word to her, through her notary, that if 
 I left France, the count would accompany me, and 
 would take out papers of naturalization in some foreign 
 land in order to obtain a divorce from her, and make 
 me his wife. Very likely she did not believe this. 
 She did not cease. 
 
 " Then I was driven to self-defence. I was obliged 
 to go to the Secretary. I was obliged to sink one 
 circle deeper in this Inferno. After that nothing 
 could be done to harm me. And the adventure taught 
 me, at least, that I could do whatever I wished, if in- 
 sult and stain did not cause me suffering. The coun- 
 tess became aware that she could do nothing more 
 against me. She would have been glad to get me out 
 of the way by the hand of an assassin, but, for sensa- 
 tional things like that, the Paris of to-day is no con- 
 venient field. 
 
 " Then I caused the town house in Faubourg Saint- 
 Honore and the estate in Normandy to be sold, so 
 that the countess was literally without a roof over her 
 head. She replied by an attempt to have the count 
 put under guardianship. We had, however, been able 
 to gain possession of some uncommonly expressive 
 
l6o THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 letters which had passed between herself and her 
 admirer, — I mean to say, to be exact, letters of his, 
 on which, however, she had written comments in her 
 own hand. I informed her that these letters would be 
 read aloud in court, in case she really brought suit for 
 the appointment of a guardian. Upon this, she ceased. 
 Then 1 followed with the final blow. I gave her the 
 choice, either to carry on the war longer, in which 
 case, I would destroy her reputation and deprive her 
 entirely of support ; or, to keep the peace, and the 
 dowry of my former pupil should be paid in full, and 
 she herself should receive a suitable income. Upon 
 this, she accepted her defeat, and allowed herself 
 to be maintained. Every month she took as a gift 
 from me, a thousand francs. And so, my humiliation 
 at her feet was paid back to her in full. 
 
 " Two years the count lived at my side. Then he 
 died. Perhaps his life was shortened by all that had 
 happened, but he never wished it otherwise. He often 
 said to me that he had never before known what hap- 
 piness was. After his death, it suddenly again grew 
 dark around me. To the girl I paid her dowry, five 
 hundred thousand francs. This was promised. To 
 the countess I secured twelve thousand francs a year 
 by an annuity. This cost about one hundred and 
 thirty thousand francs. Scarcely anything was left for 
 me. I had only my house, my stable, and my jewels ; 
 if I sold everything, — at a disadvantage, of course, — I 
 should have an income of about twenty thousand 
 francs. But that would be no life for me. Augusta 
 Hausblum was fortunate if she could earn seven hun- 
 dred francs a year. The Countess Rigalle was appalled 
 at the prospect of having no more than twenty thou- 
 sand francs income. I had had time, you see, to 
 develop all my natural inchnations. I could no longer 
 content myself in a condition of mediocrity. An 
 average existence was to me impossible, for I knew 
 well enough what it meant. I have had my dinner at 
 the Duvals, and I know the sounds one hears and the 
 sights one sees ; T have been in a crowded omnibus, 
 and I know what one smells. I have lodged in poor 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. l6l 
 
 little hotels and had my sleep stolen from me night 
 after night, with people running about overhead. A 
 thousand times sooner die, than suffer these vexations 
 again. It is not arrogance, it is simply the knowledge 
 of bodily discomforts that makes me say, I must be- 
 long to the privileged class." 
 
 " Do not apologize for yourself," Henneberg said, 
 " I feel precisely as you do !" 
 
 " In a monarchy, I should like to be a queen or 
 princess, that the police might protect me from un- 
 pleasant contiguity. For people are dreadful, when 
 they are under no restraint. They cannot move 
 without being an annoyance to their neighbours. In 
 a republic, money is your sufficient protector. But 
 there must be a great deal of money : so that I can see 
 a play without being martyred by some woman near 
 me, nibbling bonbons ; so that I can hear a symphony 
 without being driven wild by neighbours beating time 
 with their feet and singing with the music ; so that I 
 can make a journey to Nice without being put out of 
 temper by the inconsiderateness and ill-manners of 
 my fellow-travellers. All this I took fully into the 
 account at that time. Insane ideas passed through 
 my mind. I thought of entering a convent ; there I 
 should have found peace and silence. But I did not 
 want to deceive myself, and it seemed to me probable 
 that I should not be received, if the truth were 
 known." 
 
 '• A penitent with twenty thousand francs income 
 is always welcome," Henneberg interposed. 
 
 " You are a heathen ! Do not speak against my re- 
 ligion. Then my thoughts grew constantly more 
 sombre, and soon I found myself facing the question 
 whether it would not be the simplest thing for the 
 Countess Rigalle to follow in the steps of Augusta 
 Hausblum. In any case, not by way of the Seine. 
 For, thence, one returns. That I had already experi- 
 enced. Various humiliations came at this time, em- 
 bittering me beyond expression. The whole circle of 
 the count's friends presented themselves as ready to 
 inherit what he had left. I forgot to tell you that the 
 
l62 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 count had introduced me to all his friends. They con- 
 ducted themselves with all courtesy and respect. In 
 my salon and at my table, the tone was far higher 
 than in the house of the count's wife, you may take 
 your oath. Scarcely, however, was the count dead, 
 when, as if in concert, the brutes showed themselves. 
 These men were all old, or at least, of mature age ; 
 they were mostly married and fathers of families ; and 
 they offered me their hearts — every man of them ! 
 Their hearts, only — even those who were bachelors. 
 They left me no comforting self-deception as to my 
 position. They showed me plainly what they thought 
 of me. I experienced an rnexpressible loathing of 
 them, of myself, of everything. In this situation, you 
 made my acquaintance. Do you remember how it 
 happened ?" 
 
 " As if it were yesterday ! It was at the autumnal 
 flower-show in the rue de Crenelle. You were with 
 the old baron d'Estoille, who presented me to you." 
 
 " Yes, Estoille was one of the count's friends ; and, 
 of course, an aspirant." 
 
 " That whited sepulchre!" 
 
 " Any man thought himself good enough for me. 
 You were the first person from my own country that 
 I had met for years. You were respectful, reserved in 
 your homage " 
 
 " Why do you bring forward these dignified reasons ? 
 I should not be angry with you if you were to say that 
 something in your heart was touched " 
 
 "Very well. I allowed you, then, to visit me, and 
 two weeks later, I consented to go with you to the 
 Riviera. So much you know, yourself. But what you 
 do not know, I will now tell you. To me, this journey 
 was a last mad act which I allowed myself, a closing 
 scene before the curtain fell. You had with you, day 
 after day, a person under sentence of death. Each of 
 our merry little suppers was a criminal's last meal be- 
 fore execution. Every morning I might have offered 
 to you the gladiator's salute to CtEsar. This is not a 
 figure of speech, dear friend ; all this is the steely 
 truth. But in the calm of that perfumed landscape, in 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 63 
 
 the presence of that blue sea — perhaps, also," she said 
 in a low voice, as if reflecting and speaking to herself, 
 without a glance at Henneberg, " perhaps, also, under 
 the warmth of your affection, by degrees the love of life 
 came back to me again. At twenty-five one is so 
 thoughtless ! The countess Rigalle died in Hyferes, 
 and I buried her without any regret. A new existence 
 dawned. But this new existence I would have su- 
 premely respectable. At the very bottom of my heart, 
 I am a little home-bred Philistine who loves to make 
 preserves and, sad to tell, would enjoy a kaffee-klatsch 
 at the Frau Councillor's." 
 
 " You traduce yourself." 
 
 " No. I assure you this is not the least imaginary. 
 I am perfectly conscious that I remain always German, 
 provincial, home-loving, and domestic in my tastes, 
 notwithstanding my mental emancipation, notwith- 
 standing I read philosophy aloud to my father, four 
 hours a day, for four years. And so it came about 
 that I asked you if you would make me your wife. 
 You were not willing to do this. Don't say anything ! 
 You were not willing, and to all appearances you were 
 right. For the moral rule is different for a man and 
 a woman. He is permitted to have a past. She is 
 not. And a woman may appear to him worthy of a 
 passionate devotion, who still is not worthy to be his 
 wife. I say all this, dear friend, without anger or 
 blame. Agostini, meanwhile, one of the count's friends, 
 came, during this absence of mine, to the conclusion 
 that he could not live without me. He wrote. He 
 offered me his hand. Now, for once, nothing said 
 about the heart ! His hand. I longed inexpressibly 
 for tranquillity and the conventionalities. I will not 
 deny that your refusal had hurt me a little. And so 
 I left you suddenly " 
 
 " I was like one stunned and could not understand 
 what had happened." 
 
 " Now, you understand. I wrote to the baron to 
 meet me in Nice. There the bargain was at once 
 concluded. Yes, it was a business transaction, and 
 we have both kept to it in good faith like respectable 
 
164 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 people. I broke with the whole circle of the count s 
 friends, lived for the next few months in the deepest 
 seclusion, and married the baron in the spring. Then, 
 for the first time, I allowed you to see me again, and 
 I do you the justice to say that you accepted the situ- 
 ation like a sensible man, and never sought to embar- 
 rass me with questions." 
 
 Henneberg sighed deeply. 
 
 " Since that time, I am living my third life. The 
 baroness Agostini looks upon the graves of Augusta 
 Hausblum and of the Countess Rigalle, and has noth- 
 ing in common with either of these unfortunate per- 
 sons. I am an example of the transmigration of souls. 
 Do not think it cynicism that I have related to you 
 the story of a ruined girl and of an abandoned woman. 
 These experiences are absolutely foreign to my pres- 
 ent self. I have preserved the recollection of them, 
 but without the accompanying feelings — much as one 
 remembers a past headache. But I have this to say, 
 my equanimity is absolutely suspended upon one con- 
 dition — I must not repeat the acts of the teacher and 
 of the countess. It gives me great peace of mind to 
 say : the Baroness Agostini is an honest woman ; since 
 her marriage she has had no history, as is the law for 
 honest women." 
 
 •' No history ; only a legend," Henneberg remarked. 
 
 " Yes, I know that. There are myths current about 
 me. I have heard some of them. They amuse me. 
 I am said to be the daughter of a famous general. I 
 am said to have been kidnapped by a painter." 
 
 "As I heard, it was a musician." 
 
 " So ? That version I had not heard. Then, the 
 painter deserted me, it is said ; I attempted to drown 
 myself, Agostini plunged into the water after me ; out 
 of gratitude I became his mistress, by degrees he made 
 over to mc all his money, and finally married me, to 
 get his millions back again. Do you know anything 
 more than that ?" 
 
 " It is not worth while to repeat the gossip of the 
 clubs. Besides, I have never allowed any talk about 
 you in my presence." 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 1 65 
 
 " It really does me no hurt. People may gossip 
 behind my back. They have the right. And now, 
 dear friend, you know me as no other person on earth 
 does. How you may think of me hereafter " 
 
 Henneberg interrupted her: 
 
 " To know all is to forgive all," he said. 
 
 The baroness rose. " ' To forgive ?' " she said. 
 " You should not have used that word. Where I do 
 not forgive myself, another's forgiveness is of no help 
 to me ; and where I feel that there is nothing to forgive, 
 the forgiveness of others is needless. No. I would 
 say this : now you understand how correct my life 
 must be in this third incarnation of mine, if I am not 
 to perish of my own self-loathing." 
 
 The baroness rose from her seat and linked her 
 fingers together behind the heavy masses of her dark 
 hair. " Have I caused you pain ?" she said softly. 
 
 " Now and then," he replied thoughtfully. 
 
 " Then pardon me. To myself it has been a great 
 relief. It has helped me to get over the death of my 
 poor lory. And I feel as if we could now remain 
 good friends — better friends thkn before." 
 
 " That is not a satisfaction to me." 
 
 " You must make it so. Otherwise you will lose it. 
 And I should be sorry — very, very sorry." 
 
 •' If you really cared for me " 
 
 " Go no further. I do care for you. It is the last 
 woman's feeling that I have left. Everything else in 
 me is dead. And because I care for you, everything 
 must remain as it is. What gives me power over you } 
 What binds you to me ?" 
 
 " My love." 
 
 " Let us be more accurate. It is your unsatisfied 
 longing for me, which a memory rekindles. Were it 
 gratified, the spell would be broken." 
 
 Henneberg would have interrupted her. 
 
 " I know man's nature too well," she said. " Here 
 is my text-book. The pages on the left." 
 
 Henneberg also rose. He went up to the baroness, 
 and looked straight into her eyes. " Anything will do 
 for me," he said ; " I am your slave. But promise me 
 
1 66 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 at least this : give me a formal promise. I know you 
 will keep your word." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Baron Agostini is near the seventies. He is per- 
 haps older than that. When he dies, will you be my 
 wife?" 
 
 " How brutal you are !" the baroness exclaimed. 
 
 " Only frank, as you are. Now you know what I 
 want, and what I hope for." 
 
 For a few minutes the baroness was silent, and 
 thoughtful. Then she said : " No. Not even then. 
 You desire to be master. I dread being subjugated. 
 We are both egoists. A lasting relation between us is 
 only possible when the tie that unites us is a tranquil 
 affection. Not a devouring one, on the side of either. 
 Henneberg, sometimes it seems to me as if we were 
 both something like two great tigers or panthers. 
 Two such creatures might be much attached to each 
 other and very friendly. But in the very depths of 
 their souls, they must have a certain distrust of each 
 other. They know themselves too well not to recog- 
 nize, each in the other, the same dangerous feline 
 nature." 
 
 It was now dark. As the baroness still stood by the 
 fire-place, and showed no intention of sitting down 
 again, Henneberg inquired : " Have you seen enough 
 of me ? Am I to go, now ?" 
 
 " Something occurs to me," said the baroness. " I 
 should like to go to see our old Klein. Is it not a 
 long time since you have seen him?" 
 
 " I must acknowledge it. Our new enterprise has 
 occupied me so much within the last three months, 
 that I have not found a minute for him since I came 
 back from the sea-shore." 
 
 " It is a sin to neglect the old man like that. Come. 
 Let us go to see him now. And so I shall get the air ; 
 I have not been out of doors all day." She touched 
 the knob, and the maid appeared, and stood in the door» 
 way with her submissive mien. 
 
 " I will be ready directly. Will you wait a moment, 
 please, in the salon ?" the baroness said. Henneberg 
 
THE BARONESS TELLS HER STORY. 167 
 
 kissed the hand which she extended to him and went 
 into the Httle salon, while the baroness gave her orders 
 to the maid. As the latter passed through the adjacent 
 room on her way to communicate to the coachman 
 and the lackeys the commands given her, she passed 
 purposely near Henneberg : 
 
 '^ Dieu merci /" she whispered, "the storm is past. 
 Monsieur le baron can always work miracles with 
 madame la baronne." Henneberg made a very slight 
 gesture with his hand, but neither by word nor look 
 took notice of the woman's compliment. 
 
 The baroness did not keep him waiting long. She 
 appeared in a dark and scrupulously plain street-dress. 
 Under the black lace hat and contrasted with the black 
 boa, her face looked extremely pale. This was per- 
 haps due to the long time spent in the hot-house atmo- 
 sphere of the curtained boudoir. Perhaps also, it was 
 a result of the excitement of this last hour. For 
 although she averred that she no longer suffered in the 
 sufferings of Augusta Hausblum and the fictitious 
 Countess Rigalle, and that both these persons were 
 both dead and buried, it was evident that their tombs 
 were not so tightly sealed but that their ghosts could 
 walk abroad. Her voice, her look, had shown plainly 
 enough that in this transmigration of souls a very large 
 share of character belonging to the tv/o earlier lives 
 had passed over into the present re-incarnation. 
 
 In the house of the baroness a very strict etiquette 
 was required on the conduct of the servants. When, 
 with Henneberg at her side, she went out to her car- 
 riage, the maid followed her through the boudoir and 
 the two salons as far as the ante-chamber ; thence the 
 steward attended her down the stairs and out to the 
 carriage-door, while the lackeys stood at intervals from 
 the upper landing to the foot of the staircase. These 
 lackeys stood like statues, but behind the backs of 
 the baroness and Henneberg, their impudent grins 
 avenged the respectful immobility of their persons. 
 
l68 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A VISIT TO DR. KLEIN. 
 
 Dr. Klein, whose address in the rue Raynouard 
 Henneberg gave to the steward, as the latter closed 
 the carriage-door, was an extraordinary old Suabian, 
 whom the freakish gulf-stream of destiny had swept 
 away from his native land to Paris. He had begun by 
 making a special study of the ancient languages and of 
 protestant theology, and had been a foundation- 
 lecturer at Tubingen ; later, he had made a change, 
 and devoted himself to theoretic astronomy. This 
 was an unprofitable employment in Germany at that 
 time. There were only a few places in universities and 
 observatories, to which a man who had made choice 
 of this vocation could aspire, and Klein possessed none 
 of those traits of character whereby a man gets the 
 better of his rivals in competition for the favour of 
 patrons in high positions. As lecturer he endured for 
 several years an existence of the greatest privation. 
 To the three or four young men who attended his 
 courses he remitted their fees, as a rule ; and he lived 
 on self-denial, dreams, and a few private lessons. 
 Then it happened that, in the year 1856, he sent to the 
 Paris Academy a paper upon the period and orbit of 
 a supposed lost comet which excited the interest of 
 Leverrier, at that time director of the Paris Observ- 
 atory. The great astronomer inquired of Klein about 
 his circumstances, and encouraged him to seek pros- 
 perity in France. 
 
 Klein hesitated not one day, but came straight to 
 Paris, where Leverrier was indeed able to employ him, 
 though only transiently, as calculator in the Bureau 
 of Longitude. Klein was at that time thirty-lour 
 years of age. He felt himself at the summit of his 
 wishes. He believed himself extraordinarily fortun- 
 ate, and the letters which he wrote home at that time 
 betrayed a kind of superstitious anxiety, lest his 
 
A VISIT TO DR. KLEIN. 169 
 
 prosperity was too great to be lasting. He worked 
 silently and industriously ; he rolled in wealth, with 
 the one hundred and fifty or two hundred francs 
 monthly which he earned ; desired neither compli- 
 ments nor promotion ; and was therefore prized and 
 passed over, by the authorities. He was, however, on 
 the point of being advanced to a permanent position 
 when the war broke out. He had been naturalized 
 and therefore was not sent out of the country ; but, 
 after the fall of the Empire, when Leverrier was 
 abruptly turned out of the Observatory, Klein had 
 to go also, — the proteg^, with the protector. Again 
 times were hard for him ; but God forsakes no Suabian, 
 even though turned into a Frenchman. Klein found 
 a position as tutor in a family, which, for the next 
 three years, made him secure. 
 
 In 1873, when Leverrier returned to the observatory, 
 he remembered Klein, and again gave him employ- 
 ment, but still not a permanent position. The next 
 year, Klein reached the fabulous noonday height of his 
 earthly career ; he was appointed to the French South 
 Sea Expedition for observing the transit of Venus ; 
 and on the return of the expedition he received as his 
 individual task the mathematical working up of the re- 
 sults of the observation. It was a fatiguing task, from 
 which no fame and little stimulus could be derived, 
 requiring constant attention while, at the same time, 
 it was an almost mechanical work. But it furnished 
 regular employment for many years, and a slender — 
 though to him amply sufficient — compensation, and it 
 gave him the satisfaction of feeling that he was useful 
 in his humble department of science. 
 
 Over his equations and logarithms his life passed 
 along, and he was scarcely conscious that he had be- 
 come an old man, whose only outlook was the Dark 
 Gate, from whose threshold no travellers return. 
 
 Henneberg had made his acquaintance on first com- 
 ing to Paris, and while still in some degree, occupied 
 with his scientific pursuits. A professor of mathe- 
 matics had referred him to Klein for some purpose, 
 and since their first interview, which had a professional 
 
170 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 motive, Henneberg never again lost sight of the 
 Suabian, being strangely attracted by his_ unworldly 
 simplicity of nature and remarkable intuitions. On 
 account of those unusual characteristics, Henneberg 
 had formed the wish to introduce him to the Baroness 
 Agostini, who greatly prized the unusual when it 
 appeared in unpretending forms. But Klein was by 
 no means to be persuaded to visit her, and the baron- 
 ess had to condescend to go to him, in his hermit's 
 cell. 
 
 Klein had developed an extraordinary view of the 
 world. He denied with unwavering firmness the 
 theory of human progress. He opposed it on 
 mathematical grounds. The cosmos is eternal, progress 
 is a movement in time ; every movement or develop- 
 ment which we call progress, must forever have 
 attained its goal, however remote and lofty this goal 
 may seem to us to be. In nature there is only an end- 
 less chain of motions. What seems to be development 
 is only periodic revolution from the end to the renewed 
 beginning and again to the renewed end. The phe- 
 nomena of the solar system are a type of this. One 
 year follows another, one year resembles another, the 
 clock-work of the world keeps on its even way. If 
 one spoke to him of the Darwinian theory of develop- 
 ment, he replied that this theory established only the 
 fact that the hands upon the dial-plate of the universe 
 moved forward with regularity : this dial-plate was 
 very large, — it might be the whole solar system, or 
 even the whole Milky Way system ; natural science 
 could survey but a very small part of the dial and a 
 very short period of the movement of the pointers ; 
 could an eye embrace more and see for a longer time, 
 it would appear that the hands moved in a circle, and 
 after one completed revolution began another, and so 
 on to all eternity. If you objected that this everlast- 
 ing beginning over again was a discouraging idea, he 
 would ask smilingly whether one was not glad every 
 winter to look forward to the spring, and whether one 
 had any wish for any different kind of spring from that 
 of preceding years. 
 
A VISIT TO DR. KLEIN. 171 
 
 Another of his ideas was that thoughts are waves of 
 ether, like heat, electricity, and light. Their amount 
 in the cosmos is unvarying, like that of all the other 
 forms of force. They are eternally difTused in space 
 like rays of lights or currents of electricity. Upon 
 the human brain strike constantly millions and millions 
 of different kinds of vibrations, representing so many 
 different thoughts, which in all the stars in all the 
 depths of space, just now, or in incalculably remote 
 time, have been thought. If the brain is prepared to 
 receive a given vibration, of a certain duration in time 
 and extent in space, it is thereby stimulated to a cor- 
 responding vibration ; and the thought represented by 
 the vibration becomes consciousness in the brain. In 
 the ascending portion of the circle, which we call 
 development, the brain becomes capable of ever 
 shorter and more rapid vibrations ; in the descending 
 portion of the circle, it becomes more compact and in- 
 active. Every invention, every discovery, every ex- 
 tension of knowledge, has its origin in this, that some 
 one brain has attained an excessive vibratory capacity, 
 enabling it to grasp and turn into consciousness the 
 corresponding thought-vibrations impinging upon it 
 out of space. Hence it follows that no thought origi- 
 nates in the head that thinks it ; it has been thought 
 before, an infinite number of times, and will, likewise, 
 be thought again ; each brain acts like a conductor in 
 electrical transmission, it receives a vibration out of the 
 infinite and returns it again to the infinite ; we stand 
 continually on the shore of the whole ocean of possible 
 thoughts, but we become conscious of those only to 
 which our brain is sensitive. Differences in knowledge 
 are differences in the vibratory capacity of the brain ; 
 character, temperament, and talent are the length and_ 
 duration of the waves. Each human being is a rhythm. 
 Attraction or aversion between men depends on 
 whether their rhythms harmonize or are dissonant, — 
 whether they reinforce or disturb one another. Klein 
 of course, was aware that his system was connected 
 with the most ancient Pythagoreanism, but he had 
 given it many different shapes, and had drawn from it 
 
172 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 most surprising consequences, which the Baroness 
 Agostini always continued to think over for days after 
 she had had a long talk with the old mathematician. 
 
 The rue Raynouard is a long, narrow, tortuous street 
 in Passy, badly paved, with narrow sidewalks, as dead 
 as a provincial town, and but rarely roused from its 
 repose by the sound of carriage-wheels. It lies on the 
 ridge of ground that follows the left bank of the Seine 
 all across Paris, its highest point being the Tro- 
 cadero hill. Behind the houses of the odd-numbered 
 side, the ground falls away with a steep descent to 
 the river bank, and standing on the edge of this de- 
 clivity, one overlooks a large part of the city, as from 
 the platform of a tower. It is an old street, with old 
 houses, which as a rule, stand far back in large neglected 
 gardens, and are shut in from the world by continuous 
 walls, each having its single, surly, close-barred little 
 door. 
 
 At one of these little doors at the end of a very long, 
 bare, blank wall, the carriage of the baroness stopped. 
 A repeated, loud ringing at the bell by the footman, 
 awakened after a time the grating of a key as it turned 
 in a rusty lock ; the door opened, and an old woman 
 appeared, who began courtesying zealously as soon as 
 she saw the baroness and Henneberg. 
 
 " Is monsieur Klein at home ?" Henneberg in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Certainly," the woman answered, " where should 
 you think the dear man would be, at this hour?" 
 
 The visitors entered through the little doorway ; on 
 the left was a small building, occupied by the concierge. 
 In front of them lay a wide, dark garden, with a few 
 old trees and an oval grass-plot, and in the background 
 the house was visible. Not a single window showed 
 light. There seemed to be no one within, at this mo- 
 ment. A gravellgd walk, which glimmered faintly 
 through the dark, wet turf, led past the house to the 
 left, and through a much larger garden in the rear, to 
 the edge of the declivity, which was topped by a low 
 wall. Against this wall, about midway, a kind of shed 
 
A vistT TO DR. KLEIN. r;^ 
 
 had been built, at whose door the path came to an 
 end. 
 
 The concierge had preceded the two visitors, and 
 now knocked at this door. Within, nobody stirred. 
 A Httle window near the door was dark. 
 
 " He cannot have gone to sleep as early as five 
 o'clock ?" Henneberg said. 
 
 " Oh, no ; but the dear man is not like other people. 
 He does not answer if you knock. You must go in." 
 She courtesied again and went back. 
 
 Henneberg opened the unfastened door and entered. 
 Inside was darkness, yet transparent, for the wall 
 opposite the entrance was entirely of glass, and through 
 this great window the never pitch-dark Paris winter 
 night, with its innumerable far-off lights, appeared. 
 
 " Who is there ?" cried in French a thin, piping 
 voice from a corner. 
 
 " Visitors ! Frau Baroness Agostini and Henneberg," 
 replied Henneberg, speaking in German, and came 
 nearer. 
 
 A faint cry of alarm was audible. " Um Gotteswil- 
 len ! My most honoured patron, my most gracious 
 Frau Baroness ! — I really cannot — I am not at all in a 
 condition." 
 
 Henneberg advanced to the corner whence the voice 
 came, while the baroness remained standing in the 
 door-way. Klein was in his bed, but had quickly risen 
 to a sitting posture, and regarded his visitor with 
 alarm. 
 
 " You are somewhat indisposed ?" Henneberg said 
 anxiously and extended his hand. 
 
 The old man grasped it and held it fast. " No, no," 
 he said, " not at all ! I only lay down to be able to 
 think more quietly. I beg a thousand pardons. Only 
 for a minute ! It is extremely impolite — but if you 
 would leave me for a minute, I shall be dressed 
 directly, and at your service." 
 
 " Stay as you are." 
 
 " No, no. That cannot be ; that is entirely impos- 
 sible. I beg — I beg you to excuse me, — but just for 
 a single minute !" 
 
174 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Henneberg returned to the door, and the two 
 stepped out into the dark garden. They had not long 
 to wait, before Klein appeared in the doorway with a 
 small kerosene lamp in his hand and, with bows and 
 apologies, begged them to do him the honour of enter- 
 ing. 
 
 Klein was a very tall, very thin, somewhat bent 
 man, with smooth-shaven face, white hair and blue 
 eyes which looked out, true-hearted as a child's. An 
 unusually projecting chin, a long nose, and a slight 
 elevation of the corners of the mouth gave a certain 
 resemblance to a Punchinello-face. He wore felt . 
 shoes, trousers lamentably threadbare at the knees, 
 and a long and, in spite of the haste with which he 
 had dressed, carefully buttoned overcoat of an inde- 
 terminate colour, — a grayish yellow on the edges and 
 the seams, and where less worn, an odd shade of 
 gray. 
 
 The inside of the shed formed one room, shut in 
 by the slanting roof with its naked rafters. If there 
 had not been a plank floor, it would have seemed like 
 an empty cattle-shed. The furniture was almost more 
 simple than the room. In the right corner, an iron 
 bedstead, over which Klein had hastily thrown a cover- 
 let of large-flowered red chintz ; in front of the bed a 
 wooden table on which the kerosene lamp now stood ; 
 against the wall on the right a box which had once 
 contained biscuits, and on whose top now lay a heap 
 of dusty books, while its interior, protected from sight 
 by two chintz curtains, nailed firmly to its upper edge, 
 seemed to do service as a wardrobe ; and, finally, two 
 chairs, which the old man offered to his guests. He 
 himself at last took a seat on the bed, after Henne- 
 berg had declared that he should remain standing also, 
 if Klein persisted in refusing to sit. 
 
 " I go to bed early," Klein said with his thin, high- 
 pitched voice, and, still somewhat embarrassed, he 
 rubbed his hands together ; " it is so quiet, then, all 
 about me, and I get so warm and comfortable, and 
 thoughts stream in upon me so." 
 
 In her heavy sealskin coat and boa, the baroness 
 
A VISIT TO DR. KLEIN. 17$ 
 
 was not at all cold. It did not, however, escape her 
 notice that, in the room, there was visible neither a 
 fire nor any kind of arrangement for heating. 
 
 "Then I think about everything," Klein went on, 
 and he smiled and still rubbed his hands : " and I en- 
 joy it. But really, I am quite unprepared for such 
 distinguished visitors." 
 
 '• Do not use that formal word for us," the baron- 
 ess replied, in the softest tones of her rich, beautiful 
 voice. " We are compatriots and friends, who come 
 to look after our friend and compatriot here." 
 
 " You are most kind, most gracious, my honoured 
 patroness. But what I said was quite correct — distin- 
 guished visitors. When you enter my poor home, 1 
 see right plainly, a star above your beautiful head." 
 
 "An astronomer would see stars anywhere," the 
 baroness rejoined, smiling; whereupon the old man, 
 wagging his head, broke out into an approving 
 chuckle. 
 
 " How far on are you with your transit of Venus?" 
 Henneberg asked. 
 
 Klein's face at once grew serious. An expression 
 of pain came about the corners of his mouth, and he 
 only half smothered a sigh. " I have finished my 
 work," he said, " it was completed two months ago, 
 and has been sent in. A man misses it a good deal 
 when a fifteen years' work comes to its end." 
 
 " I should think so ! And what are you doing 
 now? For I am sure you are not idle, that would 
 not be like you at all." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; one must be at work, otherwise he loses 
 his self-respect. I am now occupied with the prob- 
 lem of the three bodies — a most exciting thing !" 
 
 " The problem of the three bodies ?" the baroness 
 said, surprised, " what does that mean ?" 
 
 " It is, perhaps, the problem on which the modern 
 drama seems chiefly to turn." Henneberg began. 
 Henneberg got no further with his little joke, for the 
 baroness intimidated him forthwith by a glance. Hers 
 was a romantic nature, and could not endure light- 
 minded jesting. 
 
1/6 The drones must die. 
 
 " I beg you to excuse me," Klein said, with re- 
 peated bows to the baroness, " it is rather a dry sub- 
 ject for ladies, somewhat professional. Since Newton, 
 the law is known according to which two bodies at- 
 tract one another in space. But we do not know 
 what it is when more than two bodies attract in con- 
 trary directions, even when only a third body is 
 added. That is what I have to discover." He 
 chuckled again, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " Then you have not yet found out?" Henneberg 
 asked. 
 
 " Not yet ; ach ! no ; not yet. Evidently the right 
 thought-wave has not yet come to my poor brain. 
 There's nothing one can do, my honoured patron ; we 
 have to wait till the message comes to us out of 
 space." 
 
 Henneberg could not but smile, for the moment ; 
 then he began talking mathematics with the old man, 
 while the baroness sat by, silent and thinking of other 
 things. Her woman's thought, busied with the im- 
 mediate, had framed a definite solicitude which, after 
 a considerable struggle with herself, she succeeded in 
 expressing. 
 
 " Pardon me the somewhat indelicate question, 
 Herr Doctor; but, with the conclusion of this long 
 work of yours, would it be the case that — your salary 
 ceased ?" 
 
 The old man looked shocked, and would not speak. 
 
 " How is it about that ? I beg you to tell us," Hen- 
 neberg urged gently. 
 
 Klein struggled hard for words, and finally, with 
 great hesitation, he was able to say : " Well, certainly 
 — of course, you see — if one does not work, one could 
 not expect to be paid. But something else has al- 
 ready come instead." 
 
 " Permit me to ask about it ? You must pardon us 
 women for being somewhat inquisitive." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," Klein said ; but to make the 
 communication was clearly difficult. " I — I — keep the 
 books for a business man here in this street." 
 
 " A business man ?" Henneberg said, incredulously. 
 
A VISIT TO DR. KLEIN. 1 77 
 
 "Yes, a worthy fellow from Auvergne ; he doesn't 
 know much about reading and writing, but he is very 
 clever. I help him keep his papers in order." 
 
 " What business is it ?" Henneberg asked. 
 
 " Oh ! it's — it's a business in fuel and wine." 
 
 This paraphrase indicated the little Auvergnat 
 charcoal-seller around the corner. 
 
 " Please do not take amiss my inexcusable importu- 
 nity — how much does this man pay you for what you 
 do for him?" 
 
 Klein squirmed like a worm on a hot platter. 
 
 " He ? oh, he pays — right well, very well, indeed ! 
 He's a very equitable man. I have my dinners at his 
 house, and he does not mind giving me money from 
 time to time." 
 
 The two visitors exchanged a swift glance. 
 
 " Your new occupation leaves you some leisure time, 
 I hope," I-Iennebergsaid ; "and now I shall venture to 
 ask a favor of you which I have greatly desired for a 
 long time. I want to have a number of my earlier 
 mathematical papers translated into French. Who 
 could do this better than yourself, Herr Doctor ? 
 May I count upon your help?" 
 
 Klein looked at him narrowly. " Do you really 
 think," he said, "that I should be able " 
 
 " How can you ask ? You consent then ? It will 
 be a great gratification to me. Allow me to send you 
 the German originals to-morrow morning ; you will be 
 doing me a very great service.'' 
 
 " But why should this work be done here ?" the bar- 
 oness said coaxingly. " It is not exactly comfortable 
 here, isit ? I have in my house any number of unoc- 
 cupied rooms. Let yourself be persuaded, dear, kind 
 Herr Doctor ; come to our house. I promise you that 
 you shall be completely undisturbed ; you shall be en- 
 tirely free, as much so as if you are here. Let us 
 carry you off now, at once !" 
 
 Klein had lisfened with increasing perplexity, but 
 the rapid flow of the baroness's words could not be in- 
 terrupted. When she ceased, and smiled upon him 
 with her shining dark eyes, he pulled himself together 
 
178 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 at last, and replied, with much distress: " Ack ! my 
 most gracious, most honoured patroness, that, I can- 
 not do! I beg you most gratefully, Frau Baroness, 
 leave me here as I am. It is always dangerous to at- 
 tract the notice of very distinguished patrons. It is 
 something I have always feared." 
 
 " I would not wish to cause you fear," the baroness 
 said, a little offended. 
 
 " Pardon me, my most gracious Frau Baroness ; 
 indeed I did not mean that. I would most respectfully 
 say this, — I am an old man, and have my fixed habits, 
 and it is better for me to keep them. At least, I feel 
 so. Here I am, in a certain sense, on my own ground." 
 
 " How is that ?" Henneberg asked, in much sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Well, it is quite a story," the old man replied. 
 " This house formerly belonged to the parents of a 
 young man whom, in the early seventies, I prepared 
 for the Polytechnic school. He passed his examina- 
 tion successfully ; and, in their gratitude, these noble, 
 kind people wished to do something extra for me. 
 What they offered me, I really could not accept. But 
 I begged them to allow me to occupy this studio. This 
 fine airy room had been built purposely as a studio for 
 my pupil. He had a taste for sculpture, — more than- 
 he had for mathematics, in truth ! However, he 
 passed ! My wish was granted. Later the dear, kind 
 people sold their house, but a clause was inserted in the 
 deed, permitting me the occupancy of this studio for 
 the remainder of my life. It was in due legal form, 
 honoured lady ; I am on my own ground here. And if 
 you only knew how beautiful it is !" 
 
 " It is perhaps a little bare-looking, here ?" the 
 baroness ventured to inquire. 
 
 " Bare-looking ?" Klein exclaimed, in his highest 
 treble, and got up from his seat on the bed. " It 
 seems so perhaps by night. But by day, with the sun 
 shining in through the glass wall, the place is all golden. 
 In that way, you see, I roll in gold ! And then the 
 view! It is really wonderful. Just look for yourself, 
 my honoured patroness. Down below, here, this dark. 
 
A VISIT TO DR. KI.EIN. 1 79 
 
 misty abyss is the river. And these glow-worms 
 creeping in the darkness are the little steamers. And 
 there the red lights, at regular intervals like carbuncles 
 on an unseen crown, — those are the lamps of the 
 bridge. And over beyond, is the Champ de Mars 
 and the Esplanade des Invalides, — nobody in all Paris 
 has had such a view of the Exposition as I have had. 
 There was always the crowd of people, swarming 
 hither and thither, and a glitter and a sparkle,' — and 
 often illuminations and fire-works, and I looked down 
 on it all, in supreme comfort, as from a star. But the 
 evenings here are my great enjoyment. Truly, my 
 honoured lady, I would venture to ask you to 
 honour me with a visit some time at sunset. It is 
 worth the trouble. Sometimes it is all a dull red out 
 to the hills on the edge of the horizon, — a wonderful 
 light, full of presages and predictions. Yes ! I see the 
 world then, as it will be, perhaps, in two million years. 
 For, you know, the sun is gradually losing its heat. 
 When it was young, it was white-hot. Now, it is 
 yellow. Later, it will be dark red, before it becomes 
 extinct. Then the aspect of noonday will be like my 
 crimson evenings. Then there will be a quiet, sacred 
 evening-mood over all the earth. Is it not like a 
 - dream ?" 
 
 These last words he had said looking out, with a 
 kind of inspired enthusiasm, and speaking almost as 
 as if to himself. Then he turned suddenly and briskly 
 towards his visitors and exclaimed : " And it is as 
 beautiful from my door as from my window. I have 
 trees and grass, and there are blackbirds in these trees 
 who do not forsake me even in the winter. If it were 
 light, I could show them to you, the dear little birds ! 
 Their song is the only sound I hear ; everything else 
 is silent, there are no noisy, shouting men or whistling 
 boys. I feel like an enchanted prince in a palace. 
 Like a real, enchanted prince, my honoured patrons." 
 And again he chuckled and again rubbed his hands. 
 
 " Quiet and a view are indeed two very precious 
 things," the baroness said. " But we seem to require 
 from civilization something more." 
 
l8o THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ''And I have more, most gracious Frau Baroness; 
 I have more," crowed the old man delightedly. 'A 
 mattress, and bread, and some books. That's the best 
 that civilization can offer. I mean, for personal com- 
 fort. We do not value these things as we ought be- 
 cause we are accustomed to having them. But look 
 at an explorer who returns from the wilderness into 
 civilized life. What pleases him most ? A slice of 
 bread — sweet, white, soft t)read. Nothing delights him 
 as this does. And this dainty thing I have every day. 
 Bread, my mattrass, and my old books! That is 
 wealth, most honoured patrons !" 
 
 " But you must at least, feel the need of having new 
 books to read, sometimes," Henneberg said. 
 
 " New books ?" Klein replied, with a mischievous 
 smile. " That only means old books with new names. 
 And so you might just as well read the old books 
 over again." 
 
 The baroness rose. " I see that we can do nothing 
 for you," she said, rather sadly. " Herr Doctor, you 
 are too proud, and you have not friendship enough 
 for us." 
 
 The old man's face twitched. He took the extended 
 hand of the baroness, and ventured with his own left 
 hand to stroke it gently. 
 
 " You do a great deal for me," he said, " when you 
 honour me, with a visit. You fill my room for days 
 after. I say to myself — there sat the beautiful Frau 
 Baroness, there she spoke to me so kindly. I see and 
 hear you. Is not that a great deal, my honoured pat- 
 roness ?" 
 
 With a sudden movement, the baroness drew off her 
 glove, and extended her hand to him to kiss. Shyly 
 and lightly, Klein touched it with his lips, but his 
 frank, blue eyes shone delighted. Notwithstanding 
 the demur of his visitors he would not be denied the 
 pleasure of accompanying them, with his kerosene 
 lamp, to the street entrance, where after many and fer- 
 vent bows, he parted with them. 
 
 The baroness and Henneberg were silent as they 
 drove away through the dark, muddy streets. Not a 
 
koppel's temptation. i8i 
 
 word was said till they reached the Trocad^ro square; 
 then the baroness observed : 
 
 " I said not long ago that one needed great wealth 
 to escape the annoyances which the ineonsiderateness 
 of others inflicts. But Dr. Klein shows us that the 
 problem can be solved in .another way, which also 
 seems to me to be a good one." 
 
 " Dear friend," Henneberg replied, "there you touch 
 upon the very ancient conflict between opposite views 
 of life. It is the contest between the Stoics and the 
 Epicureans. Renunciation is, also, a way to content- 
 ment, no doubt." 
 
 "I cannot call it renunciation," the baroness re- 
 joined, " Dr. Klein has all the beauty of Paris before 
 his eyes, and he does not have to suffer from the con- 
 tact of the populace." 
 
 " No. He is the man in the tower, high above the 
 crowd. He is the muezzin. But the pacha in his 
 palace is unmolested, also. I think I would rather be 
 the pacha than the muezzin." 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 koppel's temptation. 
 
 KOPPEL, at this time, was passing through a pecu- 
 liarly critical period. Many years ago, while he was pur- 
 suing his course in philology, he had glowed with zeal 
 and ambition, and had dreamed of some work of wide 
 scope which should lift him to heights far above the 
 level of grammatical word-grubbing ; perhaps a book 
 on Democracy among the Ancients : or on the laws 
 of Solon ; or on the Abolition of Debts ; or on the 
 Agrarianism of the Gracchi ; or on some kindred topic. 
 But he distrusted himself. His will lagged behind his 
 imagination ; he delayed the beginning of his work 
 with a thousand excuses — which his judgment failed 
 
1 82 THE DRONES MUST DIE 
 
 to recognise as the mere subterfuges of a reluctance 
 to decide : he assured himself that he was not yet 
 sufficiently master of his subject ; he had much 
 yet to learn, to investigate, to seek out; or, some 
 other person had seized upon the very theme 
 which he had in view, and he must wait to see 
 whether the other man's work would not render 
 his own superfluous. Unfavourable occurrences like- 
 wise constantly justified the postponement of his 
 plans, — first, the war of 1866, then, his own examina- 
 tions, then his period of probation at the Gymnasium, 
 and then the war of 1870. In the autumn following 
 that campaign, he had been married, at that time being 
 still very young — only twenty-five — to Kathe, who had 
 come from the country-town where she lived, to stay 
 with an aunt in Berlin for some educational advan- 
 tages ; whom he had met at a friend's house ; and with 
 whom he had fallen in love. From that time on, it- 
 had been a question of being able to supply the abso- 
 lute requirements of daily life. For he himself was 
 without means, Kathe had brought him only a small 
 dowry of six thousand thalers, and their marriage was 
 blessed with two children in the first two years. His 
 school work, — to have secured which he at that time 
 considered a great good fortune — he performed zeal- 
 ously. Whatever leisure time remained to him, he 
 occupied industriously with private pupils and with 
 correcting proof of a publication on classic philology, 
 thus eking out his meagre income. His great work, 
 his entrance upon the duties of lecturer, his being 
 called to a Professor's chair in some University — these 
 were now castles in the air which receded perpetually 
 and grew constantly fainter. Adieu the higher career, 
 and fame, and honours ! He must accept, instead, his 
 domestic happiness as husband and father. But still 
 he remained unable to content himself with mediocrity 
 and obscurity. His impulse toward action, receiving 
 its direction from this obscure, unconfessed, perhaps 
 even unconscious discontent, threw h'im into the social- 
 istic movement. He was an adroit and effective talker, 
 and soon obtained notice in the party. Frau Kathe, 
 
KOrPEL'S TEMPTATION. 1 83 
 
 with anxiety, beheld him in the r6le of a hero-tenor at 
 public meetings, but she kept this quite to herself. 
 With her natural good sense, made still more acute by 
 her affection for her husband, she perfectly understood 
 that he by his early marriage had sacrificed inclina- 
 tions and hopes to which his heart had clung ; and if he 
 now thought that he had found compensation for that 
 which he had been obliged to give up, she denied her- 
 self the right to disturb him by objections, and to be a 
 second time a hindrance in his path. He built a new 
 castle of clouds : he would soon become the editor of 
 an important party-journal, and be made deputy ; the 
 Reichstag would be the frame in which his personality 
 could develop itself, his words would fly from the 
 Bodensee to Konigsau, and wake response in a million 
 souls, — that was much nobler than, as a Gymnasium- 
 teacher for the rest of his life, to strive to explain the 
 malice and whim of uncertain texts of classic authors. 
 These threads of flattering anticipation, which his 
 mind contentedly went on spinning, were abruptly cut 
 by the events of 1870. He was obliged to give up the 
 position on which his livelihood depended, — to leave 
 Berlin, — to begin the battle of life over again in Paris. 
 He was still young, when he was weather-driven to 
 the shores of the Seine; — thirty-two years of age. He 
 knew how to reconcile himself to circumstances, when 
 he had not the strength to control them as he wished. 
 Like almost all imaginative persons he chiefly regarded 
 the favourable side of a situation. Hence, he over- 
 looked certain facts, namely, that he, through his 
 voluntary exile, had become a man without a country 
 and without political rights ; that his position had be- 
 come that of a hireling who might at any time be dis- 
 missed ; that the removal had made a big hole in Frau 
 Kathe's dowry, the family treasure, kept until now in- 
 tact against a rainy day. He stubbornly devoted 
 himself to an observation of all the agreeable things 
 which he had been able to discover in his change of 
 place. " We are on our wedding journey," he used to 
 say to Frau Kathe in the early days ; " we must love 
 each other and see Paris." Later he found another 
 
l84 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 thing to say : " When the richest people in both hem- 
 ispheres wish to give themselves a special pleasure, 
 they come to Paris. We do the same, without being 
 millionaires." As the years went on, the tides and un- 
 dercurrents of his mind, the unrest, the alternations 
 of hope and discouragement, became constantly less ; ' 
 his mental horizon grew narrower, almost without his 
 being aware of the fact. He occupied himself with 
 his day's v/ork, and scarcely sought to look beyond it. 
 His ambition was to become indispensable to Herr 
 Wolzen, the proprietor of the German private school ; 
 his hope, to replace the private lessons, as fast as they 
 ceased, by others, equally or more profitable. In his 
 peaceful home with his mother, his wife and his merry 
 little children about him, he found so rich and sooth- 
 ing a contentment that he really felt no need of any- 
 thing beyond and forgot his early longing for distant 
 goals. 
 
 But, recently, there had sprung up by degrees in his 
 narrow existence as the bread-winner of a family, an 
 anxiety altogether peculiar. He began to concern 
 himself about the future. The son of an acquaintance, 
 a book-keeper in a German commission-house, had 
 reached his twentieth year. The choice, must be 
 made for military service in Germany or in France. 
 The family, after painful struggles, decided for France ; 
 for, said the father, in language, school-education, and 
 habits, the boy is French ; he will have to make his 
 way in the world here ; it would needlessly create dif- 
 culties for him, if, for a year, he wore the German 
 uniform. Koppel, with this case before his eyes, was 
 forced to consider the parallel situation of his own 
 children. What was to be their destiny? In tastes 
 and opinions they must, of necessity be French ; this 
 they breathed in, with the very air, in Paris ; this 
 floated in from the streets, it crept in from intercourse 
 however limited with others; all the German patrio- 
 tism of the parents could not ward off. And yet, at 
 the same time, the children were only foreigners in 
 France ; and while this was not of very great import- 
 tance in Elsa's case, it was for Oscar a formidable 
 
koppel's temptation. 185 
 
 handicap in the race of life. Koppel had not been 
 able to acquire property for his children. What right 
 had he to make their disadvantages still greater ? 
 With what justice take from them those aids in the 
 struggle which a young man finds in the relations with 
 others which his parents have established, — in his own 
 membership of a great national community, — in hav- 
 ing had the same school education and the same train- 
 ing for a career that others have had ? Koppel felt 
 painfully his responsibility. He reproached himself 
 with having neglected his duty towards his chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Oscar was now sixteen, and it was fully time to 
 send him to school in Germany, if there were to be 
 offered to the boy any possibility of casting in his lot 
 as a German with the other young Germans of his 
 generation. To give up for the children's sake his 
 position in Paris and return to Germany on an uncer- 
 tainty, the father did not feel it would be possible for 
 him to do. Should he send Oscar to Germany alone? 
 This would be hard for the parents as well as for the 
 boy, and would be also a burden as regards expense 
 which he scarcely felt able to bear. 
 
 In the midst of these anxieties happened the disap- 
 pearance of his mother, which threw into vivid light 
 his sad isolation, and brought to his mind with extra- 
 ordinary clearness how entirely a foreigner he had 
 still remained through all these years in Paris. And 
 though the adventure seemed to have had no injurious 
 effect upon the old lady's health, she had, however, 
 not shaken off the impression of that dreadful day. 
 She never spoke directly of the incident, but she began 
 to complain frequently (which hitherto she had not 
 done) that she longed for Berlin ; she tearfully remem- 
 bered old acquaintances whom she should never see 
 again ; she sighed that it was hard that her poor old 
 bones must lie in Parisian ground. Her silent grief 
 touched him the more, because heretofore she had 
 always been the bravest in the house, and had never 
 in his moments of sadness added to his discourage- 
 ment by so much as a sigh or a depressed look. 
 
l86 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Henneberg's re-appearance within his range of vision 
 had added materially to his discontent with himself 
 and his circumstances. It actually shocked him to 
 find himself so frequently thinking of his friend and of 
 his friend's condition. Could it be that he was 
 envious of Henneberg ? No ; of so base a feehng he 
 knew himself to be incapable. But it was impossible 
 not to make comparisons. How shabby his rooms 
 appeared to him, when he came home from his friend's 
 splendid apartment ! How contemptible his green-rep 
 chairs, his engravings on the wall, his three-groschen 
 bust of Schiller ! He suffered continuously from the 
 humiliation of being obliged to recognise how unskill- 
 fully he had shaped his fortunes. For his wife, for his 
 children, he had provided only the narrowest kind of 
 existence. For his mother he could not even procure 
 the last gratification of passing her few remaining days 
 in the place to which her heart inclined her. His 
 own life he was wasting in a soulless routine, and 
 dared no longer think of the ideals of his youth. 
 Henneberg, on the contrary, moved, brilliant and suc- 
 cessful, along the heights of the great city's life. Per- 
 haps he was not making a morally noble use of his 
 wealth ! Perhaps he was sunken somewhat too deep in 
 selfish luxury and worldliness ! But what freedom ! 
 What mastery over all external things ! What gratifi- 
 cation of all inclinations as well towards good objects 
 as towards those less praiseworthy ! And from what 
 a beginning had he risen to this lordly existence ! 
 
 Koppel himself had grown up in very narrow circum- 
 stances ; in his father's house, anxiety was always pres- 
 ent at bed and board, and he had early learned how 
 strict frugality can bring every copper to its utmost 
 '"^efulness. But his own lot had always seemed to him 
 i very delightful one in comparison with Henneberg's, 
 as he had learned to icnoijr it in Berlin from the latter's 
 own account. 
 
 Ludwig Henneberg had a romantic family history. 
 His mother was a von Milowitz, the daughf^rof a not 
 very prosperous but very supercilious country gentle- 
 man in Brandenburg and of a former lady of honouf 
 
koppel's temptation. 187 
 
 to Qjeen Elizabeth, who, in pride of birth could even 
 give many points to her husband. In Potsdam, where 
 the Milowitz family passed part of the year, the 
 daughter of the house fell in love with the clerk of a 
 circulating library from which she obtained her men- 
 tal food, and married, after a frightful domestic storm, 
 the man of her choice. The parents cast off their de- 
 generate daughter, and made it a point with the owner 
 of the library that he should dismiss his clerk. The 
 young couple went to Berlin, and there Ludwig was 
 born. Henneberg's father must have been an alto- 
 gether incapable person, and very feeble in character, 
 and that he should be able to inspire a well-born, well- 
 educated girl with an absolutely reckless passion is 
 one of those riddles of love which the female heart not 
 infrequently offers for solution. He had neither in- 
 ventiveness nor enterprise, and he understood nothing 
 beyond handing books over a counter with smiles and 
 flattering speeches. He was not grateful to his wife 
 for having rent her family-ties, and given up her home 
 and her social position, that she might go with him ; 
 on the contrary — as cowardly, base natures frequently 
 do, in similar cases — he felt a grudge toward her, in 
 his inmost heart, on account of her love, which at first 
 had flattered his vanity and impelled him to take in 
 unreasonable step, but was really the original cause 
 of an aggravation and embarrassment of his position. 
 His pay as clerk in a shop was not sufficient to support 
 a family, even when the wife was as humble and un- 
 assuming as his ; and instead of making any effort to 
 get on in the world, he merely, one day, deserted his 
 wife and child ; and like a thorough scoundrel, escaped 
 to America, where he was said to have died from 
 habits of intemperance. 
 
 Frau Henneberg was left alone with her two-year- 
 old boy. She was absolutely without means, and had 
 neither a trade nor a profession, for the educatioft ot a 
 young lady of rank in those days did not aim at mak- 
 ing her capable of earning a living. In the three years 
 of her marriage she had learned just this — to ask 
 nothing and to expect nothing from life — to en. 
 
l88 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 dure everything — to suffer hunger and cold — to do the 
 work of a servant, and to hold every coin fast with des- 
 perate clutch. When the wretch who had ruined her 
 existence had deserted her, she sought in her des- 
 pair to obtain the forgiveness of her own people. But 
 her parents would not receive her ; they allowed her 
 first letter to remain unanswered, and the second was 
 returned to her, with the words " not accepted," in 
 her father's handwriting, on the envelope. Upon this, 
 Frau Henneberg gave up her parents, as they had 
 given her up ; and, unaided, began the battle with 
 poverty. 
 
 The incidents of this battle were heart-breaking. 
 Her destitution at times reached depths in which the 
 tragic elements almost shaded into the grotesque. 
 For instance, she could not afford to pay for even the 
 humblest kind of a lodging. If she were to have a roof 
 over her head, it appeared that she must either beg or 
 accept the city's help. Then it happened that a 
 goat, which her landlord in the Potsdamerstrasse had 
 kept to supply milk for his youngest child, was sold, 
 being no longer needed, and its stall became empty. 
 The animal had been kept in a kind of shed which 
 had been made by boarding in the front of the trian- 
 gular space under the landing of the stairs. The land- 
 lord gave the use of this little place to the forsaken 
 wife, and here the boy spent his early years. He 
 would often tell, later, what a part this goat's stall 
 played in his childish dreams, — how he often fancied 
 that he was a goat himself, and with what fabulous 
 beings his fancy peopled the inaccessible corner where 
 the sloping roof met the floor at an acute angle. 
 
 Frau Henneberg did embroidery for a large white- 
 goods establishment, and earned at this work (in 
 which she became very skilful) about two dollars a 
 week. She herself lived on chicory coffee, black 
 bread, and potatoes ; for her Ludwig, however, she 
 contrived to provide rolls, sausage, and beer. Her 
 clothes were so old, so mended, that when it was pos- 
 sible, she went out only at dusk to avoid being seen* 
 but her Ludwig was always decently clad, and on the 
 
koppel's temptation. 189 
 
 street he would have been taken for the son of well- 
 to-do, middle-class people. In the house lived a 
 clergyman, who interested himself greatly for the 
 mother and son, and in the depths of winter came to 
 her assistance, notwit?jstanding all her efforts to pre- 
 vent this. This excellent man invited Ludwig fre- 
 quently, and his sons became intimate with the boy ; 
 he discovered that Ludwig had talent, and procured 
 for him scholarships, thus enabling him to attend the 
 gymnasium, and later, the University. From his fif- 
 teenth year, Henneberg was able to lift part of the 
 burden from his mother's shoulders. She exchanged 
 the goat's stall for a little bedroom, which was divided 
 in two by a chintz curtain, and also had a stove, a 
 thing, of course, not thought of when they lived in the 
 shed under the stairs. Frau Henneberg learned again 
 how to cook by a real fire, instead of a spirit-lamp ; 
 but she had become so thoroughly accustomed to do- 
 ing without meat, that to the end of her life she never 
 returned to the use of it. The slight improvement in 
 her circumstances, which to others still seemed ex- 
 tremely narrow, but to her were a step upward from 
 the lowest level of want, came too late for the poor 
 woman. Fourteen years had made her gray, half 
 blind, a martyr to rheumatism, and finally, the victim 
 of pulmonary disease ; and when she had experienced 
 the happiness of seeing her son a doctor, she died — 
 scarcely forty-six years old — in his arms, on that July 
 day, 1871, when the victorious army, after the conclus- 
 ion of peace, marched through shouting Berlin. 
 
 Such had been Henneberg's early life, as he himself 
 was wont to narrate it. And now he drove through 
 the streets of Paris in his luxurious carriage, with his 
 thoroughbred horses ; he dwelt as master in rooms 
 whose splendour surpassed that of many a royal 
 palace ; he splashed with idle hand in a deep and ap- 
 parently inexhaustible stream of gold ! And how had 
 Henneberg gained this fabulous victory over the hostile 
 powers of life? Through great intellectual achieve- 
 ments which another man could not hope to imitate ? 
 By no means. Koppel had no desire indiscreetly to 
 
igO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 overestimate himself, or wrongfully to depreciate 
 Henneberg, but he said to himself that he was not in 
 mental ability, inferior to his friend. The other's ad- 
 vantage over him had consisted in being able to grasp 
 resolutely when the floating hair of the goddess 
 Fortune for the first time came within the reach of his 
 hand. To himself, chance had not as yet been propi- 
 tious. Was this because he had never yet stretched out 
 a hand ? 
 
 About this time, shortly before his renewed inter- 
 course with Henneberg, Koppel — or rather his wife — 
 had received an unexpected legacy. Frau Kathe's 
 eldest brother, a widower and childless, had died, and 
 the surviving sister and a younger, married brother, a 
 manufacturer of chemicals in Brandenburg, had shared 
 the property, Frau Kathe receiving 40,000 marks ; so 
 that the Koppels, with what was left of the wife's 
 dowry, and with some savings from recent rather 
 more prosperous years, at the present time possessed 
 in all about 60,000 marks. 
 
 This sum appeared to Koppel quite a respectable 
 property, before he met Henneberg. A feeling of 
 security came over him that he had never before 
 known. Now he was safe in case anything should 
 suddenly interrupt his work ; his family were sheltered 
 from want, and he was free to plan for a considerable 
 outlay in the interest of the children's future. From 
 the moment, however, that Henneberg re-appeared, 
 Koppel began to regard his treasures from a different 
 point of view. What was seventy-five thousand 
 francs ? Considered by itself, scarcely better than 
 nothing. In the perfectly safe bonds in which he had 
 been advised to invest, at the French-Oriental bank 
 where his legacy had been paid him, this money 
 brought in twenty-two hundred francs interest. That 
 certainly ought not to be despised, but it altered no- 
 thing in his life. He remained a hireling, dependent 
 on his place, bound fast to Paris. He, however, 
 dreamed of freedom, of release from the fetter of a 
 profession which he regarded as disagreeable, because 
 it implied to him stagnation. His desire for a higher 
 
KOPPEL S TEMPTATION. IQI 
 
 and broader destiny awakened from its prolonged 
 slumber and began to stir with torturing throes. His 
 self-reproaches at his own inability to make the way 
 smooth for his mother and for his children, became 
 more frequent and more severe. Was it really impos- 
 sible to rise above the humble condition in which, 
 hitherto, his destiny had idly developed itself ? Was 
 not this legacy the finger which good luck held out to 
 him, to which he, for his part, must resolutely cling ? 
 As a finality, his 75,000 francs were very little, almost 
 nothing. But as a means ? 
 
 Koppel had known for years a certain Pfiester, the 
 younger brother of a banker from Mannheim who, al- 
 though married to a Frenchwoman, was giving his son 
 a German education in Wolzen's school. This Pfiester, 
 as a young man of considerable fortune, had come to 
 Paris, late in the seventies, to enter upon stock-jobbing, 
 but chiefly, however, to amuse himself. For a time 
 he made great gains, and went on with overweening 
 arrogance. In the disaster of the Union gc'nc'rale he 
 lost, however, his entire property and a good deal 
 more. His brother, who, as head of a respectable 
 banking-house, had to take into account the business 
 honour of the name, arranged his affairs — that is to 
 say, he came to an agreement with the creditors, pay- 
 ing them as little as he could, and declared, also, that 
 he would not do this a second time. Pfiester's splen- 
 did establishment, his carriage and saddle horses, were 
 all seized ; he took an apartment in a woman's house, 
 let his spare rooms to young men, learned to go on 
 foot or in an omnibus, and got his meals for a franc 
 and a quarter in restaurants a prix fixe. From the 
 Bourse, however, he did not break away. Any man 
 who has once fallen under its spell can never get free, 
 it appears. No longer able to speculate on his own 
 account, he became a " remisier." This name is ap- 
 plied to a kind of go-between or touter, who instigates 
 speculators to give him orders, and, when he is suc- 
 cessful, makes them over either to the recognized or the 
 tolerated dealers at the Bourse, — the agents de change., 
 or the coulissiers. The work of the remisier is neither 
 
192 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 needful nor useful. At most, it only saves the specu- 
 lator the trouble of personally giving his order to the 
 broker. For this intermediary action between the 
 customer and the broker, the remisier receives, from 
 the agent de change a third, and from the coulissier a 
 half of their commission. 
 
 In the dull years which followed the downfall of the 
 Union generate, Pfiester was obliged to develop great 
 activity, in order to live. No man whom he ever had 
 known, or with v/hom he had ever exchanged a word, 
 was safe from him. He was always coming to men's 
 houses at the most unsuitable hours, preferably early 
 in the morning or late at night, he could not be 
 rebuffed, and loaded them down with advice about 
 speculations at the Bourse. He had often thus visited 
 Koppel, to whom the pushing fellow was a torment. 
 For his brother's sake, Koppel would not actually 
 show him the door, but gave him distinctly to under, 
 stand that his visits were not welcome. The remisier 
 appeared to him the most unprincipled and objection- 
 able embodiment of financial sycophancy ; and when- 
 ever the stout, uncouth man with the heavy cheeks, 
 the puffed eyelids, the fashionable, pointed beard, the 
 short, bulbous nose, and the eyes, now crafty, now 
 blinking, behind the shell pince-nez, appeared before 
 him, it was his conviction that work-houses had as 
 inmates many tramps and beggars far less idle than 
 this Pfiester. Their conversation was almost always 
 after this type. 
 
 " Well, Herr Doctor, will you never do anything ? 
 Have you not some little commission for me .?" 
 
 "You know I never speculate." 
 
 " That's just the trouble, Herr Doctor. Everybody 
 speculates here in Paris and does well at it. If I could 
 name to you my customers — ■" 
 
 " And, besides, I have not the means. I don't know 
 why you take me for a capitalist. 
 
 " That is what you pretend, Herr Doctor. But you 
 cash coupons at my brother's. And if you really have 
 not large means it is nobody's fault but your own. 
 
koppel's temptation. 193 
 
 If you would give me a few commissions you would 
 end by being a rich man." 
 
 " It appears to me that men grow poor rather than 
 rich at the Bourse." 
 
 " Yes, when a man is a fool, he does. But you 
 mustn't strike in blindly. I have trustworthy infor- 
 mation about Spanish Bonds. They will rise five 
 points in a very short time. A perfectly safe trans- 
 action. You are your own enemy if you don't buy 
 some. There's no need of going into it very deeply 
 all at once." 
 
 Pfiester always had this " trustworthy information." 
 He was in the secrets of all the great houses. When 
 Rothschild bought and when he sold, Pfiester knew it. 
 He announced approaching fluctuations in this or that 
 security. He estimated exactly the year's earnings of 
 the great Companies. Each time that Koppel took 
 the trouble to verify (for a joke) Pfiestcr's predictions, 
 the result always gave them the lie. What happened 
 would be the exact contrary of what Pfiester had 
 foretold, except it were something of public notoriety, 
 where the price of the securities was not at all liable 
 to fluctuation. This did not disturb Pfiester's self- 
 conceit in the slightest degree however ; and he con- 
 tinued, as before, to peddle out his " trustworthy infor- 
 mation," with a serious and confidential air. 
 
 In the winter after the Exposition, Pfiester urged 
 Koppel more zealously than ever to try his luck at the 
 Bourse. He may have had the feeling that Koppel's 
 refusal was a little less unhesitating, a little less abrupt, 
 than before, for he came more and more frequently to 
 the house. In truth, Koppel saw him with less reluc- 
 tance. His presence harmonized fairly with the train 
 of thought which at that time possessed Koppel's 
 mind. He allowed himself to talk at some length 
 with Pfiester, which he had never before been willing 
 to do. Pfiester was in his element. He set forth, in 
 a brilliant picture, the political and business situation 
 of the two worlds. He explained the economic posi- 
 tion of the different nations, the outlook as to war and 
 peace, the trade with Japan, horse-railways in Smyrna, 
 
194 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the guano exportation of Chili. He was indiscreet with 
 diplomatic secrets, and announced important steps 
 about to be taken by the foreign office. He had all 
 names and figures at his fingers' ends. 
 
 In the everyday material of talk, he was especially 
 fluent. A man by the name of Miller, whom Koppel 
 knew, had just cleared forty thousand francs as a 
 result of having taken Pfiester's advice as to Italian 
 bonds. One Schulze had " operated " so successfully 
 in Turkish bonds that, quite recently, he had made 
 his cool million. The beautiful house which Herr 
 Meyer had lately built in the Champs-Elysces testi- 
 fied in stone to the owner's successes at the Bourse 
 in past years. The outlook was exactly at this mo- 
 ment more favourable than it had been before, within 
 the memory of man. The only thing now was, not 
 to delay. Whoever, at once, took advantage of the 
 current, would infallibly come out a rich man. And 
 the flood of Pfiester's eloquence ended in the usual 
 way ; he drew out his note-book and pencil, and he 
 said : " Take my advice, Herr Doctor, buy Portu- 
 guese bonds. That is the most extraordinarily prom- 
 ising thing at this moment." 
 
 The tempter's words made an impression upon 
 Koppel. They kept him busy. His long established 
 critical attitude towards all this empty talk changed ; 
 he no longer bore in mind that Pfiester, with all his 
 confident promises about making his customers mil- 
 lionaires, had been himself ruined at the Bourse ; he 
 failed to take account of little remarks which Pfiester 
 inconsiderately let drop, now and then. Once the 
 rcmisier said that a customer was causing him much 
 trouble because his securities had made a sharp drop ; 
 another time, he complained that a customer for 
 whom he had made a great deal of money was now 
 "out of it," and one could not "operate" with him 
 any further ; one day he showed Koppel a ring, say- 
 ing: "Look here, Herr Doctor, this ring cost me 
 twenty-two thousand francs." 
 
 " How was that ?" 
 
 " A man had great luck on my advice. Out of grati- 
 
koppel's temptation. 19s 
 
 tude, he gave me this ring. Soon after, he ran away, 
 owing forty-four thousand francs, and I had to pay 
 half of it." 
 
 ■ These incidents did not, however, serve as a warn- 
 ing. Koppel reflected only on what was told him 
 about successful operators, who appeared to his mind 
 as all enjoying a Henneberg's existence. In him 
 awakened and grew the impulse to try once for him- 
 self. Carefully, of course ; reasonably, without risk- 
 ing anything. He seriously imagined that this was 
 possible. When, however, he had reached the decis- 
 ion to undertake something, he suddenly, for the first 
 time, became aware that he actually knew nothing 
 about the Boui'se and its methods of procedure, and 
 had only very confused notions on. the subject. His 
 idea of speculating was, to buy securities at a low 
 price, and sell them at a high one. His judgment 
 told him that the profits could be large only when 
 large blocks were bought and sold. But how it could 
 be done ? This making large purchases with little 
 money was to him altogether mysterious. 
 
 The next time Pfiester spun about him the endless 
 web of talk, Koppel said, with some hesitation : " If 
 Calabrian Railways are really so sure to rise, I should 
 like very well to make a small purchase ; but in order 
 to have the ready money, I must first sell my own 
 securities, and that is so much trouble to do." 
 
 Pfiester looked at him with amazement. "Why?" 
 he said. 
 
 " Why not ? How else could I pay for the Cala- 
 brians ?" 
 
 Pfiester broke into discourteous laughter. " Good 
 for you, Herr Doctor!" he cried, " Good for you! 
 Pardon my frankness, but there is nothing in the 
 world to equal a German savant, in being unpractical ! 
 Who has any idea of paying for Calabrians? If a 
 man is going to pay for what he buys, there would 
 be no use for the Bourse. Any money-changer at a 
 street-corner would do for that." Tone and man- 
 ner expressed the deepest contempt, as he spoke, 
 
196 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 "To buy and not to pay — I don't understand," 
 Koppel said. 
 
 " That's what happens," Pfiester explained, amiably 
 coming down to the level of his auditor, " when a man 
 wastes his life with the old classics, instead of looking 
 about him a little in the present. I would venture to 
 say, Herr Doctor, that here in this house, from the 
 butcher in the street-shop to the servants under the 
 roof, every man knows the difference between pur- 
 chasing securities, and operating at the Bourse." 
 
 " I am sorry," Kop[>el said, " to be less enlightened 
 than the butcher and the servants." But his desire 
 for enlightenment had so blunted his feeling of per- 
 sonal dignity, that he was not at all angry at Pfiester's 
 impertinence. 
 
 " No offence meant, Herr Doctor ! Now let me ex- 
 plain to you : from securities that you buy and lay 
 aside, you earn nothing ; and securities from which 
 something is to be earned, you do not lay aside. I 
 would never recommend, for instance, that you 
 should purchase Calabrians as an investment ; they are 
 something you buy to get rid of, not to keep." 
 
 How it could be advisable to buy something for the 
 purpose of getting rid of it, when you were under no 
 necessity of buying it at all, was not very clear to 
 Koppel. He did not, however, linger upon this point 
 as he had other questions to ask. 
 
 "Whether you keep a thing or do not keep it has 
 nothing to do with what I asked you — how can a man 
 buy and not pay ? Of course, I see one could remain in 
 debt. But why should I expect any one to lend me 
 money ?" 
 
 "You do not borrow money, and nobody lends it. 
 All you have to do is to give me an order, and it is 
 fulfilled. You have no occasion to take any further 
 trouble." 
 
 Koppel, astonished, shook his head. " How extra- 
 ordinarily convenient," he said. " Any man can come 
 to you and say, ' Buy me Calabrians ' ; and you do 
 it ?" 
 
 "You are not 'any man,' Herr Doctor. You are a 
 
KOPPEL S TEMPTATION 197 
 
 man of means and position. I know you, my brother 
 knows you " 
 
 "Your brother? What has he to do with it?" 
 
 " My orders are fulfilled through him." 
 
 " That I should not agree to, in any case," Koppel 
 said, quickly. 
 
 " I understand," Pfister rejoined, with equal haste ; 
 " a man very often does not care to have his acquaint- 
 ances know about his affairs. I operate through other 
 houses also. As you please about that." 
 
 The protest had been made involuntarily. Koppel 
 was conscious of feeling ashamed of what he was 
 about to do. It was an act to be done secretly, avoid- 
 ing the eyes of those who knew him. But he did not 
 see, or would not see, that this was distinctly a warn- 
 ing. After brief reflection, he remarked : " I under- 
 stand it now. Your house pays for me and gives me 
 credit until I sell. Then I get the profit ; or else I 
 have to pocket the loss." 
 
 " No fear of that," interposed Pfiester smiling. 
 
 " That's all very fine. But I become very dependent 
 upon your house, it seems to rhe. Suppose they were 
 suddenly to cease giving me credit any longer. Then 
 I should have to sell at any price, and it might be at 
 a great loss." 
 
 " Why should they, so long as you meet your liabil- 
 ities ?" Pfiester asked, with a sympathizing amazement 
 at Koppel's childish ignorance. 
 
 Koppel had no definite idea as to the meaning of 
 this word " liabilities." It slipped by, unconsidered. 
 " However, if a man gives security " 
 
 "That is not required. In ten years' experience, I 
 have never known of such a thing. And even if one 
 house should refuse credit, we have only to transfer 
 your account to another house. There are sixty 
 agents de change, and about a hundred coulissiers, who 
 have no other object than to do just this business." 
 
 Koppel was tranquillized. " Then I will try it for 
 once. You may buy for me — " and he made a rapid 
 mental calculation, " thirty Calabrians." 
 
 Pfiester had already, with an air of triumph, drawn 
 
198 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 out his note-book. As he put his pencil in order, he 
 said : 
 
 " Thirty isn't a right number, Herr Doctor ; it must 
 be either twenty-five or fifty. A transaction at the 
 Bourse is always in blocks of twenty-five." 
 
 " How is that ? I have lately bought, among other 
 things, forty shares in the City of Paris loan." 
 
 " That was money down. On credit, it's different. 
 Shall we say, then — " 
 
 " Well, if it must be so, fifty." 
 
 "Why so anxious?" Pfiester said insinuatingly; 
 " you'd be safe in buying a hundred. It is no risk at 
 all. And I'll tell you another thing, Herr Doctor," 
 he added suddenly, as if he had had a lucky thought, 
 " to be perfectly safe, you might hedge, by a reverse 
 operation." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" 
 
 " You buy a hundred Calabrians, and at the same 
 time you sell a hundred Sicilians, which are at this 
 moment very high. That they will go higher is 
 improbable. If the market breaks and everything goes 
 down, you will gain on your Sicilians what you lose on 
 your Calabrians. If the ^market remains firm, you'll 
 be happy about your Calabrians, and what little loss 
 there may be on the Sicilians is a kind of insurance 
 money." 
 
 Koppel was conquered, and agreed to everything. 
 But when he had, in binding form, given the order to 
 buy a hundred shares that he could not pay for, and 
 to sell a hundred which he did not possess, then began 
 to be disturbed, if not his conscience, at least his com- 
 mon sense, and he desired to know something further 
 about these securities in which he was beginning to 
 deal. But it at once appeared that Pfiester, who was 
 capable of interminable talk about people and sums 
 of money, really knew about the Calabrian and Sicilian 
 railways only the fact that they were in Italy ; but had 
 no idea of their length, their original cost or current 
 expenses, what amount of stock and bonds they had 
 issued, or what profits they had to divide. Koppel's 
 manner showed dissatisfaction, Pfiester, however, 
 
KOrPELS TEMPTATION. I99 
 
 said cheerfully : " Don't worry your head needlessly, 
 Herr Doctor ; all that is of no importance whatever. 
 The quotations and the tendency of the market are all 
 that concerns us." 
 
 This conversation took place on a Sunday morning. 
 During the remainder of the day Koppel was some- 
 what nervous and absent-minded. He could not dis- 
 tract his thoughts from the order that he had given. 
 He was impatient to know whether it could be exe- 
 cuted. It vexed him that the Bourse was closed on 
 Sundays and that his suspense would have to last till 
 the next evening. At the same time, however, he felt 
 a certain self-satisfaction. It appeared to him he had 
 done rather a brave thing. He had given an order for 
 a transaction at the Bourse ! He had made a venture ! 
 He was no longer slavishly submissive to the caprices 
 of fate, but had manfully dared to challenge it to single 
 combat. At the table, he regarded his wife and 
 children with renewed affection and a little secret 
 mischief. " You dear creatures !" he thought, " if I 
 could tell you what I am doing for you 1 You shall 
 not always live here in the dark in these courtyard 
 rooms ! You shall have a good deal more daylight by 
 and by ! You will open your eyes wide, when you 
 know for the first time how I am doing my duty by 
 you ! You will cry, but with joy !" 
 
 Koppel had some difficulty that night about going 
 to sleep ; he kept waking up every now and then ; 
 he rose earlier than usual in the morning, and was 
 almost feverish. In his classes, his attention wan- 
 dered. He lost himself in dreaming, whenever for a 
 moment he relaxed his self-control. He could 
 scarcely wait till the afternoon lessons were over. 
 From school, he went straight to the Odeon, where 
 he was accustomed, at the stall of a dealer, to buy 
 one newspaper and glance over the others. The 
 early evening papers, which were already there, only 
 gave the opening prices of the Bourse. The Cala- 
 brians were to be bought at 301.25, for, as Piiester 
 had explained to Koppel, when the latter proposed to 
 limit his order at three hundred francs, it is not well 
 
200 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 to fix a round sum for that purpose, as prices are 
 rarely in round numbers. The first sales, however, 
 according to the paper, were at 305, which was a dis- 
 appointment to Koppel, and made him regret that 
 he had not given Pfiester more discretion. In the 
 later sales of the day, the price, however, might have 
 fluctuated. He cut a private lesson, in order to await 
 at the Odeon the later Temps, which would give the 
 last quotations at the Bourse. He snatched the 
 paper from the dealer's hand and unfolded it with a 
 throbbing heart — right ! The lowest price had been 
 301.25 and the final sales had been made at three 
 hundred and five francs. Koppel did not notice the 
 lateness of the hour, and went home in a pleasing ex- 
 citement. On the way, he revelled in the thought, 
 that, after the broker's fee had been paid, he would 
 still have made over two hundred francs ; and with 
 bold generalization he assured himself that if, every 
 day at the Bourse, he should make even such a 
 modest little sum as that, in one short year his prop- 
 erty would have doubled itself, and he would be, if 
 not opulent, at least on the way to opulence. 
 
 He was much disappointed not to receive the ex- 
 pected letter from the broker when the postman came 
 for the last time that evening. " How very slow they 
 are in business matters here in Paris!" he said to 
 himself. But when in the morning, there was still 
 no letter, he became quite angry and expressed with 
 decision, in a note to Pfiester, his surprise at such 
 negligence. 
 
 In the evening he found Pfiester awaiting him 
 when he came home. 
 
 " We are not negligent," he said, " we have not yet 
 bought." 
 
 "What !" exclaimed Koppel, " and yesterday Cala- 
 brians were 301.25." 
 
 " That's nothing," Pfiester answered, smiling. 
 " When the market is unsettled, it is often impossible 
 to do anything. We should have a right to complain 
 only if the price had gone below our figures. This 
 did not happen during the day." 
 
KOPPELS TEMPTATION. 20I 
 
 "Well, if that is so r-" Koppel said. 
 
 " Certainly it is so," Pfiester affirmed, and again 
 he smiled, What he did not tell Koppel, was this — 
 that the Calabrians were, in fact, bought at 301.25, 
 but immediately sold again at 303.75, and that he 
 himself pocketed the profit; also, that this was his 
 invariable practice when the fluctuations of the mar- 
 ket, at any one session, gave him the opportunity to 
 use his customers' orders for his own advantage. He 
 went away with the promise that he would keep a 
 sharp look-out and snatch a favourable market — a 
 promise which he was not at all in a position to ful- 
 fill since he could do nothing himself but give the 
 order to a broker, and await the other's action. 
 
 '• What does that gentleman want of you ?" Frau 
 Kathe asked, when Pfiester had gone, and Koppel, 
 who had accompanied him to the stairs, returned into 
 the parlour. 
 
 Koppel was at a loss. His first thought was to in- 
 vent something. But to tell a direct falsehood like 
 that was impossible for him. It would have been 
 the first time, in all his dealings with his wife. He 
 said, after a slight hesitation, and with artistic indif- 
 ference : "Oh, nothing. He is going to buy a few 
 bonds for me at the Bourse." 
 
 " With what money.?" 
 
 " I am selling some of our mortgages." 
 
 " Those which we bought a few months ago?" 
 
 " I have found a more advantageous investment." 
 
 "So? Well, you know about it. But be careful; 
 it is so easy to be cheated." 
 
 " You may be sure I have made inquiries, and that 
 I am not doing it blindly." 
 
 " Have you asked Henneberg's advice ? He must 
 understand about such things." 
 
 " I had no need to do that," Koppel answered, some- 
 what curtly, so that Frau Kathe looked up from her 
 sewing in surprise. This little conversation with his 
 wife had the result of sending him back into his own 
 room, where he quickly wrote a few lines to Pfiester, 
 desiring him in future to address business letters to the 
 
202 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 school, rue Vaugirard ; and if there were need of per- 
 sonal interviews, to come to see him there. 
 
 He did this on the impulse of the moment, without 
 clearly considering his motive. Up to this time there 
 had never been a secret between himself and his wife. 
 Each was perfectly at liberty to read any letter that 
 the other received or wrote. Why should he, for the 
 first time, wish to conceal something from her? He 
 did not acknowledge to himself that it was because he 
 could not defend his intended action in her presence, 
 because he was about to do something foolish, danger- 
 ous, and wrong ; but he persuaded himself to believe 
 that he was keeping the secret from his wife in order 
 to save her from impatient and excited expectation, 
 and to give her the joy of a surprise, as soon as the 
 affairs were completed, and he could show her their 
 results. 
 
 Within the next four days he received three letters, 
 which, in printed forms, made known that one hundred 
 Calabrianshad been purchased on his account at 301.25, 
 and that Sicilians, twenty-five at one time, and seventy- 
 five at another, had been sold at seven hundred and 
 forty francs. The Calabrian transaction had been made 
 through one house, the Sicilian through another. The 
 following week the month ended ; accounts were ad- 
 justed, and Koppel received a notice (also printed) 
 that his Sicilians had been carried forward at seven 
 hundred and forty-five francs phis one franc twenty ; 
 and that he had 575.90 to pay. From the other house 
 he received notice that his Calabrians were carried for- 
 ward at 310.80. 
 
 Koppel was much excited. What could it mean ? 
 that he had five hundred and seventy-five francs, ninety 
 centimes to pay ? To whom ? For what cause ? 
 This was an intended swindle which he would not en- 
 dure. He at once wrote a post-card to Pfiester and 
 desired that "this mistake " of the agent's should be 
 cleared up. Pfiester appeared in the afternoon at the 
 school-house; Koppel showed him the letter. Pfiester 
 glanced at it and said : 
 
 " That's all right. I don't see any mistake." 
 
koppel's temptation, 203 
 
 " But you told me the agents took only one-tenth per 
 cent." 
 
 " Quite true." 
 
 " Then I have seventy-four francs to pay, and not 
 
 575-90!" 
 
 "You don't notice 'the difference.' " 
 
 '' What do you mean by ' the difference ' ?" 
 
 Pfiester again smiled, with his profoundly sympa- 
 thetic air. " You bought for seven hundred and forty 
 francs, the market value is now seven hundred and 
 forty-five francs, which is plainly a ' difference ' of five 
 francs on a share." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " This difference, of course, you have to make good ; 
 add to this the seventy-four francs commission, and the 
 one-ninety for the stamp ; and it's even to a hair." 
 
 " I thought the difference of value would be made 
 right when the affair was ended." 
 
 " No, Herr Doctor. That is regulated twice a 
 month. But it's of no consequence. What you pay 
 to-morrow, you will get back in two weeks, and some- 
 thing over, we hope." 
 
 " They pay this back, then }" 
 
 " Of course they do." 
 
 Koppel drew a long breath. " Then on my Calabri- 
 ans I get " 
 
 Pfiester looked at the other notification which Kop- 
 pel held out to him and said, after a rapid mental cal- 
 culation : Eight hundred and twenty-three francs, ten 
 centimes," 
 
 " Pardon me my questions which must seem to you 
 of infantile stupidity. But I have so little experience 
 in these matters." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly, Herr Doctor. There is no 
 royal road to learning. We must all go to school." 
 
 " Will you tell me if there is anything now for me 
 to do ? Do they send me the money ? or must I go 
 after it somewhere ?" 
 
 " You have only to go with these notifications to the 
 desk at each place. To-morrow you pay the agent 
 
204 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 de change and the following day, the coulissier pays 
 you." 
 
 " Can not both be done the same day?" 
 
 " The customer pays one day earlier than the dealer 
 does." 
 
 " Your rules favour you, it appears." 
 
 Pfiester laughed. " The Bourse itself made its own 
 rules," he said. '"A man's shirt is nearer to him than 
 his coat. But it is not so bad as it seems. The agents 
 are very stiff in their ways, but the coidissiers are more 
 obliging. If you want your money to-morrow, you 
 will not be sent away empty-handed." 
 
 Koppel thanked Pfiester and apologized for having 
 given him the trouble of coming. The relations be- 
 tween the two had visibly changed. Pfiester's stature 
 had increased, Koppel's had lessened. The former 
 assumed a tone of good-natured, condescending supe- 
 riority ; the latter slipped into a certain mood of de- 
 pendence which, from life-long habit, brought with it 
 its invariable companion in Koppel's mental history, 
 namely, a tendency to unconscious deference. 
 
 On the following day, after school was over in the 
 forenoon, Koppel, without lingering a moment to talk 
 with Wolzen and the other teachers, went across the 
 river. He went on foot, for to take an ominbus in 
 Paris, a man must have time to spare, and Koppel had 
 none. The office of the coulissier was in the rue de 
 Provence, that of the agent de change not far distant, 
 in the rue Drouot. The cashier at the coulissicrs 
 office said to Koppel, as the latter presented the letter 
 of notification : " Excuse me, we pay to-morrow. 
 Our customers pay to-day." 
 
 " I know," Koppel replied, without betraying the 
 increasingly strong discomfort that he felt, "but I live, 
 as you see by this address, at the other end of Paris, 
 
 and as I happened to be near ■' 
 
 The cashier grumbled something unintelligible, and 
 then he said : "Well, I don't mind ; as long as it is 
 such a trifle ; but next time I must beg you to observe 
 the rule." And he paid Koppel eight hundred and 
 twenty-eight francs and ten centimes across the coun- 
 
koppel's temptation. 205 
 
 ter, accompanying it with a memorandum, the " bor- 
 der au." 
 
 Koppel left the office greatly relieved, and went 
 cheerfully to the agent de change. It did not occur to 
 him to reflect that at the counter there had been 
 standing a long row of people who must have lost, 
 for they were there to pay their money. He felt the 
 money in his breast-pocket ; in his ear still rung the 
 cashier's words : " As long as it is such a trifle." A 
 trifle, eight hundred francs ! What sums was this man 
 in the habit of paying out to lucky customers ! How 
 much must one receive from him to make him look 
 less disdainful, to make the affair seem of some impor- 
 tance to him ? It did not depress Koppel's mental 
 exaltation that he had to pay over to the agent the 
 larger part of what he had just won. In his breast- 
 pocket still remained some rustling blue bank-notes, 
 in his porte-monnaie, some gold-pieces, which were 
 not there before, which had come to him as if on 
 wings, without any effort of his own. 
 
 It was now late ; dinner was waiting at home ; the 
 weather was unpleasant, the pavements wet. Why 
 return on foot, getting fatigued and muddy like a 
 vagrant, masterless cur of the street .'' He might in- 
 dulge himself in a little comfort, and spare his family 
 their surprised anxiety at his unusual delay. He 
 hailed a fiacre and drove home. On the way, for the 
 first few minutes, he had a flattering consciousness of 
 success. It seemed to him that he was about to con- 
 quer Paris. As he passed through rue Vivienne he 
 felt a certain superiority over the crowd who were 
 elbowing each other on the sidewalk. 
 
 At sight of the Bourse, on whose broad steps and 
 under whose columned portico, a crowd of men 
 madly gesticulated and howled, he could not help 
 smiling. This tempestuous mass were screaming for 
 him also. Out of their ridiculous and somewhat of- 
 fensive tumult shaped itself for him a new word of 
 destiny ! 
 
 He did not, however, linger very long upon these 
 thoughts, for another idea began to occupy his mind. 
 
2o6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 It had been fortunate that, this time, his gain exceeded 
 his loss. But what if the outlay a few hundred francs 
 had been required ? He had not taken this possibilty 
 into consideration when he had given his order, for he 
 did not know that the fluctuations of the market 
 would have to be made good twice in the month. 
 His wife had the care of their money and securities. 
 He would have been obliged to ask her for the needed 
 funds. But on what pretext.'' For he would not 
 dare to tell the truth. And even now, as a gainer, he 
 was not free from anxiety ; for what was he to do 
 with the money he had gained and should in future 
 gain ? If he kept it about him, it would be discovered 
 when his clothes were brushed ; in a drawer of his 
 writing-table, his wife might find it. To hand it over 
 to her was out of the question, since he was unwilling 
 to confess how he had obtained it. 
 
 He went over in his mind all possible expedients. 
 To deposit the money in a bank and take a cheque- 
 book? But then, he must conceal the cheque-book, 
 and that difficulty would be the same as with the 
 money itself. The falsehood and dissimulation in 
 which he was about to involve himself had now nearly 
 ceased to trouble him, but on the other hand, the 
 humour of the situation became apparent. He already 
 scarcely knew what to do with his money ! It was the 
 old saying, over again, that the rich man, too, has his 
 anxieties ! Then a ray of light broke in. He would 
 simply hire one of the boxes in the safety-vault of the 
 Credit Lyonnais. There he could shelter whatever his 
 wife must not see. The key might easily be kept out 
 of her way. This was the egg of Columbus. But was 
 it essential to conceal the key? He could perfectly 
 well say to his wife that he had thought it advisable to 
 hire this box ; and here was the best point in this 
 clever solution of the problem : it really was impru- 
 dent to keep their valuable papers in the house. In 
 this way he would have the papers always at his com- 
 mand without the embarrassing supervision of his wife ; 
 and if at any time, contrary to all probability, adjust- 
 ments unfavourable to himself should occur, he could 
 
koppel's temptation. 207 
 
 get through without having the discomfort of making 
 some pretext to his wife. 
 
 He was very merry when he reached home, and 
 joked about leaving his family to starve. He found 
 his mother and Oscar already at the table, for which 
 Frau Kathe apologized — the boy must go to his school, 
 and the old lady would suffer from irregular hours ; 
 on this account she had had dinner for the two, when 
 he did not come home at one o'clock. To her in- 
 quiries why he was late, he answered carelessly that 
 he had something to do and had not been able to 
 finish it earlier. 
 
 The same evening he spoke to her about the box at 
 the Cr(^dit Lyonnais. It was not a good idea, he said, 
 to keep their valuable papers in a closet merely. He 
 proposed to have a box at the Credit Lyonnais. It 
 ought really to have been done long ago, he added. 
 
 Frau Kathe was not so sure. " How long have you 
 been so anxious about this ?" she asked. " The 
 rooms are never left alone. There is always someone 
 here. And masked robbers are not likely to visit the 
 rue Saint-Andr6-des-Arts." 
 
 Koppel related various incidents to her ; he added 
 furthermore that there was a danger of fire to be 
 taken into account, and he ended by making her quite 
 anxious. She inquired about the arrangement of 
 safety vaults, and whether one were also secured 
 against fraud, and what the expense would be. Hear- 
 ing that the smallest box would cost- forty francs a 
 year, she made a wry face ; but she raised no objec- 
 tion when Koppel declared that his feeling of anxiety 
 on the subject impelled him, irresistibly, to this small 
 expense. 
 
 The following day was Thursday, the school-holiday 
 in Paris. Koppel took advantage of his leisure to go 
 to the Credit Lyonnais. After this was done, he went 
 to a stationer's and bought a stout leather portfolio. 
 This was not cheap, but what is twenty-five francs to 
 a man who any day can make several hundred ? He 
 could no longer keep his securities done up in a news- 
 
2o8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 paper and a piece of oil-cloth as heretofore. A capi- 
 talist must have his valuable papers in a portfolio ! 
 
 A capitalist ! a despicable coupon-cutter I This, he 
 was in the way to become, — he, who had so eloquently- 
 pointed out how contemptible and hateful this class of 
 humanity was ! Undoubtedly it was a slight infidelity 
 to principle ! But to whom does life allow the chalk- 
 line of faultless consistency? His transgression was 
 permissible. He exploited no man. The money that 
 he gained was not taken from any labourer. To be a 
 martyr to one's faith was the privilege of the man 
 only who stood alone in the world. He was respon- 
 sible for a family. It would be folly not to take ad- 
 vantage of present circumstances, for fear of being 
 misjudged. His fruitless sulking against economic 
 wrongs did not alter them in the least, and if he strove 
 to become a man of independent fortune, it was, of 
 course, with the desire, first, to make life more agree- 
 able to his own family, but, furthermore, to be able to 
 work more freely and successfully in the direction of 
 his convictions. These considerations appeased his 
 conscience to the most satisfactory degree. 
 
 The transference of the securities was effected with 
 a certain solemnity. Koppel took Frau Kathe along 
 in the fiacre when he went to the Credit Lyonnais. 
 As the prudent father of a family he thought of every- 
 thing. He had his wife's signature with his own, and 
 thus secured to her the right to visit the box. " This 
 is for life and death," he said, smiling ; " there will be 
 nothing further to do, if I should be taken away." 
 Obtaining a permit in the ofifice, he conducted Frau 
 Kathe down stairs to visit the vaults. They were 
 lighted by electricity ; the ceiling and floor were of 
 thick flint glass in iron setting, the walls were of 
 steel-plate, with rows of iron drawers. In the centre 
 of each room were chairs and a table. A watchman, 
 at the head of the stairs, took Koppel's permit, and 
 unlocked the door in the iron screen. Below, an at- 
 tendant unlocked the iron door of the section where 
 Koppel's cell was, then withdrew, not to overlook him 
 as he opened his own little compartment. 
 
KOPPEL S TEMPTATION. 209 
 
 " Notice how it is done," Koppel said, and showed 
 his wife about turning the three knobs near the key- 
 hole until the selected group of three figures should 
 be obtained. " Be sure to remember tlie numbers : 
 two, seventeen, sixteen, — our two children, and their 
 ages. For what is here guarded is our children's 
 future !" 
 
 Frau Kathe silently wondered at the emotion which 
 Koppel's voice betrayed, as she sought, herself, to 
 unlock the drawer. She turned the knobs carefully, 
 and slow, not to miss a single click ; and then put in 
 the key. It did not move. 
 
 " You have counted wrong. Begin again." 
 
 Frau Kathe did as she was bid. This time she was 
 successful. " Do you know," she said, with a smile, 
 when she felt the key catch and turn, " I admire the 
 pretty idea in your figures ; but I don't think it's use- 
 ful, one so easily makes a mistake. How would it do 
 to leave off the tens, and use only the six and seven ?" 
 
 " Yes, if you like," answered Koppel and he set the 
 lock according to the new group of figures. When the 
 door was open, and Koppel drew out the leather port- 
 folio, Frau Kathe exclaimed : " What a beauty ! Does 
 the bank furnish these ? How very imposing 1" 
 Koppel did not think it was necessary to enlighten her 
 and he said only: "You don't sufficiently feel that 
 you are in a temple of wealth here ! No doubt, behind 
 these iron doors, there repose a thousand million 
 francs, or more. Compared with these, the treasure- 
 vaults of the Arabian Nights are mere child's baby- 
 houses." " Yes," rejoined Frau Kathe, as she looked 
 about her, " and there seem to be dragons here, too, 
 that guard the treasure." 
 
 A person did not need to be so quick and sharp- 
 sighted an observer as Frau Kathe to remark that 
 everything here indicated hostility and suspicion. 
 The table in the middle of the room was divided by 
 high partitions into as many sections as there were 
 chairs, so that no one could overlook his neighbour, 
 whether the latter were cutting off his coupons or 
 merely examining his papers. If any one passed be- 
 
2IO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 hind an occupied chair, the occupant looked quickly 
 round, followed the passer-by with a jealous glanctr, 
 and covered his possessions with his arms stretched 
 out over the table. A man about to open his box 
 would make a loud rattling with the knobs, in order 
 to deceive any person who might be on the watch, and 
 prevent the other from counting the numbers with 
 himself. When he had the little cell open he would 
 cover it carefully with his person as he stood, so that 
 no one could look in. Every man seemed to regard 
 every other man as a robber, and protected his prop- 
 erty against that other, either craftily, or with rude, 
 open precaution. 
 
 " Certainly, this does not seem to be the home of 
 confidence and brotherly love," Koppel said, as they 
 went up stairs, " but steel plates and combination- 
 locks would scarcely be the natural accompaniment of 
 that sentiment. ' 
 
 His first enterprise gave Koppel unimpaired satis- 
 faction. The Calabrians rose slowly but steadily ; the 
 Sicilians fluctuated but little from the price which he 
 had paid. The next three settling-days were three 
 victories. He gained a good deal and lost very little. 
 He rose visibly in the esteem-of Xhecoulissier's cashier, 
 and the head of the house himself made a little 
 friendly conversation with him, when Koppel came to 
 receive his winnings, and congratulated him very 
 politely on the clear-sightedness he had shown in the 
 transaction. At the end of March the Calabrians 
 seemed to have become stationary. For a week their 
 price had scarcely varied. Koppel became impatient, 
 and gave an order to sell at three hundred and forty. 
 This was the critical moment. Now it would be seen 
 whether he could land his fish, and had really made 
 money out of the venture. There followed three days 
 of suspense. He hastened after school to buy the 
 Temps, and read the quotations. On the first day, the 
 Calabrians were quoted at three hundred and forty, 
 but evidently it had not been possible to get that 
 price, for there was no mention of the eagerly-awaited 
 sale. On the second day, there was a drop to 338.75. 
 
KOPPEL'S temptation. 211 
 
 This was a disappointment. He began to ponder 
 whether he ought not to fix a lower selling price, but 
 decided, however, to wait one day more. Right ! on 
 the third day the price jumped to 347.50, and the last 
 delivery brought the desired letter from the broker, 
 who informed him that his hundred Calabrians had 
 been sold at three hundred and forty francs. Now he 
 regretted that he had not required three hundred and 
 forty-five, but he conquered this slight irritation, and 
 was very well satisfied with himself that he had had 
 the wisdom to act upon the rule: " Thou shaft not 
 be insatiable." 
 
 Proudly he entered in his pocket-book a gain of three 
 thousand two hundred francs. His profit amounted 
 to this sum, after the deduction of some little 
 expenses, — for fiacres, for the leather portfolio, etc., 
 which he had permitted himself. As a matter of fact, 
 he could lodge in his box at the safety-vault only 
 about two thousand three hundred francs, for up to 
 date he had been obliged to pay about nine hundred 
 francs on his Sicilians. This sum, however, he did 
 not regard as lost, but only as for the moment not 
 available, and did not feel that it reduced the amount of 
 his profit. Three thousand two hundred francs ! Con- 
 siderably more than he could earn by a quarter's hard 
 work. And what had he had to do to ga.n it ? Write 
 one letter, talk now and then with Pfiester, and, twice 
 in the month, go to the rue de Provence and the rue 
 Drouot in a fiacre. That was all. Really it was 
 culpable, not earlier to have stretched out his hand 
 and gathered the fruits of this Garden of the Hes- 
 perides', which, as his experience had taught him, it 
 required no Herculean labor to secure. Who can tell 
 where now he might be, had he earlier been aware of 
 the opportunity ? 
 
 Pfiester did not fail to come in search of him at the 
 school. " I am really pleased," he said. " That is 
 the way to speculate. It is really a pleasure to work 
 with you. You don't get nervous, you have patience, 
 you don't want to get out too early with too small a 
 
2 12 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 profit. On the other hand, you don't expect the earth. 
 You are just right." 
 
 " I am a Brandenburger," was all Koppel allowed 
 himself to answer ; " we are hardy perennials." 
 
 "That's the way to succeed," Pfiester remarked, 
 speaking v/ith authority ; " the man is always in the 
 right who doesn't lose his patience: for at the Bourse 
 every quotation is repeated sooner or later ; the only 
 thing is to stay where you are and be tranquil, if there 
 comes a run of bad luck ! Losses happen when a man 
 gets rattled and goes off at half-cock." 
 
 " That wouldn't be my way," Koppel said, and 
 smiled, with a consciousness of his own courage. 
 
 Pfiester again had a pocket full of advice. He 
 especially urged Koppel to buy Almaden. It had 
 recently gone up very rapidly, from one hundred and 
 eighty to four hundred and fifty francs, but this was 
 only the beginning ; the stock would go at least as 
 high as one thousand francs ; perhaps, higher. And 
 it was the safest thing that had ever been known. A 
 great syndicate had been formed to control the quick- 
 silver output of the whole world. All quicksilver 
 stocks were now gilt-edged. The quicksilver-syndicate 
 included all the great houses. Baron Agostini, Baron 
 Henneberg, all the mine-owners in Spain and South 
 America, were in it. 
 
 Koppel pricked up his ears at these names. He 
 promised to take the subject into consideration and 
 when he had decided, to let Pfiester know. 
 
 " Don't hesitate long, Herr Doctor," Pfiester said, 
 as he went away, "but take hold at once. The quota- 
 tions of the Almaden go up every day by leaps of ten 
 to twenty francs. Every day's reflection costs you a 
 louis." 
 
 Pfiester's communication gave Koppel subject for 
 thought. He felt a certain displeasure towards Hen- 
 neberg. It was not friendly in the latter not to give 
 him a hint of the new enterprise. If he were a mil- 
 lionaire, he would have more regard for his friends 
 and acquaintances than Henneberg had. But there 
 might be some mistake. Perhaps Pfiester had been 
 
A PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 21 3 
 
 talking at random, as the man often did. He would 
 take an opportunity to talk with Henneberg himself, 
 and learn the true state of affairs. 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 A PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 
 
 The opportunity of talking with Henneberg oc-- 
 curred in a few days. The Koppels received an invi- 
 tation to attend a performance of Parsifal, to be given 
 at the home of Baroness Agostini in Holy Week. 
 The invitation was addressed to Monsieur, Madame and 
 Mademoiselle Koppel. It caused great excitement to 
 the whole family. Frau Kathe's first idea was to re- 
 fuse. She had never yet even been asked to call ; if 
 the baroness did not wish to have her acquaintance, 
 why should she invite her to a grand entertainment 
 like this ? Koppel objected to this decision. It was 
 modest and tactful in the baroness, he said, to invite 
 them, for the first time, when she had something spe- 
 cially attractive to offer them. Then, Frau Kathe de- 
 clared that the Agostinis were no suitable acquaint- 
 ances foT her or, especially, for Elsa ; what had simple 
 folk like themselves to do with people of such colossal 
 wealth ? This brought out a reply from Elsa : to hear 
 an opera in a private house, there would be a very 
 great number of people invited ; you would sit in an 
 immense hall and enjoy the performance, and need 
 have very little to do with any one present. When 
 Frau Kathe found that her husband and her daughter 
 were both against her, she finally came out with the 
 real reason of her opposition. Neither she nor Elsa 
 had suitable toilettes for such an occasion ; it was no 
 sacrifice to stay at home ; but to present herself among 
 these stunnmg millionaires in cheap, old-fashioned 
 clothes, like a brown sparrow among parakeets — that, 
 she would not do ! 
 
214 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " If that is all the trouble," Koppel exclaimed, " it 
 can be remedied very easily. We have nine days be- 
 fore us. There is time enough to get whatever is 
 necessary." 
 
 "That would be an expensive opera ticket," Frau 
 Kathe rejoined. 
 
 " Don't be too niggardly," Koppel said, coaxingly ; 
 " we can afford it ; you can have a suitable gown." 
 
 "It seems to me you are putting on airs, Hugo; 
 that comes from associating with millionaires." 
 
 "No, my dear Kathe, I only wish that, for once, you 
 should have the pleasure of being really well-dressed. 
 You're not an old lady yet, by any means, and if you 
 are well gotten up, you will look at least as handsome 
 as these ladies whom you call ' stunning millionaires.' " 
 He stroked her brown hair tenderly, and a slight 
 colour came into her face. "And Elsa will be eighteen 
 in May," he continued. " It is time that we let her 
 go out a little. We can't keep her perpetually a Cin- 
 derella in this sleepy old place. And if she is going 
 into society, we must see to it that she has her little 
 flag, too !" 
 
 Elsa snatched her father's hand and kissed it grate- 
 fully. There was nothing left for Frau Kathe but to 
 submit. 
 
 The ordering of the two party-gowns was a great 
 occassion. Frau Kathe wished to employ the little 
 dressmaker in the neighbourhood who was accustomed 
 to come to the house for a few days twice a year and 
 make what was needed for the grandmother, the 
 mother, and the daughter, while Frau Kathe and Elsa 
 lent a capable hand. Koppel objected — in the most 
 decided language — that this modest seamstress could 
 not possibly have the chic required for evening dress. 
 He insisted that the gowns should be ordered at one 
 of the great places, and he also said that he would go 
 too, on this important errand, so that Frau Kathe 
 might not feel too much anxiety. 
 
 Koppel first went alone to this shop, and entered 
 into a conspiracy with the forewoman. It was agreed 
 between them, that when he came with his ladies on 
 
THE PERFORMANXE OF PARSIFAL. 215 
 
 the following day, the price of everything shown 
 which they might order, should be stated to them as 
 exactly half of what it really was. The saleswoman 
 was extremely astonished ; with all the experience of 
 1 great Paris establishment, this was something new 
 to her. She had quite often been desired by lady- 
 customers to understate or to overstate charges, ac- 
 cording as a husband or some one else was to pay 
 the bill ; but that a man should practice a pious 
 fraud towards the ladies of his family, and induce 
 them to select an expensive object under the idea that 
 it was cheap — this was a thing unparalleled ! She 
 played her part, however, faithfully in the presence of 
 Frau Kathe and Elsa. She showed the most beauti- 
 ful silks, laces, and flowers, and the most captivating 
 models, and when Frau Kathe, shocked, turned away, 
 and asked to see simpler things, then the saleswoman 
 said that Madame was making a mistake not to take 
 advantage of such a bargain, the price had just been 
 reduced, and was, in fact, but half of that named on 
 the ticket. By this argument, Frau Kathe was in- 
 duced to go as high as two hundred francs apiece 
 for the two gowns. Then Koppel insisted they must 
 both have wraps, and without minding her whispered 
 remonstrance, he carried it through. But when they 
 were again in the street, Frau Kathe clasped her 
 hands together and declared that to have spent seven 
 hundred and twenty francs on these things was '' ja 
 himmelschreiend ! ' ' 
 
 " It's only once, you know," Koppel said, consol- 
 ingly. What would the good little woman say if she 
 knew that it was 1420 francs ! he thought to himself. 
 She would fret herself ill. One must come to it by 
 degrees, to treat one's self to handsome things and 
 pay for them accordingly ! It was to be hoped she 
 would learn. 
 
 When the gowns were brought to be tried on, Elsa 
 insisted on having Adele and Blanche Masmajour 
 called in. The two girls, on their part, could not en- 
 joy the sight alone, and brought with them their 
 remonstrating mother. The three admired, frankly. 
 
2l6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 cordially, with sheer delight in beauty. Frau Kathe's 
 silk was in two tones, pearl-gray and lavender, matched 
 with velvet slightly darker, cut somewhat d^collet^, 
 according to the imperative requirement of the fore- 
 woman, but Frau Kathe had obtained thus mnch con- 
 cession from that inexorable arbiter of fashions, that 
 the neck and arms should be veiled with a quantity of 
 white lace. Elsa's gown was an inspired poem in crepe 
 de chine, pale green with- trimmings of very delicate 
 pink. With this airy material surrounding her, she 
 seemed to be enwrapped in one of those vapoury 
 clouds, wherewith Watteau and Boucher and Frago- 
 nard delight to surround their goddesses. The wraps 
 for mother and daughter were of cherry-coloured plush, 
 trimmed with white fur, and lined with steel-blue silk. 
 The impetuous Blanche threw her arms about Elsa's 
 neck, when she saw all these splendours ; and Adfele 
 murmured : " That is royal !' 
 
 After the workwoman had gone, Madame Masma- 
 jour complimented Frau Kathe on her perfect taste, 
 betraying her surprise at the same time, and even say- 
 ing naively that no Frenchwoman could have made a 
 better selection ; that material and style and combina- 
 tion of colour were all exquisite ; that Fraulein Elsa 
 was already a little Parisian in matters of taste ! Then 
 she ventured to inquire, with many apologies, as to 
 the cost, which Frau Kathe told her, as she herself 
 had been told. Madame Masmajour was dumb with 
 amazement for a few minutes, then she said : " Well ! 
 you have no cause to complain, as most foreigners do, 
 that things are dear in Paris !" 
 
 In the evening when Frau Kathe and ELsa arrayed 
 themselves for the first time in their new attire, the 
 aged grandmother shed tears of delight over the en- 
 trancing picture ; and it made so great an impression 
 upon Oscar also that he was quite intimidated. " Ach ! 
 how handsome you are !" he said, half whispering, and 
 scarcely dared, holding himself off as far as possible, 
 to kiss his mother's hand very deferentially. " And 
 you, Elsa, you are almost too elegant to be a fellow's 
 sister!" 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 217 
 
 "Don't be silly," Elsa replied, smiling, and she gave 
 him a little pat on the cheek. 
 
 " You and I are the Cinderellas that have to stay at 
 home," Oscar whispered to his grandmother. 
 
 " Look at this chicken !" cried the old lady, " per- 
 haps you want to run about to soirees ? Get your 
 lessons done and then go to bed, as you ought !" She 
 trotted all around Elsa to observe the effect from 
 every side and could not be satisfied with looking at 
 her. " If you don't make a conquest to-night," the old 
 lady said, " it will be because there was nobody but 
 old women there !" 
 
 Elsa laughed aloud. The idea had never entered 
 her mind. She had not yet learned to regard a new 
 and pretty gown as a weapon of attack. 
 
 Koppel had looked on, content but thoughtful, at 
 this animated family scene. He was proud of his wife 
 and daughter, and also a little proud of himself, that 
 he had made it possible for them to appear so advan- 
 tageously. 
 
 " Now I observe for the first time the one thing that 
 is lacking," he said, smiling. 
 
 " What is it ?" asked Elsa. 
 
 " To you, nothing ; you have your youth. But your 
 mother would look well to have a pearl-necklace." 
 
 "And also a diamond crown on my head!" ex- 
 claimed Frau Kathe almost vexed. 
 
 " Why not ?" retorted Koppel. 
 
 " Also a carriage, and lackeys and all the rest of the 
 kliinbiin !" 
 
 "You might as well have it, as the Baroness Agos- 
 tini," Koppel replied calmly ; and in his mind he al- 
 ready beheld his wife surrounded by all that luxury 
 which, at the present moment, she mentioned so 
 scoffingly. 
 
 He was extremely conscious that his fiacre was the 
 only hired vehicle in the long row of carriages which 
 brought the guests to the Agostini liotcl. Who could 
 say, perhaps, some day, he and his family, might at- 
 tend festivities of this kind, driving thither in their own 
 coup6 also ! 
 
21 8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 In the brilliantly lighted rooms ladies were moving 
 about, in Worth toilettes over which there streamed 
 a flood of diamonds and pearls representing vast 
 wealth ; as the Koppels made their way along, however, 
 all heads were turned, either slyly or frankly, to observe 
 the beautiful girl who walked between her father and 
 mother, a very personification of Spring. Her round 
 creamy cheeks, her candid white brow, her scarlet 
 lips, and the graceful head, with a single rose-bud for 
 its only ornament in the luxuriant mass of her golden 
 brown hair, were radiant with health and buoyant 
 youth, and beauty in its purest form. Her entrance 
 excited attention. She was the only girl in the-whole 
 assembly, which consisted of self-conscious-looking 
 men, who sought to appear younger than they were, 
 and a very small number of ladies, among whom the 
 still young and fairly good-looking were a striking 
 exception. 
 
 The maitre d'hotel, with loud voice, announced 
 the arriving guests, whom the Baroness Agostini and 
 her husband received at the folding-doors. The bar- 
 oness wore her mask of pride and her reception of the 
 guests was formal in the extreme. But Frau Kathe and 
 Elsa she welcomed with her most cordial smile ; she 
 detained them, holding a hand of each, and summoned 
 one of the lackeys from the antechamber to conduct 
 the two ladies to her own loge in the great hall. 
 
 This hall had been fitted up as an extremely elegant 
 little theatre. The decoration was in white, gold, and 
 blue, — white-lacquered panelling, with door-hinges, 
 mouldings and frames of gilt ; pale-blue ceiling, dark- 
 blue carpet, lapis-lazuli-bluevelvet for all the draperies. 
 Down each of the two sides of the hall four spacious 
 loges had been constructed which, with their curving 
 balustrade in white and gold, and their blue velvet 
 upholstery, were like so many jewel-boxes. Between 
 these loges (which in the rear were enclosed only as 
 high as their balustrade in front), and the wall, there 
 was left a broad passage-way giving access to them. 
 In the hall were eight rows of gilded armchairs, com- 
 fortably upholstered in blue velvet, ten chairs in each 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 2I9 
 
 row, the successive rows being slightly raised one 
 above another, from the stage to the back of the hall. 
 Adjacent, projecting out over the courtyard, there was 
 a very large winter-garden, supported on iron pillars, 
 and usually separated from the great hall by a glass 
 partition. This glass had been removed, and the win- 
 ter-garden accommodated the stage and the orchestra. 
 Between the hall and the stage was a belt of fine 
 azaleas, tulips, crocuses and hyacinths, of all colours ; 
 and, beyond had been sunk a long, wide depression 
 for the orchestra, in imitation of the regulation 
 " tbnenden Abgrund" of Bayreuth. 
 
 The ladies were grouped in the loges, the men 
 occupied the armchairs that had been arranged in the 
 hall, except so far as they preferred to remain in the 
 passage-way behind the boxes, or in the open space 
 behind the rows of chairs. Here Koppel at once per- 
 ceived Henneberg, who was standing with Kohn, Count 
 Beira, and an unknown young man. Henneberg 
 greeted Koppel heartily and introduced the stranger 
 to him. It was Lieut, von Briinne-Tillig, an attache of 
 the German embassy ; reddish blond, slender, about 
 thirty years old, monocle in his steel-blue eye, a heavy 
 moustache, hair correctly parted front and back, con- 
 fident in his bearing, civil but cool in talking, alert 
 in his movements, manifestly content with the world 
 and with himself. After a few of the commonplace 
 remarks which men of the same country, meeting in a 
 foreign land, naturally interchange, Briinne-Tillig sud- 
 denly gave a cry of surprise : " Schwerebrett, I must 
 say ! When a little Parisian girl takes the trouble to 
 be charming, she does it, however young ! Who is 
 that little princess out of a fairy story?" 
 
 At the moment, Frau Kathe and Elsa were just tak- 
 ing their places in the first loge on the left. Elsa in 
 front, Frau Kathe, in spite of the respectful protest 
 of the lackey who showed them to their seats, in a 
 chair behind hers. 
 
 Before Henneberg, to whom the question was ad- 
 dressed, could answer, Koppel had spoken : " You are 
 
220 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 too kind, Herr von Brunne-Tillig. ' The little prin- 
 cess out of a fairy-story,' is my daughter." 
 
 " My. congratulations, Herr Doctor ! Pardon my 
 expression. I had no idea — I was really taken by 
 surprise !" 
 
 " Oh, certainly." 
 
 " May I venture to beg the honour of being pre- 
 sented to the gracious Fraulein ?" 
 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 The introduction could not take place at once, for 
 the musicians had begun tuning their instruments, the 
 last guests had arrived, the baroness left her place at 
 the entrance of the hall, and, attended by the maitre 
 d'hotel, was just coming to her seat. Baron Agostini 
 however, at this moment, quietly slipped out of the 
 hall ; but he was not unnoticed. Kohn had observed 
 his departure. 
 
 " Suppose we follow Agostini," he whispered to 
 Henneberg. " When once the door is shut, we can- 
 not get out, at least till the end of the first act." 
 
 Koppel would have been pleased to remain ; 
 stronger, however, than his wish to hear the opera, of 
 which he had already read much, was his desire, 
 quietly, and in detail, to talk over the great quicksil- 
 ver monopoly. That Kohn, also, was one of the in- 
 itiated, he did not doubt. 
 
 Henneberg shook his head negatively in reply to 
 Kohn's proposition, and the latter left the hall, accom- 
 panied only by Koppel. The lackeys shut the door 
 behind them, and a moment later were heard the first 
 notes of the prelude. 
 
 Kohn knew his way about the house, and he led 
 Koppel through a passage hung with Gobelin tapes- 
 try, and through a library of elegantly bound books — 
 adorned with marble and bronze busts and having an 
 allegorical painted ceiling — into a Japanese smoking- 
 room, where a few cynics had already sought shelter 
 from the delights of art. 
 
 " Do not consider me a barbarian," Kohn said, as 
 he took a cigar, and sank luxuriously upon a pillowed 
 divan, " I am interested in Wagner, of course, as in 
 
THE TERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 221 
 
 every noted Antisemite. I have been in Bayreuth, 
 myself." 
 
 " The baroness is evidently an enthusiastic Wagner- 
 ian," Koppel rejoined. " A performance Hke this 
 must make a frightful amount of trouble in a house." 
 
 " I should think so ! The mere preparation of the 
 hall, the orchestra and the stage, costs forty thousand 
 francs. Then there is the whole orchestra from the 
 Grand Opera, and there is Kundry, who came expressly 
 from Germany for this evening, and the first tenor — I 
 estimate that this evening's amusement costs her not 
 less than eighty-five thousand francs." 
 
 " That is. a great deal." 
 
 " For the pleasure she gets out of it, it's a big lump 
 of money. But what does that matter to the Agos- 
 tinis, especially now when the baron gets half a dozen 
 million a month from this quicksilver business." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Yes. It would be more rather than less." 
 
 " You are also in this affair, Herr Kohn ?" 
 
 " Oh, I am only a fifth wheel," laughed Kohn. 
 " No ; the prime mover in it is your friend. Baron 
 Henneberg. He's a fellow of talent ! alle wetter! 
 Whatever he touches sweats gold in streams !" 
 
 " Is it indiscreet if I ask you to tell me something 
 more in detail about this quicksilver business ?" 
 
 " It is no longer a secret. Baron Henneberg simply 
 formed the idea of buying up all the present supply, 
 and of concluding long contracts with all the known 
 mines, which give him the exclusive right to the en- 
 tire output at a certain fixed price. This is now done ; 
 it was a very brilliant scheme, brilliantly carried into 
 execution. In less than three months the baron mas- 
 tered the subject completely — the statistics of produc- 
 tion and demand, the cost of the metal in the different 
 mines, the organization of the company, everything 
 was brought into shape. And the contracts were all 
 made by letter, with the exception of two journeys to 
 London, and without the owners of any one mine having 
 an idea of what was going on in respect to the others. 
 
222 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 It was grandly done. Such a Prussian Junker as he is 
 can do anything." 
 
 " A Prussian Junker — hm !" said Koppel. 
 
 " Of course I know his title is Portuguese." 
 
 " His title ?" Koppel asked, in amazement. 
 
 " What ! didn't you know ?" 
 
 " I thought you only called him baron because he 
 was of the high finance." 
 
 " Not at all ! He was made a baron quite recently 
 in Portugal. It was really very amusing. The Portu- 
 guese wanted to make him a marquis, but he declared 
 himself to be only a baron. I do not mean his title, I 
 mean as to his descent." 
 
 "True enough — in that respect " 
 
 " It was a surprise, such as one does not often experi- 
 ence, when the baron, early in January, called together 
 a few of his friends, of whom his syndicate was to 
 consist. Calmly and clearly, as he might in earlier 
 days have explained to his pupils the theory of Pyth- 
 agoras, he explained to us in less than ten minutes the 
 whole business. Here are figures ; here are the mem- 
 oranda of the purchases of quicksilver ; and here the 
 contracts with the mines. We have so many millions 
 to pay annually ; so many millions we shall receive ; 
 so many are profit, which in ten years will amount to 
 so many. There was the whole thing in a nutshell. 
 When he had finished speaking, there was scarcely a 
 question to be asked. Even General Zagalhad under- 
 stood ; and every man present knew to a penny by 
 how much he had become richer, in those ten minutes. 
 Old Agostini, usually as cold-nosed as a well dog, and 
 close shut as a box, was so enraptured that he em- 
 braced Henneberg on the spot. It'sthe literal truth." 
 
 " That scarcely was Henneberg's most valued re- 
 ward !" 
 
 Kohn smiled with a peculiar expression, and went 
 on talking. 
 
 " Naturally, the results of this operation were soon 
 apparent when the price of quicksilver went up, as of 
 course it did. The Bourse pricked up their ears. 
 They thought it was a hoax. Some accepted the sit- 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 223 
 
 uation, when it was whispered about who were in the 
 syndicate ; others tried to oppose it. By this time 
 these last understand clearly that they put their necks 
 into a noose. It is my impression they lose eighty or 
 a hundred miUions. That was an extra profit which 
 fell in. This was the only unforeseen incident, or 
 rather the only one not foreseen to its full extent, in 
 the whole affair, in which, with this exception, there 
 was no surprise possible." 
 
 " Except the buyers' surprise when they find that 
 their commodity has suddenly increased in price." 
 
 " The price has doubled," K.ohn remarked quietly. 
 
 " Do you think that is fair ?" 
 
 " Why not ? Is it a law of nature that quicksilver 
 must cost three pounds, and not six, the flask ? It is 
 not a necessary of life. Those who use it can pay for 
 it, and others do not want it." 
 
 " But that is a frightful exploitage." 
 
 " The stockholders of the Almaden company and of 
 the French-Oriental bank will scarcely think so, when 
 they receive their trebled dividends. No one needs 
 pity but those who stood out, and for them I don't 
 think you will care very much." 
 
 " No. But to enhance the value of a commodity in 
 such a way as that is a frightful outrage. Your syn- 
 dicate, by its millions, is stronger than the buyer, and 
 abuses its power to levy a contribution." 
 
 " It is not so bad as you think, Herr Doctor. The 
 consumers are ten thousand, or, perhaps, including all 
 uses, we might say, a million. Each individual 
 scarcely feels his loss. But the syndicate is only half 
 a dozen men. And so, the little sums amount to a 
 great mass. Don't you see that it also has its good 
 side — that great wealth should be built up with only 
 an imperceptible sacrifice made by the individuals in 
 the crowd ? Ask our Kundry whether she was indig- 
 nant when she received her honorarium of three thous- 
 and francs. Ask our friend Pierre, you remember the 
 painter who was your neighbour at Henneberg's dinner, 
 whether the commissions displease him which he has 
 
224 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 lately received from Henneberg. There are two sides 
 to every question, Herr Doctor." 
 
 Koppel made no attempt to reply, excusing himself 
 in his own mind for thus abandoning his position by 
 the thought that he was not seeking to bring Kohn 
 back to business morality, but to gain from him some 
 useful information. After a minute's pause, he asked," 
 as if casually : 
 
 " Would it be well to buy Almaden, Herr Kohn ?" 
 
 Kohn looked at him in much surprise. 
 
 " Are you asking on your own account ?" he said. 
 
 " Why not," Koppel replied, " if it is a good and 
 safe thing ?" 
 
 Kohn puffed at his cigar silently for a few minutes, 
 then he said : 
 
 " If you hold Almaden as an investment you might 
 do worse. For the next ten years it will certainly pay 
 a good dividend. Probably it will do so for a much 
 longer period. For the contracts will, without doubt, 
 be renewed when they expire. But the French-Ori, 
 ental bank would be better still. It is destined to less 
 fluctuations than the Almaden, which sometimes goes 
 very low, and around which there will be tremendous 
 battles in the next few months. But from mere specu- 
 lation I must dissuade you." 
 
 " You say the Almaden is perfectly safe .?" 
 
 " Certainly it is, according to human judgment. 
 But who can answer positively for any mine. Specu- 
 lation always contains a fraction of danger, however 
 good the securities may be. And so, the father of a 
 family, whose means are limited, has no right to spec- 
 ulate, when that is not his calling." 
 
 " In Paris, I think, every man does speculate." 
 
 " Yes. But I know no outsider who ever, in the end, 
 made anything at the Bourse." 
 
 " Is not that like the Phoenicians who magnified the 
 terrors of the sea to keep competitors at home ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, Herr Doctor ; when outsiders specu- 
 late, we certainly win, at least, an agent's commission. 
 It is pure disinterestedness in me when I recommend 
 prudence." 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 225 
 
 Koppel had a mental vision of his box in the safety- 
 vault of the Credit Lyonnais, and the bank notes lying 
 in it, which he had won at the Bourse ; and he thought, 
 " I know better." 
 
 The first act of Parsifal was just over, and many of 
 the guests were leaving the hall, to smoke a cigarette, 
 or to drink a glass of sec at the buffet. Henneberg 
 appeared at the door of the Japanese smoking-room. 
 By the train that followed him it was plain to see what 
 a great man he had become. He was looking for Kop- 
 pel, and perceiving the latter, came up to him at once. 
 
 " You deprived yourself of a great pleasure," he 
 said. 
 
 " When I talk with Herr Kohn I do not waste my 
 time," Koppel replied ; and he added, '' I hear that 
 you are on the way to become a miUiardaire." 
 
 " A milliard is a trifle too much," rejoined Henne- 
 berg, with a proudly modest smile, as he dropped into 
 a chair at Koppel's side. He spoke in German, 
 whereat Zagal and the other men who had come in 
 with him drew back. Kohn, also, joined another 
 group, and the two friends were left alone. 
 
 " And not to reveal by a word what you were plan- 
 ning ! I had not thought you were so secretive." 
 
 " To be silent is the first condition of success in a 
 case like this." 
 
 " But you took Kohn and the other men into the 
 secret." 
 
 " When everything was settled and determined. 
 That had to be done. I alone, with my few millions, 
 could not move the mountain. There must be strong 
 shoulders at my side." 
 
 " Is Kohn so strong, then ?" 
 
 " He is not really without means. He had four or 
 five millions already when he entered the syndicate ; 
 but he is one of the first arbitragers in the place, and 
 his experience at the Bourse makes him invaluable. 
 But let us leave these tiresome things."' 
 
 " Don't do that ! You would scarcely devote your- 
 self to them as you do, if you found them tiresome." 
 
 " I don't do it for my amusement, you may believe," 
 
226 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Why, then ? You were a rich man already, with- 
 out your quicksilver — " 
 
 " Rich ? But what is rich ? I know, here in Paris, 
 a poor savant who considers himself rich, when he can 
 earn fifty francs a month ! Everything depends on 
 what you require and expect from life. I am unable 
 to content myself in a condition of mediocrity ; one 
 must suppress his most reasonable wishes ; and this I 
 have not the patience to endure. Take, for instance, 
 something that has happened very lately. In January 
 some rough fellow moved in, where I live, and took 
 the apartment directly over mine. The uproar that 
 this man and his family made, day and night, is simply 
 indescribable. It was not to be endured. There was 
 only a choice between moving out myself, or pitching 
 out the other fellow. I am the unlucky slave of habit. 
 It would have upset me frightfully to leave my 
 caboose, I have now got so settled there. There was 
 nothing for me to do but to buy tranquillity of my 
 neighbour. But it was not cheap, persuading him, in 
 the middle of winter to turn out, bag and baggage. I 
 took the same occasion to free the house'of its other 
 tenants ; and not to have to do this again, I bought 
 the whole house. And so I secured peace. But you 
 see, one must have means, to do a thing like that !" 
 
 " And so, you are all alone in that great house ?" 
 
 " I am. And it is a rapture. An island of solitude, 
 in the busiest quarter of Paris ! It is remarkable how 
 the original characteristics of a man break out when 
 he no longer feels the restraint of circumstances ! I 
 discover in myself the inclination of my early Low- 
 Saxon ancestors to dwell in solitary manor-houses, far 
 away from neighbours." 
 
 " You could do that, at less cost, if you lived in the 
 country." 
 
 "But you see I am not yet rich enough to do that. 
 I am still tied to Paris. And then, it is not so cheap 
 as you think, in the country, if you wish to be undis- 
 turbed, and, at the same time, cannot do without the 
 comforts of civilization. To be at least half a mile 
 distg.nt from the sound of wheels and crack of whips, 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. ZZJ 
 
 and riotous village-quarrels, you must live in a park at 
 least a mile each way. That means six or seven hun- 
 dred acres. With this, a fairly good house ; and the 
 whole in a good country, — you would not easily get 
 that for a million francs." 
 
 Koppel was thinking all the time of the goat's stall 
 under the staircase. 
 
 " You are really rather exacting. But it's all right 
 when a man can be. I can only hope that all this 
 makes you happy." 
 
 Henneberg's face grew sombre. " Happy ?" he 
 said. " Happiness is not a function of money, to ex- 
 press it mathematically. That is a thing of the soul, 
 not of the pocket. One has it in oneself ; or, one has 
 it not. But, in the lack of happiness, one may have 
 abundant gratifications. They are the small change of 
 happiness, and thirteen groschen do make a thaler." 
 
 " I question whether mere gratifications are worth 
 so much effort ?" 
 
 " That depends upon the gratifications and the 
 effort. My effort is an idea which merely comes, and 
 there it is. And my gratifications are perhaps not 
 those of a night-watchman. Earlier in my life, people 
 walked over me. It is quite an agreeable change that 
 now I am at liberty to walk over other people." 
 
 " That strikes me as rude." 
 
 " You mustn't ride a comparison too hard, you 
 school-fox," said Henneberg, smiling. 
 
 " For the time, I am still that, sure enough." 
 
 This remark escaped Koppel half unconsciously. 
 He was instantly sorry to have said it, for it seemed 
 to him he had betrayed a secret, of which he himself 
 hardly was aware as yet. Henneberg, however, had 
 scarcely noticed what he said, and evidently thought 
 nothing of it. 
 
 " I have not seen the king this evening," said 
 Henneberg, changing the subject, for the conversa- 
 tion was beginning to be disagreeable to him. 
 
 "What king?" 
 
 " Him of Laos. I don't know so very many crowned 
 heads." 
 
228 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Ach SO ! No, him you will never see in this house. 
 No person in any degree doubtful is received by the 
 baroness. She has no taste for jokers." 
 
 " What is the owl doing? Has he gone back yet to 
 his kingdom ?" 
 
 " No. He is still trying to get a loan. I often 
 find myself strongly inclined to set him afloat. It 
 would be such a joke to see him, over there in Asia, 
 with his dukes and his chamberlains performing his 
 tragi-comedy of royalty." 
 
 '• I think, if you were to make him his loan, he 
 would be clever enough to find use for it in Paris." 
 
 " By no means. He is a born adventurer, and his 
 playing at royalty is a far greater pleasure to him than 
 women or sec could be. I can trace that in. him dis- 
 tinctly. Otherwise, the fellow would not interest me 
 in the least." 
 
 The Japanese smoking-room was now nearly empty. 
 Also from the buffet the guests were streaming back 
 into the hall. " The second act is beginning," said 
 Henneberg rising. " Come. You must want to hear 
 this." 
 
 Koppel went in. The Baroness Agostini was not 
 yet there ; she appeared almost immediately, however, 
 accompanied by Frau Kathe and Elsa. Briinne-Tillig 
 followed them, invited by a gesture of the baroness. 
 This time Frau Kathe could not refuse a front seat 
 and as she sat down she sought her husband with her 
 eyes all over the hall, smiling and blushing with pleas- 
 ure when she discovered him at Henneberg's side in 
 an armchair of the last row. 
 
 Koppel enjoyed the performance not so much 
 directly as though the sparkling eyes and the enthusi- 
 astic rapture of Elsa, who never once looked away 
 from the stage, but was completely absorbed in what 
 went on there. He had very seldom taken his daugh- 
 ter to the theatre, and she brought to the fairy-land 
 beyond the footlights an unblunted capacity for en- 
 thusiasm and belief. Henneberg's eyes also were 
 more attracted by the loge than by the stage ; and 
 when, at the close of the performance, the curtain did 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 229 
 
 not fall but went up instead and unfolded itself like a 
 very beautifully decorated rococo fan, then Henne- 
 berg took Koppel by the arm and said : " Now, let us 
 be civil ! We have neglected the ladies far too 
 much." 
 
 Elsa hastened to meet her father when he appeared 
 at the entrance to the loge — where the baroness had 
 already risen to go — and stretching both hands out to 
 him, exclaimed in French (as she always did, when 
 particularly excited), " Ah, papa ! I had no idea there 
 could be anything so beautiful !" 
 
 " Nor had I !" Herr von Briinne Tillig observed, 
 significantly, and bowing to the girl as he spoke. 
 
 The Baroness Agostini went for a few minutes into 
 one of the salons, where she devoted herself to her 
 guests, and received their compliments on the even- 
 ing's entertainment, but as soon as possible she re- 
 turned to the Koppels. 
 
 '' Herr Doctor," she said, " I have been reproaching 
 your charming daughter for hiding her light under a 
 bushel, but she very justly tells me that I am speaking 
 to the wrong person. It is a sin that you have never 
 allowed her to exhibit some of her work." 
 
 " Is there any haste about it ?" Koppel replied, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Life is too short to lose any time," the baroness 
 rejoined. 
 
 " Well, most gracious Frau Baroness, we can revert 
 to this matter when the occasion comes. For this 
 year, certainly, it is too late." 
 
 " By no means," exclaimed the baroness. " The 
 new Salon of the Champ de Mars will not be so for- 
 mal. I have many friends among the founders. We 
 can perhaps arrange it to have Fraulein Elsa received, 
 though it is a little late." And, deciding on the in- 
 stant, as it was her wont to do, she went across to 
 where the painter Pierre stood talking, — in a corner, 
 with Kohn and a much be-diamoned old lady, appar- 
 ently a foreigner, — and drew him aside. After rapid, 
 animated whispering, she brought him back to her 
 group, introduced him to Elsa, and said : " The mas- 
 
230 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ter has been so kind as to promise me that he will 
 interest himself for you. You must not lose any time. 
 In the morning you must send him what you have 
 ready." 
 
 " I am at your service, mademoiselle," said the 
 painter, bowing. " I am not the absolute master of 
 the situation, but with madame la baronne to help us, 
 I think we shall succeed. She carries everything 
 through. Of what kind are your works.?" 
 
 Elsa was extremely abashed and her cheeks burned. 
 "I have different kinds," she said, hesitating. " But I 
 don't dare. At most, I would send a pastel. It is not 
 large. I hope it might be overlooked." 
 
 " If it is a picture of yourself, that could hardly 
 happen," the painter rejoined, while his eye, critically 
 and admiringly, dwelt upon Elsa's little face. 
 
 Also Baron Agostini, with Count Beira and General 
 Zagal in his wake, appeared in view for a moment, 
 congratulated his wife upon the success of the per- 
 formance, — not a single note of which had he heard — 
 and talked a little with Elsa about painting, when he 
 understood that she was to exhibit in the approaching 
 Salon of the Champ de Mars. 
 
 To return to her loge, the baroness took Koppel's 
 arm, while Henneberg gave his to Elsa, and Briinne- 
 Tillig hastened to escort Frau Kathe. Koppel was 
 desired to take a seat, while the other two men went 
 back into the salon, where Briinne-Tillig made earnest 
 inquiries about the Koppel family. 
 
 After the performance was over, which had lasted 
 till about one o'clock, the principal singers and the 
 guests were bidden to a hot supper in the dining- 
 room, but Frau Kathe was unwilling to stay longer, 
 as she was very tired. The family took leave of 
 Henneberg only, desiring him to excuse them to the 
 Agostinis, and slipped away quietly. Briinne-Tillig, 
 however, had not lost sight of them, and when they 
 came to the stairs, there he stood, and begged per^ 
 mission of Koppel to call within a few days and in- 
 quire how the evening had agreed with the ladies ; 
 and this was cordially granted him, 
 
THE PERFORMANCE OF PARSIFAL. 23 1 
 
 Below stairs, a lackey hastened to ask whose car- 
 riage he should call. Koppel was much embarassed, 
 for he had, as a matter of course, sent his fiacre 
 away. He felt humiliated at being obliged to mur- 
 mur some confused, negative reply. At this moment, 
 however, the portier, who had been busied with some 
 other departure, perceived him, and whispered hur- 
 riedly some words to the lackey. 
 
 " Pardon me," the servant said, " I did not know. 
 Monsieur's carriage is here." 
 
 "You are mistaken," Koppel replied, and would 
 have walked away. 
 
 " Madame la baronne begs that you will use her 
 carriage," the. portier said, and the lackey hastened to 
 open the door of the landau, which at that moment 
 drove up. 
 
 " This enchanting baroness thinks of everything," 
 Elsa exclaimed, as she took her seat. 
 
 " Her kindness is something really oppressive," 
 said Frau Kathe; "I have actually suffered under it, 
 for we can offer nothing in return." 
 
 " In what you are thinking of," Koppel rejoined, 
 " she has indeed everything that heart could wish ; but 
 where the things end that can be bought with money, 
 there human value gets its full significance. The 
 baroness enjoys you, and I can understand this." 
 
 " Oh, you say that ! But what is there in us, that 
 she can enjoy?" 
 
 " Modesty does not shut out a proper self-appre- 
 ciation. What I saw of the other ladies there, did not 
 give me an idea that the baroness would be remark- 
 ably edified by their society." 
 
 "That is — true!" Frau Kathe said, thoughtfully. 
 After a pause, she said: "Did you notice how few 
 ladies there were there ? To every one there were at 
 least three gentlemen." 
 
 " In Paris there are so many unmarried men, es- 
 pecially in the financial world, and among foreigners," 
 Koppel rejoined. " There is Henneberg, you know, 
 and little Kohn, and any number of them." 
 
 This explanation did not seern to be altogether 
 
232 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 satisfactory to Frau Kiithe, but she said no more. 
 Elsa, meanwhile, was lost in an enchanting dream, 
 whose raptures were woven out of the lulling motion 
 of the carriage, out of an occasional glance at the 
 starry sky of the spring night, out of an echo of the 
 evening's music, out of a delightful suspicion of her 
 own consequence, and out of all sorts of mysterious 
 and fascinating things — chief among them being the 
 morning glamour of her youth. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Elsa's dreamy rapture lasted overnight and clung 
 about her in the morning. The eagerness of the Mas- 
 majour girls to hear the whole story was no greater 
 than her own to gratify them by telling it. But to 
 talk of it with Oscar seemed in no way attractive to 
 her. Until this moment, her brother had shared in all 
 her secrets and had been her good comrade, with a 
 trifle of submissiveness on his part. Now she felt that 
 the experiences and impressions ofvthe past evening 
 were something which did not concern him at all, that 
 he was far too much of a child to understand them. 
 For herself, the evening had marked a momentous 
 transition. Although she had been wearing long skirts 
 for now two years, they had still seemed to her child- 
 ish frocks. But last night's toilette had made her 
 thoughts and feelings suddenly those of a young lady, 
 and the range of her ideas was no longer in the same 
 region with Oscar's. 
 
 Adele and Blanche were at their work-table when 
 Elsa swept in upon them like a little whirlwind. Ma- 
 dame Masmajour deserted the brandade which was in 
 process of preparation in the kitchen and came to lis- 
 ten also. The girls had no occasion to ask a single 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 233 
 
 question ; Elsa told her story with a minuteness that 
 omitted nothing. Madame Masmajour and Adt-Ie 
 were already familar with certain rooms in the house 
 of the baroness, from having seen them when they had 
 carried home the hats that she had ordered ; and 
 Blanche, also, knew these rooms from the descriptions 
 her mother and sister had given her. But the great 
 hall and the salons were entirely unknown to them all, 
 and their fingers ceased working, in the eagerness 
 with which they followed Elsa's words. 
 
 " But much more beautiful than the hall where the 
 opera was performed," she said, after describing that, 
 "was a salon just beyond, where we were during the 
 entr'acte. Fancy a room four times as large as this, 
 all blue, — the carpet sapphire blue, the walls the 
 colour of lapis-lazuli, the ceiling covered with a very 
 delicate forget-me-not blue stuff, fulled a little, and 
 drawn together in the centre like a sort of rosette, 
 with tiny silver spangles all over it. Three of the 
 walls had each two very large pictures painted on it, 
 which seemed like great arched windows opening upon 
 beautiful landscapes. Oh, my dears, — landscapes that 
 looked like Paradise ! — full of sunlight, with far blue 
 mountains, and little white houses, and sparkling 
 brooks, and women, with gay red kerchiefs on their 
 heads and riotous striped gowns, who carried baskets 
 full of grapes on their heads !" 
 
 " Why, that's our Provence !" exclaimed Blanche, 
 and clapped her hands. 
 
 " Then your Provence is a Paradise." 
 
 " It is indeed," said Madame Masmajour, softly, and 
 she sighed. 
 
 '' Well, if you should be in that salon you would 
 never miss your Provence ! You would feel just as 
 though you were inside one of those little houses, and 
 looking out into the splendid sunshine and the quiver- 
 ing, hot air. On the fourth side of the room, there 
 was no wall, but only a window in three parts that 
 from top to bottom was covered with climbing plants ; 
 and among the leaves there seemed to be great green 
 and blue and gold fire-flies ; they were tiny electric 
 
234 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 lights in the form of fire-flies, hung on gilded chains 
 and wires that you could hardly see among the leaves. 
 Against one of the walls there stood a piece of furni- 
 ture — I have never seen anything of the kind before. 
 It was like a high altar, and it was like a choir-stall, 
 and it was like a cabinet in a museum. On each side 
 there were places for porcelains and bronzes and ivories 
 and in the middle there was a round-arched niche 
 with a seat, on which lay a blue cushion. The baro- 
 ness made mamma sit down in this niche ; and she 
 looked like a beautiful sa.int, under a baldacchino." 
 
 " How fortunate rich people are," murmured 
 Madame Masmajour. 
 
 Elsa told of the toilettes and jewels of the ladies, of 
 the personal appearance of the guests, and of the per- 
 formers, of the kindness of the baroness, of the age and 
 ugliness of the baron. But of Briinne-Tillig, she said 
 not a word. When his name came to her lips, she 
 would not speak it, she knew not why. Henne- 
 berg she forgot to rhention, because really she had 
 scarcely seen him at all. She had not thought of him 
 till Adele inquired if he were there, and blushed as she 
 spoke ; though this was quite unnoticed by Elsa. 
 
 " Oh yes, he was there. But he didn't care any- 
 thing about me." 
 
 " Whom did he care about, then ?" Adfele went 
 on. 
 
 " I really did not notice," Elsa said, laughing. " I 
 don't remember seeing him with any lady. He paid 
 no attention to anybody but the baroness, I think." 
 
 " They seem to be great friends," Madame Mas- 
 majour remarked. And Adele again crimsoned to the 
 roots of her hair, and bent her head over the flowers 
 which she was at the moment arranging upon a hat. 
 
 Then Elsa related that, at the desire of the baroness, 
 she was to send a picture to the Salon, although the 
 time for sending was already past. 
 
 " A foreigner has many advantages in our country," 
 Madame Masmajour remarked. 
 
 " But mother," cried Blanche, reproachfully, " Elsa 
 is just as much a Parisian as anybody." 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 23$ 
 
 " I did not mean Elsa, but madame la baronne." 
 
 " But the baroness is French, too, by marriage," 
 Blanche persisted, dogmatically. 
 
 " I know what I mean," Madame Masmajour re- 
 joined, and said no more. 
 
 But Elsa was grieved to be twitted about a favour 
 which she had not sought, which had been forced 
 upon her, and, indeed, was not yet at all a certainty. 
 Her feeling showed itself in her manner and was ob- 
 served by Madame Masmajour, who laid her hand 
 tenderly on the girl's shoulder and said : " You must 
 not be offended, my dear. It was through foreigners 
 that we lost our fortune." 
 
 "And from foreigners we are earning another," 
 Blanche rejoined. 
 
 " Not much of a fortune as yet," said Madame Mas- 
 majour. But her sad face grew a little brighter at her 
 daughter's words. 
 
 " I am not offended, Madame Masmajour," Elsa 
 replied ; " I should probably feel hurt also, if I saw 
 foreigners making a great display in my country. 
 But it is your own fault, here in France ; why are you 
 so attractive that strangers from all countries in the 
 world come to you, and will not go away ?" 
 
 Madame Masmajour kissed Elsa, and Adfele caught 
 her hand and gave it a squeeze. "You are just as 
 bright as you are kind," the girl said, " we don't look 
 upon you as a foreigner." 
 
 " We look upon you as a sister," cried Blanche im- 
 petuously, and smiled at Elsa with her brilliant dark 
 eyes. 
 
 " What are you going to exhibit ?" Madame Mas- 
 majour asked. 
 
 Yes, that was the question. Elsa had many things 
 ready, but they all seemed to her cold and common- 
 place ; in a word, like the work of a pupil. Only one 
 thing that she had done was, in a degree, satisfactory. 
 But — would Adfele consent ? For this one thing was — 
 the pastel portrait of her friend which she had made 
 not long before. 
 
236 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " My picture ?" cried Ad&le. " You are not think- 
 ing of that ! It could not possibly be interesting." 
 
 " You'll get no compliments from me, you little 
 coquette !" 
 
 Blanche declared that it was a most successful pic- 
 ture, and that Elsa would certainly get a prize for it. 
 
 " There are no rewards given at the Salon of the 
 Ch:imp de Mars," Elsa explained ; " the only prize is 
 the recognition of the artists." 
 
 Madame Masmajour said a few words of encourage- 
 ment to Elsa about sending the pastel ; after which 
 she returned to her brandade. Blanche rejoiced that 
 her sister was to shine in the Salon. " We shall all go 
 to admire ! You will see, some prince will fall in love 
 with you, and will appear suddenly, one of these days, 
 to carry you off." 
 
 " Be silent, you crazy thing !" Adfele said ; but she 
 gave her consent that her portrait should go to the 
 Salon. 
 
 The same day the pastel was sent to Pierre. Elsa 
 declared that she expected nothing, but that she had 
 a little hope, however, because it had been a work of 
 love, and she felt that it was not altogether a failure. 
 After two days of impatient waiting, she received two 
 lines from the baroness : " My congratulations, dear 
 Fraulein, and cordial greetings to your dear family !" 
 accompanying a note to herself from Pierre, saying 
 that his own urgency, against serious difificulties, had 
 succeeded in getting the very graceful work of her 
 young protegee accepted, and that he considered him- 
 self fortunate in having had the opportunity to prove 
 to madame la baronne his complete devotion. Elsa 
 hastened with "this welcome message to the Masma- 
 jours, where the good news was received with equal 
 delight. 
 
 It was decided that they should all go to the Salon 
 together on Varnishing Day. They had never seen a 
 Salon before ; the preceding year, they had been still 
 too unsettled and felt themselves really too poor, to 
 think of any such gratification. The girls received it 
 as a token that they had now become true Parisians, 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 237 
 
 since they were to visit the Salon on a Varnishing 
 Day and Madame Masmajour promised herself much 
 advantage in her work from the new ideas to be ob- 
 tained by an observation of the ladies and of the pic- 
 tures. 
 
 On the Sunday preceding the opening of the Salon, 
 Henneberg came for a moment to invite the Koppels 
 to that breakfast on the Eiffel Tower which, for the 
 artists and their nearest friends, is the regular institu- 
 tion, the indispensable complement of Varnishing Day 
 at the Champ de Mars Salon, as breakfast at Ledoyen's 
 is for the Salon of the Champs-Elys^es. Koppel him- 
 self could not accept, for he had an engagement that 
 day which would even prevent him from accompan- 
 ing his wife and Elsa on their first visit to the latter's 
 picture. Frau Kathe had a feeling that it would not be 
 quite proper for her to go with Henneberg without 
 her husband, and she excused herself on the ground 
 that they were not to go alone, but with their neigh- 
 bours, the Masmajours. 
 
 " But I know the Masmajours," Henneberg pro- 
 tested, " I will invite them also." 
 
 Upon this, Frau Kathe could no longer refuse, 
 especially when Elsa begged with her coaxing eyes ; 
 and the mother inquired only if the baroness were to 
 be of the party. 
 
 Henneberg glanced keenly at Frau Kathe, as she 
 asked this question, but he at once perceived that it 
 was entirely innocent and without concealed meaning. 
 " Oh, no," he replied, carelessly. " The baroness 
 loathes a crowd. If the baron did not make it a point 
 that, several times in the season, she should have 
 really large receptions, she would have had Parsifal 
 performed the other night for only herself and four or 
 five friends." He begged permission to write, on the 
 spot, the invitation for the Masmajours, and Frau 
 Kathe agreed to take charge of its delivery. 
 
 Madame Masmajour coloured violently when 
 Henneberg's invitation was brought her, and without 
 a moment's thought exclaimed : " Impossible !" Frau 
 Kathe and Elsa, however, urged the matter strongly 
 
238 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 upon her, and Frau Kiithc took occasion to make the 
 remark that, on her first venture before the public, 
 Elsa naturally desired to have her friends around her ; 
 the baroness would not be there ; and it would be a 
 great disappointment if the Masmajours should also 
 fail her. Upon this, Madame Masmajour decided to 
 go. But she remained much disturbed in mind after 
 the neighbours had gone up stairs. The feeling of 
 social equality which so fir had made intercourse with 
 the Koppels ejisy for her, and even had allowed her to 
 say to herself that, as a Frenchwoman, she really stood 
 higher than these foreign Barbarians, was rather unset- 
 tled since she had worked for the baroness, and had 
 gone, as a milliner, with band-boxes and bills into the 
 same house which the Koppels visited as beloved and 
 honoured guests. 
 
 Varnishing Day brought a surprise. When Frau 
 Kathe and Elsa, accompanied by the whole Masmajour 
 family, early in the forenoon, sought in the still com- 
 paratively empty Salon for Elsa's pastel, it was a long 
 time before they could find it. Blanche, with delighted 
 outcry, was the first to make the discovery. Elsa had 
 gone past it twice without seeing it, for, whereas she 
 had sent it to Pierre framed in a very cheap little nar- 
 row gilt moulding, it now appeared with a frame of 
 old-gold plush, upon which lay carelessly, beneath the 
 portrait and on its left, great sword-lilies in enamel, 
 the stems and leaves and flowers all in their natural 
 colouring. Thus flower-Surrounded, the delicate, girlish 
 face with its colourless cheeks, its straight nose, its fine, 
 rather thin lips, and its serious, dark eyes, vaguely 
 suggested an Ophelia, or some innocent, unhappy 
 maiden of legend ; and the glass over the frame even 
 enhanced this impression of unreality, for it shut the 
 young face out of everyday life, as if it were beneath 
 some pellucid water, as if it were some sea-maiden, 
 and added to the delicate, yet brilliant pastel colouring 
 a shimmer as of a butterfly's wing in the sunshine. 
 
 Masmajour was really overpowered, and lavished 
 most enthusiastic praises upon Elsa for her remarkable 
 talent. Madame Masmajour stood still and gazed un- 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 239 
 
 till her eyes were full of tears. For, made clear and 
 intense in the expressive portrait, all the charms and 
 distinction of her child's nature became visible to her 
 as never before, and it was a cruel pang to remember 
 that the exquisite original of this picture was now only 
 a poor little milliner working for loud-voiced, fat mu- 
 latto women. Blanche was enraptured, and exclaimed 
 — so loud that her mother was forced, by a resolute 
 pressure of her arm, to bring her back to a conscious- 
 ness of the time and place — " You look like a real 
 princess ! We don't see you like that every day." 
 
 Elsa was very much surprised ; and could not tell 
 whether the charm of the picture lay in her own work 
 or in the wonderfully appropriate frame. Adfele her- 
 self was extremely embarrassed. She dared only to 
 glance bystealth at the enchanting picture. It seemed 
 to her that every passer-by looked at her, for the pur- 
 pose of comparing her with her own reflection in the 
 flattering mirror of art. She wanted to get away, and 
 being told that they must wait for Henneberg, who 
 was to find them just here, she turned her back to the 
 hall that people might not look at her any more. 
 
 After a little delay, Henneberg appeared. He 
 greeted the party, apologizing briefly, glanced at the 
 picture, congratulated Elsa and Frau Kathe, and pro- 
 posed that they should walk rapidly through one of 
 the long halls and then adjourn to the Eiffel Tower. 
 
 " Who put the picture in that wonderfully beautiful 
 frame ?" Elsa asked, as soon as she had an opportu- 
 nity. 
 
 Henneberg did not understand. " Is it not your 
 /rame ?" he said. 
 
 Elsa told him the whole story. Henneberg let his 
 monocle fall. He smiled. " That must be the baron- 
 ess," he said. He remembered a remark that she 
 had made to him a few days earlier. " Do you see," 
 she had said, " how little power I have, after all } 
 I should like so much to do something for the Koppels, 
 and I find that I cannot. I do not dare to send them 
 anything as a present ; they would not accept it. Nor 
 can I assist them in any way openly ; malicious 
 
240 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 tongues, that can no longer reach me, would attack 
 them. Only stealthily and furtively can I do them 
 any kindness." And she had betrayed the thought 
 that was in her mind, when she added, smiling bit- 
 terly : " In my salon, a pretty woman can easily find 
 an admirer, but a girl could never find a husband." 
 Her wish to do something to please the Koppels, had 
 doubtless prompted the graceful thought of giving 
 Elsa's picture this uncommon frame. 
 
 Upon the Eiffel Tower, a table awaited the party, 
 and a very luxurious repast had been ordered. Many 
 famous painters, at neighbouring tables, were personal 
 friends of Henneberg, and greeted him as he passed, 
 by. Some rose and shook hands with him, and inter- 
 changed a few words. During the merry breakfast, 
 Henneberg spoke of these artists, pointed them out 
 by name, and repeated, with the discretron which the 
 presence of three young girls required, some of the 
 current gossip of the studios. In the course of con- 
 versation, Henneberg said to Elsa : " Has it occurred 
 to you to put a price on your picture, in case some 
 one should wish to purchase it ?" 
 
 "Oh! the picture is not for sale!'' exclaimed Elsa, 
 much surpx'ised. 
 
 " But why not?" 
 
 " I could not sell the portrait of my friend ! Of 
 course it is hers." And she laid her hand tenderly on 
 the arm of Ad&le, who sat next her. 
 
 Henneberg was concious that he had made a blun- 
 der. In fact, he had so carelessly noticed the pic- 
 ture, and Adfele herself, that he had not remarked at 
 all that it was a portrait. He got out of it as best 
 as he could. " Oh, certainly !" he said, '' of course ; 
 I did not mean the picture itself, but if anyone 
 wanted a copy, you would be willing, would you 
 not ?" 
 
 " I should have to ask Mademoiselle Adfele's per- 
 mission," Elsa replied, and turned to her friend, who 
 blushed violently and remained silent. 
 
 " Of course," Henneberg replied, bowing to Ad^e ; 
 and so the matter dropped. 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 24I 
 
 After breakfast the party remained about two hours 
 longer in the Salon. Henneberg politely devoted 
 himself to the mothers, and Masmajour faithfully 
 watched over the girls. The equivocal element among 
 the ladies, and the respectable contingent which ap- 
 piL-ared as if it were equivocal, the loud talk, the free 
 use of opera-glasses, the extraordinary dress, appeared 
 to Frau Kathe as scandalous in the highest degree. 
 Madame Masmajour also — in the dust and heat and 
 turmoil and the strong perfumes which floated around 
 the ladies sitting down, or sailing through the halls — 
 was fair from comfortable ; but she saw many novelties, 
 and brought home from this visit to the Salon a 
 boldness of originality which amazed her daughters, 
 and enraptured her customers. Blanche and Elsa 
 found much to laugh about. Adfele, on the contrary, 
 was taciturn. She went along with them like one in a 
 dream. She heard nothing of the noise and saw 
 scarcely any of the pictures. She thought of one 
 thing only, that Henneberg had wished to have her 
 picture ; and she teased herself with the question, why 
 should he want it, and whether she should consent to 
 Elsa's copying it for him. 
 
 Meanwhile Koppel had lost no time. On the day 
 after the performance of Parsifal he wrote to Pfiester 
 to buy for him two hundred shares of Almaden. They 
 had risen very much, since Pfiester had first mentioned 
 them to him. At that time he could have bought for 
 450 francs. Now he was ready to pay 530, but his 
 order could not be executed at that price. Koppel 
 followed the quotations pertinaciously for a whole week. 
 At last he fixed as his purchasing price the closing 
 quotation of the day before. The market was very 
 strong the following day at the Bourse. Then he 
 added 5 francs. But even then, he did not keep up 
 with the market, which went higher by leaps. Koppel 
 was restless, and feverishly excited. He could scarcely 
 wait for the evening paper, and was bitterly disap- 
 pointed when the report' of the Bourse showed him 
 that again nothing could have been done. 
 
 He caught himself unawares in impulses of wrath 
 
242 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 against Henneberg. It could not be excused, the 
 unfriendliness of the latter's conduct. Why did he not 
 give in October some hint to Koppel of what was go- 
 ing on ? It would have cost him neither money nor 
 trouble. There was no need to give any full details 
 as to plans. A word would have sufficed : " Friend 
 Koppel, buy Almaden, and ask me no questions." At 
 that time the shares, were at i8o francs. They had 
 now reached 570 francs. If he had bought two hun- 
 dred shares at that time, he would to-day be 78,000 
 francs richer. This 78,000 francs Henneberg had 
 actually taken out of his pocket. He was not far 
 from saying : stolen out of his pocket. 
 
 Pfiester came again to see him, and he said : " Herr 
 Doctor, do you know, when there is a very strong up- 
 ward tendency and a man wishes to go in, it won't do 
 for him to be anxious, and to fix his price. You 
 would better give an unlimited order. You run no 
 risk. Almaden will undoubtedly go to 1000 francs 
 and higher still. If you had bought when I advised 
 you, you would have already made 130 francs on a 
 share." 
 
 Koppel appeared thoughtful ; Pfiester only laughed 
 at him. " At the Bourse you must never look back, 
 only forward. When we remember that a few months 
 ago Almaden was offered at 130, it seems dear, now, at 
 580. But when you consider that in a few months it 
 will reach a thousand, then it seems cheap at its pres- 
 ent price."' 
 
 This was evident. Koppel hesitated but a few min- 
 utes longer, and then he said, " Very well. Buy me 
 200 Almaden, as advantageously as you can." 
 
 This time, his anxiety and excitement were greater 
 than hitherto, because he had agreed to something in- 
 definite and was helpless in the hands of the Bourse. 
 But the Bourse did not specially maltreat him. With 
 a sigh of relief, he received in the following afternoon 
 a post-card from Pfiester, written on the spot, to say 
 that he had been able to buy Almaden for 585. 
 
 When Koppel went to the couHssier at the next 
 half-monthly settlement (on which occasion he found 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 243 
 
 himself the loser of aa inconsiderable sum), Pfiester 
 happened to be there, and began talking with the coti- 
 lissier. He related, laughing, that a customer had sold 
 certain securities and wished to buy them back at the 
 next quotation. He had executed the order at 778 
 francs, and half an hour later the thing had dropped 
 to 710. 
 
 " How many shares ?" asked the coulissier. 
 
 "Five hundred," was the answer. 
 
 Both laughed, louder than before ; and the coulissier 
 remarked : " Your customer got caught !" 
 
 Koppel was indignant as he thought over this con- 
 versation on his way homeward. Here was a man 
 who had lost 30,000 francs, and these hardened brokers 
 took it as an excellent joke ! Into such ruffian hands 
 a man falls, when he speculates ! He was also shocked 
 when he thought of the danger he had blindly incurred 
 in giving Pfiester an order without limit of price, and 
 he promised himself that he would never forget this 
 day's experience. 
 
 In the few following days, luck played with him as 
 a cat does with a mouse. There came a lull in the 
 fluctuations of Almaden. The price varied in all only 
 5 or 10 francs, remaining at about 585. One day 
 Koppel would be 1000 or 2000 francs richer, and the 
 next day, poorer by as much. " Patience ! patience !" 
 he said to himself, twisting between his fingers the 
 paper which made known to him that another day had 
 passed at the Bourse and that he was not at all ad- 
 vanced. And suddenly, after the sultry stillness there 
 came a storm. The price — dropped, more rapidly 
 than it had gone up ! Almaden lost 20 to 30 francs. 
 The newspapers attacked the quicksilver syndicate. 
 They called upon the government to interfere against 
 a " corner " like this. They announced that, in the 
 Chamber, inquiry would be made. They had informa- 
 tion that an important mine had broken loose from the 
 ring ; that a new discovery had superseded the use of 
 quicksilver in the extraction of gold ; and so on. In 
 the turn of a hand Almaden had dropped to 550; 
 then, to 500; then, it had even fallen below that. 
 
244 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Koppel had already lost from 15,000 to 18,000 francs. 
 He saw with terror that at the end of the month, he 
 should have to sell his wife's securities. An agonized 
 feeling of helplessness came over him. Was it, then, 
 impossible to protect himself ? Must he, defenseless, 
 like a stupid sheep, be torn in pieces by the wolves 
 and jackals of the Bourse ? Could he do nothing to 
 rescue his property from their greedy, outstretched 
 hands.? And who could assure him that prices had 
 even yet touched bottom ? Perhaps this was only the 
 beginning. Not very long ago, Almaden had been 180 
 francs. What if it should fall again to 180.'' It might 
 even go lower than that. Then he would lose, at one 
 stroke, all that he possessed. These thoughts assailed 
 him with importunity the night after Almaden had 
 fallen to 480 francs. He could not sleep, but tossed in 
 restless fever upon his bed. His imagination called up 
 ghosts which filled him with terror. Almost insane 
 with anxiety, he came to the decision to save what 
 could be saved. Overboard with the fatal Almaden ! 
 Sell, before the ruin is completed ! Then came another 
 thought : why not meet the Bourse with its own 
 weapons, and recover what it had already snatched 
 from him ? Why not follow the downward move- 
 ment ? To be obstinate, in a case like this, was ab- 
 surd. When a man speculates, he must not swim 
 against the current. To shift your sail according to 
 the wind is the main virtue ; it is, indeed, the only one. 
 As with the sailor, this is not a lack of character but, 
 clearly, skill and good sense. That is what he must 
 do, then : sell his own Almaden, and sell twice or 
 thrice as much more ; then, the loss would be made 
 good ; or even it might be changed to gain. He was 
 in a flutter of impatience ; he felt as if he must imme- 
 diately rise, and communicate the order. It required 
 an effort of the will and the reason to convince him 
 that there was nothing he could do in the night, and 
 that he was not losing time, since the Bourse did not 
 open till noon of the next day. And so he remained 
 in bed. But the impulse to act without delay, and the 
 restraining force of his reason, continued to struggle 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 245 
 
 within him, so that it was not until morning that, com- 
 pletely worn out with these mental conflicts, he fell 
 into brief and unquiet slumber. 
 
 When he awoke, he was extremely fatigued and de- 
 pressed, and again things assumed a new aspect. The 
 peril was perhaps not so urgent. He must not be too 
 precipitate. Why not first ask advice from Henne- 
 berg ? Oh, no. Not from him. A feeling, which he 
 scarcely justified in his own mind, while at the same 
 time it was very decided, prevented him from taking 
 Henneberg into his confidence. Henneberg must not 
 know that he was speculating. In respect to Kohn the 
 case was different ; and to Kohn Koppel went, as soon 
 as his classes were over at school, seeking him in his 
 place of business in the rue Vivienne. Kohn was sur- 
 prised to see his visitor, but was, as usual, very 
 friendly. 
 
 "What is the trouble ?" Koppel asked, almost with- 
 out any previous leading up to the subject. " Why 
 has Almaden gone down like mad ?" 
 
 " Let it fall," answered Kohn cheerfully. 
 
 " That article in the paper about the collapse of the 
 syndicate ?" 
 
 " Oh, that is only talk !" 
 
 " There is no need of anxiety then ?" 
 
 " We are tranquil." 
 
 " Should one buy ?" 
 
 " A wise man buys when things are cheap, and sells 
 when they are dear." 
 
 Kohn's contented equanimity made a great impres- 
 sion upon Koppel. 
 
 " You take a weight ofl my heart," he said. 
 
 " Excuse me if, in turn, I ask you a question ; are 
 you interested ?" 
 
 " Well, yes ;" Koppel confessed. '' Since our talk I 
 have bought a little Almaden. It's not of great im- 
 portance, but one does not like to lose." 
 
 " Oh, you will not lose. The attacks in the papers 
 are only brigandage. And they are not aimed at us. 
 It is only in the interest of the speculators. And I 
 know who will pay the costs of that campaign." 
 
246 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Koppel thanked Kohn with involuntary warmth, 
 and hastened at once to Pfiester. All anxiety had fled 
 from his mind, his confidence was again restored. 
 Without much reflection he ordered Pfiester to buy 
 400 more Almaden at 480 francs. 
 
 "Bravo !" Pfiester said, as he received the commission, 
 " that is the way to work ! You are the stuff that mil- 
 lionaires are made of." 
 
 Koppel's order checked the falling movement ; but 
 after two days of indecision the price began again to 
 fall, though less rapidly, and went down to 460. Kop- 
 pel followed breathless. He h?,d now lost over 33,000 
 francs. Had Kohn been mistaken, then ? Or had he 
 deceived him? Were the opponents of the ring more 
 powerful, perhaps, than Henneberg and his host ? 
 His confidence was fast vanishing, when suddenly a 
 new leaf was turned. Without any transition, Alma- 
 den in a single day sprang with wild leaps (after it had 
 stood at 455 and had slumped to 447.50) to over 480, 
 and continued to rise with equal rapidity in the suc- 
 ceeding days. 
 
 The attacks in the newspapers ceased at once, and 
 there appeared, on the contrary, communications 
 about the brilliant profits which the Almaden com- 
 pany, some other quicksilver companies, and the 
 French-Oriental Bank would shortly divide among 
 their stockholders. 
 
 The battle was won. At the end of the month, the 
 compensation quotation of Almaden was 522.50. 
 Instead of paying anything, Koppel received about 
 4,000 francs, and from this time forward almost every 
 day's Bourse gave him a profit of from 3,000 to 6,000 
 and sometimes, even, of 10,000 francs. He was very 
 well satisfied with himself. The torturing excitement of 
 the critical day and night were almost forgotten. He 
 remembered only that, in a dangerous position, he had 
 showed firmness of character, circumspection, and a 
 capacity for bold and sudden decision ; and he said to 
 himself in good faith : " I had no idea what there was 
 in rne. It is an advantage to come into circumstances 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 247 
 
 of peril, which enable a man to see the usually hidden 
 foundations of his own nature." Courage could be 
 shown in other ways than on battle-fields. Pfiester 
 said truly : he was of the wood from which are hewn 
 millionaires ; he deserved to be rich, for he had had 
 the boldness to snatch for himself profit from out the 
 maddest havoc of a Bourse battle. 
 
 The thoroughness to which his profession had 
 trained him showed itself in this new pursuit. He 
 bought the annual issue of a Handbook of Finance 
 for a series of years, which gave the fluctuations of the 
 securities which had been sold at the Bourse, .their 
 quotations on settling-days, the Report, and so on. 
 He subscribed to the official Cote de la Bourse and to 
 several financial papers. He plunged himself into this 
 peculiar literature, which for him had a greater charm 
 than his classics. He believed that he had deduced 
 from it a collection of unassailable general truths. 
 All prices repeat themselves at the Bourse I Often, 
 it is true, after long years and wide fluctuations. Per- 
 sistence, therefore, is really the secret of success in 
 speculation, and a man cannot lose who has the pa- 
 tience to wait long enough. It is true, many securities 
 disappear entirely out of the Handbook. It is true 
 the book has a supplement giving a list of bankrupt 
 companies and corporations, a graveyard of dead and 
 buried securities. But these always had had the sign 
 of death upon their brow. A man must be a fool to 
 take an interest in such things. And even with these 
 failures money could have been made if a man had 
 been sagacious enough to foresee their downfall and 
 act accordingly. 
 
 Now questions arose in his mind, with which he 
 had never before concerned himself. He was, un- 
 doubtedly, on the way to wealth. How far would he 
 follow this way ? Where lay his objective point ? 
 How should this be determined ? In his meditations, 
 he shaped his future. At the present time, he was 
 spending between eight and nine thousand francs ; 
 but he lived very frugally. He desired to raise this 
 level in some degree. Also, he must do something 
 
248 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 for his children. Society for Elsa, the University for 
 Oscar; this required an income of at least 15,000 
 francs. And this was really too scanty. Let us say 
 20,000 francs, so that one can now and then enjoy a 
 journey, theatres, concerts, some little romantic in- 
 cident, a certain freedom of action ; so that one can 
 really live the life of a civilized human being. In 
 order to have an income of 20,000 francs from good 
 securities, which, for investment, he would select with 
 the greatest care, there would be needed about 
 500,000 francs, or perhaps, somewhat more. To Elsa, 
 he would give 100,000 francs as dowry. Add to this, 
 the provision for a suitable refurnishing of the house, 
 and something always at command, a sort of working 
 capital, and the sum would thus reach to about 
 700,000 francs or, 625,000, with his wife's inheritance. 
 It was not much, after all, but he would be satisfied 
 with little. He had never desired luxury. In pros- 
 perity he would be on his guard against ostentation. 
 
 He had now six hundred Almaden, which had cost 
 him, on an average, 515 francs. That the shares 
 would rise to 1,000 francs, he felt sure. After de- 
 duction of all expenses, this secured him a profit of 
 from 270,000 to 280,000 francs ; and with this, he was 
 well on towards his goal ! 
 
 He now made a mental calculation, and decided 
 that he must buy at once 400 more Almaden. For 
 these he had to pay at the rate of 550 francs. But 
 he would not allow himself to be scared off. He had 
 now 1,000 shares, at an average cost of 530 francs ; it 
 was his expectation to gain from them 430,000 or 
 440,000 francs. The calculation was not always ex- 
 actly the same. Furthermore, he must not derive 
 his entire harvest from one single transaction. Slow 
 and sure. If it took him two or three years to make 
 his 700,000 francs, that was no matter ; and he was 
 pleased with himself, to find that success did not turn 
 his head, that he remained moderate, cool, sensible, 
 reasonable and prudent. 
 
 He now took his 20,000 francs income for granted, 
 and dreamed further. How should he organize his 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 249 
 
 future life ? At once, of course, he would give up 
 Wolzen, and he would no longer have the annoyance 
 of private pupils. Home to Berlin ? Again into the 
 socialistic movement ? There was a good deal against 
 this. To be publicly identified with it involved 
 worry and vexation. It required sacrifices of all 
 kinds, even of one's own self-respect, for often it was 
 necessary to obey the will of others, to have consider- 
 ation for whims and prejudices of the multitude, to 
 submit to harsh discipline, and even to fight against 
 intrigue and wickedness. And with what result ? 
 The future condition of Socialism was so far distant, 
 that it looked extremely vague and visionary, when 
 one was really candid with oneself about it. The life 
 of the individual is too short for any man to hope to 
 see realized the romantic ideal of a new, equitable, fra- 
 ternal business-system. When he really scrutinized 
 himself carefully, it might be that his desire to play a 
 rQle in politics was pure vanity. Had he a right to 
 gratify his own selfishness, to think only of that which 
 would give him pleasure, and solely on his own ac- 
 count ? He had children. It was a worthy use of a 
 man's whole strength, a father's, to train children for 
 a nobler life and to secure them a happier lot on 
 earth, than their parents' had been. 
 
 And, moreover, who could be sure that a return to 
 Berlin would be the most expedient thing ? His 
 mother was now accustomed to the milder climate of 
 Paris. It might perhaps shorten her days, were he to 
 take her back to the severe Prussian winters. Paris, 
 no doubt, had its advantages when a man had the 
 means to enjoy them. But this question hewould not 
 decide alone. Kathe's opinion must also be regarded. 
 He went no deeper into that subject, and occupied 
 himself next in thinking what direction he would give 
 to his existence. On this point he was not entirely 
 clear. His purposes varied. At one time he aban- 
 doned himself to the idea of a long, delightful journey, 
 of slow, appreciative wandering through art galleries, 
 of luxurious reading in vast libraries ; then he thought 
 of some ambitious work, which would create for him a 
 
250 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 great object in life. After all, who could determine 
 the future ? He was now but forty-four years old ; he 
 felt himself still young in mind and temper, and recep- 
 tive towards any impulse. New, free, and broad con- 
 ditions of existence might unfold in him a new life, 
 capable of fruit and flowers hitherto unthought of. 
 
 In the midst of these dreams, the mangy pelt that 
 he had once bought, which he daily beheld, but which 
 for years he had not noticed, gained a new significance 
 for him. The materialization of all his castles in the 
 clouds had become such a matter of certainty to him 
 that he lived and moved in them, as between walls 
 and under a roof, and he asked himself in all serious- 
 ness whether he was now any happier than he had 
 been before. And he decided, with a mild wisdom, 
 not untinged with sadness, that in reality all things 
 were vanity, that the pelt preached an immortal truth, 
 that its story was repeated in great events as well as 
 small. " On the day," he said to himself, " when I 
 possess my 20,000 francs income, I shall be perfectly 
 conscious that it was scarcely worth wishing for, that 
 it by no means repays the excitement and effort ex- 
 pended in gaining it." 
 
 In the second half of May, Elsa's birthday occurred. 
 Frau Kathc proposed to celebrate the occasion with 
 unusual festivities, for the child was now entering 
 upon the decisive years of her life ; she had within the 
 last few weeks become quite a personage, who was be- 
 ginning to be known, whose name had been mentioned 
 in many papers with words of praise for the talent 
 which her pastel exhibited. The Vigie de la Prcsse 
 had hastened to send voluntarily to the address indi- 
 cated in the Salon catalogue, the notices of her work 
 which had appeared, and Elsa had learned to enjoy 
 her fame, as she opened the yellow envelope which 
 contained the clippings, and her own name, under- 
 lined with a blue pencil, met her eyes. Frau Kathe 
 thought of an excursion into the country to which the 
 Masmajours should be asked ; or they might be invited 
 to supper and then to the theatre. 
 
 Koppel agreed with delight to the idea, but at once 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. ajl 
 
 made it more extensive. He desired to invite also 
 Henneberg, and BrCinne-Tillig (who had paid his visit) ; 
 and he added the question whether the Agostinis 
 might not also be included. Frau Kathe was greatly 
 shocked, and said he could not be serious. How 
 could he suggest to her such obtrusiveness ? he would 
 cause her the humiliation of the baron's refusing, or 
 perhaps not even taking the trouble to reply. Also 
 she made objections in respect to Briinne-Tillig ; he 
 was a very amiable young man, courteous and unas- 
 suming ; but he moved in the highest circles, and 
 would consider her repast and the way it was served 
 and her dining-room, as countrified in the extreme. 
 Even Henneberg she pitilessly objected to, because 
 she was not sure that he still took pleasure in the 
 every-day modest hospitality that she could offer him. 
 Koppel gave up the Agostinis ; but he stood firm in 
 respect to Henneberg and Briinne-Tillig ; and said 
 that if the house was too humble, they could entertain 
 their guests at a restaurant as was often done in 
 Paris. 
 
 " But never except by bachelors, who have no 
 home of their own," Frau Kathe said, quite offended ; 
 and she would hear no more of that. Then Koppel 
 proposed to order the supper, and to hire, for the 
 occasion, all the china and silver ; one could then have 
 them as elegant as one pleased, — good enough for any 
 guest, to whatever society he was accustomed. 
 
 " Doesn't it go against you," Frau Kathe remon- 
 strated, " to deceive guests with a hired display ?" 
 
 " We hire it for a time, until we have our own," 
 Koppel said, without thinking ; the astonished look of 
 his wife made him conscious that he had betrayed 
 himself, and he hastened to get over his indiscretion as 
 best he could. 
 
 When in the afternoon of Elsa's birthday, appeared 
 before the door the wagon of the caterer from whom 
 Koppel had ordered the repast, and the cook and the 
 kitchen-boy in their white professional attire, with 
 their flat white caps, took out of the wagon and 
 carried upstairs to the Koppels' apartment the baskets 
 
252 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 and boxes containing the silver, the china, the bottles 
 of wine, the partly prepared food, and the various 
 cooking utensils, some of the little neighbours and 
 most of the servants gathered in the room of the 
 concierge to talk the matter over with the Knecht 
 family. Knecht himself had extracted from the 
 Koppels' maid the information that she had heard 
 something said about an inheritance ; and the assembly 
 below stairs took this information of the concierge's 
 as a starting-point for very wide conclusions concerning 
 important family events that were taking place at the 
 Koppels'. 
 
 Vexation and excitement at present prevailed there. 
 The old lady was indignant at the strangers who 
 invaded her kitchen, flung aside the usual pots and 
 pans, took possession of the fire, upon which they threw 
 charcoal regardless of expense, set up their own cook- 
 ing utensils, treated the place as a conquered country, 
 and gave orders to the maid. She endeavoured to 
 resist this asurpation, and to take command of the 
 cook, but inasmuch as he could not understand a word 
 she said, and found her in the way, in the rather small 
 kitchen, he simply put her out ; smilingly, it is true, 
 but with decision. She complained bitterly to Frau 
 Kathe, who made answer : " To-day we are not the 
 masters in our own house. In Paris, that is the way." 
 
 " I wish I had never seen Paris !" grumbled the old 
 lady, and sat sulking in a corner, where Elsa in vain 
 sought to appease her. She was so displeased that 
 she pleaded fatigue, and went to bed early, not to be 
 at the table. 
 
 At supper-time appeared a waiter, in evening coat 
 and white woolen gloves, who inspected the apart- 
 ment before his duties began, and whose disdainful and 
 derisive mien distinctly enough showed the opinion 
 that he had formed of the parlour and dining-room. 
 Frau Kathe at once observed the expression of his 
 eyes and his mouth, and had to put severe restraint 
 upon herself not to send him away. " To pay one's 
 good money for the purpose of being sneered at by 
 such a fellow as that — excuse me !" she bewailed her- 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 253 
 
 self to Koppel, who replied : " I trust you have no spec- 
 ial ambition to be appreciated by a waiter !" Against 
 the scorn of this menial Koppel was defended by the 
 consciousness that he had made, or shortly would 
 have made, over 50,000 francs; and by the reflection 
 that he laughs best who laughs last. 
 
 At table, notwithstanding Koppel's contented mood 
 there seemed to be no real sociability. Monsieur Mas- 
 majour was dignified and reserved, as he always was 
 in the presence of Germans. Madame Masmajoui', 
 according to her usual custom, was silent and civil ; 
 Adfele, timid and dreamy; Blanche, lively and excited, 
 but in some degree repressed by the presence of Hen- 
 neberg and Briinne-Tillig. On the other hand, it was 
 a restraint to the German element of the party that 
 the conversation, as a matter of politeness, was carried 
 on in French. To the men, this was, it is true, of very 
 slight consequence ; but Frau Kathe was far from 
 fluent in her French, and she felt conversation in a 
 foreign tongue with Henneberg, and with her own hus- 
 band and children even, to be something unnatural. 
 Hence resulted embarrassing pauses, for which it 
 appeared that Henneberg's unusual taciturnity was 
 largely responsible. 
 
 He was out of sorts and bored. Every few minutes 
 he asked himself : Que diable vais-je /aire dans cette 
 galire? When, eight months before, Koppel and he 
 had unexpectedly met, the surprise of the moment 
 and his old friend's gratification had perhaps led him 
 into warmer expressions of pleasure than his inmost 
 feeUngs dictated. In Koppel's home, he had always, 
 it is true, felt a certain warmth at his heart, in living 
 over again a portion of his youth, whose bitterness, 
 mitigated by the satisfactory present, was reduced to 
 a soft and pensive self-commiseration. Then came 
 the dreadful day when Frau Koppel was lost for so 
 many hours, and he had shared in his friend's extreme 
 distress. Nothing brings men nearer to each other 
 than a shared emotion, whether painful or pleasurable. 
 On that day, and during the weeks that followed, he 
 had honestly felt himself to be Koppel's friend, with a 
 
254 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 mixture of self-flattering, protecting superiority. Per- 
 haps also it was a secret pleasure to him to be admired, 
 in his present splendour as a titled millionaire, by this 
 very Koppel who had known him in his darkest hours, 
 though so base a feeling he would not have acknow- 
 ledged to himself. On this particular evening, the old 
 charm was cruelly broken. Instead of the modest 
 German homeliness, which had made him so much at 
 home, he now saw before him the fictitious splendour 
 of hired plate, whence obtained, his eye, (experienced 
 in the secrets of Parisian life) could at once tell. In- 
 stead of the simple German food, whose taste had 
 made him feel ten years younger, there was now set 
 before him the sauce hollandaise, the filet, the pat6- 
 de-foie-gras, and the fruit-ice of the ordinary boulevard 
 restaurant. At the same time, the peculiarily tran- 
 quillizing atmosphere of strict integrity, regular and 
 diligent work, and a wise content with a narrow yet 
 peaceful lot which had been to him a certain relaxa- 
 tion, and had almost excited his envy, he no longer 
 found ; he remarked with uneasiness, that the master 
 of the house again began talking about finance and the 
 Bourse, and manifested a desire to draw him out on the 
 subject of the quicksilver syndicate. The suspicion 
 dawned upon him that Koppel was speculating. This 
 threw him into profound meditation ; of hangers-on, 
 who sought to share in his successes, he had enough. 
 He felt himself far too good to throw away his even- 
 ings on people of that stamp. He had done this Kop- 
 pel far too much honour ; he would now drop him. 
 For the sake of the old lady, and of Frau Kathe, in 
 whom he took a great interest, and for the sake of 
 Elsa, he could but hope that his intercourse with the 
 family would have done them no harm. 
 
 It happened oddly enough that Frau Kathe sud- 
 denly broke in upon these hostile thoughts of Henne- 
 berg's, by saying : " Do you know that your appear- 
 ance in this house has produced a great deal of dis- 
 turbance ?" 
 
 " How is that ?" asked Hennebrg, almost embar- 
 rassed. 
 
THE SALON, AND A BIRTHDAY. 2^5 
 
 " You have awakened unhappy love and longing in 
 a human heart." 
 
 Adfele looked across at Frau Kathe, involuntarily- 
 shocked, and the glance did not escape Blanche. But 
 Frau Kathe smiled, and continued: "You remember, 
 perhaps, the street-singer, who accompanied himself 
 with the fiddle, and also danced ; and to whom you 
 threw out two francs ? The poor fellow cannot forget 
 you. He is perpetually coming, since that day, and 
 plays and sings, and looks up at our windows as Blon- 
 del looked to the tower where his king was a captive. 
 But he sighs in vain for you, and goes sadly away. 
 The sous that we give him are no compensation for 
 the lost prince, who appeared to him once and has 
 never been seen again. Still we feel that he has not 
 given up all hope of your re-appearance." 
 
 " This devotion is touching, and deserves reward," 
 Henneberg said. " I should be delighted to leave a 
 little money here for him, if you would take the 
 trouble to throw him out a coin when he comes." 
 
 " Would it not be simpler if I should tell him where 
 you live ?" Frau Kathe asked, somewhat craftily. 
 Blanche laughed aloud, and Henneberg rejoined, bow- 
 ing : " You always know the right thing to do, Frau 
 Kathe." 
 
 After supper, Elsa and Briinne-Tillig played a sonata 
 of Beethoven, arranged for four hands ; when this was 
 ended, at the urgent request of the guests she brought 
 out her portfolio of sketches, which were greatly ad- 
 mired. The party broke up at rather an early hour. 
 After every one was gone; the cook appeared in the 
 salon, asking if Koppel had been content with the ser- 
 vice. Koppel paid him, and added two gold pieces as 
 pourboire for himself and the others. When the cook 
 had disappeared, Frau Kathe clasped her hands. 
 " Forty francs !" she exclaimed. " This makes the 
 supper cost us 150 francs !" Koppel had told her that 
 the caterer's charge was 10 francs a plate. In truth, 
 however, it was 30. He patted her head, smiling, and 
 said to her : " This is our Elsa's eighteenth birth- 
 day, you know, and we ought not to mind a little 
 
356 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 extravagance. And we got our money's worth, I 
 think." But to himself he said : " The dear soul will 
 have to be educated, in some way, out of her narrow 
 ideas." 
 
 On the following day, when Elsa went downstairs to 
 see her friends, it seemed to her there was a certain 
 reserve in their manner which made a stranger of her. 
 They answered only in monosyllables, they said nothing 
 of their own accord, but were silent when she ceased 
 talking. She was hesitating whether to inquire what 
 all this might mean, when Blanche suddenly revealed 
 it with her usual liveliness. 
 
 " We are more frank than you foreigners," she said. 
 " If I were betrothed, I should tell you." 
 
 " What are you talking about 7" cried Elsa, amazed, 
 and the colour came into her face. 
 
 " Why, you ! You little fraud ! You won't confess 
 even now !" 
 
 " But, I assure you — I don't know what you mean — 
 how disagreeable of you !" Elsa stammered, and her 
 eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Blanche embraced her wildly. " Forgive me, Elsa, 
 I would not do anything to offend you ! Then it is 
 not true ?" 
 
 " How came you to think of such a thing?" the 
 other said. 
 
 Then Madame Masmajour took up the matter seri- 
 ously. " Here in France," she said, " it is not the cus- 
 tom to invite a young man to the house before he has 
 declared himself, and been accepted by the parents. 
 But we must remember that in Germany different cus- 
 toms prevail." 
 
 Elsa refused to remain longer, though much en- 
 treated, and she went to her own room, where she was 
 soon lost in reverie. What Blanche had said, like a 
 gust of wind, had cleared the clouds and shadows from 
 her mind. Briinne-Tillig's image came clear and bright 
 before her mental vision, and for the first time she 
 thought consciously that her destiny was perhaps 
 coming towards her in the person of this blonde young 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 257 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 
 
 When Koppel returned from school in the after- 
 noon of the following day, Knecht, the concierge, was 
 standing at the door of his room, and seemed to be 
 waiting to speak to him. 
 
 " Excuse me, Monsieur Koppel," he said, after 
 saluting Koppel with the unusual courtesy of remov- 
 mg his embroidered velvet cap : " Would it be too 
 much trouble for you to give me a minute ?" 
 
 " By no means," said Koppel, kindly, and expected 
 to be asked to enter the room. But the concierge 
 had other views. " Not here, if you please," he said ; 
 " this place is' like a bee-hive, with perpetual going in 
 and out. If you will allow me, I will go upstairs with 
 you." 
 
 The very serious and extremely respectful tone of 
 the usually so patronizing giant, caused surprise to 
 Koppel and, also, curiosity. He invited the concierge 
 to come up with him ; and, on entering, after he had 
 kissed his mother and Frau Kathe, and had patted 
 Elsa on her round cheek, he passed through into his 
 little study, where he asked Knecht — whom the women 
 had followed with inquiring glances — to take a seat. 
 The man seated himself in an embarrassed way on 
 the edge of the chair, turning his cap round and round 
 in his powerful hands, and began, hesitatingly : " You 
 might do me a great favour. Monsieur Koppel." 
 
 Koppel looked at him in surprise ; the concierge was 
 speaking in German. This he had never done before, 
 or at least never to Koppel or his wife ; the utmost 
 he had deigned, had been, now and then, when nobody 
 was near, to say a few German words to the old lady. 
 
 The concierge remarked the effect he had produced, 
 and continued, with an embarrassed air and yet a tone 
 pf sincerity : 
 
258 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " German is my mother-tongue, and when I was in 
 the Hundred Guards, we spoke every kind of patois 
 in the squadron. We were almost all of us men from 
 the country. What I have to ask you is this. We 
 have a distant cousin, a good fellow ; he is an Alsatian, 
 too. He is fond of our Marie, and he wants to marry 
 her. You have known Marie from a child. It is 
 nearly twelve years that you and I have been ac- 
 quainted. Yes, yes, time goes ; and the children be- 
 come men and women. The young man is a litho- 
 grapher. He served in the foreign legion. But there, 
 a man can lay up nothing, you know, Monsieur Kop- 
 pel. And now he would like to establish himself here 
 in Paris. There is nothing doing in his part of the 
 country. The Prussian competition has ruined it, 
 they say. I can give no dowry to my girl. The times 
 are so hard. Five children to feed, and things getting 
 dearer every day. It was different under Napoleon. 
 Then everybody had his chance — but this Republic ! 
 It is made for do-nothings. Honest people can't get 
 a living. They must hide themselves. The little we 
 had we lost in Panama." 
 
 " You, too, Herr Knecht ?" exclaimed Koppel. 
 
 " Well, you know," said the concierge, apologetically, 
 " it was always said that Panama was as good as Gov- 
 ernment bonds. And it was as good till the Repub- 
 licans and the Jews ruined Monsieur de Lesseps ! 
 Jean — that is my future son-in-law's name — Jean has 
 tried all he could, but so far he has got nothing. His 
 captain interested himself for the fellow. He recom- 
 mended him. My colonel promised he would do what 
 he could. My colonel is a splendid man. He was 
 like a father to us all. All of us of the Hundred 
 Guards were like his own family to him. He got me 
 this place as concierge. He would like to do something 
 for Jean. But with these Republicans he has very 
 little chance. They will give places to Communists 
 and villains ; but they'll do nothing for an honest lad 
 who has served the country and has the Tonkin medal. 
 And the Alsatian Society does what it can ; but it has 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 259 
 
 too many to help. And so I thought I would speak 
 to you, Monsieur Koppel." 
 
 " Very good. What is it that your young man 
 would really like ?" 
 
 " A place in an office of any kind. He writes a 
 beautiful hand ; he has had a good educ9.tion, and he 
 is not afraid of work. And honest — as pure gold ! 
 Let me tell you a little story about him. He is sitting 
 on a bench in the Luxembourg, the other day ; a man is 
 near him who soon gets up and goes away, leaving a 
 package on the bench. Before Jean has noticed the 
 package, the gentleman is out of sight. Jean picks 
 it up and brings it here. We open it, and there are 
 heavy silver spoons and forks, and dessert spoons in 
 silver-gilt, two dozen of each, at least eight pounds of 
 silver! My wife says: 'Carry it to the police.' I 
 say : ' Wait.' We look closer, and find a name, 
 Dubois, — engraved. You know him, the great caterer 
 in Faubourg Saint-Honor6. We look further, and 
 there is the silversmith's bill, made out to M. Du- 
 bois for 725 francs. 
 
 " Then I say, 'Jean, you carry it to M. Dubois your- 
 self.' Jean goes home ; puts on his black coat and his 
 hat, cotnme il faut, takes his package under his arm, 
 and goes to Monsieur Dubois. He was a little early 
 for dinner, six o'clock, and the waiters ask him, will 
 he dine. ' No,' he says. ' I'll have some beer.' ' We 
 don't have beer ; says the waiter. 'Well! then send 
 methe/a^w«.' The waiters look at him; Jean sits 
 down and waits. The patron comes, and says: 'Sir, 
 did you want to see me !' Jean laughs a little, and 
 says : ' Excuse me, has anything happened to you to- 
 day ?' The patron looks hard at him, and says : ' What 
 could have happened ?' ' Have you lost anything ?' 
 says Jean. 'Yes!' screams the patron,' 'we've lost 
 some silver ; do you belong to the police ?' ' No,' 
 says Jean, ' to the police I do not belong ; but I — 
 have found your silver I' And gives him the package. 
 The patron opens it and counts the silver ; it's all right. 
 So he calls his head-waiter, who was the very man 
 that lost it, He was happy; happy as a — sparroykfj 
 
26o THE DRONES MUST DIE, 
 
 Think of it, a man with a family, who would have had 
 to bear the loss. Then they asked Jean who he was, 
 and what his name was. And the waiter offered him 
 money, but he would accept nothing, only a glass of 
 wine, and a certificate, saying that he had brought 
 back the silver. Oh, he's an honest fellow !" 
 
 " It does him credit. But what can I do for him ?" 
 
 " You have grand friends, Monsieur Koppel. You 
 even know Baron Agostini " 
 
 " How did you hear of that ?" Koppel asked, sur- 
 prised. 
 
 " Well ! why should I not hear of it .? Madame Mas- 
 majour works for the Frau Baroness, and she comes to 
 see you, and you attend her soir6es." 
 
 The concierge was indeed well informed, and it 
 would have been in vain for Koppel to deny his grand 
 acquaintances. 
 
 " If you would say a word to the Herr Baron ! If 
 he would take Jean into the bank. As ofifice-clerk or 
 as collector. We could soon find the security ! If 
 Jean could get the place we could have a wedding in 
 the family at once !" 
 
 Knecht broke into a broad laugh, but still looked at 
 Koppel with pleading eyes. 
 
 " You overrate my influence," Koppel said. " I do 
 not know the baron at all, and I know the baroness 
 but slightly. I assure you, our relations are not suf- 
 ficiently close for me to ask any favours of them." 
 
 " It would be such a great thing for us," the con- 
 cierge entreated ; " our Marie is so in love with Jean, 
 and he with her. You know how it is yourself with 
 young people. But if he has no situation, of course 
 he cannot marry. Do it for the young folks. Monsieur 
 Koppel. Jean is half a Germian, you know. 'He is an 
 Alsatian." 
 
 Koppel smiled, involuntarily; and Knecht, who had 
 noticed this, went on rapidly : " With me it is different. 
 I came to Paris very young, and I served under the 
 Emperor. I am a Frenchman. But since the war, 
 our young folks go to the German school, and they 
 become half Prussians.- Yes, Monsieur Koppel, I am 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 261 
 
 a good Frenchman myself, but I am not like many. I 
 don't detest the Prussians. I say, there are good peo- 
 ple everywhere. When you first came into this house, 
 and the police kept coming every little while to inquire 
 about you, I always said : ' He is a very quiet gentle- 
 man, he goes about his work and troubles himself 
 about nothing.' And I am not a partisan, myself. I 
 have seen war enough ; I don't want to see any more. 
 When the League of Patriots come to me, I always 
 tell them that they and their General Boulanger will 
 drive me away. The. Republic will never get Alsace 
 back again ; if we had an emperor, now! But that is 
 enough about politics. And so, Monsieur Koppel, be 
 so kind as to say a word for Jean ! It would be such 
 a favour !" 
 
 " I tell you again I have no influence at all with Baron 
 Agostini. But perhaps I can induce some one else 
 who is a friend of mine and a friend of the baron's also, 
 to speak a word in behalf of your future son-in-law." 
 
 " Be so kind, Monsieur Koppel. I am sure it will 
 please you when you see the young folks driving to 
 church. They are a handsome couple. It is not easy 
 for the father of a family to get his children settled in 
 the world. Pardon me for having troubled you." 
 
 The concierge rose, and very respectfully took the 
 hand which Koppel extended to him. When he passed 
 through the parlour, however, he had recovered all his 
 usual majesty of demeanour, and holding himself so 
 very erect that his head almost touched the low 
 ceiling, he saluted the ladies with great dignity. 
 
 Koppel's account of his conversation with Knecht, 
 excited great sympathy in Frau Kathe and Elsa. It 
 would be charming if they could assist in bringing 
 about the marriage of the pretty, slender, blue-eyed 
 Marie ! They had had her before their eyes always — ■ 
 when, as a tiny girl she played in the courtyard with 
 the grocer's cat from the shop next door; when, grown 
 a little older, she came home from school with a paper 
 wreath on her flaxen hair and barbaric, gilt-bound 
 prize-books under her arm, on the day of the prize dis- 
 tribution ; when, dressed in white, with long, white 
 
262 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 veil, she had gone to confirmation ; when, finally, she 
 was sent to learn her trade, and changed her short 
 frocks for long ones, becoming a staid young person 
 who, as the mother proudly narrated to the whole house, 
 earned her three francs daily in retouching photographs 
 at one of the great places on the boulevards. As 
 a rule, it was Marie who brought up the letters 
 and papers ; there would often be a little talk when 
 she came ; and so it happened that she was better 
 known to the Koppels than were the other mem- 
 bers of the concierge's family. Urged on by his wife 
 and daughter, Koppel set forth, on his next Thursday 
 morning, in search of Henneberg, without waiting for 
 the latter to make his party-call after the recent visit. 
 
 The outside door, and most of the window shutters 
 of the upper stories, were shut ; and the house in the 
 rue de Teheran had a peculiarly ungracious look. 
 To the neighbouring houses and to the street, it pre- 
 sented a hostile repellent face, and seemed to mutter 
 to passers-by : " Go your ways ! I will have nothing to 
 do with you." " The visitor rang the bell however and 
 the house-door opened. On the threshold of his loge 
 appeared the concierge, who, in his manner and in the 
 cut of his beard, resembled a solicitor-general more than 
 ever. He scrutinised Koppel coldly, then remembered 
 that he had often seen him before and, somewhat 
 mollified, asked : " Whom shall I announce ?' 
 
 " Doctor Koppel," the visitor replied and was about 
 to go up but the concierge said : " Will you wait a 
 moment. I do not know if monsieur le baron re- 
 ceives ;" and went to the speaking tube. There was 
 no longer free access to Henneberg. It must be first 
 inquired whether a guest would be received, or not. 
 A whistle sounded ; the concierge lifted the tube to 
 his ear ; then, after a minute he said : " Will monsieur 
 go up, please." 
 
 Koppel went up the one flight of stairs leading to 
 Henneberg's appartment. At the half-opened door of 
 the anteroom a servant received him, and ushered him 
 through the grand salon into the oriental salon on the 
 left. The man desired him to be seated, and withdrew. 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 263 
 
 Koppel remained alone at least five minutes. Was 
 Henneberg not yet dressed ? On a June day, at eleven 
 o'clock in the morning, that would be strange. Finally, 
 the portiere at the back of the room was pushed aside, 
 and Henneberg, without haste, came in. 
 
 " I had to finish a letter," he said, and offered two 
 fingers to Koppel. " To what do I owe this plea- 
 sure ?" 
 
 No word of greeting, no excuse ; only this extremely 
 formal question. Koppel was amazed. But he re- 
 plied, however, with undiminished cordiality. " First 
 of all, the wish to see you, my dear Henneberg." 
 
 " And then ?" Henneberg said, taking a seat near 
 Koppel and screwing his monocle into his eye. 
 
 " Do I disturb you ?" asked Koppel, now, at last, 
 hurt, and was about to rise, but Henneberg per- 
 ceived that he had been too curt, and, laying his hand 
 on Koppel's shoulder, gently pushed him down again, 
 saying : " No. Stay. I shall have my breakfast in 
 half an hour. Won't you bear me company ?" 
 
 " Lead not the father of a family into temptation," 
 laughed Koppel. " You know that my people, hungry 
 and thirsty, await me." 
 
 "How are the dear ladies.?" Henneburg asked more 
 cordially. 
 
 " Thank you. I come, in some degree, on an errand 
 from them." 
 
 Henneberg cast a suspicious glance at him. He 
 expected a new invitation and put himself in an atti- 
 tude of defence. 
 
 Koppel narrated the case of Knecht and his pros- 
 pective son-in-law and asked Henneberg if he would 
 kindly say a word to Baron Agostini in the young man's 
 behalf. 
 
 Henneberg twisted his brown moustache nervously, 
 and wrinkled his brow. 
 
 " I should be very glad to oblige you," he said, " but 
 pardon me if I tell you frankly that it would be disa- 
 greeable to me to annoy the baron about this thing." 
 
 " To ' annoy' is harsh." 
 
 " It is the word to use. You perhaps do not know 
 
264 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 how eagerly the smallest position in the bank is sought 
 for. Every director has his special prot6g6, and 
 watches like the devil, when any place becomes vacant. 
 If the baron were to make a position expressly fo( 
 your man, he would have no end of a row with all the 
 gentlemen of the board, who have their men to intro- 
 duce. Agostini would probably rather give the value 
 of a year's wages to anybody, out of his own pocket, 
 than promise a place in the bank." 
 
 " The young fellow does not ask for alms." 
 
 " Doesn't ask for alms ? You are mistaken. What 
 else is it that he asks for ? Is the place for which he 
 begs anything else ? The fellow is a lithographer, you 
 say ; he should stick to his trade. But no, he must get 
 into an ofifice, if only as the meanest servant ; he must 
 wear a uniform, lounge in an ante-room, read his sport- 
 ing paper, and on the first of every month, get his 
 wages without any trouble. I don't know why it is 
 that we take an interest in such parasites." 
 
 " You are very severe upon parasites, my dear 
 friend." 
 
 "And you are very mild, especially for a socialist." 
 
 " A socialist who has served his time ! Still, If I 
 were in a position to overhaul the whole thing, I would 
 take all the needed trouble to make every force do use- 
 ful work and to make idleness intolerable. But so 
 long as we cannot attack the whole structure, indul- 
 gence toward the individual does not seem out of 
 place. And besides, who can decide, as things now 
 are, who are parasites, and who are not ?" 
 
 Koppel had perhaps, made this remark more em- 
 phatic than he was aware. 
 
 " Is your remark personal?" Henneberg said, with a 
 contemptuous smile. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" explained Koppel, all the 
 more earnestly because he now first became conscious 
 of the drift of his words. 
 
 " It is no harm, my son, for I have an answer." 
 (The " son " was older by a year than the supercilious 
 speaker.) " To make use of the nameless multitude 
 for one's own ends is not living at others' expense. I 
 
"WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 265 
 
 make a difference between parasites and those strong 
 natures that you may call carnivora, if you like. The 
 great cat, master in the forest, is a brain that wills and 
 a paw that can. The parasite is a maw to be filled, 
 and, especially, a sucker that desperately clings. The 
 tiger schemes, lurks, leaps, gets what he wants and 
 holds on to it ; unless some one tears it from him. 
 This is obvious ?'' 
 
 " Certainly. I have no desire, however, to go into 
 the philosophy of this matter just now. All I care for 
 is to give assistance to two young people who seem to 
 me interesting." 
 
 "Why interesting?" asked Henneberg, raising his 
 voice. " A young man who wishes to be registered as 
 disabled for active service is really not interesting. I 
 can see that you want to stand well with your con- 
 cierge. That is ' the beginning of wisdom ' for a Parisian 
 tenant. But that can be effected more easily by the in- 
 telligent sacrifice of a twenty-franc piece, now and then. 
 It is unnecessary to practice extortion upon old Agos- 
 tini." 
 
 Koppel rose abruptly, took his hat, and said, coldly : 
 " Pardon me that I have troubled you." 
 
 Again Henneberg felt a certain regret for having 
 been so rude. He stretched out his hand towards 
 Koppel, pulled him down a second time into his seat, 
 and said, conciliatingly : " Come, you must not feel 
 yourself ill-treated because I tell you honestly how 
 things stand. It would be absurd if old friends should 
 quarrel on account of a fellow whose very existence 
 was unknown to me fifteen minutes ago. I seem to 
 you hard, perhaps. But you do not allow yourself to 
 think how constantly we are called upon for assis- 
 tance, how we are exploited. If we did not defend 
 ourselves they would really eat us up alive." 
 
 " To do good to our neighbours seems to me, how- 
 ever, to be the finest right that wealth confers." 
 
 " You talk like a book of devotions, my good 
 Koppel. Some of the leaven of your early piety is 
 working in you still. You have ceased, it is true, to 
 believe in God, but you would like very much to play 
 
266 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the part of a small earthly Providence yourself. 
 This flattering idea is seen to be vain when a man 
 stands at a certain elevation from which he can overlook 
 a great portion of humanity. With what right does 
 your prot6g6 claim that we should provide a soft bed 
 for him ? Without doubt there are thousands, there 
 are millions who deserve it more than he does. Can 
 we do anything for these millions? No. Then I 
 don't see why we should favour the one, and not the 
 millions that are more deserving." 
 
 " And so no man would ever help another man." 
 
 " Who ever helped you ? Who me ? So long as I 
 was poor, no one did anything for me. Why should 
 I now do anything for others 7" 
 
 Koppel thought of the clergyman who assisted 
 Henneberg and his mother in Berlin, and of the schol- 
 arships, by means of which Henneberg had obtained 
 his education, but he only said : " You have become 
 a frightful misanthropist, my poor friend. I believe 
 that living all by yourself here in this great house, 
 has something to do with it. Do you not hate wan- 
 dering about here all alone, with four gruesome, empty 
 stories over your head ?" 
 
 "You are romantic beyond belief! To hear you 
 talk, one would suppose this was an old castle, with 
 mysterious corridors, and echoing halls, and a ghost 
 set down in the inventory. The reality is quite dif- 
 ferent. I am extremely comfortable in this quiet, 
 and every time I come up the stairs I rejoice anew 
 that I am not meeting hordes, as formerly." 
 
 " But this satisfaction you could have in some pleas- 
 ant little private house." 
 
 " Yes ; if there were not the trouble of moving. 
 There is this way out of it : I know I could go on a 
 journey and leave the matter in charge of my steward, 
 so that when I came back I should find everything 
 settled in the new house. But for that, I must allow 
 myself three months holiday, which I cannot do." 
 
 "Does the quicksilver business require your pres- 
 ence here ?" 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 267 
 
 Henneberg again cast a suspicious side-glance at 
 him, and replied : 
 
 " Any new machine must be watched for a time by 
 its inventor." 
 
 At this moment, the maitre d'hotel entered, and an- 
 nounced, without paying the least attention to Kop- 
 pel : 
 
 " Monsieur le baron is served." The man was of 
 the opinion that, with this visitor, there was no need 
 of ceremony. 
 
 " And so you will not share my beefsteak with me ?" 
 Henneberg asked, as Koppel rose to go. 
 
 " Excuse me. And so I must give an unfavourable 
 answer to my concierge ?" 
 
 Henneberg merely shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " It will be a great cause of regret to my wife." 
 
 " I should have been glad to please her, but it is 
 really out of the question. Remember me to her all 
 the same, please, won't you ?" 
 
 On the way home Koppel's thoughts dwelt, as if 
 spell-bound, upon his interview with Henneberg. 
 What a change in this man ! What hard-heartedness ! 
 What odious selfishness ! The unfortunate fellow 
 was on his way towards the Cssar-madness ! Yes ; he 
 had not been strong enough to bear the weight of his 
 wealth ! For the millionaire-existence was required a 
 certain strength of character and mind which not 
 every man possesses ! " My millions will never make 
 a Nero or a Caligula of me !" Koppel thought with 
 self-satisfaction. 
 
 What he had to report called out from Elsa an ex- 
 pression of disappointment, while Frau Kathe re- 
 mained, for a time, quite silent. After dinner, she 
 said : " I do not know whether bachelors become bad 
 men, or whether it is that bad men remain bachelors. 
 But I am sure Henneberg could never have become 
 such an iceberg if he had had a wife. I am afraid 
 that we have done with him." 
 
 " Or he may have done with us. We will no longer 
 throw ourselves at bis head. This form of gratitude 
 evidently is not to his taste." 
 
268 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Frau Kathe was, however, much disappointed, and 
 her heart grew still heavier when the blonde Marie 
 came up with the paper at noon and cast an anxious 
 glance at her, with inquiring blue eyes. It had been 
 told the girl the evening before that some steps would 
 be taken the next morning in her behalf, and she now 
 hoped to hear favourable news. Frau Kathe said only : 
 " There has been nothing yet that we could do, my 
 dear child, but we shall keep our promise." 
 
 " I should be so grateful to you, madame," said the 
 pretty girl, and her eyes added to the words a very 
 earnest, very persuasive appeal. 
 
 " Yes, we will keep our promise," repeated Frau 
 Kathe, when the blonde Marie, still anxious, but 
 partly consoled, had gone downstairs. "If the situ- 
 ation depends upon Baron Agostini, we should do 
 better to bring our request to the baroness than to 
 Dr. Henneberg." 
 
 " Is not that intrusive ?" Koppel said ; " we 
 scarcely know the lady well enough to ask a favour." 
 
 " It is not for ourselves that we ask it. And she has 
 been so kind and friendly to us. As I understand her 
 it would give her pleasure to oblige us and to do a 
 kindness to a poor, good girl. Let us try it, dear 
 Hugo." 
 
 " Well, if you are willing to undertake the affair, 
 that is the best chance for success," Koppel said, and 
 Elsa fondly kissed her mother's hand. 
 
 At the end of the month the Salon of the Champs 
 de Mars would be closed, and the artists had to take 
 away their work. This gave Frau Kathe and Elsa an 
 opportunity to go to see the baroness. They had al- 
 ready sent her, through Henneberg, as long ago as the 
 Varnishing Day, their thanks for the beautiful frame, 
 and they now went to repeat the same in person. The 
 frame was a costly object which must have a consider- 
 able money value. They naturally regarded it as lent 
 and were intending now to send it back. 
 
 The baroness, who received them in the blue salon 
 with the pictured walls, because she remembered how 
 very m_uch Elsa had enjoyed this room, was almost of- 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 26g 
 
 fended at the idea of their returning the frame. How 
 could they have had such an idea ! She should think 
 it most unfriendly if they did not keep it, as a little 
 token of affection, and make no further talk on the 
 subject. 
 
 " The picture does not belong to me, but to my 
 friend," Elsa said, shyly. " The frame would not be 
 mine, in any case." 
 
 " The picture could be taken out of the frame, of 
 course," Frau Kathe said. 
 
 " Oh, no," replied the baroness, eagerly ; " our young 
 artist feels truly that the picture and the frame belong 
 together. Return it to your friend just as it is. I 
 will not say that your work was rendered any finer by 
 its setting, but it needed a pretty toilette and it de- 
 served one. I have examined your picture carefully. 
 It is charming." 
 
 "That is the credit of the model." 
 
 " Certainly you made a good selection of a model ; 
 but you have represented her enchantingly. Who is 
 this girl, with her refined, high-bred face ?" 
 
 "Our little neighbour, the daughter of the milliner 
 whom I took the liberty of recommending to you," 
 Frau Kathe replied. 
 
 " Really ? I must ask the woman to bring her 
 daughter some time when she is coming. Yes, please ; 
 send the pastel as it is. Your friend will see herself 
 looking very nice." 
 
 " Your kindness, Frau Baroness, encourages me to 
 make a request in behalf of another little neighbour, 
 who is almost as pretty," Frau Kathe went on, un- 
 abashed, and described the case of the blonde Marie 
 and her fianc6. 
 
 The baroness listened attentively, and inquired into 
 the circumstances of the Knecht family, and promised 
 to speak to the baron. " Give me a few lines," she 
 said, " in which there is summed up briefly all that I 
 hjve to say about your proteg6." 
 
 " Could I write it here ?" Elsa said eagerly, carried 
 away by her enthusiasm. 
 
 " Certainly," the baroness replied, smiling, and con. 
 
2/0 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ducted her guests into her boudoir, where stood her 
 own writing-desk, with its morocco portfolio and ink- 
 stand of engraved gold and enamel. 
 
 Elsa wrote out all that could recommend Jean, and 
 when she had finished writing, yielding to a sudden 
 roguish impulse, she drew with sure and rapid strokes 
 of the pen, in the corner of the page, a little sketch of 
 the blonde Marie. When the little trick was done, 
 she became sober and very timid, and, blushed deeply, 
 as she gave the page to the baroness. The latter was 
 for a -moment surprised, then laughed outright. 
 
 "And this is the young man's fiancee ?" she said, 
 examining the little sketch with interest. " That is 
 the most effective thing that you could have done for 
 him. Especially since the request is to be made to a 
 man," she added rashly. She was instantly sorry to 
 have said it. " I was not in earnest," she hastened to 
 add. " Nobody will see the leaf but myself. We will 
 do our best that this nice girl may bring a situation to 
 the young man as her dowry." 
 
 Frau Kathe and Elsa could not find words enough 
 to express their thanks, but the baroness interrupted 
 them : " Since you have asked a little favour from 
 me," she said, " I shall venture also to ask one from 
 you." 
 
 " That is splendid ! Please do, Frau Baroness," 
 cried Frau Kathe, in great delight. 
 
 " This pastel pleased me so much that I have had 
 the vanity to desire my portrait also, by the same 
 artist. Are you willing, Fraulein .''" 
 
 Frau Kathe was surprised and flattered ; and a 
 second time Elsa blushed to the roots of her hair. 
 " It is too much honour," she stammered " I don't 
 know — I have had so little experience — " 
 
 " But how will you get experience unless you avail 
 yourself of opportunities to practice ?" the baroness 
 said, smiling. " But indeed you are quite too modest. 
 Your friend's picture is a real jewel of poetic feeling, 
 and the artists considered it also well done techni- 
 cally." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, gracious lady ; you set me a 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 2/1 
 
 great task, but also one that I shall love. And I will 
 try not to disappoint you too much. But — " and she 
 hesitated to go on. 
 
 " But ?" the baroness repeated. 
 
 " But — if I might venture to advise you, gracious 
 lady — " 
 
 " Certainly, dear Fraulein," replied the baroness. 
 
 " I have the feeling that I could not make my 
 picture strong enough, with chalks. For the character 
 of your beauty, the pastel is not sufficiently authorita- 
 tive ; I think I could do better in aquarelle." 
 
 " That is an amiable way of telling me that you take 
 me for a dragoon ?" 
 
 " The picture will show what I take you for, gra- 
 cious lady ! That is, if I can do what I intend." 
 
 " I am willing it should be an aquarelle. So when 
 shall we begin ?" 
 
 " I am at your service, gracious lady. How would 
 it be to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Do you think that you can do it in two weeks ?" 
 
 " I do not need as much time as that for sittings, if 
 I can come every day." 
 
 " In the middle of July I shall leave Paris, and 
 probably shall not return before the end of October." 
 
 It was decided that the sittings should be in the 
 morning from ten o'clock until dejeuner, and that the 
 femme de chambre of the baroness should come regu- 
 larly for Elsa with the carriage, and should accom- 
 pany her home at noon ; and the mother and daughter 
 took leave of the baroness in such a state of delight- 
 ful excitement that they with great difficulty re- 
 strained themselves from embracing each other on the 
 stairs, in the presence of the lackeys in their grand 
 liveries. 
 
 The picture which the baroness ordered from Elsa, 
 was destined for Henneberg. For the last two years 
 he had never ceased to beg for a portrait. There was 
 a bust of her by Martiny, which three years earlier 
 had excited attention at the Salon ; it was of tinted 
 marble and jasper, the hair of opaque obsidian, with 
 an Egyptian diadem of gold, gems and enamel ; a re- 
 
2^2 tHE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 gal work, which now, on a pedestal of ebony and 
 bronze, draped with cloth of gold, adorned the grand 
 salon of hotel Agostini. Henneberg had wished to 
 order a replica of this ; the baroness, however, ob- 
 jected, and to be quite secure, she bought from Mar- 
 tiny the sketch in colours and the plaster cast which 
 he had retained in his atelier. As Henneberg begged 
 in vain, he finally threatened her that he would have 
 her picture painted without her knowledge, by some 
 artist whom he had befriei^ded, using a sketch made 
 by stealth at some reception or dinner, or at the 
 theatre, wherever the opportunity might offer, and 
 with the aid of a snap-shot photograph, if need were. 
 The baroness forbade him this strictly, but she knew 
 Henneberg's obstinate will, and feared that in the 
 end he would do as he wished. Then came to her, 
 during the visit of the mother and daughter, the idea 
 that Elsa could paint the portrait for Henneberg. So 
 the gossip of the studios would be avoided, and it 
 seemed to her that the gift would be an innocent one 
 if it were the girl's work, and that Henneberg 
 could have no warmer than friendly thoughts in the 
 presence of a portrait which had come from such 
 hands. Elsa would certainly not enquire what des- 
 tination her work might have, and that Henneberg 
 would jealously conceal it from all eyes but his own, 
 the baroness could not doubt. 
 
 The sittings made a very deep impression upon 
 Elsa. Looking back to them, and eagerly looking 
 forward to them, filled her mind the whole day, and 
 even her dreams by night. The baroness inspired in 
 her an impassioned, girlish enthusiasm, and she flew to 
 the rue Fortuny as to a trysting-place. In her loving 
 conversations with the baroness, the germs of count- 
 less thoughts and feelings ripened within her as buds 
 develop under the intense sunshine of a rapid spring ; 
 light came into the obscurity of her young soul where 
 the shadows of childish dreams contended with the 
 realities of first experiences of life ; and many inclin- 
 ations, ambitions and longings, of which she was, as 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 2~l 
 
 yet, scarcely concious, became suddenly distinct after 
 she had thus given them utterance. 
 
 The work did not proceed so rapidly as Elsa had 
 expected. She brought to the first sitting a distinct 
 conception of the face which she was to paint : she 
 saw a proud, lofty style of beauty, which exercised a 
 powerful attraction, yet at the same time kept every 
 one at a distance, with deep, mysterious eyes, an im- 
 perative mouth, and yet the brow, the nose, the 
 rounded chin and cheek, of adorable loveliness ; as a 
 whole, a Juno, yet not without the hint of a Medusa 
 behind the repose of the features. Now, however, as 
 she was alone for hours with her sitter, in unrestrained 
 conversation, she became aware, with bewilderment, 
 that these dark eyes were soft and sad, that the firm 
 mouth was capable of enchanting smiles, that a touch- 
 ing friendliness warmed and humanised the classic 
 features into the face of a mother or a sister. An un- 
 certainty which of these two ways of conceiving the 
 portrait would be really the true one made Elsa at 
 first insecure ; she worked slowly and feebly ; after two 
 sittings, she destroyed what she had done and began 
 anew. It was now her endeavour to reconcile the two 
 phases of the nature, retaining all the cold, classic 
 gravity of the face, and yet indicating that a golden 
 sunshine many a time flooded the austere landscape. 
 This also failed ; perhaps it was, for her, too hard a 
 task ; perhaps it would have been impossible for any 
 artist. After five sittings, she again destroyed her 
 work, and was discouraged. She decided, one sleep- 
 less night, that in the morning she would tell the bar- 
 oness that the work was beyond her, and must be 
 relinquished. On the way to the rue Fortuny, there 
 came to her, suddenly, like an inspiration — why not 
 make the picture a faithful transcript of exactly what 
 she saw .? Why hold to a preconceived idea, founded 
 on insufficient and superficial observation ? Not a 
 conventional, but a perfectly natural, portrait was 
 desired of her ; she not only was at liberty, she was 
 expected, to be perfectly sincere, and it would be no 
 matter if people who did not know the baroness, gs sh^ 
 
274 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 did were to regard the picture as feeble and senti- 
 mental. Gladly, she seated herself once more at her 
 work; liberty and light had come to her ; and, with 
 wonderful rapidity, she painted a radiant, victorious, 
 yet gentle and loveable face, in its early prime of 
 beauty, a face that encouraged caressing hands, and 
 kisses, and confidential confessions. 
 
 The baroness questioned Elsa with affectionate in- 
 terest as to the experiences of her brief life ; about 
 her school, her training, the books she had read, her 
 impressions in respect to art, her friendships. She 
 became quite fond of the Masmajours, mother and 
 daughters, from Elsa's account of them, and was much 
 amused with the comicality of Monsieur Masmajour, 
 which Elsa, with girlish mischief, depicted to her. 
 
 " And have you never built any castles in the air, 
 dear girl ? Do you never make pictures for yourself 
 about your future ?" the baroness asked, in the course 
 of conversation. 
 
 " I have not thought very much about the future,". 
 Elsa replied ; " still every one has some dreams, of 
 course." 
 
 " Dream aloud, Fraulein Elsa, will you not ?" 
 " I do not think I know what I used to dream 
 about ; but since, through your kindness, I have had 
 my picture in the Salon, what I wish is — to be a great 
 and famous painter, and to have a charming studio, 
 which I often imagine to myself. There I would paint 
 really beautiful things, and in oils also, later ; and 
 there would be almost always dear people there, who 
 would like to come to sit with me." 
 
 " And so you would earn a great deal of money — " 
 " I don't think much about that," Elsa said ; " you 
 can earn what you need, of course, if you are a suc- 
 cessful artist ; but what I think of is fame, rather than 
 money." 
 
 " Do you think fame makes one happy }" 
 " Oh, I think it would be so pleasant to have the 
 Vigie de la Presse send a great roll of clippings every 
 day, and in every one you were praised, from the be- 
 ginning of the year to the end of it ! And people 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 275 
 
 would consider it essential to culture, and a sign of 
 thorough education, to know my name — " 
 
 " And then you would marry some stupid man and 
 you would give up your name, and take his." 
 
 ''Yes, that always vexes me,". Elsa replied, eagerly. 
 " That ought not to be so. It is humiliating. For 
 my part, 1 intend to keep my own name always, even 
 if I should be married." 
 
 The baroness smiled. " Perhaps your husband 
 would take your name, if it had become famous. But 
 how remarkable that a girl should be so ambitious I 
 Fame ! Do you know, dear child, what the chief ad- 
 vantage of fame is ? It is that all the idiots now alive, 
 or yet to be born, will have the opportunity to ex- 
 press their opinions in respect to you." 
 
 " And not the clever people also, Frau Baroness ?" 
 
 " Perhaps you are not aware of the disproportion in 
 numbers between these two classes ! No, dear Frau- 
 lein, this dream of yours does not please me. Reputa- 
 tation attracts the crowd ; you become a centre ; you 
 live in the midst of a throng ; and I should be very 
 sorry to have this to happen to you. For all contact 
 with people causes pain in the end." 
 
 " All ?" asked Elsa, incredulous ; and she added 
 softly, with a restrained tenderness, and yet a hidden 
 reproach, in her voice : " I hope your contact with me, 
 gracious lady, will never occasion you pain." 
 
 " And, on my part, I hope that you will never regret 
 having come into my neighbourhood," the baroness 
 said, with unusual earnestness. 
 
 She remained for a few minutes lost in thought, and 
 then she went on : " It is a mistake of yours, to long 
 for fame. You have no idea of a woman's role, and 
 especially of her rights. To strive for fame, Fraulein 
 Elsa, is to wish to please the indifferent. This is not 
 the right thing. The indifferent must be made to try 
 to please us. We do not strive for a crown, we be- 
 stow one. In the tournament of life, we are not the 
 contestants in the lists, but the judges under the vel- 
 vet baldacchino. Men must strive to their utmost 
 that we may praise them ; our smiles are'their highest 
 
276 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 reward. When you are older, you will become aware 
 of the gift which nature has bestowed on us. We in- 
 cite men to exert themselves and to show the best 
 that is in them. The worst, also, at times, I must con- 
 fess. But that rests with us, for the most part. If we 
 did not forever spur them on, men would be idle, they 
 would become foul, odious beasts, they would do 
 nothing but eat, and smoke, and slaughter each other. 
 We are the original cause of all profitable industry 
 and all progress. And to fulfil the intentions of 
 nature in respect to us, we have nothing to do, we have 
 only to be. A true woman, especially a beautiful one 
 — like yourself, dear child — derogates much, when she 
 takes any trouble about fame." 
 
 Elsa listened, amazed, yet pleased. The views of 
 the baroness were not unattractive, but she noticed a 
 little inconsistency. 
 
 " But to make men better," she said, " you must 
 come in contact with them — " 
 
 " Not with ^/z«« / only with one. The others are 
 to admire from a distance." 
 
 Elsa coloured, she scarcely knew why. 
 
 Another time the baroness asked where Elsa would 
 like to live. 
 
 " As a child," the girl said, " I used to long for 
 Germany. My grandmother used to relate fairy- 
 stories to me, and also I had books of German fairy- 
 tales which were my delight ; and I imagined the 
 country was full of elves and fairies and enchanted 
 princes, so that I wished I were there. Some of my 
 little school-mates, too, often used to go there to visit 
 their relatives. That also seemed very attractive, and 
 I wished I could visit aunts. I had none in Paris, so I 
 thought they must be in Germany. Later, as I grew 
 older, I smiled at my childish ideas. I ceased to think 
 that fairies were running about the streets in all the 
 German cities, and I liked Paris better and better, and 
 I thought that I could never live anywhere else." 
 
 " And now ?'' 
 
 " Now — I don't know. I am perfectly willing to 
 stay here, but it often seems to me that it makes very 
 
WHAT CAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 2/7 
 
 little difference where you live, if you only have 
 friends around you." 
 
 After nine sittings the picture was finished ; Elsa 
 declared, however, that there was still much to be 
 done, and she came five more days. She would not 
 lose one day of the fourteen which the baroness had 
 allowed her. But at last this little love-stratagem 
 came to an end ; Elsa signed the aquarelle, and, with 
 a sad heart, announced that the work was really 
 done. 
 
 Then the baroness gazed long and thoughtfully at 
 it, and declared that the artist had flattered her. 
 
 " Oh, no !" Elsa cried, " I tell you truly you are 
 far more beautiful than this ; I only tried to show how 
 good and dear you are, Frau Baroness !" 
 
 The baroness kissed her, and then drew from the 
 blotter on her desk a folded paper which lay in readi- 
 ness there, and pressed it into Elsa's hand. " To- 
 morrow I am going to my place in Brittany, and I 
 shall be away three or four months," she said ; "so we 
 will have this settled now ; the charming talks that I 
 have had with you, I could never pay you for." 
 
 Else did not look at the paper, but she understood 
 that it was payment, in some form, for her work. 
 She was so surprised and grieved that her heart 
 seemed to stand still for a minute. The tears came 
 into her eyes, and she could scarcely speak. " Oh, 
 gracious lady !" she said, in a broken voice. " I did 
 not expect this. It was such a pleasure for me to do 
 it. I thought I should be permitted to give it to you, 
 — and now " 
 
 " But, d'ear girl," the baroness said, " every work is 
 worth its recompense, and you must accustom your- 
 self to accept your earnings. I should think you 
 could take them from my hand more willingly perhaps 
 than from any other." 
 
 Elsa brushed the tears away and looked up, sad and 
 reproachful. " We were so glad at home that you 
 would allow me to paint your picture. You had 
 done so much for grandmamma, and for me, and for 
 Madame Masmajour, and you are going to try to do 
 
2/8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 such a favour for Marie, too, — why do you deny us 
 the privilege of showing just a very little of our grati- 
 tude ?" And, shyly, she laid the cheque down upon 
 the blotter. 
 
 " What a child !" the baroness said, then kissed her 
 good-bye, upon the white brow. 
 
 On the following day a little package came to the 
 Koppels, which bore the stamp of one of the great 
 jewellers of the rue de la Paix. Inside was the visit- 
 ing card of the baroness, with these words written : 
 " To Fraulein Elsa Koppel, in remembrance of happy 
 hours," and in a velvet case lay a gold bracelet, with 
 a row of alternate rubies and diamonds. Although 
 no one in the family was a connoisseur in precious 
 stones, they all perceived at once that it was an ex- 
 tremely valuable gift. They could not endure the 
 idea of inquiring its price at the jewellex's, but it was 
 evidently an affair of thousands of francs. Elsa was 
 humiliated that, after all, the baroness should have 
 paid for the picture ; but she soon forgot her vexation, 
 for the bracelet was magnificent, her grandmother ex- 
 claimed with delight : " Now everybody can see that 
 you are a little princess !" and her parents said that 
 the baroness, like the grande dame that she was, had 
 appropriately made return for the artistic gift with 
 this valuable ornament. 
 
 And it gave Elsa almost more pleasure than did the 
 bracelet when, at noon, the blonde Marie, with glow- 
 ing cheeks and radiant eyes came flying up to say 
 that her Jean had received a note from the head- 
 cashier directing him to come to the French-Oriental 
 bank at two o'clock. Frau Kathe would have been 
 delighted to congratulate her at once, but she was 
 anxious lest there might be some possibility of dis- 
 appointment yet, and regarded it as a duty to warn 
 the rejoicing girl against being too sure. But Marie 
 was sure, notwithstanding, and stayed away from her 
 work in the afternoon to accompany Jean on his 
 momentous errand. In Koppel's apartment there 
 was nearly as much excitement as in the rooms of the 
 A little after three the whole party came 
 
WHAT GAME OF ASKING A FAVOUR. 279 
 
 up-stairs : the wife of the concierge, the blonde Marie, 
 Jean, who now appeared to the Koppels for the first 
 time, Knecht himself, and the daughter next younger 
 than Marie. Jean was not an ill-looking young fellow, 
 sturdy, and in his Sunday clothes, as on the memor- 
 able day when he carried back the silver to its owner. 
 They all cried out at once : " He has got his place ! 
 he has got his place ! how grateful we are to you !" 
 
 Frau Kathe gently checked the exuberance of their 
 gratitude, and in her practical, sensible way, inquired 
 what the facts in the case were. She learned with 
 satisfaction that Jean had been taken as bank-mes- 
 senger, at first on trial, but, after six months, if he 
 gave satisfaction, to receive the appointment as a per- 
 manency. The pay, at first, would be 2,000 francs, 
 and the head of the department had said to him that, 
 by diligence and good conduct, he could increase this 
 considerably, perhaps, even, double it. Besides this, 
 there were New Year's gifts, a fund for the sick, a 
 pension — in short Jean need envy no king. 
 
 After a suitable time, the others withdrew, but the 
 blonde Marie remained to pour out her full and happy 
 heart. Now, everything was settled. The wedding 
 would be in October. Until then, they had to look 
 for rooms, as near as possible to the bank, to get 
 together a little furniture, to prepare her things, — this 
 was very difficult and expensive, and indeed almost 
 impossible, especially because there was the security 
 for Jean to be furnished ; but it was so entertaining to 
 get ready for housekeeping ! Life looked so bright 
 before her ! And only think, counting in her earnings, 
 the two would have as much as eight francs a day to 
 begin life ! Was not that fine ? And all this good 
 fortune just as they had been so discouraged ! F"or 
 now she could tell — Jean had used up all his savings ; 
 he had been obliged to have assistance from her 
 father ; if the effort about the bank failed, he had 
 already decided that he would leave Paris and go else- 
 where, perhaps to Algiers, in search of employment ; 
 and if he had been obliged to go so far away, who 
 could tell what would become of him— and it would 
 
2 8o THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 have broken her heart ! And here, the girl's talk 
 came to an end, she kissed Frau Kathe'shand, grasped 
 Elsa's two hands with hers, and exclaimed : " This 
 will bring good luck to you, I am sure, mademoiselle ! 
 You will see. And if you please, you will not be 
 ashamed to dance at my wedding, will you ? My 
 patron will be there, and papa's colonel and his old 
 comrades and gentlemen of the Alsatian Society, all 
 such fine people ! We almost grew up together, you 
 and I, did we not ?" Frau Kathe and Elsa promised to 
 attend the wedding ; and the girl departed, absolutely 
 beaming with joy. 
 
 The whole house soon heard the good news. The 
 blonde Marie communicated it in person to the Masma- 
 jours, and made it extremely plain that the interposition 
 of the Koppels had determined Jean's future. While 
 Madame Masmajour and the girls — above whose dainty 
 figures the tall daughter of the concierge towered, like 
 a gothic steeple above the houses of a town — heartily 
 congratulated Marie, Masmajour himself, who was 
 present, wore a cloudy brow. 
 
 " Yes," he grumbled, as soon as they were alone, 
 " to get any advantages here you have to be a for- 
 eigner." 
 
 " But, papa," Blanche rejoined, " Marie's fianc6 is 
 not a foreigner." 
 
 Masmajour's only answer was an inarticulate growl ; 
 then he went on to say, bringing out bitterly his real 
 thought in the case ; " This Jean had not much pride 
 to beg Monsieur Koppel to assist him in finding em- 
 ployment. I know people who would be ashamed to 
 obtain, by such means, the position which is their 
 due." 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 28 1 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 
 
 A FEW days before the middle of July, Pfiester came 
 again to see Koppel, and said to him good-naturedly : 
 " Well, Herr Doctor, have you made your plans for 
 the summer ?" 
 
 " What do you mean?" Koppel asked, surprised at 
 his confidential manner. 
 
 " There is nothing going on at the Bourse, these 
 days. After the next settling-day I propose to have a 
 few weeks out of town. You ought to do the same, 
 Herr Doctor." 
 
 " Perhaps I may." 
 
 " Would you not like to wind up your affairs before 
 you go away ?" 
 
 " Why should'I ?" asked Koppel in amazement. 
 
 " Oh, I only meant that it is usually done. You 
 have worked splendidly. When a man has won a good 
 deal, it is perhaps wise to call in his money. Then he 
 can enjoy the seashore peacefully. I suppose you 
 would go to the sea.? Then, in the autumn, we take 
 up business again." 
 
 " No, no," Koppel said, " if I were to sell my Almaden 
 now, and buy it back again in the autumn, I think my 
 summer journey would cost me too dear." 
 
 " But it is worth while to make a little sacrifice for 
 the sake of tranquillity." 
 
 " My position does not cause me any anxiety." 
 
 " You are a hero, Herr Doctor ; I respect you ! Do 
 as you please. But I felt that I ought to offer you this 
 V)iece of advice. The London Exchange has this say- 
 ing: ' Sell and be sorry for it.' " 
 
 " But you shall not have taken the trouble entirely 
 for naught. I will unload a little. Finish up with my 
 two hundred Sicilians, please." 
 
282 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Very good, Herr Doctor. At what price shall I 
 buy them in?" 
 
 " Well, it is no great matter. I will not drag on 
 with those tiresome Sicilians any longer ; there will 
 never be any profit there. Tfy to get them as cheap 
 as you can, and I will take up a hundred Almaden at 
 the settling." 
 
 Pfiester wrote the orders in his book and went 
 away. The next day Koppel was eager, though not 
 specially anxious, to see the Bourse lists. He was 
 therefore unpleasantly surprised to see that the Sicil- 
 ians, which had been motionless for weeks, had sud- 
 denly risen ten francs. The last quotation of the day 
 was, however, 7 fr. 50 lower than the opening one. 
 The broker's letter brought him the information that 
 his two hundred shares had been bought in at the 
 highest quotation. Pfiester found it worth while to 
 come and explain to him that the market at present 
 was very narrow, and the slightest demand was enough 
 to send prices up. That he himself had sold the two 
 hundred Sicilians to Koppel, and had been able soon 
 after to cover at the lower price, he naturally did not 
 tell him. Pfiester regarded this transaction as fully 
 justifiable. Koppel was making a fortune in Alma- 
 den. Why should he not spare from his gains at 
 least the cost of the holiday journey? 
 
 With the Sicilians, Koppel lost all that he had 
 gained in his Calabrians, and six hundred francs be- 
 sides. He did not mind this very much, for Alma- 
 den, meantime, had risen to 615 fr. ; he had gained 
 76,000 francs, and compared with this, 600 francs was 
 insignificant. But his experience in this affair con- 
 firmed him in the resolution never again to give an 
 order without a limit of price. Upon the whole, he 
 was glad to be rid of the Sicilians. Now he had left 
 only his Almadens, which were a joy to him. When, 
 after the settling day of the middle of July, he re- 
 ceived the hundred shares of Almaden which he had 
 taken up and had paid for out of his winnings, and 
 carried them to the Credit Lyonnais, it seemed to 
 him that he was no longer speculating, but simply 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 283 
 
 increasing his capital. These certificates of stock 
 which he fingered, which rustled as he turned them 
 over, were no longer a stake which the croupier's rake 
 now cast towards him, now drew away from him ; 
 or a witch's treasure which now increased, now di- 
 minished, and constantly fooled the hand stretched 
 out to grasp it ; this was a permanent gain which 
 he could lay away safely with his other possessions, 
 where, behind the steel door of his box in the safety- 
 vault it would no longer be an object of dispute. 
 
 He, therefore, allowed himself to consider Pfiester's 
 suggestion of a pleasure-trip. Pleasure-trips had not 
 been known in the Koppel family, heretofore. They 
 were too expensive. Moreover, some of the pupils at 
 the school were accustomed to remain during the sum- 
 mer months, and to pay extra for oversight and in- 
 struction at that time, so that Koppel's summer vaca- 
 tion brought in quite a respectable addition to his 
 income. Nor was the journey needful, since, happily, 
 all the family were in excellent health. But now there 
 suddenly seized upon Koppel a hitherto unknown 
 desire for a change. He felt like a prisoner. He 
 could not breathe as he ought, in city air. He must 
 get away, out of town, into a different atmosphere, 
 among new faces. He had now been ten years in 
 Paris, and during this interminable time he had not 
 gone outside the walls more than a dozen times, and 
 then only for a few hours, never to stay overnight, nor 
 to any greater distance than Saint-Germain or Mont- 
 morency. He had really sinned against his own 
 family, especially the children, and it was high time to 
 make amends. He at once made known to Wolzen 
 that he was not to be counted upon for this year for 
 vacation duty. Wolzen, who never denied himself the 
 summer journey, and was accustomed to leave the 
 school entirely in charge of his conscientious assistant, 
 received this communication as an extremely disagree- 
 able surprise, which disturbed him in his plans ; but he 
 had to make the best of it. Koppel, for several days, 
 was deep in guide-books and railway circulars ; he 
 sought information from his colleagues in the school, 
 
284 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 and from parents of pupils ; and finally, one evening 
 he announced to his family that, at the beginning of 
 August, they were to go to the sea-shore for some eight 
 weeks. 
 
 Elsa gave a cry of delight, and clapped her hands. 
 Oscar seemed to be extremely shocked. He changed 
 colour noticeably, and while the others weie exf ress- 
 ing their opinions he remained perfectly silent. The 
 old lady only inquired if they were to take Martha, the 
 maid, away with them, and, if they did take her, who 
 would look after the apartment while they were away. 
 Frau Kathe was extremely surprised ; she was also some- 
 what displeased that so important a decision should 
 be named to her for the first time as a settled thing, 
 and inquired in an unmistakably offended tone whether 
 she was at liberty to express an opinion on the subject, 
 or was expected merely to obey. 
 
 " I think obedience will not be very hard, since I am 
 not requiring a painful sacrifice of you." 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Frau Kathe, at once speaking 
 seriously. " I am very grateful for yourkind intention ; 
 but there are many agreeable things one must deny 
 oneself when one has to count the cost." 
 
 " You are eternally counting the cost," Koppel said, 
 jokingly, " your arithmetic always spoils for you the 
 pleasure of the hour. Life is not all figures." 
 
 " Life is not, but my account-book is," rejoined 
 Frau Kathe dryly. 
 
 " True, but the figures of your account-book are not 
 alarming. We can allow ourselves an innocent recre- 
 ation for once." 
 
 " Yes, if you have some secret treasure, that I don't 
 know anything about." 
 
 An almost imperceptible smile came to Koppel's 
 lips, and he said : " Do not give yourself unnecessary 
 anxiety. What I propose to you we can well afford. 
 We have worked diligently all the year, we deserve a 
 little rest and pleasure. Elsa has had a grand success ; 
 Oscar has studied hard ; it will be good for you, too, 
 to get away from the treadmill for a few weeks ; and 
 mother will gain in the sea-air." 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 28$ 
 
 " I think, Hugo," Frau Koppel said, who, at mention 
 of cost, had become thoughtful, " I think I would 
 rather stay here. You all go, and enjoy yourselves, 
 and I will take care of the house." 
 
 " I will stay with you, then, grandmother," Oscar 
 said, in a low voice. 
 
 Koppel regarded him with amazement. " What, my 
 boy," he said, " you don't care about going to the sea- 
 shore ?" 
 
 " Paris is beautiful in the summer," Oscar replied, 
 without meeting his father's eyes, " and during .school- 
 time, one never gets a chance to see it." 
 
 A feeling of deep and painful sympathy came over 
 Koppel. How narrow, how darkened, were the souls 
 of these poor women, of this poor boy ! How anx- 
 iously they crept along the ground ! Even in their 
 thoughts and dreams their wings were shrivelled by 
 the compression of their narrow circumstances. Even 
 to the mere wish for a freer, nobler existence they must 
 be slowly and carefully trained. Only Elsa had buoy- 
 ancy. Only she appreciated the charm of the wide 
 outlook which her father opened before them all; her 
 mother 's opposition made her very sad, and she de- 
 fended her hope for the pleasure-trip with an eager- 
 ness which finally got the better of the prudent house- 
 wife's objections. And, later, Elsa had to argue stren- 
 uously to persuade Frau Kathe to do herself the vio- 
 lence of making use of the credit which Koppel had 
 opened for her, for the purchase of bathing-suits and 
 clothes appropriate for the sea-shore. On the follow- 
 ing Sunday Koppel, with a return ticket, went to in- 
 vestigate Berck-sur-Mer, which had been recommended 
 to him. As Frau Kathe would not hear of staying at 
 a hotel, he was to look for a house, but he preferred 
 to go alone on this errand. His family should find all 
 arrangements made for them in advance. He suc- 
 ceeded very well about the house, as he made no 
 scruple as to price, and came home with such a glow- 
 ing picture of the delightful things awaiting them that 
 at least Elsa was very impatient to be off. 
 
 Koppel waited till the settlement at the end of the 
 
286 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 month which gave him a further profit of about 20,ooO 
 francs, so that he could take up twenty-five shares 
 more of Almaden, and lay them aside, also, before he 
 left Paris. 
 
 The parting from the Masmajours was very hard for 
 Elsa. She felt for the first time how dear the mother 
 and daughters had become to her. She kissed her 
 friends and made them promise they would write 
 often. She asked if they could not possibly come to 
 visit her in Berck. Her father said there would be 
 room for guests, with a little crowding, and the excur- 
 sion tickets from Saturday to Monday were so cheap. 
 " Oh, that would be splendid !" Blanche cried, and 
 looked at her mother inquiringly, but Madame Mas- 
 majour replied that she could not promise now, but 
 later she would see. Oscar was evidently more re- 
 gretful at the parting than Elsa, but he concealed his 
 feelings as much as possible so that they attracted no 
 attention from his family. Knecht forgot his usual 
 dignity so far as to help in bringing down the luggage. 
 He extended his hand to Koppel, who gave his own 
 cordially, and received the assurance that the concierge 
 would watch over the apartment carefully during the 
 family's absence. And at the last moment Knecht 
 gave the old lady advice, in German, to be very careful 
 not to take cold at the seashore. 
 
 The house which Koppel had hired in Berck stood 
 alone among the dunes, about fifty paces distant from 
 the next villa, and at the end of the row of houses 
 which stood along the shore. From the wooden bal- 
 cony in front there was a broad view over the sea, 
 which produced effect only through the beauty of its 
 ever changing light and motion, and otherwise was a 
 great primitive solitude, since large vessels, on account 
 of the shallowness of the water, did not come within 
 the range of vision, and only small fishing-boats at cer- 
 tain hours of the day enlivened the intense solitude of 
 the watery mirror. The sand-hill on which the house 
 was built fell steeply away, so that one slid rather than 
 walked down, although the path was cut out diagonally 
 on the slope. At its base extended the perfectly level 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 287 
 
 shore of the finest sand, which the tides, twice a day, 
 alternately overflowed and left dry almost as far out 
 as the eye could see. The beach which the retreating 
 tide at last revealed was of a deep golden brown ; 
 this colour became lighter in regular gradation, until 
 finally, where the sand had the longest time to dry, it 
 was dazzlingly white. On the darker portion it was 
 very pleasant to walk, as on a firm but elastic asphalt 
 pavement. Nearer in, the walking was more and more 
 tiresome, until, finally, where the sand was white, one 
 had to wade step by step, and with each step sink to 
 the ankles. 
 
 Behind the house, on the land side, lay the street, 
 beginning at a caf6 at the extreme edge of the colony, 
 and leading past all the villas to the centre of the 
 place where, around the station-house of the branch 
 railway, were grouped the post-office, the inevitable 
 casino, the hotels, and the shops. Koppel's villa had 
 no opposite neighboyr. Across the street the wild 
 dune stretched inward, luxuriantly overgrown with 
 very tall sea-grass, furze, and heath, — which were abso- 
 lutely impenetrable, unless one were willing to tear and 
 stamp out a path through the stiff, tangled growth — 
 and undermined by countless rabbit-burrows, whose in- 
 habitants were betrayed by their foot-tracks in the 
 sand. 
 
 In the distance was visible behind a screen of trees 
 the church-tower of the actual village, which was quite 
 beyond the region of the dunes. There lived the 
 regular population of peasants and fisherman. The 
 houses on the shore were exclusively for the summer 
 guests, and outside the bathing season they stood 
 empty for the most part. 
 
 The bath was taken directly in front of the villa, 
 and, if the tide at all permitted, in the forenoon. 
 Bathing-houses there were none, nor were they needed. 
 Each put on his bathing-suit in his own room, and 
 went across a few steps into the water, where the 
 mother and daughter remained near the edge, and 
 the father and son, both experienced swimmers, struck 
 out into the sea, while Frau Koppel sat with her knit- 
 
288 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ting-work on the balcony, and contentedly watched 
 the splashing of the former and the glidings of the 
 latter. In the beginning it shocked the old lady that 
 the two sexes should bathe thus promiscuously, and 
 walk about when they came out of the water in 
 their dripping and clinging garments, and she was still 
 more displeased when, later, she walked down the 
 beach, where the bathers were in a crowd. Here, 
 however, there were no spectators to embarrass one. 
 The precious solitude was but rarely disturbed by the 
 coast-guard who made his round usually mornings and 
 evenings ; or by a shrimp-catcher, who with a drag-net 
 on his shoulder, his trousers pushed up to the knee, 
 wandered along the beach on his homeward way or 
 else towards the villa-street ; or, more rarely, by a 
 group of summer visitors on foot, on donkey-back, or 
 on bicycles, making their way along the beach to the 
 caf6. The appearance of this very noisy troop, in 
 glaring white or screaming striped' garments, which 
 were fashioned with artistic negligence, was such an 
 exception that the old lady took it amiss. It appeared 
 to her that the sands before the house, and the sea be- 
 yond, as far as the eye could reach, belonged to them, 
 and should be protected from the occasional intrusion 
 of vulgar people. 
 
 One sight which she had twice a day, near high tide, 
 delighted her beyond the power of words to express. 
 Many hundred gulls assembled, in a single, perfectly 
 straight line along the edge of the incoming tide, their 
 heads towards the sea, with incessant merry screaming 
 and cackling, and fell back, in unbroken, undisturbed 
 rank, slowly, before the advancing waves, for the most 
 part waddling or hopping, but sometimes with a 
 momentary flutter of wings when the thin sheet of 
 water gliding in struck somewhat forcibly against their 
 legs. It was as if these attractive birds were performing 
 in common a regular act of worship, or were taking a 
 prescribed ceremonial foot-bath. This ceremony lasted 
 about a half-hour, and it was only when the gulls, 
 thus retreating before the advancing tide, had nearly 
 reached the dune, that they suddenly, all at once, rose 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 289 
 
 into the air, and giving one last scream of joy, with 
 wide-spread wings flew far away. Frau Koppel, who 
 was really fond of children, came very near, one day, 
 throwing a stopper that she happened to have in her 
 hand at a small boy who mischievously ran in among 
 the flock of gulls and scared them off. It was so 
 beautiful to see the handsome birds rimming the edge 
 of the sea, like another silvery wave-fringe ! 
 
 There was a certain annoyance to which the old lady 
 could not become reconciled. This was the im- 
 palpable sand-drift, which came in through the smallest 
 cracks and crevices and against which it was, unfor- 
 tunately, impossible to protect oneself. Vainly you 
 used a dust-cloth : scarcely was table or cupboard 
 brushed off when a new layer of dust was deposited, 
 and, in the morning, when you were dressing, as you 
 took up each article of clothing an actual rain of sand 
 fell out of it. This incessant war upon the sand-dust 
 made it quite distressing to her to stay in-doors, and 
 she remained in the open air as much as possible. 
 
 In Berck there were several institutions for sea-air 
 cure of delicate children. These had been in part 
 founded, and were maintained, by private charity ; in 
 part, they belonged to the City of Paris and to some 
 of the inland departments. From these asylums there 
 came out, after the mid-day meal, long processions of 
 little invalids, who went down to the beach and re- 
 mained there the whole afternoon, returning in time 
 for supper. The pathetic train was a collection of all 
 the pains and hurts from which humanity suffers. Led 
 and accompanied, the girls by sisters of charity and 
 secular attendants, the boys by male nurses, these 
 children limped and crawled up the dunes and over 
 the sands : some hunchbacked, others on (Crutches, 
 and others lying stretched out in little carriages 
 pushed by an attendant, the most favoured among 
 them having no visible deformity, but small-limbed, 
 narrow-chested, with sickly, unnaturally wizened faces, 
 whose unhealthy pallor showed through the sun-burn. 
 And when their poor little bodies were divested of 
 clothes by an attendant, and they were put into the 
 
290 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 warm, shallow water to bathe and play, how pathetic 
 their appearance ! Here and there, a beautiful blonde 
 cherub's head upon shapeless, distorted shoulders, 
 frightful humps on back and breast, spindling arms, 
 knees shockingly swollen, lamentably crooked legs 
 and twisted feet, grim caricatures, as if devised by an 
 evil intelligence who sought to turn to some malicious 
 jest the noble beauty of the race, revolting blunders of 
 Nature, or her cruel visiting of the sins of our genera- 
 tion upon the innocent offspring of criminal, or perhaps 
 only unfortunate, parents, degenerating in the misery 
 of city life. 
 
 when Frau Koppel first beheld this troop of little 
 invalids, she was horror-struck ; she turned, and fled 
 back to the villa, declaring that she would never again 
 go to that part of the beach where the children, in sun 
 and sea-air, sand and salt-water, were trying to bathe 
 themselves well. But her sympathy got the better 
 of her. In her old heart the half-torpid impulse of 
 motherhood awakened again, and drove her irresistibly 
 to the little sufferers, to do some kind thing for them 
 if she could. She sat down beside them in the sand, 
 she sought to be helpful to the sisters, as they, like the 
 Good Shepherd of the Bible, carried the lame and 
 feeble in their arms, and, modest in their nun's dress, 
 would go into the water till their clothes were wet to 
 the knees that they might give the little creatures a 
 dip. Although she could not exchange a word with 
 either children or nurses, they understood each other 
 very soon, and the little ones, after a few days, greeted, 
 her with screams of delight when they saw her ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 More touching, however, than the flock of sick chil- 
 dren who were daily taken to the beach and back again, 
 was something by itself which the Koppels saw, the 
 first time they took a long walk on the sands. Near 
 the general bathing-place, although a little removed 
 from the noisy groups of children who were building 
 fortifications and chasing each other up and down, and 
 also somewhat remote from the gossiping older people 
 with their croquet-playing, sat, just at the water's 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 29 1 
 
 edge, almost splashed by the waves, a poorly-dressed 
 woman on a camp-stool, in the shadow of a great cot- 
 ton umbrella that she had set up in the sand. Across 
 her lap, in a kind of framework, wrapped like a mummy, 
 lay a sick boy, five or six years old, with a pallid little 
 face, and big quiet eyes that were scarcely ever turned 
 away from the woman's anxious countenance. When- 
 ever the Koppels went along the beach, at every hour 
 of the day and in every kind of weather, there the 
 woman sat, her child upon her lap, following the 
 water's edge, in towards the dunes, or far away out 
 towards the sea, — untiring, although her position was 
 so uncomfortable, busy with some kind of handiwork, 
 alone, silent, patient, her eyes ever seeking the eyes of 
 the boy, a never-to-be-forgotten picture of a mater 
 dolorosa. 
 
 The tears came into Frau Kathe's eyes when she 
 saw this woman, and Elsa could not resist the desire 
 to befriend her. After they had passed her several 
 times, going and returning, they both sat down near 
 her, at which she looked up surprised and suspicious, 
 and then bent her eyes upon her boy as before. They 
 succeeded, however, in making conversation with her, 
 and she could not resist their friendly manner. They 
 learned that she was a widow, and that the boy was 
 her only child, and that he suffered from a disease of 
 the bones, a distortion of the spine, so that he was 
 obliged to lie motionless. They also learned, in sub- 
 sequent conversation, that she was extremely poor, 
 that she could not, however, persuade herself to en- 
 trust her child to the hospital when the doctor had 
 told her that the sea-air would be useful to him. She 
 had sold or pawned enough to provide herself with a 
 little money ; she had come to Berck in the middle of 
 July, and was living with incredible frugality. She her- 
 self ate almost nothing but bread and cheese ; but the 
 boy had not lacked for suitable food. But she was now 
 greatly distressed at the thought that she could not 
 remain much longer, since her little stock of money 
 was nearly exhausted. 
 
 After talking the matter over with her parents, Elsa 
 
292 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 made known to the poor woman that she was an artist, 
 that she would Hke to work on the seashore, and that 
 she had in mind apicture for which the afflicted mother 
 would be an admirable model. After this, ELsa went 
 out every day, accompanied by her father and mother, 
 sat down near the poor woman, petted the boy, and 
 sketched or painted for an hour, first the woman with 
 her crochet-work, with the pale child upon her lap, 
 and the sad eyes ; and after that the figures of well 
 and happy passers-by, who stopped to sympathize and 
 thrust a five-franc piece into the busy, tireless hand. 
 Her father had given her a hundred francs to expend 
 in this work of love. According to his calculation, this 
 would give the poor mother six weeks longer in Berck. 
 To him it was no sacrifice. And he experienced the 
 strongest satisfaction he had yet known in this change 
 in his circumstances, which enabled him to bring a lit- 
 tle hope and comfort to a sorely afflicted mother's 
 heart. 
 
 Oscar was almost always with his sister, whether on 
 the sands or in the village ; but twice a day he van- 
 ished, first, excusing himself, but later, without saying 
 anything. He was seen to walk rapidly away in the 
 direction of the villas, returning half an hour later, sad, 
 thoughtful and silent. Elsa thought it so odd that 
 once she asked him, jokingly, if he went to play at the 
 Casino and had lost. But he only replied that she 
 ought not to talk foolishly. 
 
 About ten days after their arrival in Berck, Elsa 
 chanced one evening, at the dining-room window which 
 opened upon the street, to overhear Oscar asking the 
 postman whether poste-restante letters also passed 
 through his hands. 
 
 " That depends," the postman said ; " those for the 
 village I stamp, but those for the seashore come 
 directly here and I have nothing to do with them. 
 
 " How is that ?" Oscar said, " letters have to be ad- 
 dressed specially to come to this post-ofifice." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "And if only addressed Berck-sur-mer ?" 
 
 " Then they remain at the village." 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 293 
 
 " Oh, is that so ?" Oscar said. " How late is the 
 post-office open ?" 
 
 " Till seven o'clock, but it is now closed," the post- 
 man answered. He saluted and went on. 
 
 Elsa had gone to the door, meantime, and she asked 
 Oscar if he expected a letter " to be kept till called 
 for." 
 
 The boy turned very red, and said: " That does not 
 concern you." 
 
 "You fraud! Do you have secrets from me ? That's 
 not very brotherly of you ;" and quite vexedj she was 
 about to leave him. 
 
 But Oscar, much disturbed, held her fast and stam- 
 mered : 
 
 " Don't please! I only have— I only wanted — well, 
 if you are anxious to know, I will tell you." While 
 talking, some idea had evidently occurred to his versa- 
 tile brain and he said, without further hesitation : " I 
 have sent a poem to a newspaper and begged to have 
 an answer addressed poste-restante. Now you have the 
 secret. Are you satisfied ?" 
 
 " Not altogether. You ought to have told me, in- 
 stead of stealing off to the post-office twice a day. But 
 what paper is it ? And have you a copy of your poem 
 here ?" 
 
 Oscar was very much pleased that she followed this 
 lead (which was a false one), and he narrated to her, 
 about his poetical efforts, all that she was willing to 
 listen to. The confession was very unexpected, for 
 she had not the slightest idea that ambition of this kind 
 had taken possession of his soul. He promised to read 
 to her what he had with him, but another time, for, 
 this evening, he was tired. 
 
 In the morning, before the bathing hour, he went 
 off, and hastened to the village post-office. It was 
 nearly twice as far as to the shore post-office ; he re- 
 mained longer away than usual, and there was a gen- 
 eral inquiry after him, as the others would not go into 
 the water until he was with them. When he at last 
 appeared, heated, his usually pale cheeks crimsoned, 
 and his eyes very bright, his mother called him to ac- 
 
294 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 count. "Where have you been, boy?" she said. 
 "What have you been about, so early in the morning, 
 all by yourself ?" 
 
 " Oh, mother, it is so nice to run through the broom," 
 he said coaxingly, " and I have to have some exercise. 
 All day long there is nothing to do here !" 
 
 Frau Kathe accepted the explanation, but Elsa 
 smiled secretly, for she knew more about it. When 
 they were ready to go into the water, as they went 
 across the beach, she stepped alongside of her brother, 
 and said, in a low voice : " Well, was your poem ac- 
 cepted ?" 
 
 He looked at her in surprise, but, instantly recover- 
 ing himself, replied : " I have no news from it yet." 
 
 " That can't be true. I see plainly enough that you 
 are very happy." 
 
 " Do you see plainly that I am very happy ? Well, 
 I am ; but it is for another reason. On the way I 
 made a poem. I think it is a good one. And so, of 
 course, I'm happy." 
 
 That afternoon, as Elsa sat on the beach near her 
 poor woman and washed in her aquarelle, Oscar read 
 aloud to her a number of his poems and prose pieces. 
 It was not easy to decide which of them was the poetry 
 and which, the prose. For the poems were written in 
 "free" lines, that is to say, unequal in number of feet, and 
 only approximately rhymed ; and the prose had a cer- 
 tain rhythm, and an artistic, elevated diction. The sub- 
 stance was love's longing, alternated with a bitter 
 contempt for the world, and proud forecasts of his 
 own future greatness as a poet, and ecstatic imagery 
 of presentiments and dreams ; the form, now, ex- 
 tremely affected, with allusions to the latest novelties 
 in art and literature, with fine-spun, obscure mental 
 impressions, and laboured adjectives, and now, inten- 
 tionally primitive, childish and homely, almost babbling, 
 with uncouth intention all the time of being dark and 
 deep ; and with a multitude of new words, of which 
 only part were comprehensible. 
 
 Elsa listened with growing surprise. After Oscar 
 had read a few pieces she said : " I do not know 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 295 
 
 whether it pleases me. One must become accustomed 
 to it, perhaps." 
 
 " It is modern," Oscar remarked, self-satisfied, but 
 also sensitive. 
 
 " But it is really quite different from everything I am 
 familiar with. I don't very well understand the meas- 
 ure. Victor Hugo, Sully Prudhomme, Leconte de 
 risle, and, I suppose, Th^ophile Gautier, are all 
 modern ?" 
 
 " What a Philistine you are, with your old periwigs ! 
 You are not in the movement. I shall have to teach 
 you. You must read the Ideal, the monthly, to which 
 I intend to be a regular contributor." 
 
 To this Elsa agreed ; Oscar had in his box some of 
 the plum-coloured numbers, and he introduced his 
 sister to many solemn and impassioned disputations on 
 the future of Poetry, on " free " Versification, on the 
 Beauty of Anarchy, on the Royalty of the Artist, 
 which were the staple of their contents. It was a new 
 and somewhat strange world of thought, and not 
 particularly attractive to Elsa : she, however, gave so 
 much attention to it that she spoke of it at table. 
 Thus the parents learned of Oscar's thoughts, and, 
 though he made very strong objection, he was obliged 
 to show them some of his productions. He chose, 
 without consulting his sister, exactly those pieces 
 which were most inoffensive and most comprehensible. 
 His father only shook his head over them, and laughed 
 in a friendly way. " You are coming into the lyric 
 period, my boy. We all of us go through it. Later, 
 one gets past it ! But there's nothing to be ashamed 
 of in these youthful amusements." Frau Kathe, how- 
 ever, was very sad : " I cannot follow you," she said. 
 " Why do you not write your poetry in German ?" 
 
 Oscar appeared to be surprised. Evidently, the 
 idea had never occurred to him. " I don't know," he 
 replied ; " this seemed more natural. I always think 
 in French. And I scarcely read anything but 
 French." 
 
 " Then you would like to be a French poet ?" 
 
 " Why not .?" 
 
2g6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " That is all right, and I have no objection, if you 
 will be faithful with your studies, all the same," Kop- 
 pel said finally ; and the subject was dropped. 
 
 Elsa felt it her duty, later, to console Oscar over 
 the questionable success of his reading. She found 
 however, that his parents' indifference had produced 
 no effect upon him whatever. " Papa and mamma 
 are foreigners," he said, in a tone of superiority, " they 
 don't feel it, but they are. And besides, we do not 
 write for our predecessors, but for those who are to 
 follow us." 
 
 Frau Kathe spoke with her husband somewhat 
 anxiously about Oscar's French authorship ; Koppel 
 consoled her, however, with the assurance that he 
 would see to it that Oscar remained a good Ger- 
 man. 
 
 From that time on, the boy was regarded somewhat 
 differently in his own family ; it was as if he had laid 
 aside the boy's toga, and had entered upon the age of 
 responsibility. Elsa, who, in the last few months, 
 had become in a certain degree estranged from him, 
 and had accustomed herself to regard him as a child, 
 began to take him seriously again. Through her 
 art-work, her success at the Salon, and her new social 
 relations, she had far outstripped him ; now, through 
 his unsuspected intellectual interests, he had come up 
 with her, as by one long stride, and he was very near 
 having the ascendancy over her, although she was 
 much more mature in character than he. There came 
 a suspicion to the parents that a new world lay before 
 them, with laws and exigencies of its own, and many 
 unknown, and therefore disquieting things, an inde- 
 pendent personality, which, by degrees and unnoticed, 
 had drawn away from them, which they must now learn 
 how to grasp and care for again. 
 
 Elsa kept up a diligent correspondence with Adfele, 
 who related to her all the family and house news, 
 while Elsa described to her Berck, its scenery and 
 people, and added to her letter clever sketches, often 
 in colour, which, according to Ad^le's faithful and 
 credible assertion, were a delight to the Masmajour 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 297 
 
 family, and, on the one hand, inspired them with the 
 greatest desire to splash in that wide, rippling water 
 and lie on the white sand at the foot of the dunes, 
 while, on the other hand, they so faithfully represented 
 lierck, its beauty and delightfulness, that they were 
 almost equal to the reality. Adele wrote well and sin- 
 cerely. In all her words appeared the warm affection 
 she felt for her friend. " It is singular," she wrote 
 once, " how empty great Paris with its millions of peo- 
 ple can seem, when from these millions one single 
 person is missing." The sentence pleased Oscar so 
 much that he wove it artistically into a sonnet, which 
 Elsa declared to be the best thing he had yet written. 
 She desired a copy to send to Paris, but Oscar said, 
 with a somewhat conscious smile, that that was un- 
 necessary. 
 
 Though repeatedly invited, the Masmajours had not 
 been able to decide on coming to Berck for a few days, 
 but an unexpected visitor, in the second half of Au- 
 gust, took the Koppels by surprise. One afternoon, 
 Herr Briinne-Tillig, unannounced, appeared at the villa, 
 where he found Koppel alone, who, with much pleas- 
 ure, took him at once in search of the others on the 
 beach. He explained that before the autumn ma- 
 noeuvres of the French army, which he was to attend, 
 he had a short leave of absenccr and was devoting it 
 to an excursion along the coast ; and, learning in the 
 rue Saint-Andr6-des-Arts, that the Koppels were in 
 Berck, he had directed his steps thither on first leav- 
 ing Paris. 
 
 On his arrival, Briinne-Tillig spoke of making a very 
 short stay ; he remained, however, a whole week. 
 He was with the Koppels almost the whole day, only 
 that he came somewhat late mornings, having noticed 
 that Elsa would not take her bath when he was there. 
 He was very active and stirring, and always had some- 
 thing to propose : excursions on foot and in a carriage, 
 on donkeys and in a sail-boat, now to the village, now 
 to neighbouring beaches, from Saint-Gabriel and Saint- 
 C6cile on the north, to Crotoy and the mouth of the 
 Somme on the south ; to attend hops and balls at the 
 
298 THE BRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Casino, concerts, pigeon-shooting ; and at the theatre, 
 the latest Parisian operettas and farces. Also, he per- 
 suaded them to rabbit-hunting and shrimp-catching, 
 so that while he was there they could scarcely find 
 time to breathe. Now, for the first time they began 
 really to know the place and the neighbourhood, and 
 gained an idea of the life usually led at seashore re- 
 sorts. Frau Kathe found all this amusement rather 
 fatiguing. She sacrificed herself, however, in silence, 
 for she saw that the others enjoyed themselves 
 heartily with the lively, restless young man. It was 
 noticeable that he was always, as if accidentally, at 
 Elsa's side, but this occurred without obtrusiveness 
 on his part ; with well-bred, respectful reserve, so that 
 the girl had no cause to draw back, and could accus- 
 tom herself to walk and talk with him innocently, as 
 if with a friend. 
 
 In this animated week, there happened to be a full 
 moon, and in the perfectly fair, calm summer weather, 
 the evenings on the beach were of fabulous beauty. 
 With the exception of the old lady, who still kept to 
 her usual early hours, the whole family remained 
 together till nearly midnight, almost every evening, by 
 turns loitering over the moist sand which creaked un- 
 der the step, or lying down where the sand was dry 
 and warm. The moon stood almost as bright as day 
 above the faintly murmuring, shining sea, and to right 
 and left glittered in the distance the white and coloured 
 lights of festive illuminations. They talked about 
 everything, and Elsa was more animated and mischiev- 
 ous than her parents had ever seen her before. And 
 also in Elsa, to her mother's astonishment, appeared 
 much that was unsuspected, making her feel a stranger 
 and almost timid, in the presence of the girl. 
 
 Frau Kathe complained, among other things, of the 
 innumerable feminine bicyclists, who tore past along 
 the street to the caf^ ; the sight of these kicking 
 women, at all hours of the day, rushing by her win- 
 dows, was so unendurable to her that she kept out of 
 the rooms on the street side of the house. Elsa de- 
 fended the lovers of the wheel. 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 299 
 
 " Nothing could be more unfeminine," Frau Kathe 
 said. 
 
 " But why, mamma ?" Elsa rejoined. " If the 
 bicycle is a valuable invention, and its use is salutary 
 and pleasant, I really do not see why we, alone, should 
 be shut out from it. Every advantage, however inno- 
 cent, we have been obliged to capture for ourselves, 
 amid universal opposition. When unlucky near- 
 sighted women for the first time ventured to aid their 
 eyes with glasses, as men had been doing for thousands 
 of years, there was an outcry : ' What ! a woman with 
 glasses, with 2. pince-nez, or worse still with a monocle ! 
 How disgusting ! How unfeminine !' It used to be un- 
 feminine that a lady should go into a restaurant alone ; 
 it was unfeminine that a lady should attempt to paint. 
 Now what is it to be feminine, really ?' 
 
 " It is feminine to be modest, and not seek to at- 
 tract notice," Frau Kathe said with unusual emphasis. 
 " These persons use a bicycle in order to be looked at. 
 It is a saucy attempt to make themselves interesting." 
 
 " That may be so in many cases. The women who 
 are the first to decide to break with custom and do a 
 new thing, are not the reserved ; and I am willing to 
 admit that they must have a certain amount of auda- 
 city. Their underlying motive is not perhaps the 
 most praiseworthy. It is possible they wish to attract 
 attention. But they cannot do this very long; they 
 arc quickly imitated, soon everybody gets used to the 
 new thing, and it passes unnoticed. Then all women, 
 even the most quiet and proper, can follow the new 
 custom, and no one turns his head to look at them. 
 So things right themselves in the end. Those who 
 break out the path excite resistance purposely, and 
 find their recompense in being the object of remark. 
 We say they are lacking in modesty, but in the end 
 their audacity does us service. I believe that auda- 
 cious women unconsciously have the vocation to gain 
 new rights for the modest ones." 
 
 " Bravo !" cried Koppel, enchanted by the girl's 
 adroit and well-stated argument, and Oscar listened 
 with delight. 
 
300 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Permit me also to applaud, gracious Fraulein !" 
 said Brunne-Tillig, " and still I cannot imagine you a 
 bicyclist. That hunched-up attitude ! That dress 1 
 Brr!" 
 
 " Yes, I do not think it is beautiful, myself. There 
 is something more to be discovered, something that 
 will be pretty and graceful ; we shall get it some day. 
 There will be an improvement in the wheel, and the 
 costume will be more pleasing. And then you will 
 not object to our riding the bicycle, Herr Briinne- 
 Tillig?" 
 
 " Certainly not, gracious Fraulein. I have not the 
 slightest objection myself to the extension of women's 
 rights. In heaven's name let women at every point 
 be like men. I would only most respectfully propose 
 that they try to resemble well-behaved men. It is a 
 remarkable thing that emancipated ladies, when, they 
 act the man, always imitate the most ill-bred of our 
 sex. The lady bicyclists come, dusty, into the Casino, 
 they walk about with their hands in their pockets, 
 they talk loud, they sit cross-legged in their chairs, 
 they affect nonchalance in manners and dress. And 
 it is just the same in regard to other points on which 
 you have touched. Ladies using a lorgnon stare in 
 people's faces in a way that would be followed at once 
 by a challenge, were a man to allow himself to be 
 guilty of such a rudeness. Ladies who smoke, do so 
 on occasions and in places where a man accustomed 
 to good society would never take the liberty. I grant 
 the ladies every right, except the right to be ill-bred." 
 
 " That is because we are in time of war," Elsa re- 
 plied, smiling; "the women are fighting for their 
 rights, and they cannot help the noise and tumult that 
 always accompanies fighting. When peace is con- 
 cluded, then things will regulate themselves." 
 
 " What are the terms on which peace will be made ! 
 Will marriage be abolished ?" Brunne-Tillig inquired, 
 mischievously. 
 
 " Oh, no !" Elsa cried, with so much alacrity that 
 everybody laughed. Whereat she blushed violently. 
 " But in marriage, the woman will be with entire 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 3OI 
 
 freedom and with equal rights, a co-worker with the 
 man." 
 
 " In my profession there would be difficulty about 
 that. The wife as co-worker in the command of a 
 regiment — " said Briinne-Tillig, seriously. 
 
 " I have no experience personally," Elsa rejoined, 
 " but papa brings home the Fliegender Blatter some- 
 times, and if I may believe that, it appears that the 
 Frau Colonel not infrequently has a voice in regi- 
 mental affairs." 
 
 Again everybody laughed, and Briinne-Tillig was 
 most amused of all ; and he began narrating many 
 anecdotes from his own experience in the service, for 
 the purpose of maintaining the justice of this last re- 
 marlf. 
 
 Brunne-Tillig's amiability and interest extended 
 even to Oscar, who, with a kind of unconscious jealousy, 
 kept watch over his sister, and never left her for a 
 moment when the young officer was near. The latter 
 succeeded in inducing the half-aroused, early-matured 
 youth — who was scarcely more than a boy in age — to 
 talk with him freely. The foreign accent with which 
 Oscar spoke German seemed to Briinne-Tillig very 
 pretty ; Oscar's French constructions made the older 
 man smile ; and every now and then Briinne-Tillig had 
 to help the boy out with a word. At many things that 
 Oscar said, however, the young officer was startled 
 or joined issue with him at once. When Oscar spoke 
 scornfully of the Migration of the Nations as an 
 incursion of Barbarians, Briinne-Tillig asked : " Did 
 you know that these Barbarians were our ancestors?" 
 To Oscar, the Seventeenth Century was " the Great 
 Century;" and on Briinne-Tillig's remark that this 
 was the period of the Thirty Years' War, of desola- 
 tion, and of debasement, Oscar rejoined : " But only 
 in the German empire." 
 
 " You have become a thorough little Frenchman in 
 your views. But it 's no matter. Your year in the 
 Guards will put you to rights." 
 
 " Indeed, it will not," Oscar replied petulantly. 
 
 " Do not be too sure of that, my young friend." 
 
302 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Military slavery may perhaps subdue a feeble 
 nature ; but a strong individuality can resist it," Oscar 
 cried hotly. 
 
 Briinne-Tillig only smiled. " Is this what you have 
 learned in the Paris schools ?" 
 
 " I don't know whether we learn it in school or 
 not ; but this I know, that many of us despise mili- 
 tarism because it debases the individual, making him 
 but a machine of destruction." 
 
 " If young France thinks in that way so much the 
 better for us, and so much the worse for France," said 
 Briinne-Tillig. dryly. He began to find the youth too 
 forward. Oscar, however, was now launched, and he 
 went on : " My comrades are also opposed to war, 
 that is to say, the intelligent ones. There are Chauvins 
 and patriotards among us, but those fellows are 
 laughed at. They are grocers' sons. When our 
 generation comes up, we shall have reason and justice 
 in the world, not barbaric bloodshed, which proves 
 nothing." 
 
 Briinne-Tillig only laughed indulgently, and Elsa, 
 who felt how unsuitable this kind of talk was, addressed 
 to an ofificer, hastened to take control of the conversa- 
 tion and give it a different direction. 
 
 As Briinne-TiUig's stay in Berck prolonged itself 
 day after day, Frau Kathe one night abandoned her 
 shy, instinctive reserve toward her husband, and said 
 abruptly : " Tell me, Hugo, are you pleased that the 
 young man is so taken up with us ?" 
 
 " Why not ?" Koppel said, surprised. " You don't 
 like him, then ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! But I am afraid Elsa likes him, also." 
 
 " You are afraid ? What would be the harm ?" 
 
 " What ! Do you think it is right to let things go 
 on till the poor child gets an idea in her head which 
 can never be realized ?" 
 
 " I do not see that danger at all. If the two young 
 people like each other, there is the usual d^noAment 
 with which every well-constructed German drama con- 
 cludes." 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 303 
 
 " Do you seriously think that BrCinne-Tillig could 
 marry our Elsa ?" ^ 
 
 " Certainly I do think it. Is she not good enough 
 for him ?" 
 
 "You mustn't ask her mother that. But in society 
 a young girl is not valued according to her worth. 
 Herr von Briinne-Tillig is a man of rank, and doubt- 
 less expects a great deal. He has a right to expect it. 
 While we — " 
 
 "We, my good Kathe, are respectable people, I 
 think, and it would be a disgrace to no man to be con- 
 nected with us. Herr von Briinne-Tillig does not take 
 us for money-bags. He is too clear-sighted and sharp- 
 sighted for that. He has been at our house, and he 
 has seen that we are modest, unassuming people. If 
 he continues to visit us, and seeks our intimacy, it is 
 because he likes to do so." 
 
 " With no serious intentions." 
 
 " We have no right to consider him dishonourable. 
 He is young and vivacious ; in Paris, he has no great 
 plenty of ladies' society, among Germans, situated as 
 he is ; and it may be a pleasure to him now and then 
 to chat with a handsome, well-educated girl of his own 
 nationality, without feeling himself thereby involved 
 in any way. On our part we must let him come. If 
 we keep Elsa under lock and key, and let no young 
 man come near her, until he has formally proposed for 
 her hand, I am afraid we should do her a very poor 
 service." 
 
 " Very good — if these visits do not cause our poor 
 child her peace of mind." 
 
 " I don't think our Elsa would get singed so eas- 
 ily." 
 
 " That is something you can't be sure of. The 
 child has a deeper nature than she herself knows. She 
 is excited and absent-minded when he is coming, very 
 animated when he is here, dreamy and silent after he 
 is gone. You men don't see these things ; but they 
 do not escape a mother." 
 
 " I can only repeat, dear Kathe, what I said at first, 
 
304 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 I hope and think that Herr von Brunne-Tillig is in 
 earnest." 
 
 Frau Kathe shook her head in amazement. " The 
 least that an officer expects," she said, "is the ' secu- 
 rity,', and that is 60,000 marks, you know." 
 
 " But we have it, my child." 
 
 " Yes, but it is all that we have." 
 
 " What better use could we make of it?" 
 
 " Well, but there is Oscar " 
 
 " He shall be just as well provided for. Give your- 
 self no anxiety. And now, dear Kathe, pleasant 
 dreams !" 
 
 Frau Kathe could not at all understand these easy- 
 going views ; but for the moment there was nothing 
 to be done but to blow out the candle. 
 
 At the end of this week of revelry, Brunne-Tillig at 
 last took his leave. The whole family accompanied him 
 to the railway station. He kissed Frau Kathe's hand 
 ceremoniously, and then imprinted a rapid kiss upon 
 Elsa's, as the girl extended it to shake hands with him. 
 Astonished and embarrassed— for such a thing had 
 never happened to her before — Elsa drew her hand 
 away and blushed violently. Brunne-Tillig lifted his 
 blue eyes to hers with an expression of gentle flattery 
 that was most unusual to them, and said : " This has 
 been a never-to be-forgotten week, gracious Fraulein. 
 We shall talk it over when we meet in Paris. You will 
 permit me," he added, half turning toward the older 
 people, "to pay my respects to you then and inquire 
 after your health ?" 
 
 Elsa cast down her eyes, and Koppel answered for 
 her : " It will be a pleasure to us, Herr von Briinne- 
 Tillig." 
 
 After his departure, Berck seemed very quiet. 
 Every one noticed this, though with different feelings. 
 The older people were pleased to return to the earher 
 tranquillity. Elsa was very silent and would linger in 
 her own room if she had a reason or an excuse for 
 going thither, and seemed rather to be occupied with 
 her own thoughts than to be interested in the world 
 outside ; often she would sit before her aquarelle-paper 
 
THE KOPPELS GO TO THE SEASHORE. 305 
 
 for fifteen minutes at a time, without touching it, her 
 brush in her hand, her brown eyes lost in memories 
 and dreams. Only by degrees she recovered herself ; 
 but her nature was too vigorous and elastic, her mind 
 was too intelligently directed towards her art, for it to 
 be possible that she should give herself up to an ener- 
 vating regret for what was past or a profitless living it 
 over again in imagination. Frau Kathe anxiously 
 watched her daughter ; she would have gladly taken 
 the burden from the young heart ; it was a grief to her 
 that Elsa avoided making the slightest reference to 
 that which unmistakably occupied her thoughts. But 
 the strong young girl would have it out with herself 
 alone, and she was able to do it. The mother felt a 
 great relief when Elsa again splashed merrily in the 
 sea-bath, whistled to the dogs who trotted past on the 
 street, and ceased to sit by the hour alone in her 
 room. 
 
 Singularly enough, Oscar seemed also to take 
 Brunne-Tillig's departure much to heart. He was 
 no longer lively, he preferred to be alone, he ceased to 
 run and jump, and towards the end of August he went 
 so far as to ask if it were not nearly time to return to 
 Paris. 
 
 Koppel could not understand it. " Do you find 
 your vacation too long?" he asked. 
 
 " It is no recreation to have nothing to do," the boy 
 said. 
 
 " Young people are different from what they used 
 to be," Koppel remarked ; " when I was of your age, I 
 should have been glad enough to go to the seashore 
 and stay as long as I was allowed, and I should have 
 very soon found something to do." 
 
 " This Berck is really too tiresome. There is noth- 
 ing going on here. Paris is the place where one en- 
 joys a vacation." 
 
 " That is nonsense, my lad. You have no apprecia- 
 tion for all the opportunities that are offered to you 
 here. It would not be a bad idea, for instance, for 
 you to learn to ride a bicycle, which you can do sq 
 easily here." 
 
306 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Oscars face brightened. He had never thought of 
 that ! At the Casino there was a bicycle school where 
 a man gave lessons very cheaply, and where a wheel 
 could afterwards be hired. And since his father had 
 proposed it himself the boy lost no time in learning to 
 ride. After a few lessons, his liking increased with his 
 new proficiency, he became interested and ambitious, 
 and was captivated by the machine. He no longer 
 found the time wearisome, he spoke no more of wish- 
 ing to return to the city, he was no longer peevish, 
 and only tired out his sister with entreaties that she 
 also would learn to ride, that they might fly together 
 over the roads. 
 
 Near the close of September the poor woman with 
 the invalid boy left Berck. The child had evidently 
 improved, his transparent little face was less pallid 
 and suffering, and the mother was full of encourage- 
 ment as to his recovery. The Koppels learned her 
 address in Paris, and Elsa secretly gave her a little 
 money for the journey. It was the girl's intention to 
 look after her a little in Paris also. With the thought, 
 the image of the baroness also came before her mind. 
 She scarcely knew how the thing would be arranged, 
 but she had no doubt that the Baroness Agostini had 
 a part to play in this affair. She had become so 
 accustomed to recognize in the handsome, clever 
 woman, — who seemed to others so cold and proud, and 
 whorn she knew to be so kind — a friendly Providence, 
 ever ready to help. 
 
 And now, at last, their stay at the seashore drew to 
 its close, for Oscar's school began shortly, and Koppel 
 was due at the Wolzen establishment. Koppel looked 
 back proudly over these eight weeks ; he had, for the 
 first time in his life, really had the enjoyment of free- 
 dom, nothing had interfered with the carrying out of 
 his plans ; he had been independent of circumstances 
 and of persons. The oppressive cares and anxieties 
 of earning a living had vanished out of his thoughts. 
 He and his family had been undisturbed and happy 
 creatures in the midst of nature ; they had been con- 
 scious of their own powers and inclinations, and had 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 307 
 
 been able to follow every lead that presented itself, 
 without being hemmed in by the anxious question : 
 " Can I ? May I venture ?" " And thus shall it ever 
 be !" Koppel promised himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 
 
 The Knecht family welcomed the return of the 
 Koppels with many kind attentions, and the Masma- 
 jour family with heartfelt delight. And so, they were 
 no longer lost in the great wilderness of Paris, stran- 
 gers, without a friend, almost without an acquaintance, 
 their coming and going a matter of importance to no 
 single human creature ! It gave them pleasure to see 
 that they had a place in a few hearts, and it appeared 
 to Koppel that he now, for the first time, had a citizen- 
 ship here, where he had been hitherto only transiently 
 a resident. All congratulated the family on their 
 improved appearance. Even the old lady had evi- 
 dently gained. They were all sunburnt and bright- 
 eyed. Oscar had grown ; his cheeks had lost their 
 pallor, his upper lip had a darkly shaded down, which, 
 without base flattery, could fairly be called a mous- 
 tache. 
 
 The blonde Marie lost no time in introducing her 
 Jean in his new array, the blue coat with metal but- 
 tons, with the intertwined initials, B. F. O., in silver 
 embroidery on the collar, and the cocked hat with sil- 
 ver edge and cockade. The two invited their patrons 
 to the wedding, which was to occur late in October. 
 The young couple were so happy with each other and 
 with looking forward to their wedding, that they spread 
 joy around them and left it behind them wherever they 
 went. 
 
 Elsa had much to relate to the Masmajours about 
 
308 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 her life in Barck. She went into detail about every- 
 thing except Briinne-Tillig's visit, which she passed 
 over in silence. This gap, however, Oscar's narrative 
 filled out, wherein the young officer figured as a lively, 
 dashing fellow, a famous athlete, but not of high men- 
 tal standing. As Oscar never spoke of him in Elsa's 
 presence, she had no opportunity to Correct this esti- 
 mate, and the Masmajour girls felt a certain regret 
 that a rough, commonplace fellow of that sort should 
 attract the first fancy of so clever and sensitive a 
 creature as their friend. 
 
 Adele waited day by day for the mention of a cer- 
 tain name, but when this never came, she took cour- 
 age to ask, as if casually : " How was it that your 
 friend Henneberg never visited you in Berck?" 
 
 " I do not know," Elsa rejoined, innocently ; "very 
 likely he went to stay with the Baroness Agostini." 
 
 Then Adele looked up sharply from her work. 
 " Why do you say that ?" she asked. 
 
 " But why should I not say it ?" Elsa replied, aston- 
 ished. 
 
 Adele saw that the que.stion was asked in perfect 
 innocence. " I thought," she said, " that the gentle- 
 man being a friend, and having money enough to come 
 and go as he pleased, would have wanted to spend a 
 few days with your parents." 
 
 " I think he is more intimate with the Agostinis 
 than with us. And they are in the same position he 
 is. At their house he would find the kind of life that 
 he is accustomed to. I do not know, however, that 
 he has been at the Agostinis' ; I only conjecture it." 
 
 The conjecture was right. The Baroness Agostini 
 had left Paris in the middle of July, and had gone to the 
 chateau that she owned in Brittany, in the wildest part 
 of Finistere near Penmarch on the granite coast of the 
 Atlantic Ocean. It was the realization of her dream 
 of a regal isolation : a two-story building in the Louis 
 Quinze style, standing alone in fifteen hundred acres of 
 park, oak-woods, and natural meadows and heaths. 
 Before the sea-front of the house, which had two 
 wings at right angles to it, was a small lawn with two 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 309 
 
 luxuriant flower-beds, to which a broad curving flight 
 of steps led down from the -windows of the dining- 
 room ; this lawn ended with a broad stone terrace hav- 
 ing a balustrade of the Abb6-Waden form, and carved 
 marble seats, each under its tent-shaped shelter ; it 
 looked out directly over the sea, whose wild, black 
 waves rolled in at its foot and flung their foam in 
 stormy weather at high tide over the balustrade and 
 all across the terrace. The land-front of the chateau, 
 with the imposing main entrance, was reached by an 
 interminable avenue of grand old oaks, in whose pres- 
 ence one was impelled to take off his hat. To the 
 right or left, the baroness could walk a half-mile, 
 and, straight out, a mile and a half, over her own 
 ground before reaching the granite wall, with its iron 
 trellis and its deep moat, which for a length of four 
 miles and a half protected the domain on three sides 
 towards the land, while, on the fourth side, the ocean 
 guarded it. A little river ran through the estate, at 
 whose mouth there was quite a small harbour, where 
 lay at anchor the expensive steam-yacht of the baron- 
 ess. On the whole place, except the servants of the 
 chateau and a few foresters whose cottages were near 
 the enclosing wall, there was not a human being. 
 When the chatelaine walked or drove, she encountered 
 on her park-roads or in the paths under the trees or 
 across the grass, no stranger face, and indeed, for the 
 most part, no living creature except saucy, nibbling 
 hares, and inquisitively watching deer, which by order 
 of the baroness lived undisturbed by any gun. 
 
 During her stay in Finistfere the baroness had al- 
 most always guests from town. At first came down, 
 with the baron, Henneberg — who had been detained in 
 Paris by the affairs of the quicksilver syndicate, till 
 the beginning of August — and Count Beira. The 
 latter remained only two weeks, and was followed by 
 the Zagals and one of the directors of the French- 
 Oriental Bank. Then came at different times, some 
 club friends of the baron, the painter Pierre, and two 
 other artists. The baroness so arranged it that there 
 were never rriore than four guests at any one time ; of 
 
3IO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 these, Henneberg was always one. He was constantly 
 with her, but never alone with her. She was usually 
 not visible till noon. The afternoon and evening 
 she devoted to her guests. They walked and drove ; 
 there were excursions in the yacht as far as Au- 
 dierne and Douarnenez in one direction, and Con- 
 carneau and Lorient in the other ; there was fishing in 
 salt water and in fresh. But no one might use a gun 
 on the place. Outside thr; wall, however, the guests 
 could have a chance at furred and feathered game. 
 Repeatedly, from Quimper, and even from Brest, pro- 
 fessionals were summoned to offer the little group the 
 pleasure of piano music, string quartettes and singing. 
 
 On the whole, however, life was very quiet in the 
 great chateau, in whose anterooms there were plenty 
 of servants, it is true, but whose salons and guest- 
 rooms were lifeless ; and the house seemed to borrow, 
 from the austerity of the sea and the melancholy of 
 the heath, the character of both. It was half cloister, 
 half damenstift ; the life was ceremonious, quiet, and 
 contemplative, with little concessions to an innocent 
 enjoyment of nature and a sincere encouragement of 
 art. Any one who was not, by social ambition or by 
 relations of affection, attached to the baron or to the 
 baroness, quickly fled from the proud tedium of this 
 palace iii the wilderness. 
 
 At the end of October, when the first sharp frosts 
 withered the flowers on the heath, and autumnal 
 storms scourged the sea to such a fury that its tremen- 
 dous rote banished sleep from the house, the party 
 returned to Paris. The special railway-carriage, which 
 had awaited them at Pont I'Abb^, contained, beside 
 the Agostinis, Henneberg, Pierre, an old marquis, a 
 boyhood's friend of Agostini, and a famous Spanish 
 violinist, who had been sent for from Bordejaux and 
 had passed the last week at the chateau. He amazed 
 with his music, which came out through the windows 
 of the railway carriage, the station at Nantes, where 
 the special waited for a hour to be added to the ex- 
 press train for Paris. 
 
 Three days after their arrival in town, Henneberg 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 3II 
 
 was making ready to go out, one afternoon, when his 
 servant announced a lady, desiring to speak to him. 
 
 " A lady?" 
 
 " Excuse me, monsieur le baron, an ordinary person, 
 some one in service, perhaps." 
 
 " What does she want ?" 
 
 " I do not know, monsieur le baron." 
 
 " Inquire." 
 
 The man went out, and shortly returned, saying : 
 " It is the wife of a concierge, from the rue Ray- 
 nouard. She comes from a monsieur Klein. She 
 says, monsieur le baron will know who it is." 
 
 " Let her come in," cried Henneberg with alacrity. 
 Dr. Klein ! How completely, for months, he had for- 
 gotten the old man ! It was too bad. What had be- 
 come of him meanwhile ? 
 
 " Well, what is your errand, my good woman ?" 
 Henneberg inquired, as the person announced entered, 
 and, with a gesture, he indicated that she should sit 
 down. They were in the oriental salon ; the woman 
 cast a rapid glance around her, and, as every seat which 
 she saw seemed to her too magnificent, she preferred 
 to remain standing. 
 
 " I thank you," she said, " I am not tired. Poor 
 Monsieur Klein has had an accident. He was run 
 over near the Trocad^ro and lies helpless in his shed ; 
 you know?" 
 
 "Could he get home alone?" asked Henneberg, 
 solicitously. 
 
 *" Oh, no ; two men brought him on a litter. He 
 cannot move. They wanted to carry him to a hospital, 
 but he would not allow it. You know what a man he 
 is to do as he pleases. But we cannot let him lie 
 there in his shed. And since he has no one, we remem- 
 bered that you gave us permission to come to you, if 
 anything made it necessary." 
 
 " Most certainly, my good woman. When did all 
 this happen ?" 
 
 "Just now. Not over two hours ago.' 
 
 " Has there been a doctor called ?" 
 
 " They took hirn into a druggist's shop at first, and 
 
312 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the man said he had broken something, but he could 
 not tell certainly what. Then we had the doctor who 
 lives near us, who said that he must go to a hospital, 
 and that we must lose no time about it, for the old 
 man was very much hurt." 
 
 Henneberg shook his head, much disturbed. " I 
 will come at once, he said. " This is for you," and he 
 gave her a five-franc piece ; " I am very much obliged 
 to you for coming to tell me." 
 
 The woman looked at the coin, and said diffidently : 
 " I thank you. We have done what we could for 
 Monsieur Klein. We paid the men who brought him 
 home, and for a stimulant that the apothecary gave 
 him, and the doctor will hold us responsible — " 
 
 " Did you tell Monsieur Klein what you had spent 
 for him ?" 
 
 " The poor gentleman ! There would be no use in 
 doing that ; he has nothing." 
 
 Henneberg took out two twenty franc pieces from 
 his porte-monnaie. 
 
 " Take one of these for the expenses you have al- 
 ready had and perhaps may have further. And give 
 the other to Monsieur Klein himself, so that he may 
 not be without money. For the rest, I will be respon- 
 sible." 
 
 The woman went away, very grateful ; and Henne- 
 berg sat down to reflect what it would be best to do. 
 The Baroness Agostini had begged him always to let 
 her accompany him when he went to visit Dr. Klein, 
 but he decided in this case not to do as she had de- 
 sired, although he knew that she took it very much 
 amiss when she was not obeyed. He would first si.e 
 for himself how the old man was situated, before he 
 allowed the baroness to go the rue Raynouard. 
 
 He drove first to a famous surgeon's whom he knew, 
 and then, accompanied by him, went out to Passy. 
 The woman herself had not yet returned, but her 
 daughter opened the door when Henneberg rang, re- 
 cognized him very gladly, and said : " You have come 
 to see the old gentleman ? Father is with him now." 
 
 In the shed, whose emptiness astonished the sur- 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 313 
 
 geon, Dr. Klein lay upon his little bed, and with 
 feeble voice was giving to the concierge, who was 
 busied about him, directions of all kinds. Vv'hen 
 Henneberg appeared, the old man smiled up at him 
 with the blue, child-like eyes, stretched out his trem- 
 bling hands, and said, as energetically as he could : 
 "My honoured patron! What a surprise! Pardon 
 me, that I receive you in bed " 
 
 " I know, Herr Doctor, what has happened — about 
 the accident that you have met with. Your con- 
 cierge's wife has been at my house " 
 
 " What ! Did the good woman take upon herself to 
 do that ? How did she dare to disturb you about 
 such a trifle." 
 
 " Be quite tranquil, dear Doctor. The Herr Pro- 
 fessor," and he introduced the surgeon, " will make an 
 examination, and after that we will have a little talk 
 together." 
 
 Klein held the extraordinary old greenish, gray- 
 ish, yellowish overcoat and the thin, brown woolen 
 spread, fast with both hands. " Oh, no ;" he said, 
 "oh, no; Herr Professor, Herr Doctor, there is no 
 need of that ; I am doing very well now ; all I need, is 
 to be quiet for a little while." 
 
 The surgeon disregarded this opposition ; he drew 
 tenderly but decidedly the old coat and the coverlet out 
 of the old man's grasp and threw them back, then for 
 some minutes he silently touched and pressed, while 
 Klein groaned or uttered a little cry every now and 
 then, and between whiles begged their pardon ; and 
 then the surgeon turned to Henneberg, saying : 
 "There seems to be only a simple fracture of the right 
 thigh, caused, I judge, rather by the fall than by the 
 wheels." 
 
 " Yes, I thought so ; I was sure it was a very simple 
 thing," Klein said, hastily drawing up the covering; 
 " in a few days I shall be up again." 
 
 The surgeon made no reply to this remark, but went 
 on : " Of course he cannot remain here ; weshall have 
 to take him at once to a hospital." 
 
 " No, no, Herr Professor, not that !" Klein begged. 
 
314 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 "Ah, let me stay here ! I will not leave my dwelling. 
 Why should I go ? Nowhere can I be better off than 
 here ! My honoured patron, you will not let me be 
 taken away from here?" 
 
 Henneberg was extremely distressed. 
 
 " Perhaps we can arrange it ?" he said, in a low voice, 
 to the surgeon. 
 
 " It is not to be thought of," the other answered. 
 " There are not even the barest necessaries of life 
 here." 
 
 " In an hour we will have everything here that you 
 think desirable — furniture, carpets, curtains " 
 
 " But the place can't even be heated " 
 
 " A stove, pipes — everything can be had, if one is 
 willing to pay for it. Also, a nurse, or several nurses, 
 — whatever you order." 
 
 " No, my dear baron ; believe me. The noise of all 
 this going on would be harmful. A good room in a 
 private hospital is the only right thing." 
 
 " Do you know of one ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 The surgeon explained in a few words what he pro- 
 posed to do, and went away, while Henneberg having 
 placed his coupe at the other's service, remained with 
 the patient till he should return. He tenderly sought 
 to persuade Klein, but the old man would not listen. 
 Finding after a time that there was no escape from the 
 surgeon's decree he began to lament pitifully: "But my 
 noble, most honoured patron, I cannot leave my room. 
 The men — they meant well, but they were so rough — 
 the men quite tore my trousers, and I have none to 
 put on." 
 
 He indicated with a melancholy smile a shapeless 
 heap of mud-bespattered shreds on the floor, which 
 the concierge had kicked out of the way on Henne- 
 berg's entrance. 
 
 Henneberg could not but smile himself, though his 
 heart was very sad. " Just now," he said, " you could 
 not put them on at any rate. We shall have to wrap 
 you up. And, later, you shall have a new pair." 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 315 
 
 The concierge had withdrawn, seeing that Henne- 
 berg intended to remain. And now the wife appeared, 
 somewhat out of breath. " I am a httle late," she said ; 
 " my old legs — " 
 
 " You could not come on foot, as quickly as I in my 
 carriage," Henneberg replied. 
 
 " What were you thinking about, to go and tell the 
 Herr Doctor ?" said Klein reproachfully and shaking 
 his head at her. 
 
 " Don't be excited, Monsieur Klein ; that is bad for, 
 you," the woman rejoined, coaxingly. She approached 
 the bed, and slipped into his hand the gold piece, say- 
 ing, in a whisper: " This is for you, from your friend." 
 
 Klein looked at Henneberg in amazement. The 
 latter nodded, and said, while with a gesture he 
 indicated to the woman to leave them alone : " Pardon 
 me ; it was inconsiderate to give this trifle to her for 
 you instead of bringing it myself. It was my first 
 impulse when I heard of your accident. I owe you a 
 quantity of money still, for your translations." 
 
 " You owe me money ? And you gave me a hun- 
 dred francs in March ! My work was not worth half 
 of that." 
 
 " You said so, I know, and you would not take any 
 more. But I value it differently." 
 
 " And what can I do with this money ? I have a 
 great deal more than I need. You can see for your- 
 self, my honoured patron." He drew his overcoat 
 toward him and began to feel in the breast-pocket. He 
 did not find the object he sought and he attempted to 
 lift the garment a little and shake it. But the motion 
 caused him pain and he let it drop. 
 
 " What is it that you want to do ?" Henneberg said, 
 sympathetically. 
 
 " My purse was in the coat — my trousers' pockets 
 are rather insecure — I thought it might have fallen 
 between the outside and the lining, if you would be so 
 good as to shake the coat a little — " 
 
 Henneberg took the garment, not without reluct- 
 ance, and shook it, at arm's length. He did not do this 
 with any violence at all, but an unexpected result 
 
3l6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 occurred. The cloth, rotten as tinder, gave way, and 
 Henneberg, dismayed, saw part of it fly off into the 
 corner of the room, while the other fragment remained 
 in his hands. 
 
 Klein was for a moment speechless, at sight of this 
 disaster. Then he made an effort to recover himself, 
 and said, with a painful smile, belied by the distressed 
 tone of his voice, that the material was very poor ; it 
 was an old thing, and had done its work, like its 
 master. 
 
 Henneberg laid the fragments on the bed, and said, 
 consolingly : " Yes ; the material was bad." 
 
 " I never had found it so," Klein said, with a 
 momentary gleam of humour, and caressed, with 
 affectionate fingers, the remains of the faithful old 
 garment. " I think the purse is lost," he continued ; 
 " You see, my honoured patron, I have nowhere to 
 keep your gold-piece. Neither a pocket nor a purse." 
 He laid it on the little table near his bed. " I have 
 always felt that with the invention of the pocket, evil 
 first came into the world. Men did not appreciate 
 their high place in the scale of existence when they 
 made marsupials of themselves." 
 
 There was a good deal of delay before the surgeon 
 returned. He was accompanied by two trained at- 
 tendants, who brought a mattrass-covered litter into 
 the room. Also they brought sheets and a warm 
 new coverlet. Klein again began imploring to be left 
 at home, but, without attending to his remonstrances, 
 they wrapped him in the coverlet and lifted him 
 from his bed. He perceived that he rnust submit. 
 " Let me take my things with me," he said. 
 
 One of the attendants assured him that he would 
 find everything that he needed at the hospital. 
 
 "No, no," he said, "you do not know what I 
 mean. I must take something with me. Lay me on 
 the bed again, please." 
 
 The attendants did as he desired. The old man 
 drew from under the pillow a small wallet which he 
 concealed from sight as far as possible, and then, sigh- 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 317 
 
 ing and depressed, he allowed himself to be carried 
 out. 
 
 In the street an ambulance was in waiting, which 
 received the litter. Henneberg took the old man's 
 hand in his: "I will see you very soon," he said; 
 " All will go well." He then directed the concierge 
 to take good care of the few books and papers that 
 were left in the shed, which the latter promised faith- 
 fully to do. 
 
 And now, all this being done, Henneberg went to 
 the baroness and related what had happened. She 
 was extremely disturbed and wished to go the same 
 evening to visit the old man. Henneberg dissuaded 
 her from this, assuring her that the surgeon had prob- 
 ably not yet completed putting the leg in plaster, and 
 that, in any case, Klein needed uninterrupted rest ; but 
 on the following day, in the forenoon, she drove to the 
 hospital, which was under the charge of a religious 
 order. 
 
 She found Dr. Klein in a cheerful little room whose 
 two windows looked out into a large garden with 
 many old trees, now leafless. He had been washed 
 and shaven, his long, white hair had been carefully 
 brushed, and he produced an effect of being better 
 cared for than ever in his life before. At sight of the 
 baroness he grew red with surprise and pleasure, and 
 peeped in his high, but very feeble voice : " What ! 
 my most gracious Frau Baroness, you do me the 
 honour !" 
 
 " Why, of course, Herr Doctor. Will you never 
 think of me as a friend ?" 
 
 " You are an angel, gracious Frau Baroness !" 
 
 " How do you feel, Herr Doctor ?"' 
 
 " I feel as if I were walled up. Such a plaster case 
 makes one think of a coffin and a tomb." 
 
 " Don't think of anything so dismal." 
 
 " Why dismal ? Death is an extremely interesting 
 problem. For it is at once rest and change. It is go- 
 ing from arithmetic into algebra. It raises us to a 
 common term after we have been, all our lives, sepa- 
 rate factors." 
 
31 8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 The baroness was not quite sure whether his thought 
 was extremely profound, or whether he was somewhat 
 wandering. " Is there no one," she asked, " to whom 
 you would wish to send word about yourself?'' 
 
 Over his pale, long drawn-out face, as of a distressed 
 Punchinello, there came a smile, which still further 
 pushed out his chin and drew up the corners of his 
 mouth ; his blue eyes, a little clouded with a yellowish 
 tinge, twinkled roguishly, as he replied in a mysterious 
 tone : " That, gracious Frau Baroness, has been already 
 done. We only need to think the message, and it 
 makes its way through space to where it is under- 
 stood." 
 
 The baroness looked at him compassionately. He 
 continued : " You don't believe this, Frau Baroness ? 
 It is pure truth. A matter of experience. I have 
 been comforted all my life long by these messages 
 from those who were dear to me. You think of some 
 one vividly, impulsively, apparently without any mo- 
 tive. That is simply a message from this person, 
 coming out of space to your soul." 
 
 The baroness asked him if he were contented with 
 the place. But at this he grew sad, and replied : " I 
 should rather be at home. I miss the view over the 
 Seine and the city. It is so amusing to follow the 
 boats, or to fly from tower to tower. If I could only 
 get away from here ! And I do not like being idle. I 
 want to go on with what I am doing. I was getting 
 along well ; but here they will not even let me have 
 pencil and paper. Ach ! my gracious Frau Baroness, 
 if you would but do me the service !" 
 
 The baroness tranquillized him with a promise in 
 general terms, and took her leave, not to fatigue him 
 too much. Then she sought information from the 
 brother of the order who attended her to her carriage 
 as to what the surgeon had said. The man replied 
 that the patient was extremely feeble. " It is only 
 with the greatest difficulty that we can feed him," he 
 added. " He has been for a long time accustomed to 
 nothing but coffee and bread ; he is not used to meat, 
 and cannot bear it." 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 3x9 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day when Henneberg 
 came to the hospital, he learned that Klein had died, 
 an hour before. There was given to Henneberg a 
 small object which the old man had had in his hands 
 at the moment of death, the attendant said. It was an 
 old, well-worn leather wallet, into one side of which 
 Henneberg perceived, to his great surprise, was set 
 a very ancient daguerreotype, and into the other side, 
 carefully secured with a gold thread, a thin package 
 of gilt-edged letters. The daguerreotype was ex- 
 tremely faded, but showed distinctly enough the face 
 of a beautiful young girl, with large, expressive eyes, 
 and hair in ringlets. The style of hair and dress were 
 of somewhere near 1840. The topmost letter in the 
 package was addressed to the Stiftsrepetenten Klein 
 at Tubingen, and bore the postmark Stuttgart, but had 
 no stamp. Henneberg felt himself by no means at 
 liberty to read the letters. He put the package in his 
 pocket, asked to take a last look at the old man, then 
 went to the Baroness A^ostini, to whom he announced 
 the death of her prot6g6 ; and he showed her the case 
 on which Klein's last look had rested. 
 
 The baroness gazed with surprise at the girlish face. 
 Her eyes lingered long upon the lovely features, and 
 at last she said : " So this old man had also his ro- 
 mance unsuspected by any one. Yet, no ; that is not 
 true. I did suspect it." 
 
 " Did you ? The idea had never crossed my mind." 
 
 " Yes, I thought of it. The idea occurred to me 
 that that man must have something in himself, making 
 him indifferent to all things outside. His life had its 
 roots elsewhere. So he could do without society and 
 endure all privations. He asked nothing from real- 
 ities, for he had his dream — a memory, or a hope." 
 
 Again she gazed at the shadowy face. Here was 
 Klein's life-secret, the key to his existence ; perhaps 
 even to his philosophy. Who could tell how long the 
 original of this picture had been dead ? Were she 
 living she would be now a wrinkled old woman. She 
 had smiled, however, in fadeless youth upon Klein's 
 
3id THE Drones must die. 
 
 old age, and had shone upon him like sunshine, in the 
 hour of death. 
 
 " Are we at liberty to read this romance ?" Henne- 
 berg asked, indicating the little package of letters. 
 
 " Oh, no," the baroness rejoined quickly. " He was 
 silent in his life, and we will not ask the secret now 
 that his lips are shut. The picture shall be buried 
 with him. The letters we will burn." 
 
 She went to the fire-place, where a wood-fire was 
 blazing, unfastened the string which secured the let- 
 ters, and dropped them one after another into the 
 flames. There were but five in all. As they burned, 
 the baroness said thoughtfully : " The flames augment, 
 perhaps, the oscillations which this writing expressed. 
 I remember Klein's theory of the eternity of thought. 
 Perhaps we are making it easier for two emotions to 
 meet in space and to blend into a unison which shall 
 never again cease." 
 
 Henneberg watched her with brooding eyes, and it 
 did not occur to him to smile at what she had said. 
 
 When the last sheet had been reduced to ashes, she 
 sat down again upon the sofa, and said, almost as if 
 speaking to herself : " And so, — one interest less in 
 life ! What will be left, at last ?" 
 
 " Take your answer from Klein. At last, love is 
 left. You need seek no other interest in life, when 
 you have that." 
 
 "Ah, Henneberg, I dare not." 
 
 " Dare not ? Who asks whether one dares, or not ? 
 One dares, because one must. With longing and 
 lament, you go through life, while content is within 
 the reach of your hand. Why do you persistently 
 close your eyes to the fact ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell. It is a kind of self-torture." 
 
 " If it were only that," escaped him, inconsiderately. 
 " But you torture me also." 
 
 "That is a part of my self-torture. Perhaps I have 
 an unconscious need of doing penance." 
 
 " Penance ! For what ?" cried Henneberg. " For 
 the wrongs that others have done you ?" 
 
 " I have often asked myself the question in these 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 32 1 
 
 very words. We are such unreasonable creatures ; I 
 am convinced that Fate has cruelly ill-treated me ; and 
 yet, through this conviction pierces continually the 
 feeling that I, also, have greatly sinned." 
 
 " And for that, you punish me," Henneberg said 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Henneberg,'' the baroness rejoined, very gently, 
 and she held out her hand to him as she spoke, 
 •' Your resentment is ingratitude. What I give you 
 is more precious than what I refuse. You know that 
 I think of you, by night and day ; that I could not 
 endure to be without you ; that you are the bitterness 
 and the sweetness of my life ; and that my self-re- 
 spect depends upon the character of my relations 
 with you. How can it be that you do not value 
 this?" 
 
 " I value it as a pledge, as a promise ; but I am tor- 
 tured with impatience till this promise is fulfilled." 
 
 " No more," she said sadly, but firmly ; and she rose 
 from her seat. " Now will you go and carry back the 
 picture, and have it laid in the coffin of our dead 
 friend ?" 
 
 Henneberg knew by experience that the conversa- 
 tion could not go on, when she spoke in the tone she 
 had just now used. He put the daguerreotype in his 
 pocket and went away. 
 
 When Klein was buried, the carriages of Henneberg 
 and the baroness followed the hearse ; on foot went 
 the concierge of the rue Raynouard, the charcoal-seller, 
 whose books he had kept, and two grave-diggers, who 
 chatted together as they walked along. Four persons 
 stood around the open grave as the cofifin was lowered 
 into it. The Baroness Agostini, however, had not the 
 feeling that the dead man was deserted. She remem- 
 bered the girlish face that went with him under the 
 ground. 
 
 On the day the old Suabian was carried to his last 
 home through the streets of Paris, it happened that 
 the blonde Marie celebrated her marriage with her 
 Jean. The whole house took the liveliest interest in 
 the event. The great publisher and the eminent 
 
322 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 councillor sent rich presents and attended the cere- 
 mony. Adfele and Blanche Masmajour, for the first 
 time since leaving Nimes, were to have the pleasure of 
 a supper and a dance, and their mother had allowed 
 them new dresses for the occasion, moss-green and 
 pink, of simple material, which they, however, with 
 their artistic fingers, only slightly assisted by a profes- 
 sional dressmaker, had crinkled and folded in marvel- 
 lous ways. The bride had thought at first about ask- 
 ing Elsa to be her bridesmaid, but Knecht had finally 
 decided that the acquaintance was not sufficient to 
 justify this. The Koppels, however, were treated with 
 very special politeness at the banquet. 
 
 The wedding party attracted great attention, both 
 at the civil marriage and at the church. Of the 
 thirty persons, more or less, who composed, the party, 
 some dozen were old soldiers of the Cent Gardes ; 
 these sons of Anak stood head and shoulders above 
 the average height. Thus collected together, every 
 separate giant gained in self-consciousness and dignity. 
 They kept step as they walked and involuntarily they 
 assumed the old domineering air that they used to have 
 when under arms. Their appearance was so extraor- 
 dinary that a woman who saw them as they came out 
 of the church, innocently inquired of another looker-on, 
 if it was a wedding of circus performers. 
 
 Not that their appearance, with the exception of 
 their enormous height, was anything unusual. They 
 were faultlessly correct in their attire — evening coat, 
 white tie, patent-leather shoes, and silk hat. Only the 
 hands caught one's attention, suggesting the idea it 
 could not have been easy to find gloves for them. 
 But they were specimens of a race of another pattern, 
 and they had the feeling of this superiority when there 
 were a sufficient number of them together. 
 
 The bride, under her white veil and with the wreath 
 of orange-blossoms on her blonde head, looked very 
 pretty, notwithstanding she was tall and slender as 
 a young fir-tree. The man of her choice, though of 
 average height, reached only to her eyebrows, but her 
 pleasant rosy face with its blue eyes betrayed so much 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 323 
 
 good nature and happiness that the idea of her being 
 the superior of the two, the one to take the lead, never 
 occurred to anybody's mind. 
 
 Happy as she was on this day, she still had one lit- 
 tle disappointment to bear. Her family had decided 
 that the weather was too cool and too uncertain for an 
 expedition to the Lake in the Bois de Boulogne to be 
 advisable ; and, in the arrangement of the festivities, 
 this was accordingly omitted. The bride had to con- 
 tent herself without it, although, to her, the triumphal 
 drive in the white-satin-lined wedding-coach seemed 
 almost more important for the suitable observance of 
 the wedding-day, than going before the mayor or the 
 priest. And now, as it -happened, the late autumn 
 day was sunny and mild, and the drive in bridal array 
 might just as well have taken place ! But it was all 
 settled, and could not be altered ; and the bride, with 
 a certain regret, must be satisfied with her dinner and 
 subsequent dance, in the hotel at Porte Maillot. 
 
 At table, Frau Kathe sat on one side of Monsieur 
 Knecht, who, in his dress coat, with a ribbon in his 
 button-hole, — the ribbon of his military decoration — 
 would have seemed, to an uninstructed stranger, much 
 more like an officer of high rank in evening dress than 
 the concierge that he was ; while Madame Knecht, who 
 betrayed her calling much more plainl)', had at her 
 right a former staff-officer of the Hundred Guards, and 
 at her left, Koppel. The entertainment was a lordly 
 one, with a fish-course, three courses of meat, a sher- 
 bet in the middle, and ices at the end. There was 
 lacking neither Bordeaux nor Burgundy, nor yet 
 Champagne. Frau Kathe, who had never attended a 
 French wedding before, wondered at this luxury, and 
 considered it, in the case of rather poor people, as 
 something objectionable. She could not help saying 
 as much to Elsa after they had left the table. But 
 Elsa rejoined, smiling, " I think, on the contrary, that 
 it is something very sweet, that even a poor working 
 girl, for once in her life, on her wedding-day, can feel 
 as if she were a princess. Even if she were to suffer 
 /rom want the day after^ it is not paying too dear for 
 
324 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 something to remember. See, mamma, this is real equal- 
 ity, and for that, anyone ought to be willing to pay." 
 
 Elsa took a few steps in the first polonaise with the 
 bridegroom, not to seem proud, then refused further 
 invitations on the plea that her foot hurt her a little, 
 and remained with her mother. Madame Masmajour 
 and Adfele came also to sit with them. Blanche, how- 
 ever, danced all the time, and always with Oscar, to 
 whom she had engaged herself for every number. 
 
 The bride, for politeness' sake, must waltz once 
 around the hall with all the most honoured guests, first 
 with her father's former superior officer, then with 
 Koppel, then with Masmajour. When she had per- 
 formed this duty she worried herself about the young 
 ladies of the house, who, greatly to her surprise, were 
 enacting the part of wall-flowers, and she wished to 
 introduce partners to them. As she did not succeed 
 in this, either with Elsa or Adfele, she devoted herself 
 personally to them, and came to sit, in every pause 
 between the dances, alternately at the side of one 
 or the other. 
 
 In talking with Adfele, she related, among other 
 things, that she, with her Jean, went to see Baron 
 Agostini, to thank him for the appointment ; that he 
 had, smiling, presented her to the baroness, and that 
 the latter had received her very kindly, inquired into 
 their circumstances, and had promised to be god- 
 mother to her first child. Also, that the baroness had 
 sent her, as a wedding-present, some beautiful silver 
 for the table, and what made the gift especially pre- 
 cious was the card accompanying it, in which reference 
 was made to Jean's honourable conduct in regard to 
 the package found in the Luxembourg, an account of 
 which had been given her by the Koppels. The 
 blonde Marie was extremely enthusiastic about the 
 baroness, but, added inconsiderately, like the true con- 
 cierge's daughter that she was, "that she could not 
 believe what they all gossipped about at the bank, that 
 the baroness had had a very singular past, and that 
 she was now very intimate with Baron Hennebergr, 
 who often visited the Koppels. 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 325 
 
 Adele shrank back as the bride chattered on, and 
 pressed her lips so tight together that they were but 
 a painfully curved line. No sooner had the blonde 
 Marie departed to dance a little more, than Ad^le 
 whispered to her mother that she had a headache and 
 desired to go. Madame Masmajour became quite 
 troubled, noticing herself that the girl looked pale 
 and depressed, and hastened to find her husband and 
 tell him that they were going home. Masmajour was 
 not very ready to leave just then, for he had found 
 a guardsman, now in a position at Tattersall's, who 
 thought quite as badly of the Republican govern- 
 ment as he did himself. The two were soon engaged 
 in high political talk which filled the little, thin man 
 and the broad-shouldered giant with great mutual 
 admiration. Masmajour was far the more fluent of 
 the two, and he was enjoying, with heartfelt delight, 
 the impression which his words produced upon the 
 rapt listener, when his wife appeared and interrupted 
 the flow of his eloquence. He would most willingly have 
 prolonged the conversation ; but he was accustomed 
 to obey ; and, with a sigh, he parted from the sharer 
 of his opinions. 
 
 It was more difficult to reach Blanche. She whirled 
 like a top in Oscar's arms, and had no eyes for the 
 frequent beckoning of her mother, who did not wish 
 to make it too conspicuous that they were about to 
 leave. It was necessary to wait till the dance was 
 over before the girl could be withdrawn from the 
 circle of dancers. She made a wry face on hearing 
 the words : " We are going home !" and Oscar ven- 
 tured to remonstrate timidly. He begged of Ma- 
 dame Masmajour that Blanche should be left a little 
 longer under his mother's care ; but just then Frau 
 Kathe, who had observed that the Masmajours were 
 going to leave, announced that she would go with 
 them ; and so, much to their grief, Oscar and Blanche 
 were obliged, also, to quit the ball. 
 
 The first thing Adfele did, on reaching home, was 
 to take her picture out of its handsome frame, and, 
 without making any answer to the surprised inquiries 
 
326 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 of her mother and Blanche, carry it upstairs and give 
 it back to Elsa. 
 
 " But why?" Elsa asked, in astonishment. 
 
 " I have decided that it is not right for me to 
 accept so valuable a present from madame la ba- 
 ronne." 
 
 " This suddenly occurs to you, to-day, after four 
 months ?" 
 
 '• While you were at the seashore, I could not re- 
 turn it to you." 
 
 Neither Elsa nor her mother could understand the 
 girl's caprice. They sought to persuade her, but 
 Adele said in her quiet, persistent way, " Please 
 don't urge me ;" she laid the frame on the table, and 
 left the room. The Koppels thought the act a little 
 eccentric, but regarded it as the result of somewhat 
 overstrained, yet really creditable, sensitiveness on 
 the part of people who had been unfortunate, and 
 whose pride had been intensified by their poverty. 
 
 Madame Masmajour had the pastel re-framed at a 
 shop near by. A few days' delay occurred before it 
 was brought back, and meanwhile Blanche missed it 
 extremely, having been accustomed to see it in the 
 little salon which they used as a workroom. 
 
 " Such an empty place on the wall where one has 
 been accustomed to see a dear picture," she said, the 
 next morning as she sat down at her work, "is al- 
 most as sad as a death in the house." 
 
 Madame Masmajour crossed herself in horror. " It 
 is wicked for you to say that, my child," she exclaimed. 
 " Adele is here alive and well ; is it not enough to 
 have the orginal ?" 
 
 " The pastel is prettier than the orginal," Blanche 
 said, to tease her sister. 
 
 " That is not true," Madame Masmajour rejoined 
 and kissed Adele tenderly ; after which, she went into 
 the bedroom to attend to Monsieur Masmajour. 
 
 " You were wrong to give the frame back," Blanche 
 went on, when their mother had left the room ; " it 
 was a present to you from Elsa, where she got it 
 doesn't concern you in the least. It suited you so 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 327 
 
 well. Among the sword-lilies, you looked like Mi- 
 reille !" 
 
 " Mireille died of a broken heart," Adele said softl}\ 
 
 Blanche heard the remark, however. " I believe," 
 she ran on, " you have a dislike to the Baroness Agos- 
 tini " 
 
 " Don't speak of the woman !" Adele exclaimed, 
 with so much energy that Blanche started. 
 
 " You frightened me. I almost pricked my finger," 
 she complained, and remained for a time silent. 
 
 Adfele, meanwhile, was following out her own 
 thoughts, and she could not restrain herself from say- 
 ing — thinking aloud, rather than speaking to her sis- 
 ter : " How can a man be so false ! Why should he 
 have wanted my picture when he is in love with that 
 woman !" 
 
 " But, Adfele," cried Blanche, with honest indignation, 
 " I can't imagine how you can keep thinking of that 
 tiresome old fellow !" 
 
 " Everybody cannot be taken up with a green 
 school-boy," retorted Adfele, much displeased. 
 
 Blanche coloured violently and looked at her sister 
 without saying a word. Not for some minutes did she 
 find any reply to make. At last she said : " What do 
 you mean hy that ?" 
 
 " You know very well what I mean." 
 
 It was true. She did know very well. But she be- 
 lieved her secret so deeply hidden that she could not 
 understand how Adfele had discovered it. In her con- 
 fusion and distress, she laid down her work, went 
 around the table, sat down at Adfele's side, put her 
 arm around her sister's neck and said very softly : 
 " Are you angry?" 
 
 " Not at all," rejoined Adfele, and freed herself 
 gently. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter ?" 
 
 " I hope not. But you have not been very frank." 
 
 Blanche returned to her seat and busied herself 
 again with her work. But she thought over her sister's 
 reproach. Did she really deserve it ? When had she 
 begun to practice concealment ? When had there 
 
328 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 been a time to confide in her sister? It had all come 
 about so gradually, so unnoticed ! Elsa and Oscar 
 had been their only daily associates since the Mas- 
 majours came from Nimes. Elsa was more attracted 
 by Adele and the mother. It was natural that she her- 
 self should be more intimate with Oscar. It happened 
 accidentally that, when they were all out walking, or 
 were sitting together upstairs in the Koppels' parlour, 
 or here in their work-room, that she and Oscar would 
 chat together while Elsa and Adele talked with each 
 other. He was such a handsome and lively fellow, so 
 full of originality, so kind and obliging towards her ! 
 He had always a flower or a paper of bonbons or an 
 interesting book for her ; and it seemed to her, at last, 
 that these little attentions between neighbours, 
 between young people of the same age, between good 
 and true friends, were matters of course ; that it was 
 a right for her to receive them, as it was to him 
 a pleasure to offer them. 
 
 At first, they saw each other only when they all 
 were together. After awhile, there awakened in both 
 a great desire to meet alone, if but for a moment. 
 Blanche would arrange it frequently to be on the 
 stairs or at the door, when Oscar came or v/ent, and 
 there would be a rapid clasp *of hands and the inter- 
 change of a cordial word. Soon this was so essential 
 to Oscar that, with any kind of an errand or without 
 any at all, he would go to the Masmajours', if he 
 failed to meet Blanche on the stairs, and she would 
 usually accompany him to the door when he left, and 
 he would have the opportunity to take her slender hand 
 in his. Since the spring, he had made it a practice to 
 spend all his leisure time out of school, with the Mas- 
 majour sisters. He neglected the comrades with 
 whom he had been accustomed to exchange visits on 
 Sundays and Thursdays ; he passed whole afternoons 
 with the girls, reading aloud to them, much to their 
 gratification, while they were at work. It never 
 occurred to Madame Masmajour to object to this, 
 which went on under her eyes, and was, manifestly, 
 the most innocent thing in the world.' 
 
WHAT OCCURRED IN OCTOBER. 329 
 
 The trip to the seashore caused distress to Oscar 
 and to Blanche. They had looked forward to Oscar's 
 holidays, with hopes of wliich they themselves were 
 scarcely aware. It seemed to them that they could 
 be together much more than heretofore, and differ- 
 ently, with excursions into the country, with returns 
 in the twilight, in wood-roads, in railway-carriages, 
 —where they might walk arm-in-arm, where they 
 might sit very near each other. All this they were 
 now to be deprived of. To be separated, for the first 
 time since they had known each other, caused them both 
 great pain. They promised to write to each other, 
 poste restante, for Oscar felt that he should want to 
 say a great deal that the rest of the family would have 
 no need of reading. This made much trouble and 
 danger for Blanche. She was almost never alone. 
 She had no room of her own, but shared the same 
 bedroom with Adele. And when she went out it was 
 always in the company of her mother or father. She 
 was able, however, to persuade her mother to let her 
 carry home hats alone, if the mother were otherwise 
 occupied. Then she would hasten to the post-office 
 station, get her letters, and answer them on the spot, 
 there at the desk in the office, with a few hurried 
 lines. The secrecy, the haste, the excitement over 
 doing a stealthy act, the humiliation at the offensive 
 and derisive look of the clerk from whom she had to 
 receive the letters, confused her extremely, and gave 
 to what she wrote in reply a warmth and anxiousness 
 that might almost have been called passionate, had 
 not the range of her ideas been so innocent. Oscar 
 could write with the greatest freedom, for in his room 
 in Berck there was no one to look over his shoulder, 
 and his letters were the frank expression of a brim- 
 ming heart. This was love ; distinctly, ardent love ; 
 extravagant conceits of fancy, it is true, as well, but 
 in their shy ecstacy burned all the fire of a scarcely 
 conscious, awakened manhood.' 
 
 The letters, the poems which were almost always 
 enclosed, stirred Blanche's heart to its depths, and 
 produced in her a sort of intoxication, which lasted for 
 
330 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 days, and was renewed and heightened by each succes- 
 sive letter as it came. Then awakened by degrees in 
 her, a consciousness of wrongdoing, and she reproached 
 herself for practising concealment towards her own 
 family, especially towards her sister. But she did not 
 find courage to entrust to Adele the secret of her in- 
 expressibly precious correspondence. 
 
 And when Oscar returned from the seashore, when 
 they met she gave a little cry, which happily no one 
 heard, and her hand shook as she extended it in greet- 
 ing. That evening, without a word having been said, 
 he was on the stairs, sure that she would come. When 
 she came, he put his arms out unconsciously, and un- 
 consciously she rushed into them. He covered her 
 hair with kisses, and he would have kissed her lips, but 
 she tore herself away from him, and, in agonizing ter- 
 ror of being caught by some servant, ran back into the 
 apartment as if haunted by a malicious ghost. The 
 embrace had lasted no longer than a flash of light- 
 ning. But, like a flash, it had left its trace of fire. The 
 next time, when he — in the presence of others, indeed, 
 but not overheard by them — could talk with her in a 
 low voice, he used the tu instead of vous, and she did 
 not even notice it, it seemed so natural to her, and 
 used the same to him in return, without effort, without 
 shyness, as if she had never done anything else. And 
 at the wedding of the blonde Marie, the rapturous ex- 
 citement swept them both away utterly. For full half 
 an hour he had his arm about her, for half an hour he 
 could talk to her without restraint, without fear of 
 being overheard, without being embarrassed by any 
 one's notice. Blanche scarcely knew where she was 
 nor who were near her, she whirled above the clouds 
 in a paradise of music and tender words, while to Oscar 
 it was as if he must shout aloud, in his joy at having 
 the dear girl so near, so loving, so much his own. 
 
 Of the unknown, undreamed-of, the almost alarm- 
 ingly overmastering emotions of that half-hour, Blanche 
 still thought, and she saw, with self-reproach, that 
 AdcIc had with right accused her of dissimulation. 
 But she went no further than self-reproach ; she made 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 33 1 
 
 no attempt to repair the wrong. She could not bring 
 herself to tell her sister of the correspondence, of the 
 familiar tu, of the rapture of the waltz, and she only- 
 said impulsively : "What have you been thinking?" 
 
 " My poor Blanche," Adfele rejoined, "you have no 
 idea what happens to you when Oscar comes in. I 
 should be blind, indeed, not to see it." 
 
 " Do you think that mother notices anything ?" the 
 other asked anxiously. 
 
 " Sooner or later, she will notice it, if you don't get 
 this nonsense out of your head." 
 
 Blanche again sprang from her seat, and threw her- 
 self into her sister's arms. " We are doing nothing 
 wrong," she said ; " why should we not be friends ? 
 You do not want to separate us." Her brown eyes 
 were wet with tears_ and Adele felt her sister's heart 
 throb wildly. 
 
 " Be reasonable, you foolish child," she said, and 
 stroked the heavy dark hair. " I am not going to do 
 you any harm. You are two silly children. I shall 
 keep watch over you. You are not rational." 
 
 She said this in a kind voice, sympathetic, like a 
 grandmother's, this girl, who was fourteen months 
 older than her not yet eighteen years old sister ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A HAPPY WINTER. 
 
 The winter succeeding this autumn was, to Koppel, 
 a period of happiness beyond anything he had ever 
 before known, even in the time of his betrothal and 
 early married life; for though his emotions in that never- 
 to-be-forgotten summer and autumn were both more in- 
 tense and more distinctly blissful, still, he was burdened 
 at that time with anxiety about the future, and with 
 a 3ense of the responsibility which he had incurred ; 
 while now his happiness, though more tranquil, was 
 
332 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 free from any such oppression ; so that, unencumbered, 
 like a bird in the air, he swept lightly above the little 
 occurrences of the day, and, secure in his destined 
 freedom, looked down upon his present life and for- 
 ward into the time to come. 
 
 His mother, notwithstanding her advanced age, 
 was in firm health ; his wife was always happy, his 
 children were more and more a satisfaction to him 
 every day. Oscar had grown very rapidly in the last 
 few years, and now his physical development seemed 
 to be slower, and it was probable he had reached his 
 full stature. His mental development, however, 
 was very noticeable all the time. His ambition had 
 received its first gratification. The Id^al had printed 
 some of his poems ; in his proud diffidence he did not 
 mention the fact at home, but Elsa discovered it by 
 repeated questionings, and it was she who exhibited 
 to the Masmajours and to her parents her brother's 
 victorious signature in the plum-coloured magazine. 
 He soon became closely and permanently connected 
 with this periodical. The poems were followed by 
 critical essays, philosophical meditations, imaginative 
 pieces, which excited attention in extremely "young" 
 circles, and soon opened to their author the pages of 
 the other magazines, which among literary school- 
 boys were especially esteemed — namely, the Synibole, 
 the Vie esthetique, even the Revue pour pre. 
 
 After three months of furious industry in which he 
 lavishly gave forth the collective first impressions of a 
 new soul, another young fellow appeared who wrote 
 an account of his life and a critical dissertation on his 
 works. Then Oscar had the pleasure of reading in 
 the Ideal that he was one of the hopes of the world- 
 literature of the twentieth century ; that he was a new 
 and fascinating compound of delicate, silver-cloud-like 
 German romance, and steadfast French accuracy and 
 intellect ; that he represented an experiment in graft- 
 ing the cultured scion of Latin subtlety upon the 
 luxuriant wild growth of German intensity ; and that 
 the further result of this experiment was awaited with 
 extreme interest. In the matter of honorarium he 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 333 
 
 was not much troubled, as yet ; but instead of vulgar 
 mammon, iie received nobler compensations. Half a 
 dozen newspapers sent him free copies. Budding 
 authors sent him their first books with striking inscrip- 
 tions. He received tickets to picture-shows, invitations 
 to performances by theatrical societies, even the Vigie 
 de la Presse began to send him yellow envelopes, 
 with numbered clippings from newspapers concern- 
 ing himself, which, in the first three months, begining 
 with December, amounted to seven. 
 
 It was not easy to determine whether his earlier suc- 
 cesses were making him vain, or not. He remained, 
 at home, taciturn and shy. He did not talk with his 
 own family about the subject which presumably 
 occupied his mind. But the little that he did say 
 betrayed self-consciousness and confidence in his own 
 opinion, and frequently also, perhaps unconsciously to 
 himself, the gently sarcastic superiority of a youth of 
 the very highest culture over well-meaning, personally 
 dear barbarians, who were excluded from the latest 
 intelligence. 
 
 Elsa, on her part, worked diligently and confi- 
 dently at her art. She increasingly felt that she was 
 no amateur, but truly had a vocation. In a distance, 
 which no longer seemed to her inaccessible, she saw 
 herself attempting the highest artistic tasks and mas- 
 tering all means of expression, the use of oils included. 
 At present, she did what lay next at hand, executing 
 in chalks or aquarelle some of the sketches which she 
 had made at Berck. Late in the autumn she had gone 
 with her mother to see the Baroness Agostini, who had 
 manifested much pleasure at meeting them again. 
 They had talked about the summer journeys, Elsa had 
 given some account of her impressions, and the baro- 
 ness had begged to see her sketches. Elsa accordingly 
 sent the portfolio, and the baroness had begged to 
 keep it for a few days. 
 
 Then came a list of orders. The baroness de- 
 sired, in a size which she indicated, the mother 
 with the sick boy on her lap ; Count Beira, a 
 picture representing the Koppels and Briinne-Tillig 
 
334 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 in the moonlight on the sands ; Kohn would have a 
 merry, daylight bathing scene ; a friend of the baron's 
 at the club desired the pathetic scene of the little lame 
 children in the water. This gave her work for many 
 weeks, and was so well paid for that she was almost 
 overpowered. The baroness gave her two thousand 
 francs for the aquarelle ; and, in all, the four works 
 brought her in five thousand, two hundred francs. In 
 possession of all this wealth, she decided not to men- 
 tion the original of her picture to the baroness, but 
 herself gave to the poor woman one-fourth of what the 
 aquarelle had brought her in. To her brother at 
 Christmas she gave an expensive bicycle ; to her mo- 
 ther one of those watches worn on the breast like an 
 order, which at that time were much in fashion. Frau 
 Kathe reproached her for her extravagance, but the 
 girl laughed : " I get it so easily ! And when this is 
 gone, I know where to find more !"' 
 
 She now began to feel the need of a studio that she 
 could make a delightful place. She painted for her- 
 self a sketch of the room, with divans, and white bear 
 and tiger skins, and East Indian silk hangings, at sight 
 of which Frau Kathe could only shake her head and 
 say : "If people can pay for all this magnificence, per- 
 haps they have the right to have it." It chanced that 
 Madame Zagal about this time made a call in the rue 
 Saint-Andr6-des-Arts, made a few drawling remarks to 
 Frau Kathe and Elsa, in her indescribable South 
 American French and went away. Mother and daugh- 
 ter were unable to account for this extraordinary 
 visit, till a fortnight later the riddle received its explan- 
 ation. Madame Masmajour, recommended to the 
 General's wife by the. Baroness Agostini, was doing 
 some work for her, and on carrying home the hat 
 which had been ordered, was told confidentially by 
 the gingerbread-coloured lady, that she had intended 
 having her portrait painted by Elsa, since the young 
 artist had been so highly praised by the baroness, but 
 that she had not felt willing to give the order on going 
 to the house and seeing the poverty-stricken aspect of 
 things ; it was impossible to be an artist, Madame 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 335 
 
 Zagal thought, if one had not a studio. Elsa laughed 
 with the Masmajours over this perhaps Indian stan- 
 dard of artistic ability, but the incident was not with- 
 out significance. Koppel begged, however, that the 
 matter should be left undecided for a little while ; there 
 would soon be other changes to be made in their sur- 
 roundings, and the question of an atelier could be set- 
 tled at that time. 
 
 They were his pride, Oscar and Elsa ; and in a de- 
 gree, his humiliation. Oscar, in his eighteenth year, 
 had risen into notice, as he himself scarcely dared still 
 hope to do ; and Elsa had received for her first at- 
 tempts, which seemed to be almost made in play, a 
 recompense exceeding what his own dull, hard year's 
 work brought in. For both of them life was full of 
 brilliant promise. To them would come all the suc- 
 cesses of which he had dreamed in his youth, and he 
 said to himself with a certain sadness, from which 
 affection had taken the sting, that he must become ac- 
 customed to the thought of regarding the two successful 
 children as the better part of himself, the raison d'etre 
 of his own existence. He did not disdain to widen his 
 own intellectual interests by their new endeavours. 
 For the sake of his son he read carefully and exten- 
 sively the " young " books and periodicals, not much 
 to his edification, it is true, but with a fair amount of 
 interest and without impatience. The obscurity, the 
 inanity, the inelegant affectations, the frantic conceit, 
 the pose of shattered nerves and debased morals in 
 these insignificant writings, were radically offensive to 
 him, but his mood became indulgent toward them 
 when he remembered that the youths who took pleas- 
 ure in these hot-headed productions were the friends 
 and admirers of his son, and had the same enormous 
 opinion of him that they had of themselves. Koppel 
 would, indeed, have been sorry to have Oscar perse- 
 vere in this course, to which he at present adhered 
 because, in his circle, it was the style ; but of this, the 
 father never for a moment stood in fear. The boy 
 would become more mature, he thought ; then, this 
 would cease of itself ; as soon as he should be in Ger- 
 
33^ THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 many, and enter upon a different and more wholesome 
 intellectual life, his mental horizon would also become 
 very different and he would no longer babble as a 
 mystic, but would speak outright like a man. 
 
 And as, following on his son's track, he thus made 
 his way into a kind of literature which would other- 
 wise have forever remained unknown to him, so 
 through his daughter he came into relations with the 
 art of the day. He sought the society of Pierre, and, 
 through him, obtained acquaintance with other 
 painters, gained admission to their ateliers and kept 
 track of their work. He visited all picture-shows at 
 the dealers and at clubs ; attended the art-school 
 exhibitions of works by students who were competitors 
 for the prtx de Rome, and of works sent from Rome by 
 students who had received this prize ; and in this way 
 it happened that he revisited the Hotel Drouot, not to 
 be himself a bidder at auctions, but attending sales of 
 pictures that he might form an idea of the state of the 
 art-market. 
 
 Also the theatre attracted him. In all the twelve 
 years of his life in Paris, he had been with his family 
 not over a dozen times to witness the performance, at 
 Sunday matinees at the Theatre Frangais or the Odeon, 
 of classic dramas, with which his children ought to 
 become acquainted. During this winter he devoted 
 at least one evening in the week to dramatic entertain- 
 ments, as well in the irregular theatres frequented by 
 his son's friends, as in the first houses of the boule- 
 vards. Occasionally the Baroness Agostini offered him 
 her box at the Grand Op^ra, or at the Op^ra Comique. 
 Frau Kathe could not really tell how she stood to- 
 wards the baroness. On the one hand, the latter 
 was constantly doing kind things towards them ; on 
 the other hand, she seemed to desire no closer relations 
 with them. In the newspapers they often read of 
 great dinners and receptions at the Agostinis, but the 
 Koppels had never been a second time invited. The 
 baroness not unfrequently asked Frau Kathe and Elsa 
 to come to see her, she sent her carriage for them, she 
 welcomed tliem with the most affectionate friendliness 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 337 
 
 but it was evident that she did not wish to be seen with 
 them publicly, and, the evenings when she offered 
 them her box at the opera, she was never there herself. 
 Frau Kathe regarded it as arrogance, and was in- 
 clined to be offended. Elsa, however, talked her out 
 of this. She could not, herself, understand the motive 
 of this conduct, but she was perfectly sure that the 
 baroness was not ashamed of them. She was an un- 
 common person and one must not take offence at what 
 she did. And so the family accepted the courtesies 
 offered them, and on their opera nights either took 
 with them two of the Masmajours, or invited Briinne- 
 Tillig, who, in this case, came first to supper. 
 
 Koppel began now, for the first time, to appreciate 
 the intellectual pleasures of Paris, in which hitherto 
 he had had no share. He gained, with surprise and 
 delight, an insight into the inexhaustible wealth of artis- 
 tic suggestions of every kind with which life in Paris 
 overwhelms the receptive mind, and he regretted the 
 many years that he had been obliged to let pass un- 
 profitably and his enslavement to the duties of his 
 vocation, which still held him closely confined. He 
 lightened his work as much as possible, and found 
 time for his new interests — the theatre, his wanderings 
 among studios and exhibitions, his reading of the ob- 
 jectionable " new " books and periodicals — by giving 
 up all his private pupils, and he only continued his 
 work in the school because that was a matter of con- 
 tract. 
 
 Wolzen and the other teachers, his colleagues, were 
 very much surprised when they found that Koppel, at 
 the beginning of the winter semester, relinquished the 
 profitable extra instruction of the richer pupils of his 
 classes and also his courses of lectures for advanced 
 girls. This was advantageous to the other teachers, 
 for they quickly divided among themselves the oppor- 
 tunities of gain which he abandoned, but they gossiped 
 much nevertheless, and with an undertone of unfriendly 
 jest, over the new manners of a gentleman of leisure 
 which they observed in their comrade, and they set on 
 foot all sorts of rumours as to the cause of his sudden 
 
338 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 prosperity. One man believed that Koppel had won 
 a great prize in a lottery ; a second knew that he had 
 received a fortune by inheritance ; a third had heard it 
 whispered about that Koppel's daughter earned a great 
 deal of money as an artist ; and the talk was endless 
 when a somewhat idle colleague of Koppel's tried to 
 borrow some money of him, and, without the slightest 
 exertion, actually obtained a hundred francs. 
 
 It was also to Frau Kathe a great surprise that her 
 husband gave private lessons no longer, and though 
 she delicately avoided the air of seeming to fear that 
 her daily bread was in peril, or of reproaching the 
 head of the family with not being sufficiently industri- 
 ous, or of urging him to greater exertions, she could 
 not, however, refrain one day, as he was going with 
 her and Elsa to an exhibition of pictures, from saying : 
 " Pardon me, Hugo, for speaking of it, but have you 
 lost all your private pupils this winter ?" 
 
 " Lost ?" he said smiling. " No, my dear Kathe. I 
 have given them up. I wanted to have a little more 
 time to devote to you and Elsa. One does not live 
 merely to toil and moil." 
 
 " Certainly not. If only there were no such thing 
 as a scarcity of money, which we cannot forget, in our 
 grandeur of soul." 
 
 " Do not feel anxious, sweetheart," Koppel replied 
 tranquilly. 
 
 Frau Kathe said no more, but anxious she was, not- 
 withstanding the peace of mind so evident in her 
 husband, the cause of which she could not fathom. 
 
 Koppel had indeed good ground for cheerfulness. 
 His securities rose without interruption. At New 
 Years the price of Almaden was 790 francs. He had 
 gained nearly a quarter of a million and, including his 
 wife's inheritance, he had now over 300,000 francs. 
 What had seemed a far-off, nebulous hope, when he 
 began to speculate, was now, in less than a year, very 
 nearly realized. The goal that he had proposed to 
 himself was within arm's length. He must begin to 
 consider the question how — in the no longer remote 
 day when he should enter permanently on the blessed 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 339 
 
 condition of a man of independent means — he should 
 invest his property. An estate in the country ? That 
 would be best of all, he thought, a return to mother 
 Earth ! The practice of husbandry, refreshing to body 
 and soul ! All the sunshine of the " Bucolics " which he 
 was at this time teaching daily in the school over- 
 flowed his soul. But — was it not too late, thus to 
 change one's vocation ? The earth brought in small 
 returns ; to cultivate it required knowledge of various 
 kinds whose acquisition would now be too tedious. A 
 dwelling house, then ? Not a bad idea. But where ? 
 If he bought, he fettered himself ; and it would 
 require, too, that he should come at once to a decision 
 whether he would return to Berlin, or would remain 
 in Paris ; and this was a momentous, a formidable 
 question not to be settled off-hand. 
 
 The simplest thing after all was to buy good, inter- 
 est-bearing securities. That left him entire liberty to 
 order his life as it might please him, later. But what 
 securities ? Governments ? But who could tell, on 
 the morrow of a declaration of war, what they would 
 be worth ? And the enormous expenses of military 
 defence were, even in peace, ruining, more slowly but 
 no less surely, all the states of Europe. American 
 securities, then ? They were less oppressed by the 
 military spirit, but it was impossible from here to 
 watch over such investments properly, and new com- 
 munities were subject to business crises, unknown in 
 the old world. It was singular — when he gave 
 orders for transactions at the Bourse it never occurred 
 to him to search into the lasting, intrinsic value of 
 what he bought: it did not appear that this value con- 
 cerned him at all ; the buying of these securities was 
 not a real purchase of property, and he had none of 
 the usual care attending a purchase ; now, however, 
 when he began to think about investing what he had 
 gained, among all the quotations of the Bourse, there 
 did not seem to be one which offered him the absolute 
 safety that he required ; even in the case of the 
 very best he found some objection which made him 
 hesitate. And amidst his inquiries, and investigations, 
 
34<^ THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 and criticisms, came to him the thought, " Perhaps 
 the socialists are wrong in considering the man of in- 
 dependent fortune as exempt from cares ; it is not so 
 easy, after one has gained a competency, to keep it 
 and administer it wisely." 
 
 Pfiester, in these days, came frequently again to 
 Koppel and sought to induce him to new ventures. 
 He found it incomprehensible that his customer, for 
 so long a time, did nothing. It is true, twice in the 
 month the remisier had his share of the broker's com- 
 mission, which every time the position was adjusted 
 had to be paid, and this was quite a respectable, 
 regular revenue, for which Pfiester had no occasion so 
 much as to lift a finger. But that did not content 
 him. Koppel's indebtedness to the broker became 
 less constantly, as he took up a certain number of 
 shares at every settling-day. And thereby Pfiester's 
 share in the commission was reduced. And since 
 Koppel, for over a twelve-month, had been steadily 
 gaining, it was a shame that he should let his good 
 money lie unprofitable, and torpidly sit down on it, 
 instead of letting it run merrily about in new ventures, 
 to the great profits of brokers, coulissiers, and remisiers 
 who, at each venture, get their commission, whatever 
 their customer gains or loses. Koppel, however, re- 
 sisted obstinately. He had his own ideas. When 
 Pfiester continually inquired whether he was not go- 
 ing to sell his Almaden, the whole or part of it, he 
 replied : " I should be insane to do that. Did you 
 not 'tell me, yourself, that it would reach looo ? I 
 am waiting till it does. I am in no hurry." 
 
 " You certainly are not, Herr Doctor. I admire 
 you. I hold up your splendid coolness as an example 
 to all my customers — without mentioning your name, 
 of course. Most people who have dealings with the 
 Bourse are nervous, they change their minds half a 
 dozen times a day, they are frightened at every breeze, 
 they bombard me with orders, changes and recalls. 
 From you, I hear nothing. You are like a marble 
 statue." 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 34 1 
 
 " It is no merit of mine," Koppel said, modestly, 
 " it is a matter of temperament." 
 
 " It is a merit however to have the temperament of 
 a field-marshal," remarked Pfiester with a bow. 
 '• What I complain of is that you do not take sufficient 
 advantage of your splendid temperament. Your 
 Almadens will go up to a thousand I believe myself ; 
 and you are right quietly to await your selling price. 
 But that is no reason for remaining idle in the mean- 
 time. Why not take some of the opportunities that 
 are constantly presenting themselves?" 
 
 " Such as what 7' 
 
 " At this moment there is a great movement going on 
 in ruble-Russians. I advise you most strongly to go 
 into this. You have had reason to know that my 
 former advice was not bad." 
 
 Koppel became attentive and desired further infor- 
 mation. The security of which Pfiester spoke was a 
 domestic loan, bearing five per cent., interest payable in 
 paper. Pfiester said that it was generally believed that 
 this five per cent, paper bond would shortly be con- 
 verted into a four per cent, gold one, in which case it 
 would have the same value as the other Russian four 
 per cents which now stood at 92 or 93, and were sure 
 very soon to reach 100. The ruble-Russians had, 
 indeed, risen already, on rumour of this conversion, 
 but it would be some time before all the cream was 
 skimmed. 
 
 Koppel left Pfiester with the promise that he would 
 reflect on this advice. As his custom was, he began 
 to read about the security in his year-books of the 
 Bourse. Its past was noticeable. A few years ago the 
 price had been from 50 to 55, it was now above 80. 
 But Russian finances had greatly improved, and if the 
 security really should become gold-bearing, it was, 
 even at its present price an extremely good purchase. 
 The more he examined this security, the more at- 
 tractive it seemed. It was, perhaps, exactly what he 
 sought ! As safe as any public loan in Europe, and 
 paying higher interest than any that were equally 
 safe. He thought it over for two days, during which 
 
342 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 time the ruble-Russians continued to rise, and he then 
 decided to give an order for the purchase of 100,000. 
 He was obUged to pay 86 for them. This signified 
 — the ruble being reckoned on the Bourse at about 
 four francs— that he bought for 344,000 francs securi- 
 ties from which he expected to receive 16,000 francs 
 income. He scarcely felt at all that he was under- 
 taking a new speculation ; he simply invested two- 
 thirds of the half million and more that he had if he 
 sold his Alrnadens. This half million he regarded as 
 already his undoubted property. It was simply not 
 at this moment available. It was an entirely justifi- 
 able act for a careful, circumspect head of a family 
 not to delay the permanent investment of this half 
 million until he had in his hands the ready money, 
 but to buy a security which could be obtained at the 
 moment on peculiarly advantageous terms. 
 
 It did not particularly disturb him that immediately 
 after he had bought, which he did at the highest price 
 reached, the Russians went down sharply, in a few 
 days, to 80. He again, with pride, observed his own 
 coolness, when on settling day, he had to pay about 
 25,000. The Bourse might begin its St. Vitus's dance, 
 he should be calm. More than that : after many 
 hours' fatiguing mental calculation he gave an order 
 to Pfiester to buy 100,000 more at 80. Thus his aver- 
 age price for the 200,000 was 83. They cost him 
 644,000 francs. Who could tell — perhaps he ' might 
 keep the whole, and so have 32,000 francs income, 
 which -would be abundantly sufficient for the kind of 
 life that he had planned. If not, he would sell, after 
 the completion of the Almaden affair, as many of the 
 Russians as he had not the money to pay for, and in 
 this way also would gain something. 
 
 Pfiester highly commended Koppel's brave decision 
 in making a favorable average price for his Russians. 
 " You confirm my long-standing conviction," he said, 
 " that a man can earn money at the Bourse only when 
 he is not present there in person. A thousand excit- 
 ing rumours are constantly buzzing around us, which 
 alarms us. One man says this ; another that ; and we 
 
A HAPPY WINTER. 343 
 
 end by not knowing what to think ourselves. You, on 
 the contrary, sit quietly at home, are led astray by no 
 chatter, and decide on matters by your own unbiassed 
 experience and reason. I wish, Herr Doctor, that I 
 were as sure of my million as you are !" This was all 
 very cheering and Koppel willingly believed what 
 Pfiester said. 
 
 Rapidly the winter passed with the Koppel family, 
 and its unusual severity was hardly noticed by them in 
 their elated consciousness of prosperity and success. 
 There was a new excitement in their lives. Koppel 
 enjoyed the moment, and he still more enjoyed the 
 future which was to bring the satisfaction of all his 
 wishes and dreams for himself and his family. Frau 
 Kathe was conscious, without understanding the cause 
 of it, that something different was around her. There 
 was no longer in the others anxious depression and nar- 
 row absorption in petty cares for the earnings and 
 needs of the hour, but a consciousness of individuality, 
 a breathing freely, a widening of the outlook. Her 
 housekeeping, whether with her consent or without it, 
 went on after a different fashion ; the frequent sup- 
 pers—to which were invited Briinne-Tillig, the Masma- 
 jours, Pierre, other artists and, now and then, young 
 authors of Oscar's set — not ordered from a caterer, 
 as before, but prepared in the house, made a change 
 in the style of the table and in the whole ordering of 
 the household, and, notwithstanding the refined sim- 
 plicity that ruled in everything, raised the level of 
 expenses materially, as also did the style of dress, 
 which required much more attention than formerly. 
 
 Elsa worked with a joyful diligence that was in- 
 creased by every success, and made ready for the Salon 
 a large number of pastels and aquarelles, by which she 
 hoped to secure general recognition and gain member- 
 ship in the Society of the Champ de Mars. From time 
 to time she saw the Baroness Agostini, by whose de- 
 cided, but often melancholy, views of the world and of 
 human nature the girl strengthened her own opinions ; 
 from her contact with painters she gained a clear idea 
 of the aims of contemporary art, and the rnental and 
 
344 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 material elements of which the latest and most piquant 
 novelties were composed ; and her intercourse with 
 Briinne-Tillig, who was accustomed to come Sunday 
 afternoons regularly, once in the week to come to sup- 
 per and go to the theatre with them, and between 
 whiles, usually, to come once more by accident, so to 
 speak, was a constant stimulus to her emotional life. 
 
 Briinne-Tillig was undoubtedly attentive to her ; 
 this, for the moment, was the expression which seemed 
 suited to the case. It was attention, the most delicate 
 and assiduous, chivalric in its politeness, responsive 
 with eager deference to the girl's every gesture or 
 look or smile, but, with all the warmth of his manner, 
 and all the irrepressible ardour of his interest in Elsa, 
 he still maintained an unalterable reserve. He did not 
 declarehimself ; he never sought to see her alone; and if 
 it happened by chance that he did, there was no change 
 at all in his manner. To Elsa, this was in the main 
 satisfactory. It allowed her to meet him freely. His 
 presence no longer confused her, but merely stimulated 
 her. In Berck, for a moment, there had been awak- 
 ened in her heart toward him something so warm and 
 strong, that it alarmed her tranquil soul. Through 
 the vigorous effort of her will this had been subdued ; 
 and it was now only a deep hidden emotion in her 
 heart, which she loved to feel, singing to her amid her 
 dreams. In her imagination, at the end of a long row 
 of visions, she always saw herself at last as Briinne- 
 Tillig's wife, but she also had a very clear feeling of 
 the remoteness of this view. Meantime, she was by 
 no means sorry to have it so remote. Hope and an- 
 ticipation made for her a soft rapture, which her 
 strong, equable nature, where tranquillity and patience 
 ruled, enjoyed in a supreme degree. Meantime she 
 had with the young man an active, friendly inter- 
 course, to which exactly this unspoken something that 
 both held in their hearts gave a deep, keen delight. 
 What Elsa experienced was not the " restless happi- 
 ness " of the poet ; the happiness she felt was restful ; 
 it was love, but the love of a girl, healthful and inno- 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 345 
 
 cent through and through, the down of whose nature 
 had been singed off by no premature flame. 
 
 Oscar alone did not show any increased happiness in 
 existence at this time. He appeared, instead, some- 
 what burdened, depressed, often lost in thought that 
 caused his brows to knit, his eyes to fix themselves on 
 vacancy. He grew paler than ever, and as he was 
 never noisy or showed the natural exuberance of boyish 
 spirit, his mother at last grew anxious ; and she ques- 
 tioned her husband whether something ought not to 
 be done for the boy's health. 
 
 " He is at an age when this is not uncommon," the 
 father said. " It's not remarkable that the boy should 
 look rather pulled down." And Koppel repeated this 
 explanation when Oscar's teacher complained that the 
 young fellow was not working as well as usual. At 
 the same time he admonished his son that school 
 duties must not be neglected for all these literary 
 efforts and long esthetic discussions with his poetizing 
 comrades. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 
 
 It was not, however, Oscar's work for the " young " 
 periodicals, nor his intercourse with like-minded youths 
 of his own age, which drew him away from his pre- 
 scribed occupations. He had little Blanche in his 
 head ; he saw her warm-tinted little face, framed in its 
 heavy black hair, in all his school-books ; and it was of 
 her that he thought, while his instructors expounded 
 the beauty of Pythagorean utterances, or the economic 
 ideas of Colbert. 
 
 He was with her as often as he could in any way ar- 
 range it. With excuses of every kind he rushed at every 
 hour of the day to the Masmajours' apartment, and 
 
34^ THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 when Elsa went thither he never failed to accompany her. 
 But strongly as he felt impelled to be in the same room 
 with Blanche, to breathe the same atmosphere with her, 
 to speak to her and to have an answer from her lips and 
 from her black eyes, to become absorbed in contem- 
 plation of her rather low, wilful forehead, her auda- 
 cious little aquiline nose, her haughty little mouth 
 with its bewitching, tempting lips, this gratification 
 was by no means satisfactory to him ; something 
 more, something different, something more intimate 
 he desired, but scarcely knew what. For seven years 
 a pupil in one of the great city schools, and on 
 friendly terms with a crowd of young fellows, many 
 of them older than himself, he knew all that was to be 
 learned in such companionship ; he had read many 
 books and seen many pictures that should have long, 
 or forever, remained unknown to him. But for all 
 that, not a thought of evil at this time stained the 
 image of Blanche in his mind. His longing for her 
 was ardent and excited, but vague and — at least, so 
 far as he was conscious — innocent. He had con- 
 sciously but the one wish — once, for one single time, 
 to be alone with her for as long as he pleased with- 
 out fear of being disturbed, that he might caress her, 
 and whisper in her ear all that seethed in his brain, 
 and devour her freely with his eyes, not as now, when 
 he only secretly dared to look at her, and must, 
 quickly and blushing, turn away his head that none 
 might notice his stolen, ardent gaze. The intoxica- 
 tion of the half hour at the blonde Marie's wedding, 
 when he had held her in his arms as they waltzed, 
 had never gone off. His emotion of the moment had 
 grown more intense, more acute in memory, and it 
 awakened in him such a desire for his Blanche, for 
 her hand, her arm, her hair, for all herself, that many 
 a time, as he walked alone in the street, he could have 
 cried out with this passionate longing. 
 
 But she was, and she remained, out of reach ; Adfelc 
 kept sharpest watch, but without saying a word. 
 Blanche could never once, when Oscar was leaving, 
 slip out into the anteroom and exchange a rapid 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 34/ 
 
 caress, for when she rose, Adfele, unnoticed, did the 
 same, and went with her sister, as i£ she had something 
 to do outside. If she were sent to a customer, or to 
 buy something at a shop, Adfele was invariably her 
 companion, if the father could not go. Vainly did she 
 object, vainly sulk, and say not a word to her sister on 
 the way. Adele remained amiable and decided, and 
 carried her point. This exasperated Blanche to the 
 degree that once, when Adfele had accompanied her to 
 the Bon Marchd, she broke out, with her naturally hot 
 temper, and crimson with anger, screamed to her : 
 " Are you not ashamed to drag after me like this ?" 
 
 " No, my little Blanche, I am not ashamed," 
 Adele gently replied. 
 
 " What do you want of me ?" Blanche hissed 
 angrily. 
 
 " Nothing. I wish to keep you from doing any- 
 thing foolish." 
 
 " What's that to you ? You are not my mother." 
 
 " Would you rather I should speak to your mother 
 about it ?" 
 
 " What can you say ? You can spy, and slander, 
 and be a tell-tale, but there's nothing you can say." 
 
 Adfele grew paler than usual. Tears came into her 
 eyes, and she said, in a low, trembling voice : " You 
 are ungrateful, Blanche. You know that I love you." 
 
 Blanche's wrath vanished in an instant and she 
 would have fallen upon her sister's neck ; but they 
 were in the street, and she must content herself with 
 taking Adfele's arm, and pressing it hard. So the two ' 
 sisters walked for awhile, silent. Then Blanche began 
 again, no longer angry but complaining, reproachful : 
 " You keep watch over me as if I were a criminal. 
 Why do you grudge it to me to walk with my friend, 
 and have a little talk sometimes ?" 
 
 " When I am with you I do not grudge it. What I 
 don't think right is that you hide away from me." 
 
 Blanche was silent and impressed. Indeed, why did 
 Oscar so much wish to be with her alone ? Why did 
 she find this wish so natural and share it so eagerly ? 
 She could make no distinct answer to these questions. 
 
348 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Adfele was right ; they ought not to hide from her. 
 This was reason. But a half-hidden feeling whispered 
 within her that it was something quite different to be 
 with Oscar, hand in hand, eyes meeting eyes, unob- 
 served and unrestrained. 
 
 Meetings, brief as a dream, upon the stairs at remote 
 intervals, were all that circumstances permitted to 
 Oscar and Blanche. Then the girl rushed into his 
 arms, he kissed her on brow and cheek, eyes, neck, 
 wherever his burning lips could touch ; and then they 
 fled like the wind when their strained ears heard a stair 
 creak or the opening of a door. Blanche could no 
 longer go to the post-office. Oscar formed the new 
 plan of leaving his letters under the door-mat before 
 the door of the Masmajours' apartment, where 
 Blanche could find them without being observed. 
 To answer them was only very rarely possible, except 
 with a few words written in pencil, which she gave him 
 when she could find the opportunity. She learned, while 
 talking with Oscar in the presence of others, to make al- 
 lusions which would show him that his letters had been 
 received ; and sometimes, even, she would answer things 
 that he had said. She shortly attained great skill in this 
 black art of allusive speech, which all might hear but only 
 one could understand, and developed in the invention 
 of significant expressions greater skill than an every- 
 day author would bring to the getting up of a novel. 
 Oscar vied with her in mental effort, but his, however, 
 were directed toward another object. To have one 
 little hour alone with Blanche ! Upon this thought he 
 dwelt constantly. He invented the most complicated 
 schemes, in which might be traced the effect of the 
 romances that he had read. But Blanche's half con- 
 cealed answer was always : " Impossible," or " Foolish." 
 Oscar was much disheartened. He was accustomed to 
 regard himself as a great poet. He had in his head a 
 whole list of Romances and Dramas, full of matters of 
 soul-value, with extraordinary situations and marvel- 
 lous denouments. And here his imagination showed 
 itself to be so lame, so unfruitful, that he could devise 
 no way for getting a tete-k-tete with a willing girl, who 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 349 
 
 lived in the same house with himself, and whom he 
 saw daily for a longer or a shorter time. 
 
 Finally, it was Blanche who formed a plan. The 
 Bon Marche announced, for a Monday in May, one of 
 its usual " Expositions," that is to say, a sale of certain 
 goods at reduced price, for a few days, until the stock 
 was exhausted. Madame Masmajour never allowed 
 these regularly recurring opportunities of making 
 useful purchases to tscape her. It was, at the moment, 
 the very height of the season for work in millinery, 
 and she had more orders than she could fill. It was 
 therefore settled that Blanche should go to make the 
 purchases, and that her father should accompany her. 
 Blanche had her plan. Sunday evening, -as the two 
 families were taking tea together in the Koppels' 
 apartment, and the elders listened amiably while the 
 young people chattered together, she spoke purposely 
 of the intended shopping expedition with her father the 
 next morning, of the many purchases that she would 
 have to make, of the crowd that, even at an early 
 hour, would throng the shop, of the difficulty of keep- 
 ing with one's companion in such a crowd ; and she 
 did not let the subject drop until she saw that Oscar 
 had been attentive to what she said. As they were 
 taking leave, she found an opportunity to slip a 
 small, folded paper into Oscar's hand, on which she 
 had written these words : " Square, opposite the rue 
 Velpeau. From nine o'clock on. Impossible to fix 
 the time." 
 
 In Oscar's brain it was as if a hundred violins and 
 flutes were playing at once. For hours, that night, he 
 lay awake, indescribably restless and yet blissful ; and 
 he had scarcely more than fallen asleep it seemed, 
 when his father came to rouse him in the morning. 
 
 ■'Get up, you lazy boy!" Koppel said, "you are 
 late for school now." When he appeared at the break- 
 fast-table, his mother noticed the fatigue in his eyes. 
 " Are you not well, Oscar ?" she said. " Why, yes," 
 he answered, and feigned surprise at the question. He 
 made haste to get away, however, out of her sight, and 
 
350 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ran off as soon as possible, with his portfolio under his 
 arm. 
 
 He did not, however, go to school. It was the first 
 time in his life that he had played truant, and his 
 school-boy conscience reproached him sternly. He 
 banished the self-reproach, however, saying to him- 
 self : " What consequence is that little matter, when 
 there is something so great, the greatest thing in the 
 world, before me ; I am going to meet the one I love !" 
 He was a boy no longer, to fear a master's punish- 
 ment ; he was a man, in a man's proudest act, the 
 carrying off of a beloved maiden ! And when an ofifi- 
 cial notice reported to his father the unexcused ab- 
 sence, he would find some way to explain the matter. 
 
 It was now eight o'clock, and it was not his inten- 
 tion to be at the designated place any earlier than 
 nine. He found the passage of an hour slower than 
 ever before in his life. He loitered around the Od^on, 
 turned over books new and old in the stalls under the 
 colonnade — an occupation, in which, on other occa- 
 sions, the time was wont to fly as if it mocked him — 
 but understood, however, not a word of what he read, 
 since at every moment, his eyes sought his watch. 
 When it was time he made his way across to the tri- 
 angular square, upon which abuts one side of the Bon 
 Marche buildings, and was there before nine o'clock. 
 He sat down on a bench, in the shade of a tree, 
 whence he could watch the rue Velpeau, and waited. 
 His heart beat furiously, and his temples throbbed ; 
 when she came, what would he do ? What should he 
 suggest ? Ideas of all kinds recurred to him — what his 
 comrades had told him, what he had observed himself, 
 with his own sharp eyes, as he had wandered through 
 the streets of the Latin Quarter ; in any case he would 
 make the most that he could of the opportunity. 
 
 Long he sat there ; or, at least, so it seemed to him. 
 He thought his watch must have been stopped for 
 hours when it indicated ten. Suddenly he started up, 
 and rushed forward. Through the gate at the corner 
 of the rue de Babylone, Blanche came hastily into the 
 square, and cast shy, searching glances ^ound her. 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 351 
 
 She saw Oscar at once, as he came rapidly towards 
 her. He had the most urgent impulse to kiss her. 
 Blanche forbade him with a decisive shake of the head, 
 whispered hurriedly, though no one was near enough 
 to hear her : " Come !" and started, almost running, 
 for the further gate, upon the rue de Sfevres. Oscar 
 kept close beside her, and asked, unconsciously also 
 whispering : " How did you succeed in getting away ?" 
 
 " Just come, and I will tell you afterwards,'' Blanche 
 rejoined. 
 
 " Where are you going, my Blanche ?" he asked. 
 
 " To get away from here," was the reply. 
 
 At the gate into the rue de Sfevres, he stood still and 
 held her fast. 
 
 " What do you want ?" she asked, anxiously, glan- 
 cing about, as if still afraid that some one might be 
 following. 
 
 " Let us get into a fiacre," he said, and made as if 
 he would go toward the row of public vehicles that 
 stand along the railing. 
 
 " No, no ; let us take a walk," she replied, turning 
 in the opposite direction. A glance over the row of 
 fiacres had shown Oscar that there was not a single 
 closed carriage among them, and an open one did not 
 commend itself to him. He therefore obediently 
 accompanied Blanche, who still ran rather than walked, 
 until she turned into the rue du Vieux Colombier ; 
 here for the first time she slackened her pace, and drew 
 a long breath : " Oh, I have been so anxious !" she 
 sighed. 
 
 " Tell me all about it," he said, and he put his arm 
 under hers, as is the present custom of the Parisian 
 youth escorting the beloved one. 
 
 " Poor papa !" Blanche began, " I had to drag him 
 about for an hour from one department to another 
 before I could get away. At the ribbons there was 
 enough of a crowd ; there I left him planted and ran 
 off. Now there's a search going on ! If only he 
 won't be too anxious !" 
 
 " But you are no child, darling, he will be reason- 
 able enough to go quietly "lack to the house." 
 
352 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " This is very wrong that I am doing," she mur- 
 murred. 
 
 " No, dearest Blanche, it is not wrong. I had to 
 have the chance at last to tell you that I love you, 
 that I adore you, that I am mad about you ! I could 
 endure it no longer to be silent." 
 
 " But you write the same things to me every day." 
 
 " That is not the same thing, at all. Does it make 
 no difference to you whether you hear it, or only read 
 it?" 
 
 "I like to read it and I' like to hear it," she ans- 
 wered in a low voice, and a dreamy smile flitted over 
 her blushing face. " But when you write it, I can 
 read it ten times over." 
 
 " And you can hear it a hundred times ! I shall 
 never be tired of repeating it, beloved one." 
 
 They unconsciously clung together so fondly, their 
 young faces, unpractised in the cool command of ex- 
 pressions, mirrored so tender an emotion that passers-by 
 turned to look at them, some with a sympathetic 
 smile, others with a frown of offended moralists. 
 Much used as people are in this border street of the 
 Latin land to the sight of wandering lovers, these two 
 were noticeable on account of their youth, their good 
 looks and their manifest ecstacy. 
 
 Blanche became conscious of this first ; she drew 
 away from Oscar in some confusion, and blushed 
 deeper than before. Following a sudden impulse she 
 went straight to the door of Saint-Sulpice, finding it 
 just across the street from where they were. Oscar 
 would have detained her, but she chose to go, and he 
 had to follow her into the church. She dipped her 
 slender fingers into the holy water, crossed herself 
 and then him. She went into one of the side-chapels 
 nearest to the door and knelt for a moment before 
 an altar of the Virgin. Oscar regarded her with 
 amazement. 
 
 " You are an extraordinary little creature !" he said, 
 when she rose. 
 
 "It brings good luck," Blanche said, as they left the 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 353 
 
 church. " But you are a German heretic, and you 
 don't know about it." 
 
 " To be a little praying sister seems to be a new r61e 
 for you !" 
 
 " I recommended myself fo the protection of the 
 Blessed Virgin. So I hope I shall not have to repent 
 for playing such a trick 0]i poor papa ! I have always 
 had an idea that I was speciilly favoured by the 
 Blessed Virgin. When I was a little child I thought 
 of consecrating myself to her. And do you know, 
 Oscar, if you should be false to me, I shall become a 
 nun." 
 
 " I be false to you ! No, my darling! That could 
 never happen. You shall never go into a convent 
 through fault of mine. But say, my little Blanche, 
 must we be all the time on the street? The time is 
 flying." 
 
 " You are right. Let us go into the Luxembourg 
 for a little while." 
 
 This was not what he had in mind ; but he dared 
 jjiot offer any other suggestion. As they were going 
 through the rue de Tournon toward the palace, he 
 said to her: " Think, my little pet, how much better 
 off people are in the country. There, the young man 
 goes with his sweetheart down shady lanes under tall 
 trees, or they sit down by some brook, under over- 
 hanging bushes, or they can go into the fragrant hay- 
 fields together, and be as happy as butterflies in the 
 sunshine. But in the city, we are stared at all the 
 time by a thousand malicious eyes." 
 
 " Then, let us go into the Luxembourg Garden," 
 Blanche suggested. " There are not so many people 
 there." 
 
 " Dont you think, my Blanche, that it must be 
 much more beautiful, in memory, to blend the thought 
 of one's love with the idea of blooming meadows and 
 rosechafers, and bird song, and fragrance of flowers, 
 than with an impression of narrow streets, and crowd- 
 ing workmen and the cry of the vegetable-sellers ?" 
 
 " What consequence is all that ? I see and I hear 
 nothing of it. The only thing I notice is that we go 
 
354 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 by nothing but shops with pictures of saints, and that 
 at every window le bon Dieu and Blessed Virgin greet 
 me. It seems to me as if Paris was all one great 
 church. I never noticed it before ! Will you believe 
 it, my dear friend, I almost think I hear the organ and 
 smell the incense." 
 
 They had now reached the grand entrance to the 
 Luxembourg Garden. The flower-beds were in their 
 most splendid May attire. The velvet turf shim- 
 mered in that green as of enamel or emerald to which 
 in Paris only, outside of England, climate and care 
 improve the grass. The chestnut trees had set up 
 all their candelabra, and shone in the full splendour 
 of their pink and white umbels. The white statues of 
 French queens, individually stiff and monotonous, lost 
 their ugliness, seen from a distance, and were like an 
 assembly of amiable rococo ladies who — unapproach- 
 able, for all their affability — have come out among the 
 common people into a park, and condescendingly 
 look on at what the rest of the world is doing. Down 
 the straight and almost deserted main avenue lay the 
 yellow, morning sunlight. On the benches or in the 
 iron chairs which edged it, children's nurses made a 
 great display — in their bell-shaped cloaks and with the 
 curious appendage of high-coloured ribbons floating 
 down to their heels — with their nurslings in their laps 
 or in front of them in baby-carriages, or else surrounded 
 by children playing, driving hoop, jumping rope, or 
 shovelling sand into little pails. 
 
 Oscar and Blanche wandered slowly past the noisy 
 child-folk, and went to the left as far as the Debrosses 
 fountain, which region of the Garden, at this time of 
 day, was quite deserted. They sat down, sheltered 
 by the shrubbery, on the edge of the long, angular 
 basin. A faint perfume of lilacs and linden was in the 
 air. Under the ice-smooth watery mirrors gleamed 
 now and then, swimming near the surface, some little 
 red and gold fish, then vanished, diving out of sight. 
 Over the water played whirling caddis-flies, fine as if 
 made of silk and silver and spun-glass. In the branches 
 fluttered, hopped, and twittered small birds, for the 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 355 
 
 most part only sparrows in common yellow-brown 
 dust-cloaks, but plump, from the abundant nourish- 
 ment afforded by the city streets, and loud in their 
 tipsy merriment. 
 
 " There can't be anything prettier in the country," 
 whispered Blanche, and noticed with delight each one 
 of the separate objects in which the spring manifested 
 its luxuriant life. 
 
 Oscar took the girl's little hand in his own, stroked 
 it and held it firmly. " Those two there are to be 
 envied," he said, with a smothered voice, and indicated 
 with a glance the principal ornamental structure of the 
 parterre. In a sequestered grotto the marble figures 
 of Acis and Galatea embraced each other, while bend- 
 ing over the edge of the vaulted roof, the uncouth 
 Polyphemus, in rough stone, with one wicked eye in 
 the middle of his forehead, watched and profaned the 
 innocent happiness of the lovely pair. 
 
 " No ; that horrid giant lies over their grotto, and 
 watches them." 
 
 " But they observe it not, and go on thinking of each 
 other only. Would you not gladly be the nymph, 
 dear one ?" 
 
 " What odd notions you have !" she said, and turned 
 her head away from the divine nudity of the lovers. 
 
 A book-binder's apprentice with a green woven bas- 
 ket on his back came by the basin, saw the two sitting, 
 hand in hand, and gazing ardently into each other's 
 eyes, and screamed out with the satirical tone of the 
 gamin: "C/«// lovers!" Blanche shrank back, and 
 drew her hand away from Oscar's. He said to her : 
 " Let us sit a little further back in the shadow." 
 
 " No matter !" she rejoined, " the stupid fellow has 
 gone." 
 
 Both were silent a few minutes, then Blanche spoke : 
 " Look," she said, " it seems as if the water were flow- 
 ing out toward us." 
 
 And so, indeed, it appeared. The stone rim of the 
 basin is of equal height at both ends. The eye ac- 
 cepts its line as horizontal ; hence arises the illusion, 
 as if the watery mirror, which is not paralled with the 
 
3S6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 rim but by degrees falls away from it, were not straight 
 but sloping. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " the water runs outwards toward 
 the enchanttd grotto. Where t\\ o love each other 
 truly, there wonders occur ; for love is the first and 
 highest law of nature and abrogates every other. 
 Even that of gravitation." 
 
 "That is true," she answered quite seriously, "j 
 feel as if I had no weight at all, as if I had wings." 
 
 "And truly you have, my sweet, white dove," Oscar 
 said, ardently, " truly you have, like the oth'ir angels." 
 
 Blanche shook her little head, and over her face 
 came a shadow of distress. " I am not an angel at all, 
 but a bad little thing who is doing what she ought not 
 to do." 
 
 A rapid glance satisfied Oscar that no one was in 
 sight. He threw one arm around her shoulders, drew 
 her quickly towards him and pressed an ardent kiss 
 upon her lips. Surprised by the sudden movement, 
 Blanche had not been able to resist in time, but she 
 wrenched herself free as she felt his lips touch hers, 
 and gasped : "Oscar! what are you doing?" 
 
 He looked at her as she had never se^n him look 
 before ; his eyes glittered, they seemed to implore 
 and threaten ; in their depths seemed to lurk some- 
 thing incomprehensible, something like a cruel, inex- 
 orable force. An anxiety which she could not ex- 
 plain to herself seized upon her. She would have 
 liked to rise and to run away, but some force seemed 
 to detain her. 
 
 In Oscar's heart furious storms were raging. An 
 overmastering impulse drew him towards the beauti- 
 ful girl at his side. It seemed to him he must snatch 
 her up in his arms, must carry her ofl, must whirl with 
 her in some wild waltz, must do something desperate 
 and violent ; and there were people perpetually 
 going by, men and women, who stared at them. A 
 sort of rage greAv in him, and also, a feeling of humili- 
 ation. If one of his comrades were to see him! If 
 one of them should hear of this adventure ! That he 
 had sat harmlessly with the girl he loved in the Lux- 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 357 
 
 embourg Garden like a country recruit with a child's 
 nurse, from time to time grinning idiotically, after 
 embarrassed pauses saying stupid things, poking the 
 toe of his boot into the sand like a fool ! It appeared 
 to him unspeakably ridiculous ; his vanity suffered ; 
 and this base emotion gave him the audacity to speak 
 out what he had had in his mind, of which he had till 
 now been ashamed. 
 
 "Blanche, the time is passing," he murmured. 
 
 " Must we go?" she said, sadly. 
 
 "No," he rejoined, "but let us not sit here any 
 longer. Blanche, darling, come, let us go somewhere 
 else." 
 
 She looked up, astonished. " Where ?" she said. 
 
 His voice had sounded harsh and unpleasant. An 
 unwonted disagreeable look came over his face ; he 
 looked older and less refined than usual. "There is 
 no sense in walking about the street, let us go indoors 
 somewhere." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," she whispered, dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 He had to say what was in his mind, and the coarse- 
 ness of what he said was shocking to himself. "There 
 are hotels enough " 
 
 She drew her chair away from his, became as white 
 as a sheet and shut her eyes. Alarmed, he drew his 
 chair near her and took her hand. It was cold and 
 languid. 
 
 " Blanche, darling, little sweetheart, what is the 
 matter?" he implored, penitently. 
 
 She opened her eyes which were full of tears, looked 
 silently and long at him through the wet veil, and, 
 while great drops rolled down her cheeks to which the 
 colour slowly returned, she said, in a dull voice ; " You 
 have no respect for me." Then she rose and went to- 
 wards the gate. 
 
 Oscar crept after her. His better nature awakened 
 to a consciousness of his own baseness and was tor- 
 tured by the stings of conscience. She walked silently 
 away. For some time he dared not speak. If only 
 she would express her displeasure ! If only she would 
 
358 THE' DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 reproach him in words ! It would have been a relief 
 to him to have been scolded roundly. But she never 
 opened her lips, and that was dismal beyond endur- 
 ance. 
 
 He must break the silence himself, then. " Blanche," 
 he whispered, " what is the matter ? Have I made you 
 angry?" 
 
 She remained dumb. 
 
 " You misunderstood me ; you are altogether mis- 
 taken. How could you think that I would suggest 
 anything wrong to you ? Do I not love you ? Are 
 you not truly my little fiancee ? Will you not some 
 day be mine ? I only meant I longed to kiss you 
 once with all my heart, and that was impossible out- 
 of-doors, here. Sometime I must. Surely I have the 
 right ! Can you be angry with me for this?" 
 
 As he went on talking he grew more confident and 
 positive. He believed himself what he was saying, 
 and convinced himself that he had meant nothing 
 wrong. 
 
 Blanche replied in a low voice but with decision : 
 
 " Let us say no more about it." 
 
 " Do you forgive me ?" he begged, honestly dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 For an instant she laid her slender fingers in his 
 grasp, permitted his eager pressure of them, then softly 
 drew her hand away. But still not a word did she 
 speak. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" he asked, still contrite, but 
 a little less unhappy. 
 
 "To the Bon March^." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Perhaps I may yet find papa there." 
 
 " What are you thinking about ? He must have 
 gone home long ago." 
 
 " I want to be able to say when they ask me, that I 
 have just come from the Bon March^. I don't like tq 
 tell any more lies than I must." 
 
 They were now at the corner of the rue de Sevres 
 and the rue de Babylone. " Good-bye, my friend," 
 she said, aii(4 held out her hand, 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 359 
 
 " Shall I not wait for you, in case you should not 
 find your father ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then I will go home at once." 
 
 She turned away, and vanished into the crowd at 
 the entrance of the great shop. Oscar watched the 
 door for a while ; then he also turned away, and went 
 slowly, making a wide circuit, toward home, a droop- 
 ing figure, with an aching void in his breast and a 
 leaden cap on his head. 
 
 Masmajour had already been at home half an hour. 
 When he came in alone, his wife and daughter, with 
 one voice, cried : " Where is Blanche ?" 
 
 He scratched his head and stammered : " It was im- 
 possible — in that crowd — it is like the storming of a 
 fortress. And then, the girl is so quick in her motions. 
 I am not slow myself — but Blanche — she is just like a 
 squirrel — she skips through the thickest of the crowd. 
 It is impossible to keep up with her. And I had been 
 pushed and knocked about quite enough. Besides, 
 she knows how to find her way home. We have no 
 occasion to worry." And he laughed, in an embar- 
 rassed way. 
 
 His cheerfulness was not acceptable, however. " You 
 know, my dear, that I do not like to have Blanche run 
 about alone in Paris," Madame Masmajour said genti)', 
 but in a way that caused her husband to cast down his 
 eyes in much confusion. And even the usually ami- 
 able Adfele said, reproachfully : " When you are sent 
 out with Blanche, it is to have you stay with her." 
 
 At last, the door-bell rang. Adele ran to open the 
 door. Her glance rested on the returned girl with 
 inquiry and reproach ; but Blanche brushed past her 
 into the room, bent her forehead to be kissed by her 
 mother and father, and laid aside her hat and wrap, 
 without, as usual, going into the bedroom which the 
 sisters shared. It was evident that she avoided being 
 alone with Adfele. 
 
 "Well, you did not tie.at me very kindly," Masma- 
 jour consoled himself by remarking. 
 
 " It was not my bysiness to keep watch of you 
 
360 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 papa," the girl retorted. Her father endured the re- 
 mark patiently, and began to read his paper, while 
 Blanche narrated to her mother the purchases she had 
 made. 
 
 At the noonday meal she was so absorbed in thought 
 that she almost forgot to eat, and did not notice, when 
 any one spoke to her, Adele observed the spot of 
 colour that burned in her sister's cheeks, the con- 
 tracted brow, the absent-minded look, the dark shade 
 under the eyes, and an anxiety overflowed her heart 
 which made her also silent. After the meal was over, 
 Blanche could do no otherwise than go to wash her 
 hands in the bedroom ; this was the opportunity Adele 
 awaited, and she followed her sister instantly. 
 
 " You have been with him," she said. 
 
 " And what if I have }" Blanche retorted defiantly, 
 and threw back her head. 
 
 " Do you mean to destroy yourself ?" 
 
 " How?" 
 
 " Wretched girl ! What does this lead to ?" 
 
 " What does it generally lead to when two people 
 love each other ? I have never expected to go into a 
 convent ! You would not like it yourself. I am 
 Oscar's fiancee, and a fiancee is married some day." 
 
 Adele clasped her hands : " That is clear madness, 
 Blanche. How can you talk such nonsense, when gen- 
 erally you are so sensible ? You are older- than this 
 boy." 
 
 "We are of the same age," Blanche rejoined, cap- 
 tiously. 
 
 " No, he is two months younger than you." 
 
 " Well, if you are going to count the days and hours 
 — but that is absurd." 
 
 " Man and wife of the same age means that the wife 
 is ten years older." 
 
 " That is just talk. I don't agree in it at all. Oscar 
 is young, and so am I ; and it is much more natural 
 than to fall in love with a man as old as papa." 
 
 This was a home thrust. " You are angry, Blanche," 
 Adele said ; " you ought not to be. 1 have not de- 
 served it. Do you suppose I grudge you any happi- 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 36 1 
 
 ness ? But you are a thoughtless child, and I must 
 take care of you." 
 
 " Don't worry. I know how to take care of myself." 
 Her voice had a tone of decision. Blanche remem- 
 bered what had occurred within the last hour, and she 
 felt that she had a right to answer so confidently. 
 
 Adfele shook her head ; she sat down on her bed, 
 drew Blanche to her side, with one arm around her 
 waist, and said tenderly : " Be sensible, my poor 
 Blanche. Oscar will never marry you." 
 
 Blanche would have gotten away, but Adfele held 
 her fast. " He will never marry you, and, at the bot- 
 tom of your heart, you know this, yourself. He is a 
 child, just as you are. It may be he promises all sorts 
 of things. But promises of children are not valid. 
 He has not even any occupation in view." 
 
 " Oh yes, he has," interrupted Blanche, " he is a 
 poet." 
 
 " That does not bring in any money." 
 
 " You think so ? But Monsieur Dumas is a million- 
 aire." 
 
 " We will wait till Oscar becomes Monsieur Du- 
 mas." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind that. I am willing to wait, as 
 long as we must." 
 
 " Meantime, he will forget you." 
 
 " How will he forget me, when we are together 
 every day ?" 
 
 " You have an answer for everything one says. But 
 it is all nonsense ; and you must get it out of your 
 head." 
 
 " Out of my heart, you mean. We love each 
 other." 
 
 "At your age, one thinks so ; but later, you will see 
 that it is all a mistake." 
 
 " You seem to speak from experience : but don't be 
 so wise." 
 
 There appeared to be no way to influence Blanche. 
 In her anxiety, Adele fell upon more awkward expedi- 
 ents. " And then, Oscar is a Protestant," she said. 
 
 At this, Blanche smiled. She was conscious that 
 
3^2 The drones must die. 
 
 Adele was giving up the struggle, and seeking to 
 cover her retreat with a few, scattering, ill-aimed 
 shots. 
 
 " Men, all of them, are unbelievers," she said, 
 " whether they call themselves Catholics or Protest- 
 ants, I am willing to pray enough for both." 
 
 " Oscar is a German. He will go back to his 
 Prussia, by and by." 
 
 Blanche's face grew hard again and she answered, 
 with ill-suppressed violence : " Now, you are not talk- 
 ing honestly. Enough. Let us go out. Mamma will 
 not know why we keep talking so long." 
 
 She went into the work-room, and Ad^le could not 
 help following. The elder sister was extremely dis- 
 turbed, and full of anxious thoughts. She wished to 
 do her duty, but she was not quite sure what her duty 
 was. Should she confide the secret to her mother ? 
 That appeared .at first the right thing to do, but it 
 involved a kind of treachery toward Blanche, which 
 was repugnant to her. Perhaps, to speak with Elsa, 
 that she might deal with Oscar and lecture him, while 
 she herself looked after Blanche ? This idea met her 
 approval. Thus she would make supervision easier, 
 and share the responsibility. If however, Elsa in turn 
 should confide the secret to her parents, the youth 
 would be sharply brought to book, and there would be 
 a general unpleasantness, from which Adfele shrank. 
 The best way out of the difficulty, that which com- 
 mended itself most to her was that a plan should be 
 carried out which, for a few weeks past, had been 
 much talked over in the Masmajour family. 
 
 Their situation had happily grown better of late. 
 The clientele of Madame Masmajour increased from 
 day to day. She now could scarcely fulfil all the 
 orders she received. In the household she could no 
 longer do without assistance. A woman came 
 mornings, and remained, with the exception of three 
 hours of the afternoon, till after dinner. It was more 
 expensive than to keep a servant, but there was no 
 place for one in the four rooms ; and an attic-room 
 belongs only with larger apartments. Everything in- 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 363 
 
 dicated a broadening out of their way of living. A 
 larger work-room was needed to accommodate ap- 
 prentices and employees. They could no longer do 
 without a salon ; it was not suitable to receive cus- 
 tomers in the dark living-room, and, especially, not if 
 they were to be made to pay higher prices than here- 
 tofore. 
 
 Through the Baroness Agostini, Madame Masma- 
 jour had gained customers from the high finance ; and 
 through Madame Zagal, ladies of the South American 
 colony ; a singer, also introduced by the baroness, 
 brought them theatrical stars. Many of her creations 
 for the autumnal races, for Varnishing Day, and, most 
 of all, for the Grand Prix, excited attention and were 
 copied by unscrupulous " great houses." To gain 
 established position, she must now come forward in 
 good shape, and open an elegant salon in a fashionable 
 part of the town. Mother and daughters went over 
 the details very carefully and at great length. Should 
 it be a shop with stiow-windows or a suite of rooms in 
 an entresol ? Their taste favoured the latter ; it was 
 less in the street ; it gave the proprietress more the 
 effect of being a lady. Should there be a sign ? No. 
 On the house-door, a proudly modest plate, with the 
 one word : Modes. And the paper used by the estab- 
 lishment should have only Madame Masmajour's 
 given name, Madame Claire, that the honoured name 
 of the family should not be lowered to the purposes of 
 business. 
 
 But the main point to be considered was, should 
 there be a new house founded, or should an already 
 established business be bought out ? Masmajour him- 
 self, whose advice was not much asked for, but who 
 for kindness' sake was not excluded from the family 
 councils, believed the latter to be the safer plan. 
 Madame Masmajour had confidence and courage 
 enough to strike out boldly for herself. It was plainly 
 less expensive to do this, and she had no doubt of 
 rapidly bringing up a new enterprise to the desired 
 height. Estimates, many times verified, and corrected 
 in accordance with facts, showed that, for the venture 
 
364 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 — with the most frugal and economical outfit that was 
 consistant with the desired aims — about 20,000 francs 
 were requisite. In the short two years since the 
 family had come to Paris, Madame Masmajour had 
 biien able to lay up between 4 and 5,000 francs, — 
 nearly all of this indeed, within the last six months. 
 The commission merchant for whom she had worked 
 at first, and to whom she now communicated her plan, 
 at once declared his willingness to furnish 6,000 francs 
 at five per cent interest, and six per cent share in the 
 profits. He would, if desired, furnish the 10,000 
 francs in addition, but in that case, he would require 
 half of the net profits, a silent partnership, and the 
 sole use of the firm-name, if Madame Masmajour 
 should at any time wish to withdraw. These condi- 
 tions seemed to her extortionate and she refused them. 
 But how obtain the required 10,000 francs ? Masma- 
 jour silently proposed to himself to procure them, and 
 thought he could do it very easily. He wrote to the 
 cousin in Nimes, who had, in the earlier time, recom- 
 mended to him the Panama investment. He reminded 
 the cousin of this, and made known to him that he 
 had now an opportunity, at least in some degree, to 
 repair the wrong that he had done. The cousin, dis- 
 pleased at this not very diplomatic opening of the 
 subject, left the letter unanswered. After waiting a 
 week, Masrhajour wrote again. Then the cousin re- 
 plied, somewhat curtly, that he had duly received the 
 letter, but judged that no reply was needed. After 
 this failure, Masmajour turned to his wife's uncle, the 
 president of the insurance company in which he him- 
 self had formerly been employed. This gentleman 
 replied politely that he regretted not to have, at the 
 moment, any available funds. It might, however, 
 awaken doubt as to the truth of this assertion that the 
 writer went on to say that he esteemed it his duty as 
 a kinsman, to warn his nephew against ventures made 
 with borrowed money, since their failure was generally 
 judged by the world, and in some cases, by courts of 
 justice, with much more severity than failures where 
 one's own money had been employed. Much crest- 
 
OSCAR AND BLANCHE. 365 
 
 fallen, Masmajour communicated to his wife the ill- 
 success of his attempts. She coloured violently, 
 thanked him for his efforts, and then required him to 
 promise, and give his hand upon it, that he would 
 never again in any case, apply for assistance to his 
 family or to hers. 
 
 Then Masmajour made himself humble, being deter- 
 mined to show that he could carry out what he had 
 begun, and went on a Sunday to tell the story to 
 Koppel, desiring his advice, with the concealed hope 
 that he might be recommended by Koppel to some 
 rich man of his acquaintance. Koppel, who was much 
 attached to the Masmajours, and had regarded their 
 increased success with great interest, listened willingly 
 and asked Masmajour if he were at liberty to speak of 
 it to Madame Masmajour. This was not exactly 
 agreeable to the visitor, but he saw no way to refuse. 
 Accordingly, Koppel had a very cordial talk with Ma- 
 dame Masmajour as to all the facts in the case, 
 the estimates of expense, the hopes and wishes 
 of the mother and daughters. His first impulse was 
 to offer her at once the 10,000 francs she required. 
 But to this impulse he did not yield. He was having 
 some trouble at the moment, himself. The ruble- 
 Russians were falling slowly but steadily, They now 
 stood at j6. He had been obliged to pay something 
 like 60,000 francs. The pleasant custom of bringing 
 home at every semi-monthly settlement a little pack- 
 age of Almadens had to receive a disagreeable inter- 
 ruption. On the contrary, he had been obliged to 
 give up seventy-five of these certificates to the coulis- 
 sicr to make good the decline in the stock. He there- 
 fore felt it wiser not to narrow his resources at the 
 moment, but to wait till the Russians should go up 
 again, before offering his help to a neighbour. That 
 this would very soon occur, he had no doubt. 
 
 Such was the situation in the month of May. Every- 
 thing was as yet uncertain, and Madame Masmajour 
 could not tell whether she should be able to carry out 
 her plan. 
 
366 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHAT TO DO V/ITH OSCAR ? 
 
 In May, Elsa's birthday came again, and was cele- 
 brated, as the preceding year, by a supper-party. But 
 this time the table was adorned with silver not hired 
 for the occasion but purchased ; and the supper itself 
 was not brought in from a caterer's, but was prepared 
 in the house under the supervision of a cook engaged 
 for the occasion. Among the guests Henneberg was 
 not included, as he had neglected them continuously 
 through the whole winter, and Frau Kathe objected 
 to his being invited. Bat his absence left no gap at 
 the family table where were crowded fourteen persons : 
 besides the Masmajours there were Briinne-Tillig, 
 Pierre, another painter, and two young comrades of 
 Oscar. 
 
 Elsa had had great success with her pictures at the 
 Salon. In all the accounts of the exhibition, she was 
 named ; the Vigie de la Presse Yid.d been able to send 
 her over fifty clippings ; in a " young" periodical had 
 appeared a wreath of sonnets, hy a friend of Oscar, it 
 is true, each poem having for its subjects one of the 
 pictures ; and — which showed that the impression 
 made was real — a dealer had bought all the eight 
 aquarelles and five pastels, at a price which at one 
 stroke made Elsa a rich girl, the possessor of over 
 10,000 francs. She had not as yet received the 
 money ; she was to have it at the close of the exhibi- 
 tion, on delivery of the pictures ; but the sale was 
 made definitive on stamped paper, and F"rau Kathe 
 called her daughter by no other name than "little 
 Croesa," notwithstanding Koppel's solemn protest 
 against this barbarism. Pierre offered a toast at the 
 supper : " To the fame of the birthday-child !" 
 Whereat Briinne-Tillig offered another to Elsa's happi- 
 ness, with the hope that it would not consist in fame 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 367 
 
 only ! At this toast the Masmajours exchanged 
 glances ; they expected the next thing would be an 
 announcement of the betrothal ; and as this did not 
 occur, they wondered more than ever at the anomalous 
 ways of the Germans. 
 
 After supper was over, Oscar and Blanche, in the 
 salon while coffee was served, made ingenious endea- 
 vours to get off into a corner by themselves ; but Ad^le 
 was always a third, and the two could only talk of indif- 
 ferent matters, at least, with their lips. Their eyes, how- 
 ever, said things much more interesting, whenever there 
 was any chance of escaping observation. 
 
 It was near midnight before the guests took their 
 leave. Koppel saw that his family were very tired ; he, 
 therefore, did not begin on any exciting and extensive 
 topic, but contented himself with saying : 
 
 " It would be right pleasant if we had more room. 
 Decidedly we have outgrown this box." The follow- 
 ing day, however, at dinner he was unusually taciturn 
 and thoughtful, and when dessert was on the table, he 
 began in a tone whose seriousness at once attracted 
 the notice of every one : " Now, my dears, I think the 
 time has come to make a change in our way of living. 
 You, Elsa, are on the way to make a great name for 
 yourself; you can earn as much as you please ; you 
 will, in a few days, be elected a member of the Champ 
 de Mars Association ; you cannot remain any longer 
 in your little courtyard room, you must now have an 
 atelier that is worthy of you." 
 
 "Yes, papa ; you dear, kind papa !" cried Elsa, in 
 great delight, and clapped her hands. 
 
 " And this apartment is really too small for ourselves. 
 I have decided to give notice of leaving in the au- 
 tumn." 
 
 " Ach Gott / Hugo," interrupted Frau Kathe, anx- 
 iously, " have you forgotten the trouble we had with 
 our furniture ?" 
 
 " We have had thirteen years' time to recover from 
 that effort ! And since the furniture makes us so much 
 trouble, we will now part w ith it. It certainly has 
 earned its discharge." 
 
368 TKE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " You talk in a very grand way." 
 
 " Don't be childish, my dear Kathe ; do yoli not 
 see yourself that it is absurd to be a slave all one's 
 life to this cumbersome lumber?" 
 
 Frau Kathe was always reluctant to differ, and, 
 therefore, she remained silent. Koppel went on : 
 " And you, my boy, have come to a point where we 
 must begin to look out seriously as to your future." 
 
 Oscar listened intently. 
 
 " In a few weeks you will have completed your 
 eighteenth year ; it is time that you should qualify to 
 volunteer, and prepare, not only for your year's mili- 
 tary service, but also for your future life. I have de- 
 cided to send you home to Germany. It is true that 
 you will have to do without your vacation this summer, 
 since the school year here ends in July, and begins, at 
 home, in August. But you have not been so very in- 
 dustrious these last few months that you have any 
 great need of recreation. I do not say this to reproach 
 you, but only as stating a fact." 
 
 Oscar had grown very red. He bent his head and 
 played nervously with the orange-peel on his plate. 
 His mother spoke for him. " This is very sudden, dear 
 Hugo," she said. " What is your plan about it ? 
 When is Oscar to go ? It is really hard to send the 
 poor fellow away among strangers." 
 
 " Among strangers ? You mean to say I am send- 
 ing him home. My plan is this : we will take Oscar to 
 the Gymnasium at Freienwald ; I hope he can enter the 
 Upper First ; we will place him as a boarder in the 
 house of my old colleague Fabrizius, who is one of the 
 professors. We will all remain there with him two 
 months. That shall be our vacation trip this summer. 
 And in this way, Elsa, too, will have an opportunity 
 to see something of the Fatherland." 
 
 " And then ?" Oscar said, looking up. The colour 
 had gone from his face, and he was now paler than 
 usual. 
 
 " Then 7 If you do well, as I expect you will, in a 
 year you can pass the examination, and enter the 
 University, Strassbourg, perhaps, or else Bonn, so that 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 369 
 
 you may not be very far away from us. Then you 
 can take your year's military service. And before 
 that, you will have been able to decide upon your 
 profession." 
 
 " I have already decided upon my profession," Oscar 
 said resolutely. " I shall be an author." 
 
 " I have no objection, my boy," replied Koppel 
 kindly. " It will only be of service to you, for this 
 calling, that for six or seven semesters you follow 
 courses of Language, Literature, and Philosophy, in 
 one of our Universities. You need to become thor- 
 oughly acquainted with German thought, and to ac- 
 C[uire greater facility in the use of the language. That 
 is, of course, of the very highest importance for an 
 author." 
 
 " For a German author. But I am a French 
 author, and shall remain so," Oscar said. 
 
 A painful silence ensued. Koppel looked at his son 
 in amazement ; his mother looked at him in distress. 
 Oscar, however, after a brief inward struggle, went on 
 in a tone of decision : " Pardon me, father, but I think 
 your plan is not a good one. At least, not for me. If 
 instead of graduating here in Paris and going on as 
 the others do, I go away into Germany, I take my 
 year's service there, and I attain a doctor's degree, 
 what shall I do then ? I cannot remain there." 
 
 " But why not ?" Koppel inquired. 
 
 " I have no acquaintances there. I should be, as a 
 matter of fact, a foreigner in Germany. And I can- 
 not return into France, for I shall then have become a 
 German soldier, a man of another country, an enemy." 
 
 " Are you not that at present ?" 
 
 " No, father. A long time ago I used to be teased 
 a little by the other boys because it was impressed 
 upon them that I was born in Berlin. But it is so 
 long ago that you have to remind me or I should 
 forget it altogether. For years, it has never occurred 
 to any one to regard me as a foreigner. I have taken 
 root here. It would be cruel in you to uproot me." 
 
 Koppel sought to give a sportive tone to the con- 
 versation. " A man must have a country or he hangs 
 
370 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 suspended in the air and belongs nowhere. Think 
 what advantages you would lose in your future ca- 
 reer of authorship. Where could posterity erect your 
 statue if you renounce your fatherland ?" 
 
 " I gain a new country here," Oscar replied, with- 
 out a smile ; " I don't know whether Chamisso has a 
 nnonument in Berlin, but he might have one there." 
 
 " That is not the same thing. We have no hatred 
 towards the French, but the French hate us. Here, 
 you will forever remain a Prussian, and this will be 
 always thrown up against you. When you become in 
 any way conspicuous, every man who strives to come 
 to the front has enemies, and you need not expect 
 that yours will leave unemployed so convenient and 
 sure a weapon as your Prussian birth." 
 
 At last, Oscar smiled. " In ten years," he said, 
 " this weapon will be no longer formidable. I think, 
 papa, you do not very well understand the generation 
 that is coming up." 
 
 " It may be so," Koppel rejoined, somewhat impa- 
 tiently. " I will take your word for it, that the com- 
 ing generation will be composed of dispassionate crea- 
 tures, but as a Frenchman, you will always be a 
 second-class citizen who must deny himself every lofty 
 ambition, for instance, any political aspirations." 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Oscar, sullenly, "but is it my 
 fault ? I did not ask to be brought up in France. 
 You were not able to think about my future in decid- 
 ing to come to Paris. The situation in which you at 
 that time were, did not allow you to consider what 
 my situation in the future might be. I have to accept 
 a fate for which I was not responsible ; but at least, I 
 must be allowed to adjust myself to it without inter- 
 ference." 
 
 Koppel felt the sting in his son's extraordinary 
 words. "Your generation, my son," he said, bitterly, 
 " may have great merits, but filial respect and grati- 
 tude are not among the number." 
 
 " Father " Oscar began, but Koppel interrupted 
 
 him. 
 
 "Permit me to continue," he said, "I have worked 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 371 
 
 for you and still work ; I came to Paris that you 
 might have bread to eat ; and in sending you now to 
 Germany, I make a heavy sacrifice in order that my 
 fate may be without disastrous influence upon yours." 
 
 Oscar hung his head. Frau Kathe, who had list- 
 ened with painful excitement, thought it time to 
 strike in. 
 
 "Bat, Oscar," she said, "is there nothing that draws 
 you towards Germany? Have you no afifection for 
 the fatherland of your parents ?" 
 
 '' Mamma dear," Oscar rejoined, " the principal 
 thing that I know about Germany is, that it did not 
 allow my father to live in accordance with his convic- 
 tions." 
 
 " Has not France often enough sent her best mers 
 into exile?" retorted Koppel. " That never hindered 
 them from remaining her faithful sons." 
 
 "I am not aware," Oscar answered dryly, "that 
 the French refugees in Berlin have been extraordi- 
 narily devoted to their native land." 
 
 A sultry pause followed, and then Oscar spoke 
 again. " What can I do, dear mamma ?" he said ; 
 " one cannot make himself a new soul. Mine has been 
 formed by French schools, French books, and French 
 associates. Patriotism in the final analysis is only a 
 community of feelings. I share, necessarily, in those 
 of my friends." 
 
 " And so, if there were a war, you would be willing 
 to fire upon your German cousins ?" Frau Kathe 
 asked. 
 
 " Mankind will not long continue to be so foolish as 
 to carry on war. But if such a crime should ever be 
 again committed, certainly neither should I be willing 
 to fire upon my schoolmates. My German cousins are: 
 strangers to me. My French friends are part of my 
 life." 
 
 " Your whole argument," Koppel declared, " presup- 
 poses that, after your studies in Germany, you will re-, 
 turn to Paris. It falls to pieces, if you remain in Ger- 
 many. There, your youth spent in Paris will have 
 done you no harm, but on th? contrary, will be an ad- 
 
372 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 vantage to you. Your knowledge of French will give 
 you a specialty admitting of the most useful practical 
 applications." 
 
 " I am to remain in Germany, while you all continue 
 to live in France ?" 
 
 " I have not said that," Koppel replied, with em- 
 phasis. 
 
 " I don't see why you make so much objection," 
 Elsa remarked, for the first time putting in a word. 
 " I am very fond of Paris ; I have schoolmates and 
 friends here ; but to me the idea of living in Germany 
 is not disagreeable." 
 
 " That is easily accounted for," Oscar rejoined 
 quickly. When he observed that Elsa blushed very 
 red, he added : " The brush is used in the same way 
 everywhere. Colours speak neither French nor Ger- 
 man." 
 
 " So ?" Elsa rejoined ; " but foreign painters come 
 here that their palettes may assimilate the French 
 language." 
 
 " In short," Oscar said defiantly, " your case and 
 mine are not the same. Of one thing, I am certain : 
 if the natural course of my development is broken up, 
 I shall suffer very serious injury. And for what 
 cause must I endure this harm? On account of an 
 antiquated sentimentalism, at which a man of enlight- 
 ened mind must smile." 
 
 "What is it that you call an antiquated sentimen- 
 talism ?" Koppel asked sharply. 
 
 " The regulation flag-and-uniform enthusiasm for a 
 land in which I happen to have been born. I do not 
 admit that this accident gives a country any rights 
 over me. I am first and chiefly, a personality ; and 
 am free to order my life in accordance with my own 
 feelings, not in accordance with geographical and 
 ethnographical prejudices." 
 
 " That is enough," Koppel said decisively. " Keep 
 your exceedingly ' young ' philosophy to yourself for 
 the present and now, go to school. It is time," 
 
 Oscar rose, bowed in silence, and left the room. 
 His grandmother did the same, with her afternoon 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 373 
 
 nap in view. She had followed the conversation with 
 extreme interest, but as her custom was, in entire 
 silence. When, however, she extended her hand to 
 her son and wished him, " Mahlzeit !" she could not 
 resist adding a word : " I have been hoping we should 
 go back to Germany. But now I suppose there is no 
 chance of it." 
 
 " Would you really like to go back ?" Koppel 
 asked. 
 
 " It is no use to wish for what can't be," the old 
 lady answered and, shaking her head, she tripped 
 away. 
 
 Koppel and his wife went into the adjacent room, 
 while Elsa remained to assist the surly maid in clear- 
 ing the table. 
 
 " I never suspected this in Oscar," Frau Kathe said, 
 interrupting her husband's profound reverie. 
 
 " Children are always a surprise," Koppel replied, 
 sententiously. 
 
 " How humiliating !" Frau Kathe went on ; " it is 
 just your own flesh and blood ; you yourself have 
 formed and trained the young soul ; and, of a sudden, 
 a stranger speaks to you, whom you don't know, 
 whom you don't understand, who doesn't love what 
 you love, — who doesn't wish what you wish ! Has a 
 mother really so little influence, then, over her 
 child ?" 
 
 " A mother cannot keep her child forever under her 
 wing. School and street, human and material environ- 
 ment, work irresistibly ; children take their views and 
 feelings from the air they breathe, and fhis air cannot 
 always be that of the home." 
 
 " But we have been guilty of a very grave sin of 
 omission, in not associating more with our own 
 people. If we had had more German society " 
 
 " It would have made no difference," Koppel re- 
 joined : " I see it in the families of my pupils. They 
 are all rich or well-to-do people ; they evidently hold 
 to their nationality as Germans, for they spend liber- 
 ally to give their sons a German education in Paris ; 
 they frequently go home for a visit ; they keep u^p 
 
374 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 social relations among thempelves ; and yet, the next 
 generation are Germans no longer. You have no 
 idea of the trouble we take in the school that the boys 
 shall talk German with each other. The French 
 spirit, French ways, exercise over young minds an 
 influence which it is vain to oppose. There is but one 
 thing to do. They must be withdrawn from it." 
 
 Koppel was silent for a little while. Then he went 
 on : " It is peculiar. Although I have made a 
 campaign I never have been a raging patriot, and I 
 am conscious of having felt an inclination towards 
 cosmopolitanism — much as this trait was decried 
 among us after 1870. But now, when I have to 
 meet the question practically, I find myself shocked 
 that my only son should be a Frenchman, perhaps even 
 a despiser of my native land. Then, for the first time, 
 one suspects how truly he is a German, in every bone 
 of his body." Frau Kathe seized his hand, and pressed 
 it gratefully. 
 
 " But in one respect, the boy was right. I must not 
 through an unreasonable decision throw difificulties in 
 his way ; it would bring him into a false position later 
 if he had his military service in Germany and com- 
 pleted his studies there, and then came here to live 
 and work. I think there is still time to make a good 
 German of him if we take him home. But he will 
 have to stay in Germany." 
 
 '' Separated from us ?" Frau Kathe lamented. 
 
 *' No. United to us. I have not been, until now, 
 clear as to what it would be best for us to do. Now, I 
 see my way. We must all return home." 
 
 "That would be good," murmured Frau Kathe, 
 " But — give up an established position, and go upon 
 an uncertainty — -^—" 
 
 "There is no uncertainty, dear Kathe," Koppel said. 
 *' We have enough to live on, and run no risk." 
 
 She looked at him, with unmistakable anxiety. He 
 met her penetrating gaze wifh a smile. Upon this, she 
 abandoned all reserve and exclaimed : " Hugo, you 
 are keeping a secret from me, or else you are telling 
 me what is not true. For that you are deceived 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 375 
 
 yourself, I cannot believe. For more than a year, 
 your conduct has been a mystery to me. Within the 
 past year you have given us over two thousand francs 
 for our toilettes." 
 
 " If she did but know that it is over four thousand 
 francs !" Koppel thought ; but he said nothing and 
 only smiled. 
 
 " You have increased my household allowance by a 
 hundred francs a month, and all the silver for the 
 table that you have bought, and the trip to Berck, 
 and the little parties and excursions ! — where does all 
 this come from ? Your six thousand francs from Wol- 
 zen couldnot pay for it ; your private pupils you gave 
 up of your own accord. When I am anxious, you al- 
 ways answer me : ' We have it ; we can do it.' But I 
 know what we have. Our 60,000 marks do not bring 
 us in quite 2200 francs a year. If you have not made 
 a fortune in some way " 
 
 '' Don't you think that I have, perhaps, without 
 your knowledge ?" 
 
 " I do not ; and for that reason, it is all a riddle to 
 me." 
 
 Koppel rose from his seat and paced the room, his 
 eyes fixed on the floor, with one hand stroking his 
 beard ; then he stopped before Frau Kathe, caressed 
 her cheek with his hand and said: 
 
 " You must know that we are — I will not say, rich, 
 but well off. I have been occupied with a profitable 
 business, and now we can see the results." 
 
 The effect of his words was not at all what he ex- 
 pected. Frau Kathe shrank back ; she grasped his 
 hand with both of hers and held it fast and cried in a 
 sort of terror : " What does that mean — a profitable 
 business ? — what kind of a business?" 
 
 " I have bought stocks and have gained on them." 
 
 " You mean you have gambled at the Bourse ?" 
 
 " That is, perhaps, not just the right way to express 
 it. But if you choose, you may call it so." 
 
 Frau Kathe released his hand and let her own hands 
 fall. 
 
 " And you did not tell me anything about it." 
 
3/6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " So that I should not worry you. Now, you know 
 the results and I think you may be contented." 
 
 She shook her head slowly. " And what if you had 
 lost ?" she said. 
 
 " That was impossible, my dear Kathe." 
 
 " I can't but think it is a game at which one can lose 
 as well as win," she said. 
 
 " It is not at all a game but a speculation ; a safe 
 speculation." 
 
 " No, Hugo, I cannot be glad of your winnings. It 
 hurts me very much that you have been able for 
 months to keep a secret from me. I am no longer 
 your confidant, no longer a part of your life, as you 
 have often told me that I was ?" 
 
 "You are all that, sweetheart. But do you not 
 think that there might be anxiety or suspense that a 
 man should bear alone?" 
 
 "No, Hugo, I do not. Heretofore, I have shared 
 in everything, and have never made an hour of your 
 life harder, through being timid or despondent — at 
 least, I hope so ; and you have always said so ; and 
 you have praised me — more than I have deserved. 
 And very often there have been harder things to bear 
 than to know about a speculation. Hugo, you have 
 grieved me extremely. How can I ever trust you, 
 lalindly and fully, as I used to do, when I can never 
 forget that for months you have been keeping an im- 
 portant secret from me 7" 
 
 The more he felt that she was right, the more re- 
 sentful he became. " I confess," he said, " that I ex- 
 pected something different from you, by way of 
 thanks. For whom have I done this but for you and 
 for the children ? Now we have been successful, we 
 are independent, henceforth, and instead of being 
 glad, you sulk." 
 
 " To gain independence and to lose you, is a poor 
 exchange." 
 
 " To lose me ?" 
 
 She bent her head sadly. 
 
 " Formerly you could not have hnd anything 'n 
 your mind like this and concealed it from me. I don't 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 377 
 
 know what I have done that you should treat me like 
 a stranger." Her lips quivered and her eyes grew 
 wet. 
 
 Koppel bent down to her ; he kissed her on both 
 eyes, and he said tenderly : " Be good, sweetheart ! 
 It may be true that I have done wrong, but I meant 
 well. For the sake of the good intention, you must 
 forgive me." 
 
 Both were silent. Frau Kathe dried her eyes, then 
 said in a voice that was still tearful : 
 
 " And how much have you made ?" 
 
 " So far, a quarter of a million," he replied cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 " So far.?" she asked, with renewed anxiety. "Are 
 you speculating still ?" 
 
 " In all, — I should have said," he rejoined quickly, 
 ashamed that he had betrayed himself. 
 
 Frau Kathe believed him. " That is a great deal of 
 money," she said ; " but I am not sure that there is a 
 blessing with it." 
 
 " That is a superstitious thought, my good Kathe," 
 said Koppel. " The original source of money does 
 not give its blessing but the way it is employed, and 
 this depends upon what we are. You are unconsciously 
 influenced by a recollection of the Nibelungen treas- 
 ure." 
 
 " This story of treasure to which is attached a curse 
 has always seemed to me one the most significant of 
 our German legends. Money gained at the Bourse — I 
 do not know — " 
 
 " Do not be childish. And your own legacy ? Did 
 you feel so about that ?" 
 
 " Oh, Hugo ! That came to me from my own 
 kindred. My own family gained that by honest work." 
 
 " And suppose with one of your bonds of the City of 
 Paris or of the Credit fonder, you had won the great 
 prize ?" ' 
 
 " That would not have been the same thing. I can- 
 not explain why, but I feel it very clearly." 
 
 " Then be consistent, so far as a woman can be," he 
 said, now becoming impatient. " Shall I return this 
 
37^ THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 money that I have gained, or would you prefer to 
 have me give it away ?" 
 
 " No. But promise me one thing, Hugo. You will 
 never do it again ? 
 
 " What?" 
 
 " Speculate." 
 
 His face darkened and he became silent. 
 
 " Unless you promise I shall never have an hour's 
 peace again." 
 
 She looked at him so anxiously and imploringly that 
 he, almost against his will, replied : 
 
 " I promise." As he made the promise he had in 
 his mind the reservation : " I mean I will undertake 
 no new affair," and he persuaded himself that his 
 words, with this meaning put upon them, were not un- 
 true. 
 
 She leaned her head against his breast gratefully ; he 
 bent over her and pressed a kiss upon her brown hair. 
 The situation tranquillized liim. He appeared to him- 
 self as an extremely kind, extremely clever, extremely 
 strong person, who well deserved his family's love, 
 having done great things for them, and intending to do 
 more. 
 
 An idea flashed into his mind. "I have still twenty 
 minutes," he siid, " and if I should be a little late it is 
 no great matter. Come, I will show you how our 
 possessions look. It will be an amusement to you 
 once to touch them with your own hands." 
 
 It was rather a childish thing, but it did not displease 
 her. She was quickly ready, and the two drove to the 
 Credit Lyonnais. Koppel conducted his wife down 
 into the subterranean treasure-house, opened his box, 
 took out the leathern portfolio, and proud and pleased 
 exhibited to her its contents. 
 
 " See," he said, " those are your securities, and this 
 is what has come of them. Your bonds have got a 
 fine family. Don't you think so, sweetheart ? And 
 here lie eleven bank-notes, for which, at this moment, I 
 have no use." If only she had been there eight weeks 
 earlier, he could have showed her 300 Almadens. 
 But he had been obliged to part with 75 of these, 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 379 
 
 But what remained was enough to fill out the portfolio 
 very handsomely. 
 
 Frau Kathe regarded the strong sheets of paper 
 printed in colours and adorned with many important 
 stamps, and a certain timidity came over her. This 
 was the way Mammon looked, then ! If you had a 
 bundle of these under your arm you were well off and 
 independent ; if you did not possess them, you were 
 poor and full of cares. In the fiacre, on the way 
 home, she made many inquiries about details, which 
 he answered very scantily and superficially. It was 
 more interesting to him to talk about what they would 
 now do. They would return to Germany. But this 
 could not be done for a year yet, the contract with 
 Wolzen requiring a full twelvemonth's notice, from 
 July to July ; and for that time it was not worth while 
 to change their residence. Of course, Elsa could not 
 remain for a whole year without an atelier. This was 
 a difficulty, but it could be remedied. An atelier 
 could be rented for a year at a fair price, in some one 
 of the many new buildings which were adjacent to the 
 Luxembourg Garden. Elsa, then, would pass the 
 whole day there, only returning home for meals and at 
 night. She might have the maid with her, who was 
 trustworthy though sullen, and another servant could 
 be employed for the housework. 
 
 " Do you think that Elsa would have as good an 
 opening in Germany as in Paris ?" Frau Kathe asked, 
 and Koppel replied that he was sure she would. 
 
 " The foundation is Laid," he said ; " she is now 
 known in Paris. Every year we should come back 
 here with her for a few weeks for the Salon, and she 
 would keep herself in the public view in Paris. We 
 should have to allow for that, in any case, for Elsa 
 will undoubtedly marry into Germany." 
 
 " Briinne-Tillig still says not a word." 
 
 "Oh, well! His conduct would be incredible if he 
 was not in earnest. You will see ; he will declare 
 himself at the moment when our new plans are made 
 known." 
 
 " I wish we had come to it now. But tell me. 
 
380 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Hugo, when we are again in Germany, and we have 
 an officer for son-in-law, you will have nothing more 
 to do with the Socialists ?" 
 
 " Be easy, sweetheart. I no longer expect to change 
 the world. I have discovered that. My gratifications 
 in the future I expect from intellectual labour and in- 
 tellectual pleasures ; and the two are one." 
 
 "And from the happiness of our children ?" 
 
 " Certainly. And so, for our small share, we have 
 solved the social question. This may be a somewhat 
 selfish idea, but one gets modest, as he grows older." 
 
 " Ack ! Hugo, what windows you open to me in the 
 future ! If only it is not all a dream!" 
 
 " Were you dreaming, down there in the safety- 
 vault ?" 
 
 " Yes, and no. I have not quite worked it out yet in 
 my own mind. And about Oscar's journey, it will all 
 go well, because we are going too ?" 
 
 " Oh no, Kathe ; Oscar cannot lose this year ; we 
 will take him to Freienwald as I had planned ; and the 
 year after, we will come, and have him at home with 
 us again." 
 
 As soon as Frau Kathe reached the house, she has- 
 tened to Elsa, and made known to her what a change 
 awaited them. The girl was extremely surprised and 
 confused. She could not tell whether she were glad 
 or sorry. To give up Paris was hard. She had grown 
 into the life of the city with all her daily habits, and 
 all her thoughts had as their concrete elementary prin- 
 ciple, pictures out of the Parisian circle of ideas. "A 
 river " took in her mind the form of the Seine, at 
 Pont-Neuf ; the notion " theatre " clothed itself in the 
 aspect of the grand front of the Paris Opera-house, and 
 the Dancing Groups of Carpeaux ; when she thought 
 of " success," it meant a crowd before her pictures in 
 the Champ de Mars Salon ; the idea of " amusement " 
 was made up of shadowy memories of Grignols in the 
 Champs-Elys^es, picnics in the Bois, fire-works on the 
 Pont de I'Alma, and visits to the fair at Neuilly. 
 On the other hand, Germany attracted her, as some- 
 thing remote, lofty, like a sort of " Other World," of 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 38 1 
 
 which one thought with longing, yet with a slight fear. 
 In the country, where she herself, her mother, and also 
 her grandmother, had spent their early years, it ap- 
 peared to her that an everyday existence was not pos- 
 sible. Everything there must be extremely sacred 
 and devotional ; everybody must wear Sunday clothes, 
 they must keep still, and speak low, as in a church. 
 It was a place to pray in, to be married in, a place to 
 bury one's dear dead relations in, a land for visits and 
 strong emotions, but not for careless residence. So 
 her feelings fluctuated between the present and the 
 suddenly revealed future, between the known and the 
 anticipated, in alternate ebb and flow, hither and 
 thither, leaving her unsettled and unhappy. Rut with 
 all the liveliness of imagination which was with her a 
 family trait, she was also, individually, endowed with a 
 feeling for the actual, which quickly tranquillized her. 
 " At any rate," she said to herself, " nothing will be 
 changed for a year, and so I have no need of anxiety 
 at present about what may happen then." 
 
 Also with her mother-in-law Frau Kathe talked 
 over the new plans. The old lady only inquired : 
 "When will this be?" And, being told: "Next 
 year," she observed ; " Who knows whether I shall be 
 alive ?" And when Frau Kathe said she would in all 
 probability be spared to them a good many years yet, 
 and enjoy her native country for a long time, she, at 
 first, became thoughtful, and then said : " It would be 
 certainly very pleasant. Not on account of life, but on 
 account of death. If I had died in Paris, I should not 
 have been at all willing that you should send me to Ger- 
 many. That would cost a fortune, and I should not 
 like to be more of an expense to you dead than living. 
 But if it happens at home, then you can bury me be- 
 side my dear husband and so I shall be where I be- 
 long." 
 
 After supper Koppel called Oscar into his own 
 room, and said to him with involuntary seriousness: 
 " I have been thinking over your position, and I see 
 that you are right. It is important for your future 
 success that you should be at home somewhere. We 
 
382 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 will all return to Germany and live there perma- 
 nently." 
 
 Oscar changed colour, and his eyes opened wide. 
 He made no reply, however, and after a few minutes, 
 Koppel asked : " Is this satisfactory to you ?" 
 
 " Whether it is, or not, makes no difference," Oscar 
 said with quivering lips. 
 
 " But, my boy, we do it on your account," Koppel 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " I had no idea of that. I do not desire it. I am 
 perfectly contented here." 
 
 " My son," said Koppel very seriously, " it is not to 
 be expected from you at present, that you should 
 judge this subject rightly, and form a mature, intel- 
 ligent decision. I am responsible for you, and I am 
 the person to decide what is for the best for you. A 
 child cannot require a fortune from his parents, 
 for to accumulate wealth is not in the power of every 
 man, but he may demand that he should have a coun- 
 try. It is the most important working capital a man 
 can have, at least in our time, when individuality is 
 worth nothing, unless it rests upon nationality. I 
 should commit a sin against you for which I could 
 never pardon myself, if I should separate you from 
 the fellowship of your own countrymen. No other 
 fellowship is possible for you." 
 
 " I have found another," Oscar retorted defiantly. 
 
 " You imagine now that you have. You would dis- 
 cover your mistake at every decisive turning-point of 
 your life, but then it would be too late. I understand 
 perfectly that it dismays you to break the ties of 
 habit, and to be obliged to pull down many air-castles. 
 But a few years hence you will be grateful to me that 
 I did not spare you this pain." 
 
 Oscar appeared to recognize the fact that it was 
 useless to contend against his father's views. " May I 
 ask," he said, " when we are to leave Paris ?" 
 
 " In all probability, a year from next October," was 
 the reply. " But you, of course, must go in August 
 of the present year, to enter the German gymnasium." 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 383 
 
 " Why can I not remain here as long as you do ?" 
 Oscar asked in great surprise. 
 
 Koppel explained it to him. In Paris, he could not 
 prepare for the German examination. This could 
 only be done in a German school, and with the most 
 exemplary industry would require at least a year. 
 Hence, if he did not go to Freienwald for a year, it 
 would be so much wasted time, and that could not be 
 thought of. 
 
 Oscar made no further opposition, and also re- 
 mained silent, while his father, at much length, strove 
 to encourage him, to awaken his interest in German life, 
 to point out to him the brilliant future which awaited 
 him in Germany, precisely, if he would seek to make 
 himself a place among those who strove to bring the 
 German and the French intellectual life into harmony 
 with each other. Receiving no response to his urgent 
 appeals, Koppel cut the interview short, with the 
 words : " This is all for your advantage, and you will 
 very soon see it yourself." 
 
 Oscar withdrew to his room, making the excuse 
 that he had work to do. He, however, did nothing ; 
 but sat, with his face hidden by his hands, at his little 
 table, until it was quite dark. The first heavy grief of 
 his life took possession of his unprepared and aston- 
 ished soul. He seemed to be struck dumb under the 
 stress. Gladly he would have shut his mental as well 
 as his bodily eyes that he might not see the future, but 
 this was impossible ; he was compelled to look at it, 
 in spite of the desolation with which it filled him. 
 It was a wreck, in whose presence he could have 
 wrung his hands. For years, he had had everything 
 planned to his satisfaction. He would write novels 
 and plays ; the great dailies would buy the former, the 
 Odeon and later, the Fran(;ais, would perform the 
 latter. He would be the leader of the new poetical 
 school ; soon he would wear the red ribbon in his 
 button-hole ; after a suitable time he would reach the 
 lion-guarded door of the Mazarin palace. The day 
 that he should be received into the Academy, his 
 people should sit under the dome, and hear his enter- 
 
384 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ing discourse. What a triumph if, in the discourse of 
 welcome, his academic godfather should make men- 
 tion of his German father ! This was not usual, in- 
 deed it seemed paradoxical, and yet, in reality, it was 
 natural. He was a belated scion of those Franks who 
 made themselves a home in Gaul, and through whom 
 God wrought the great deeds of France, the " Gesta 
 Dei per Francos." He came, fourteen centuries later, 
 to claim his right as liegeman of Chlodwig, and to 
 continue his work for the fame of France, as his 
 forefathers had done. 
 
 And now, all this beautiful, well-ordered dream- 
 world was shattered at a blow, and its ruins lay in 
 shapeless desolation. What would become of him ? 
 He could form no idea whatever. Could he part from 
 the friends with whom he had united to form a conse- 
 crated band, shield by shield, to "capture wreath and 
 palm ? Could he break with the periodicals that had 
 procured him his first successes ? 
 
 And Blanche, sweet little Blanche ? How about 
 her ? Could he live without her, far away from her ? 
 Could he give her up? It was an abyss, full of clouds, 
 into which his affrighted gaze plunged. Bitterness 
 against his own father filled his mind. Why had he 
 ever left Berlin ? Why had he not always held up be- 
 fore his children the idea that they were to return to 
 Germany ? Then, Oscar's mind would have steeled 
 itself against everything attractive, caressing and cor- 
 dial in the French nature ; and he would have re- 
 mained, consciously, a stranger, a guest, whose lug- 
 gage was not unpacked. Now, however, he felt himself 
 at home here, not having been notified otherwise by 
 his father. Was it right that the father should after 
 all this time suddenly issue marching orders ? So cruel 
 an interference in a son's destiny exceeded a father's 
 rights. There could be no obligation for him to sub- 
 mit to it. He was old enough to shape his fate for 
 himself. He would defend his own personality. He 
 would refuse to leave Paris. Should his father still 
 insist, he would abandon the parental home and seek 
 to support himself. That probably would not be so 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR ? 385 
 
 very difficult. He repeated to himself the oft-read, 
 oft-heard stories of great painters and great authors, 
 who, younger than he was now, had been flung into 
 the whirlpool of Paris life, and without aid, merely by 
 their own desperate resolve, had kept their heads 
 above water. He had friends and acquaintances and 
 already had relations with the press. Hitherto, he had 
 despised the idea of writing for money. For the fu- 
 ture, he was willing to do it. And if worst came to 
 worst, what then ? Then he must wander for a few 
 months or years in the Bohemian wilderness before 
 reaching the Canaan of success. 
 
 This prospect had no terrors for him. It must be 
 very amusing now and then through a summer night, 
 to dream under the arcn of a bridge, to recite a poem 
 and get a free supper for it at the Black Cat, to work 
 at a zinc-table in a pot-house of Montmartre. 
 
 To be sure — how would it be about Blanche ? 
 What would happen to her ? From her he would not 
 be separated, not even in Bohemia ! Very well, with 
 her he would have a Bohemia a deux, vastly more fas- 
 cinating than a solitary one. The man whom this 
 free existence of careless, cooing birds of the air did 
 not make a triumphant poet must, indeed, be an earth- 
 grubbing creature I 
 
 His mother and sister would be distressed about 
 him, but not for long, for he would do nothing ig- 
 noble ; proudly and gallantly he would endure pov- 
 erty, and very soon he would show them by works of 
 rare merit, that it was with no base ends in view that 
 he had asserted his independence. 
 
 His decision was made, but it was repugnant to him 
 to oppose his father face to face. Accordingly, he 
 wrote him a letter making known that he could not 
 leave Paris. He had begun his career in France, he 
 wrote, and he wished to go on with it here. He 
 begged his father to believe that he made the decision 
 in no undutiful spirit, but simply because he had a 
 clearer idea of what was necessary for himself than 
 any parent, however affectionate and clear-sighted, 
 could have. 
 
386 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 It was the first time in his life that Oscar had ever 
 had occasion to write to his father. The language 
 used by the parents with their children had always re- 
 mained German ; Oscar and Elsa, with each other, 
 used French invariably ; and of late years, Oscar had 
 often used French with his father, when the two were 
 alone together. In this letter, the use of French was 
 natural to him therefore, and the more so, because he 
 had had very little practice in writing German. 
 
 The next morning, he left the letter on the table in 
 the parlour when he went to school. There his father 
 would be sure to find it when he went to have his after- 
 breakfast pipe and read the paper, before he, too, 
 went out. 
 
 Frau Kathe saw it first, and was greatly shocked 
 when she recognized Oscar's handwriting. She ran to 
 Koppel, who was still at the breakfast-table : " Just 
 look at this !" she cried, "what can it mean ?" 
 
 Koppel opened the letter, and read it through, with 
 sombre face ; then he handed it to his wife : " A de- 
 claration of war," he said; "and, appropriately, in 
 French." 
 
 "There was no intention in that," Frau Kathe re- 
 joined hastily, before she herself had read a word. 
 She went through the letter twice ; once as rapidly as 
 possible, then, more carefully ; and then she laid it 
 upon the table and looked anxiously at her husband. 
 
 " Well, what do you say now?' Koppel asked. 
 
 " I — I think we must avoid any kind of violence. 
 We should make the poor boy only the more stub- 
 born. Let him go his own way for a time. When he 
 sees us leaving Paris, he will be very sure to come too, 
 of his own accord." 
 
 " And, meantime, shall we let the matter rest, and 
 say nothing at all about it ?" 
 
 " If you are willing, I will talk with him. To me, 
 he might listen, perhaps." 
 
 " Or, he will twist you round his fingers — which is 
 much more probable. Dear, this is a serious matter, 
 and it must be handled seriously. Are you willing to 
 spend the rest of your life in Paris ?" 
 
WHAT TO PO WITH OSCAR ? 387 
 
 " I came to Paris with you, without saying a word. 
 If it must be — " 
 
 " No, it must not be. At that time I was grateful 
 to you for your acquiescence. Now, your self-sacri- 
 fice would be unnecessary. The boy is irrational on 
 this subject. We must not yield to him. He strives 
 against his own welfare." 
 
 " But to force upon him an advantage that he is 
 resolved not to have — " 
 
 " What is your idea about the matter, then ? Are 
 we to leave him here, and ourselves, go away? We 
 could not do that, surely. Or shall we, on his account, 
 abandon our plans, and remain here ? That, he can- 
 not expect. We are not mere appendages to our 
 son, however much talent he may possess. We have 
 laboured hard for him, we are willing still to labour, 
 but we have no occasion to make a needless sacrifice 
 of our own wishes on his account." 
 
 " Ack ! Hugo, be not so harsh against him." 
 
 " Certainly not, dear. I only purpose to say to him 
 calmly that we are going to Germany, and the matter 
 drops there." 
 
 " Let me say it to him." 
 
 " I have no objection to that." 
 
 At noon, Oscar came home later than usual He 
 had walked for half an hour in the Luxembourg Gar- 
 den, and had made himself ready for crises and con- 
 flicts. When he rang, his mother opened the door. 
 She took him by the hand and led him through the 
 room where Koppel sat — whom his son saluted in 
 passing, without lifting his eyes — and went with the 
 boy into his own room. 
 
 " What is this idea of yours," she said, " to write a 
 cold letter to your father in a foreign language — " 
 
 "What does papa say?" Oscar interrupted her. 
 
 " He is displeased, of course. He has reason to be. 
 You must beg his pardon." 
 
 " I am not conscious of having been disrespectful 
 towards papa. I know no reason why I should beg 
 his pardon, Ppes he insist upon doing as he says ,?" 
 
383 THF. DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " For the present, there will be nothing done. Later, 
 we shall see." 
 
 " Please, mamma, a definite answer. Will papa let 
 me stay here, or not ?" 
 
 " He thinks that it is better for you to go to Ger- 
 many. But things never come out as bad as we 
 expect." 
 
 "Very well, mamma. I know what I have to do." 
 
 '• What you have to do is to remain quiet, and go 
 on as usual. For the present, that is enough." 
 
 " Of course, mamma, of course," Oscar replied, 
 and kissed his mother's hand. She drew him into her 
 arms and coaxed him : " Do not give yourself unnec- 
 essary anxiety, and do not feel bitterly about all this. 
 Everything will come out right in the end." 
 
 "Certainly," he replied, "certainly." And he 
 gently extricated himself from her embrace. 
 
 At table, his father, as usual, asked about the news 
 at school. Not a word was said about the letter. 
 Koppel, however, led the conversation purposely to- 
 ward Germany, and conversed with his mother, Frau 
 Kathe and Elsa, during the entire meal, about the 
 future of their lives at home. Oscar could not but be 
 aware that this was the answer to his letter. 
 
 Of his teacher's lecture that afternoon but little 
 clung in his memory. When school was out he walked 
 for two hours in the streets and along the quays, and 
 did not come home until supper-time. After supper 
 he went to his own room and wrote the following let- 
 ter: 
 
 "My dearest Blanche: 
 
 " I am in the presence of a momentous decision. 
 
 " My father has formed the design of sending me to 
 Germany. It is proposed that I become acquainted 
 with the delights of student beer-drinking and duelling, 
 and later, with barrackyard flowers of speech and 
 parade marches after having swallowed a ramrod. It 
 appears that this knowledge is essential for my hap- 
 piness. 
 
 " I have no desire to leave Paris. In vain I search 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR ? 389 
 
 my own mind ; I have not the slightest longing for 
 the Prussian drill. This, perhaps, is very wrong in m^, 
 but it is the fact. 
 
 " My father is a devoted patriot. He knows best 
 how he can reconcile this with the Socialism to which, 
 at least earlier in his life, he gave his allegiance. But 
 it is not my affair to criticize him. He feels as men 
 felt in his time. He is right. But I am right, also. 
 We are both right, as is proper in a well-written 
 tragedy. 
 
 " To me, Germany is known only by hearsay — from 
 the fond reminiscences of my parents — from the 
 poems and fairy-tales, which delight me — from French 
 accounts, which horrify me. I am willing to feel for 
 the home of my ancestors a tender, affectionate long- 
 ing. This is possible, only at a distance. If I were 
 to live there, 1 fear that the reality would be repug- 
 nant to me, for I know from experience that I feel as 
 a Frenchman, and what effect Germany has upon 
 French nerves, I have regretfully learned from many 
 books. 
 
 " Paris, you understand, is the embodiment of all 
 that gives life its value to me ; it is my youth, my 
 friendship, my hopes, my ambition. And, more than 
 all — it is my Blanche ! I cannot exist separated from 
 you. Where you live, I will live also. 
 
 " My adored girl, it may become necessary for me 
 to leave home. In that case a time of trial begins for 
 me. I can bear it well and easily, if I feel that I can 
 count upon you. 
 
 " Will you be mine ? Will you be the prize of my 
 warfare ? Will you share my fate which at first will 
 be, perhaps, poverty^with the intoxication of love 
 and all the star-pictures of hope — but later, will be 
 fame ? If you will, I can cheerfully leave my parents' 
 house and challenge life in the lists. 
 
 "You understand, my dove, that this important 
 point must be settled with certainty. It must be 
 fully and freely talked over between us. I will ex- 
 pect you in front of the house to-morrow evening, at 
 or after nine o'clock. You can easily steal out. 
 
390 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Vour absence will, no doubt, be soon observed, but 
 this will be of no consequence. If you come to me 
 absolutely, as I hope, as I ask, there will be no con- 
 cealment necessary. But in our love, in our happi- 
 ness, we shall find strength to defy all. 
 
 " And so, good-bye until to-morrow, my Blanche ! 
 Do not keep me waiting, for every minute will be 
 torture ! And until then, a thousand kisses from 
 your Oscar. '■' 
 
 It was late before this letter was finished. He de- 
 sired to put it at once in the place where Blanche 
 would find it ; but he was accustomed to hide his 
 letters under the mat in the afternoon when he 
 went to school. At that hour of the day there was 
 the least probability of any uncalled-for disturbance 
 of the mat, and between two o'clock and five Blanche 
 could most easily, for a moment, slip out unnoticed 
 from her door. It had now become extremely diffi- 
 cult for her to escape supervision, even for a very 
 short time, for since Adele had known of her meeting 
 Oscar in the street, the older sister never let her go 
 out of her sight, especially when, without visible oc- 
 casion, Blanche attempted to go to the door or out 
 on to the stairs. 
 
 This constant watch, which was most strict at the 
 hours when Oscar was out of school, irritated Blanche 
 extremely. She regarded herself as a prisoner. She 
 g.ive up her former habit of answering the bell when 
 it rang, for she knew that Adele would start at the 
 ;■ same moment and would be at her side as she opened 
 the door. The girl became melancholy and down- 
 cast, and from morning till night her thoughts were 
 busy with mad and desperate schemes for breaking 
 through this detested guard. 
 
 Oscar, on this occasion, for once laid his letter in 
 the usual place in the evening, with the hope that 
 early in the day Blanche would find an opportunity to 
 get it. His impatience to have the letter, if not in 
 the hands of his loved one, at least at her door as soon 
 as possible, \yas his ruin. The following day hap-! 
 
WHA.T TO DO WITH OSCAR ? 39 1 
 
 pened to be the one on which the concierge proposed 
 to clean the stairs, performing this task at a very- 
 early hour in the morning. He, of course, lifted the 
 mat at the Masmajours' door and the letter became 
 visible. He noticed that there was no address on the 
 envelope. It occurred to him that it was one of the 
 begging letters, or hairdresser's cards, which in spite 
 of all his oversight would now and then slip into the 
 house, and he pushed it through under the door into 
 the Masmajours' anteroom. As the woman coming 
 for her day's work arrived soon after, the letter fell at 
 once under the eyes of Ad^le, who opened the door. 
 She picked it up, she opened it and read it through. 
 Her heart stood still, and it seemed to her she should 
 faint. She saw her worst fears realized. It had come 
 to such a thing as this ! They wrote to one another 
 letters of such a kind ! He had dared to propose to 
 Blanche to lead with him the life of a castaway ! She 
 could no longer bear the responsibility alone. She 
 must reveal all to her mother. 
 
 Madame Masmajour was in the kitchen preparing 
 the morning coffee. Adele came in and said : 
 
 " Mamma, come here ! I have something to tell 
 you." 
 
 Madame Masmajour was so shocked at the tone and 
 manner of the girl that she began to tremble and very 
 nearly dropped the milk-can which she had in her 
 hand. 
 
 " What is the matter, Adfele ?" she asked, much dis- 
 tressed. Adele with a look warned her not to speak 
 in the presence of the woman, who was also in the kit- 
 chen, and indicated that her mother must come with 
 her. She then preceded her into the dining-room, laid 
 her finger on her lips, pointed to the adjacent bed- 
 room where Masmajour, still in bed, was reading his 
 Petit Journal and awaiting his coffee, and gave her 
 mother the letter. 
 
 Madame Masmajour read the letter through, grow- 
 ing paler as she read, and when she had finished, the 
 sheet dropped from her relaxed hands. Adele picked 
 it up, put it in her pocket, put her arms around her 
 
392 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 mother and whispered in her ean: " Mamma, I beg 
 you to calm yourself ; I~am sure things are not so 
 bad as you would think from this letter. But some- 
 thing must be done." : 
 
 " How did you get it ?" Madame Masmajour asked, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " I found it by the door." 
 
 " Give it to me." 
 
 Adele obeyed. Madame Masmajour went through 
 the letter a second time. 
 
 " This has been going on for a long while," she said, 
 still speaking low. " Adele ! you knew it. Look at 
 me." 
 
 Adele hung her head. 
 
 " And you did not tell me. How could you do 
 so ?" 
 
 " Ah, mamma, forgive me ! I thought they were 
 both children, and I could not bear to be a tell-tale." 
 
 " A tell-tale ! And your sister in danger like that ?" 
 She wrung her hands in silent despair, and the tears 
 began falling. 
 
 Adfele wiped the tears away with her handkerchief, 
 stroked her mother's face tenderly and her hands, and 
 kissed her many times, and then she whispered im- 
 pressively : " Mamma, comfort yourself ! I beg you, 
 dear mamma! It is not as bad as it seems. I have 
 been on the watch ; I have had her in my sight every 
 moment. I can answer for it with my life." 
 
 "That is well, my child," Madame Masmajour said. 
 " I will talk with Blanche." 
 
 " Do not be harsh with her, mamma darling; this 
 fellow has turned her head ; she is like a person who 
 is ill, and you know yourself how obstinate she is. 
 One must be very gentle with her or you do harm. 
 May I be there when you speak to her?" 
 
 To this, Madame Masmajour consented. She rose, 
 and passed through her own room into her daughters' 
 where Blanche, unsuspecting, was making her bed. 
 Adele remained standing near the door. Madame 
 Masmajour went up to Blanche, put one arm around 
 her waist, with the other hand smoothed the heavy 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 39 j 
 
 black hair back from the girl's forehead, and said, with 
 eyes full of tears : " My poor child, Blanche, what 
 have I just learned? What are you doing? Do you 
 wish to break your mother's heart ?" 
 
 With extreme surprise, Blanche started back and 
 stammered : " What is it, mamma? I do not under- 
 stand " 
 
 " Oh, Blanche, you understand," the mother said, 
 " how can you try to pretend anything with me ? 
 Oscar Koppel " 
 
 Blanche grew very red, then all the colour went 
 away from her face. She cast a look of rage and con- 
 tempt at Adfele ; and hissed, between her shut teeth : 
 ■■' Oh, you snake ! you spy !" 
 
 Her mother laid her hand quickly upon the girl's 
 mouth : " Unhappy girl ! will you be silent ! But 
 first beg your sister to forgive you. She loves you. 
 Who can say whether you deserve to be loved any 
 longer ! Beg her to forgive you, Blanche." 
 
 Blanche was silent ; Adfele came forward ; she took 
 her sister's hand, and said softly: " I do forgive you, 
 Blanche, even if you do not ask it. You are deceived." 
 
 Blanche still remained silent, but she did not draw 
 away her hand, which was ice-cold to Adfele's touch. 
 
 Madame Masmajour seated herself, and drew 
 Blanche down upon her lap. " Is it for this that I 
 brought you up ?" she said, sobbing. " Is it thus that 
 you honour your parents?" 
 
 Blanche threw back her head. " Mamma," she said, 
 " I can look you in the face. I have done nothing dis- 
 graceful ?" 
 
 " Does a girl let herself be called ' tu ' by a young 
 man ? Does she let him send her ' a thousand kisses ' 
 in a letter ?" Upon which, Madame Masmajour drew 
 from her pocket the letter, and held it up before the 
 girl's eyes. 
 
 Blanche again coloured violently, and became ex- 
 tremely confused. " Is the letter for me ?" she stam- 
 mered» and felt, at once, that she had made a mis- 
 take. 
 
394 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Yes, unhappy girl, and it is not the first ? An- 
 swer me." 
 
 Blanche hung her head. " It was very indiscreet," 
 she said ; " I often told him so. But he thought it 
 was no harm." 
 
 " No harm ? when he proposes to you to run away 
 with him ?" 
 
 Blanche became extremely attentive. That was 
 something new, indeed ! She had such a desire to see 
 the letter, but she dare not ask for it. She, to run 
 away ? She knew nothing of this ; and feeling herself 
 innocent here, she made the most of it, and went on 
 with increasing confidence : " But mother, you will 
 not take that seriously. He is a poet. To be carried 
 off — in a sedan-chair, with a guard of musketeers — that 
 sort of thing is not done in these days !" 
 
 " No. But to ruin a girl can be done now, just as 
 much as ever." 
 
 " Mamma, he has no such idea. He loves me too 
 well, and respects me too much." 
 
 " He gives no proof of it, when he writes you shame- 
 less letters secretly. Do you not feel that there must 
 be something wrong in it, since you seek to conceal it 
 from your mother.?" 
 
 " We never thought of anything wrong. We love 
 each other ; and by and by, when he is independent, he 
 will ask your permission to marry me." 
 
 " How can you talk such nonsense? I have always 
 thought you were quite a sensible girl. I could laugh, 
 if it were not such a sad thing." She wiped the tears 
 away, which had continued to fall all the time. 
 
 Blanche said nothing, but sighed heivily. 
 
 Madame Masmajour began anew: "Blanche!" she 
 said, " be reasonable and obedient. Think no more 
 about him. You must promise me this." 
 
 " I cannot promise," Blanche replied, in a low voice. 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " Because I love him." 
 
 " Child," the mother said, " this is all imagination ; 
 it will pass away. It is only a blaze of straw, that will 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 395 
 
 go out at once, if it is not kept alive. You must never 
 see him again." 
 
 " How can I help that, mamma, unless I bandage my 
 eyes ? He is always at his window ; we visit each 
 other " 
 
 " There'll be no more visiting," Madame Masmajour 
 exclaimed, "you may be quite sure of that !" 
 
 " Shall we never see Elsa and her mother any 
 more?" Adele asked, in much alarm. "What will 
 they think?" 
 
 "Madame Koppel must hear what has happened," 
 Madame Masmajour replied. 
 
 " Mother, don't do that, please," Blanche begged 
 anxiously, " the poor fellow must not have any trouble 
 with his family on my account." 
 
 " My poor child, if we were rich," the mother said, 
 " I would leave this house at once, or I would send 
 you to our relatives in the South. Our circumstances 
 make this impossible. We must, for the present, re- 
 main where we are. Therefore, we must call upon 
 our neighbours to use their influence over their son. 
 Nothing will happen to him except that he will not 
 come here any more, or send you any more letters. 
 And you must promise me, my daughter, that you 
 will have nothing to do with him for the future. I 
 trust you, if you promise it, you know." 
 
 Blanche made no answer. 
 
 " Blanche, you must promise me," the mother said. 
 " Unless you promise, there is only one thing that I 
 can do ; it is to go back to Nimes with you. I have 
 worked hard to make myself a position here, but I 
 shall give up Paris, if that is the only way in which I 
 can save my child." 
 
 " I promise," the girl said. Madame Masmajour 
 released her, and rose to her feet. "You promise, by 
 the Blessed Virgin, that you will not deceive me in 
 any way about this?" She lifted her hand towards a 
 framed picture of the Madonna which hung above the 
 little bed, and behind which there had been, since 
 Easter, a consecrated palm. 
 
 " I promise," Blanche said. 
 
396 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Madame Masmajour crossed the girl and crossed 
 herself: then she said : " God bless you, and deliver 
 you from all evil !" She kissed her long and tenderly, 
 and then turned to leave the room. Then Blanche 
 caught her by the arm, and whispered shyly : " May 
 I — see the letter ?" 
 
 " Never, my child," the mother exclaimed indig- 
 nantly ; " you can do without that !" And she went 
 out quickly. 
 
 It was very hard and bitter to do it, but there 
 seemed no other way : two hours later Madame Masma- 
 jour rang at the Koppels' door, and asked Frau Kathe 
 if she could speak with her for a few minutes. To her 
 great satisfaction Frau Kathe indicated to Elsa who 
 was present as they came in, that she might leave the 
 room. Frau Kathe's own anxiety led her to feel 
 that there was something unusual in her visitor's mind, 
 and suggested to her the idea that it was better they 
 should be alone with each other. 
 
 Madame Masmajour came at once to the point. 
 " It is on a painful errand that I come, Madame 
 Koppel," she said. " Will you look at this letter, 
 which your son has written to my daughter Blanche." 
 
 Frau, Kathe took the letter, which her neighbour 
 held out to her. She read it, with wide-open, horror- 
 struck eyes. When she had finished she grasped 
 Madame Masmajour's hands nervously, and stam- 
 mered : " I am very much obliged to you — it is a great 
 service that you have done me — I had no idea that 
 things had gone so far as this with the poor fellow !" 
 
 Madame Masmajour was surprised and disconcerted. 
 She was not sure that she rightly understood, for, in 
 her excitement, Frau Kathe's French was worse than 
 usual. 
 
 " I do not know that you have any reason to thank 
 me — " she began. 
 
 "Why, certainly," Frau Kathe said, "now that I 
 know how it is, I can try to make it right. There is a 
 mistake. We had no idea of using force. There will 
 surely be some other way out." 
 
 " What are you speaking of, Madame Koppel ?" 
 
WHAT TO DO WITl-i OSCAR? 397 
 
 said Madame Masmajour, herself in turn extremely 
 disconcerted. 
 
 " Of his idea of leaving us. Ach I how much dis- 
 tress one has with boys ! You are lucky that you have 
 daughters only, Madame Masmajour." 
 
 " Do you really think that it is anything very pleas- 
 ant to be obliged to defend my daughter against your 
 son's pursuit ?" Madame Masmajour said in a low 
 voice, but with an unmistakable emphasis of distress. 
 
 Frau Kathe looked at her in amazement ; then she 
 read the letter a second time. She had at first ob- 
 served nothing but those passages in it which con- 
 cerned Oscar's break with his parents, as Madame 
 Masmajour had only noticed those which made known 
 his intentions towards Blanche. And now she for the 
 first time became aware of them, and murmured, shak- 
 ing her head : " Who could have suspected such a 
 thing ?" 
 
 " Of course, after this," Madame Masmajour went 
 on resolutely, " I shall watch Blanche with the utmost 
 care, but I shall expect also that you will support 
 me, on your part." 
 
 " I will have it out with my son, you may depend," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " Specially I beg you to make him understand," said 
 Madame Masmajour, " that his visits to us must cease, 
 l^etween such good neighbours as we have been, this is 
 most unfortunate ; but I hope the situation will not 
 remain as it is very long. I shall make every possible 
 effort to leave the house." 
 
 Frau Kathe a second time grasped her visitor's 
 hand. " I am extremely sorry," she said, " that this 
 has occurred. Ach ! the children get beyond us. • As 
 soon as my husband comes home, he shall know it 
 all." 
 
 " Do you really think that is advisable ? Things like 
 these the mothers can deal with better, perhaps ? We 
 women understand ; men spoil everything they touch. 
 I love my husband, as is my duty, but I cannot forget 
 that this disgrace would never have occurred, had we 
 not, through his fault, been ruined." 
 
398 THE DRONES KUST Dlfi. 
 
 " Disgrace ? dear Madame Masmajour, we will keep 
 it as quiet as possible." 
 
 " What would you say, if any one had written in 
 this strain to Mademoiselle Elsa ?" 
 
 " Very true. I can understand how you feel about 
 it. But, after all, it is harmless child's play. They 
 are both so young — " 
 
 " They are too young to act rationally, but they are 
 old enough to disgrace themselves for ever." 
 
 " If only my son were ten years older than he is, I 
 sliould have been very much pleased with this. Ma- 
 d moiselle Blanche is a charming girl, and I could 
 Avish no more attractive daughter-in-law." 
 
 " Thank you, Madame Koppel. I feel myself that 
 the man who gets my Blanche will be fortunate. But 
 as we are situated, nothing of this kind can be thought 
 of. All that we can do, is to try to bring our two 
 children to reason." 
 
 " I cannot think that my son would be willing to 
 cause you further trouble. I am sure that he will 
 listen to his mother." 
 
 Madame Masmajour rose. Frau Kathe accom- 
 panied her to the door. In the ante-room her feelings 
 overpowered her and she put her arms around the 
 sad eyed little woman. " Do not bear a grudge against 
 us," she said ; " we should be most sorry to lose your 
 friendship." 
 
 " I do not forget my indebtedness to you," Madame 
 Masmajour replied. " And I feel sure that my child's 
 honour is dear to you, also." 
 
 Both of the mothers had wet eyes, and they parted 
 with a long, cordial clasp of hands. 
 
 Frau Kathe could not keep the secret for a minute 
 when Elsa rushed in and demanded : " What did Ma- 
 dame Masmajour want ?" She told her daughter every 
 word, and gave her Oscar's letter to read. Elsa was 
 at first extremely surprised, and took great offence 
 that there should be a love affair between Oscar and 
 Blanc'ne. That green boy ! Scarcely more than a 
 baby ! He ought to be ashamed to be thinking of 
 girls ! Then she reflected, and many things became 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR ? 399 
 
 clear to her. Nothing had escaped her notice, but she 
 had considered her brother a boy, and would not un- 
 derstand what his agitation, his impatience, his many 
 attentions and his hovering about Blanche signified. 
 Now she could no longer reject the true explanation 
 of all this, and she reproached herself that she had not 
 sought to bring him to reason. It seemed to her 
 strange that her mother — of course much more expe- 
 rienced than herself — should have noticed nothing, and 
 she could not help saying to her: 
 
 " We have not taken Oscar as seriously as we ought. 
 With his moustache and his cigarettes we ought to 
 have expected this." 
 
 All through dinner Frau Kathe controlled her feel- 
 ings and observed Oscar stealthily. It made her heart 
 ache. The poor fellow ! he looked so pale and un- 
 nerved, his eyes fixed upon vacancy like one listening 
 to a voice within, and he scarcely ate. But it was im- 
 possible to spare him ; the father must hear the whole. 
 When the meal was ended, Frau Kathe took her hus- 
 band aside, and told him all. 
 
 " That's a fine story !" Koppel exclaimed, when she 
 ceased. " To abandon his parents, to bring a respect- 
 able girl to ruin, to renounce and ridicule his native 
 land — a promising lad, indeed ! You have reason to 
 be proud of this young gentleman, your son !" 
 
 " He is just as much your son as he is mine !" re- 
 torted Frau Kathe indignantly. " Oscar did not learn 
 this at home with me, but at the school to which you 
 sent him." 
 
 Koppel was silent, weighed down with anxiety ; he 
 twisted the letter in his hands. " I will settle with 
 him for this when the time comes," he said. " In the 
 meantime, we will make amends to these good people 
 for the boy's foolish conduct. Madame Masmajour 
 sees what is right, as she always does. It will not do 
 to go on living in the, same house. Since we cannot, 
 on the instant, get away, we must help Madame Mas- 
 majour to go." And he made known to his wife that 
 he had decided to furnish their neighbour with the 
 10,000 francs of which she had need. He did not feel 
 
400 THE DRANES must Dlfi 
 
 that he made a sacrifice, but that it was a good and 
 safe investment, for he had entire confidence in Ma- 
 dame Masmajour's abiHty. Frau Kathc was very 
 ready to agree to this. It was a great reh'ef to her 
 that her husband's first thought was to make good the 
 wrong Oscar had done, rather than to punish the 
 wrong-doer. 
 
 Koppel had made the decision without much con- 
 sideration. The ruble-Russians kept on falling ; he 
 already knew that on settling-day at the close of the 
 month, he should have to pay at least 16,000 francs. 
 He would, therefore, be obliged to give another pack- 
 age of 25 Almadens, for the 1 1,000 francs that he 
 had lying in his box, would not be enough to bring 
 the account out even ; so he might as well lend this 
 amount to Madame Masmajour as to leave it idle. 
 
 He gave the subject more thought, however, in the 
 afternoon, and became confirmed in his first decision ; 
 accordingly, on his return from school, he went to 
 Madame Masmajour to tell her that the 10,000 francs 
 were at her service. To Oscar's letter he made not 
 the slightest reference ; at the same time the connec- 
 tion of ideas was perfectly clear to Madame Masma- 
 jour and caused her painful embarrassment. Her 
 reason told her that it was a matter of business, pure 
 and simple. For some weeks she had been seeking 
 for money ; she would have taken it from any one who 
 had it to lend. She felt that it would be well used in 
 her hands ; there was no reasonable ground why she 
 should not accept it willingly from Koppel, but in 
 her soul there was something like resistance. She felt 
 it painful, almost shameful, that there should be an 
 attempt to atone with money what might have been 
 a mortal disgrace. In her confusion she said scarcely 
 a word of thanks, and answered only that, as soon as 
 her husband came in, she would let him know and 
 that he would come and talk the matter over with 
 Koppel, upon which the latter, understanding her 
 feeling, left her, saying only, that he should be very 
 glad to see Monsieur Masmajour about it. 
 
 At supper-time, Oscar was even more absent-minded 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR ? 40I 
 
 and self-absorbed than he had been at noon, and dis- 
 appeared into his own room almost before the last 
 morsels were eaten. He lay at his window on the 
 watch for some little signal from Blanche, before he 
 should, at the designated time — still three-quarters of 
 an hour distant — go down into the street. Suddenly 
 he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He started, and 
 turned quickly. Elsa was there, and she looked at 
 him without saying a word. 
 
 "What is it.?" he said, in a disappointed tone. 
 
 But Elsa still looked at him in silence. 
 
 " What do you want?" he repeated impatiently. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! you have got into a fine scrape. 
 Your letter to Blanche fell into her mother's hands." 
 
 He stared at her open-mouthed. If the ground had 
 yawned beneath his feet, he could not have been more 
 shocked. He made no answer, but he twisted the 
 left end of hig tiny moustache mechanically round 
 and round as if he were losing his wits. 
 
 Elsa felt sorry for him. "It will be a lesson to you, 
 I hope," she said, "you will leave the poor girl in 
 peace henceforward." 
 
 He scarcely noticed what she was saying, but he felt 
 the tone of her voice. "What did they say?" he 
 asked, anxiously. 
 
 " You may suppose that they were not very much 
 pleased." 
 
 " Did Blanche do nothing }'\ 
 
 " It was understood to be nobody's fault but 
 yours." 
 
 "That is so," he said, hastily. 
 
 " But you must be reasonable, now, Oscar, you 
 really must ! You are not to go to the Masmajours' 
 any more, and Blanche will not come here again. 
 And if you try one single time again to communicate 
 with her by writing, her parents will put her in a con- 
 vent." 
 
 "I am never to see her any more!" Oscar mur- 
 mured; "that is impossible; I can't bear it; nor 
 Blanche, I am sure of that ! Elsa, my dear sister, are 
 you against us, also ?" 
 
402 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Elsa smiled. " I am not against anyone," she said, 
 "only I don't want anyone to do what is foolish." 
 
 " There is nothing foolish in two people's loving 
 each other." 
 
 " You are both rather young." 
 
 " It is you who are foolish, Elsa. You know well 
 enough that we are not children. Listen, Elsa. You 
 will see Blanche ?" 
 
 "Unless they have to send her away on your ac- 
 count." 
 
 " That will never happen," her brother said. " You 
 must prevent it. You can. You must re-assure her par- 
 ents. Please, Elsa, to do it. And when you see Blanche, 
 you must tell her that I shall remain true to her, and 
 she must remain true to me, even though we do not 
 see each other or hear from each other. And even if 
 it is years, she must wait, and trust in me. I shall 
 think of her and I shall work for her sake. I shall 
 finish my studies and I shall gain real success. Then 
 I shall come and take her ; and they will not object. 
 Elsa, will you tell her this from me ?" 
 
 Elsa was very much amused with the devout earn- 
 estness of what he said, and with its melancholy 
 ardour ; but, at the same time, there was something 
 touching in it. 
 
 " That is good," she said, " I am glad you mean so 
 honourably toward her. If a love is pure and honest it 
 will succeed in the end. Only be steadfast, and try to 
 become worthy, and deserve the girl you love. I am 
 very glad you have such a high aim. It will bring you 
 happiness." 
 
 A great burden seemed to be lifted from Oscar's 
 mind, and he wanted to be told all the particulars as 
 to the discovery of the letter, and what his parents had 
 said, and how Blanche had conducted herself, and 
 whether Adfele was angry with them ; and he could 
 not hear enough, with all that his sister good-naturedly 
 related. He would not have wearied in pouring out 
 his feelings, till midnight and after, if Elsa had not 
 finally torn herself away and told him he must go to 
 bed. 
 
WHAT TO DO WITH OSCAR? 403 
 
 On the following day, in the presence of a notary, 
 the business between Koppel and Madame Masmajour 
 was properly transacted, a''ter the latter had satisfied 
 herself, in a prolonged conversation with Adele on the 
 subject that there would be no sacrifice of her own 
 dignity in accepting Koppel's offer. Masmajour was 
 also present, although he had nothing to say, the 
 business being in Madame Masmajour's name solely. 
 Nothing was told him in regard to Oscar and Blanche, 
 and he could not understand why his wife was in such 
 a hurry to leave the apartment, which could be given 
 up only in October, and must be paid for until that 
 time, unless it could be sub-let. As his wife assured 
 him, however, that it must be so, he agreed in what 
 she said, as was his commendable custom. 
 
 Madame Masmajour set about work with her usual 
 energy. In three days she had discovered a very 
 pleasant entresol, in the rue Godot-de-Mauroy, en- 
 tirely suited to her purposes, and ten days more suf- 
 ficed to have the rooms for customers, the salon and 
 the anteroom, charmingly arranged. During this time 
 Elsa was much with Blanche ; always, whenever Ma- 
 dame Masmajour required Adele's assistance at the 
 new place. The older girl treated Blanche as an af- 
 flicted sister, and in the end, the latter gave her the 
 most lavish confidence. Blanche found it easier to do 
 without Oscar since Elsa's presence was almost a 
 compensation to her for the other's loss. 
 
 A fortnight from the day when the unfortunate let- 
 ter was discovered, the Masmajour family quitted the 
 house. Oscar was on the watch, as of old, but he did 
 not catch a glimpse of Blanche, for she had been sent 
 over to the new house very early in the morning with 
 her father. As he saw the household goods of their 
 neighbours carried out, piece by piece, and loaded upon 
 the great wagon before the door, it seemed to him as 
 if Blanche had been not merely snatched away from 
 the house, but also from the earth, from the entire 
 world, from his life ; and he shuddered to think what 
 a vast gap the disappearance of one single little gir^ 
 could produce, 
 
404 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE FICKLE GODDESS. 
 
 The settlement at the end of May was even worse 
 for Koppel than he had feared. Twenty-five Almadens 
 were not enough to meet the difference ; a second 
 package of tweiity-five had to take the road to the 
 cashier's desk in the rue de Provence. The ruble- 
 Russians had gone down to 74, and he had lost on 
 them 75,000 francs. Also, for the last three weeks, 
 the Almadens had made no gain, remaining at first 
 stationary, then dropping slowly, but steadily. From 
 their highest quotation, 810 francs, they had gone 
 down to 785, at the end of May. The drop was not 
 so very much, but it was especially vexing to Koppel, 
 inasmuch as it broke the agreeable routine of unbroken 
 advance, which had come to seem to him like one of 
 the unalterable laws of nature. If even Almaden 
 weakened, what could be considered secure ? Upon 
 what could one rely.? The stock was to reach 1,000 
 francs. This was like a contract which Fate had 
 made with Koppel. At least he had a feeling that it 
 was so, and upon this superstitious idea he built a blind 
 confidence that was not destroyed but only irritated, 
 when the Bourse teased him with what he regarded as 
 foolish trifling, making short backward skips. 
 
 Before Koppel bought the unlucky ruble-Russians, 
 his profits had already exceeded 270,000 francs, and 
 there lay in his portfolio, counting in his wife's 
 inheritance, a fortune of 350,000 francs. By the heavy 
 decline in Russians and the slight one in Almadens, 
 this property had been lessened, during the month cf 
 May, by 100,000 francs. 
 
 In the first fortnight of June the Bourse was un- 
 usually nervous. A Russian loan, which had been 
 announced weeks before, was suddenly wrecked, for the 
 reason that the Rothschilds who were to take it, at the 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 405 
 
 last moment drew back, apparently on account of a 
 hostile attitude on the part of the Russian government 
 toward the Jews. In a single session of the Bourse, the 
 ruble-Russians fell five per cent, so that Koppel lost 
 40,000 francs in an afternoon. From this moment he 
 became an anti-Semite. All the animosity which, as a 
 socialist, he had formerly cherished against famous 
 money-mongers, again filled his mind, but his wrath 
 thundered exclusively against the Rothschilds and the 
 Russian Jews. 
 
 And now messengers of evil followed close upon 
 each other's heels. The newspapers asserted, first 
 hesitatingly, then with more confidence, more fre- 
 quency, and with details continually more abundant 
 and more ominous, that the Russian harvests were in 
 danger, that they had failed, that a formidable famine 
 was impending. And to every one of these assertions, 
 every new fact, every rumour, the Bourse responded 
 with a further drop. A storm broke over all Russian 
 government loans of whatever kind, and brought them, 
 splintering and crashing, to the ground. 
 
 And in the midst of all this, suddenly Almadens, 
 which had stood like a rock in the whirlwind, began first 
 to weaken alarmingly, then to go down with a rush. 
 The newsspapers, which for a year had scarcely men- 
 tioned the word Almaden, now fell, as if by common 
 consent, upon the quicksilver ring ; they cried out 
 against monopolies, they invited the interposition of 
 government against a gang which had made itself mas- 
 ter of an indispensable metal and only supplied it to 
 consumers at double its natural price ; they called it 
 an outrage that such deeds of violence on the part of 
 robber-knights of the present day should be permitted. 
 
 A very few newspapers timidly resisted the attack. 
 They defended the ring on extraordinary grounds. It 
 did not exploit the public, it merely regulated 
 prices which, hitherto subject to arbitary fluctuations, 
 now, thanks to the syndicate, had remained for a long 
 time unchanged ; they mentioned that this was a great 
 advantage to the consumers, who had now certainties 
 to deal with, and were no longer in danger of being 
 
4o6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 caught unawares ; that steadiness and security in bus- 
 iness matters were a priceless boon, very cheaply 
 bought by a slight increase in price of a commodity. 
 The syndicate was doing an extremely useful and 
 patriotic work ; it had made France the centre of the 
 world's traffic in quicksilver and had rescued this traf- 
 fic from the former tyranny of the London market; it 
 therefore deserved the gratitude of all good French- 
 men, and not the contumely with which it has regret- 
 ably been assailed by persons whose motives were 
 transparent. Speculation, however, manifestly con- 
 sidered the defence of far less importance than the at- 
 tack, and every time the press delivered a blow at the 
 quicksilver ring, the Bourse emphasized it with a fall 
 in the price of Almadens. They lost in a day ten, 
 then twenty francs, and the longer the retreat lasted, 
 the more rapid it grew, till at last it broke into a wild 
 panic. There came a day at the Bourse when Alma- 
 dens fell to 60 francs. It was a crash, a wreck. At 
 last Koppel was seized with extreme anxiety, and des- 
 patched a card to Pfiester with the alarmed inquiry : 
 " What is going on ?" 
 
 The next morning, Pfiester came to see Koppel at 
 the school. It was the first time for months that he 
 had been there. He had of late avoided meeting his 
 customer. 
 
 " What is all this muddle in Almadens ?" Koppel 
 inquired, 
 
 " A weak hand was put out of the way. On this, a 
 panic broke out, and then you know how it is at the 
 Bourse. When one thing gets feeble, everything is 
 made mince-meat of, the innocent with the guilty." 
 He laughed, in ,a constrained way, and played with his 
 pince-nez, 
 
 " But how can they in one day knock a good secur- 
 ity about for 60 francs, without special cause ?" 
 
 ■" The Bourse never asks how. The Bourse is a 
 feminine creature. She has nerves. She is subject to 
 moods. On panic-days anything is possible. But you 
 have no cause to worry. Only be glad that you are 
 not obliged to go into this whirlwind, Herr Doctor. 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 407 
 
 There, men lose their heads, with the wildest rumours 
 and lies storming in upon them. But you, happily, 
 are outside of it, and you can watch the row quite at 
 your ease. It is a storm. Keep quiet, and let it 
 go by." 
 
 As Koppel remained silent and thoughtful, Pfiester 
 went on, with his most insinuating and mysteriously 
 confidential air : " Do you know, Herr Doctor, I 
 have an impression that there is a new attack about to 
 be made upon Almadens. These men are raging, and 
 it is not strange they are. For the quicksilver ring has 
 been quite too merciless with them. But the ring is 
 very strong, and in the end its enemies will get worse 
 than they had before. It is possible Almadens may go 
 a little lower yet, but then there will come an upward 
 movement and we shall go at a gallop to a thousand 
 francs. Some of the first houses bought heavily yes- 
 terday at the close." 
 
 Pfiester talked with so much confidence, and such 
 transcendent composure, that Koppel not only recov- 
 ered his own, but he felt the shame of a Spartan boy 
 at having betrayed alarm. 
 
 " My ruble-Russians are not conducting in a very 
 praiseworthy manner," he said, to change the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "Hum! Yes," Pfiester replied, a little confused; 
 " in a general break everything has to take its share ; 
 it is always so." 
 
 " Do you know that up to the present moment, I 
 have lost by this little diversion, 120,000 francs?" 
 
 Pfiester feigned surprise. " Is it as much as that ?" 
 he said. 
 
 " You can easily satisfy yourself. My 800 000 cost 
 me 83, average price. They are now at 68^. Com- 
 pare the figures " 
 
 " FoFtunately, you can stand your ground," Pfiester 
 said, bowing. 
 
 " Is there any talk at present about their conversion 
 into gold-bonds?" 
 
 " No. The talk is now, that there will be merely a 
 reduction of the rate of interest." 
 
408 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " Then we are finely caught !" exclaimed Koppel, 
 dismayed. 
 
 " It is just as likely to be a false report," Pfiester 
 hastened to say, and he took up his hat. 
 
 Koppel held him by the coat button. "What do 
 you think ? Ought I to get out of this ?" 
 
 Pfiester reluctantly turned back. " Well, Herr 
 Doctor," he said, "it is hard to advise. Of course, if 
 you get out of it, the loss is final. If you stand firm, 
 you will probably see your price again. I have con- 
 fidence in Russia. It appears to me that we have 
 touched bottom. On the other hand, I can see that 
 you might wish to unload. If you were to abandon 
 half " 
 
 " Pardon me ; either the security is good, in which 
 case it would be wrong to throw 60,000 francs out of 
 the window ; or it is bad, and in that case, I can use 
 both halves in securing something else." 
 
 " Your logic is unanswerable, Herr Doctor," Pfiester 
 said, rising. 
 
 The man's serenity irritated Koppel. "When you 
 advised me to buy ruble-Russians, you were much 
 more decided," he said. 
 
 Pfiester assumed an injured air. " Now you see, 
 Herr Doctor," he rejoined, "this is so every time. It 
 is very foolish to advise a customer. If he wins, he 
 congratulates himself on his own sharp-sightedness ; if 
 he loses, the adviser is to blame. And so, it is better 
 for us never to go outside of our role." 
 
 "If you had spoken in this way before you gave me 
 the advice " 
 
 " But, Herr Doctor, you really understand the case 
 better than any of us ; what can. my advice signify to 
 you ? I am influenced by the talk that goes on around 
 me. You look at the situation from a height. You 
 have formed an opinion on statesmanlike and historical 
 grounds. Do not let yourself be led astray by the ig- 
 norance and shortsightedness of the Bourse. In the 
 end you will be in the right. You have no order for 
 me to-day, Herr Doctor ?" 
 
 " No," Koppel said abruptly ; and Pfiester departed 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 409 
 
 with all speed, evidently glad that the conversation 
 was at an end. 
 
 On this day, also, Almaden dropped, though not 
 ivith the frantic rapidity of the day before ; and the 
 evening papers were full of innuendos, that the quick 
 silver ring was in difficulties, that it had not been able 
 to sell, that it had no more money to pay the mines 
 for their output, that its destruction was imminent. 
 The lines swam before Koppel's eyes, as he read these 
 things. Suppose it were all true ! Suppose part of it 
 even were true ! Then for him, it signified ruin. 
 He must have certainty about this. He had ceased 
 to meet Henneberg, but they had -had no falling out ; 
 their intercourse merely had suffered temporary sus- 
 pension ; he would be doing nothing unworthy of him- 
 self if he went to see his old friend again after this 
 long interval. He had scarcely more than thought of 
 it before he was on his way to the rue de T^h^ran. 
 
 But Henneberg was not at home. He was never 
 there at that hour of the day, the concierge said. 
 
 " Does he not come home to meals ?" Koppel asked. 
 The concierge said that he did so only when he had 
 company. And since last autumn, Koppel had never 
 been invited once to the house ! However, it was not 
 worth while to be sensitive about this. He said that 
 he would come again, and went away, but leaving no 
 card. 
 
 After a night in which sleeplessness alternated with 
 frightful dreams, and a forenoon in which he was ex- 
 tremely absent-minded in his class, he went again, 
 about noon, to see Henneberg. He had to endure the 
 detestable formality of the inquiry, the announcement 
 through the speaking-tube, the waiting for the whistle 
 in reply ; and then it was made known to him that he 
 might go up. When the servant in the ante-room re- 
 ceived him and opened a door for him, he perceived 
 Henneberg in the first salon, and the latter immedi- 
 ately came forward, with both hands extended, and 
 greeted him in French : " My dear old friend, here 
 you are after so long ! This is good !" 
 
 The warm reception surprised Koppel extremely. 
 
410 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 As he shook hands with Henneberg, he noticed that 
 some one else was present, and at the same instant the 
 other guest came forward, bent his head sHghtly, ex- 
 tended his hand, and exclaimed, with loud, high-pitched 
 voice : " How are you, my dear professor ? I am de- 
 lighted to see you again." 
 
 Koppel at once recognized his old patron, the King 
 of Laos, who carried his head high as ever ; his glitter- 
 ing eyes were bold, though unsteady, but his face was 
 paler and more bony, so that the white scar on the 
 left cheek was less conspicuous than it had been. 
 
 " You are very kind," Koppel murmured, as he 
 touched the king's fingers lightly. To give him a title 
 was impossible to Koppel ; on the other hand, simply 
 to say " Monsieur " to him, was a discourtesy towards 
 Henneberg, who had seemed at one time to share in 
 the adventurer's playing at royalty. 
 
 " If I interrupt you, perhaps — " he said quickly to 
 Henneberg. 
 
 " Not in the least, my dear friend," replied the 
 other warmly, " not at all ; come in here," and with a 
 gesture he indicated the Moorish-Spanish room ; at 
 the same time turning towards the king, he said : 
 " Good-bye, my dear king, au revoir !" 
 
 " But I should have been glad to go over the mat- 
 ter thoroughly with you," replied the king. 
 
 "Never mind about me," Koppel said; "I can 
 wait," and as he spoke, he lifted the portiere which 
 separated the two salons. 
 
 " Oh, no, I knew that your time was always limited," 
 Henneberg interrupted. 
 
 " I am the one who will wait, my dear baron," said 
 the king ; " I am in no haste." 
 
 " Impossible, my dear king," Henneberg rejoined. 
 " It would be too long." 
 
 " No time is ever long that oTie spends here. Your 
 salon is like a museum, where it is always a pleasure 
 to linger." 
 
 " It would not be proper for me to keep you wait- 
 ing here an hour, or perhaps two hours. Another 
 time, my dear king, another time !" 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 4H 
 
 The king looked savage ; murder gleamed in his eyes. 
 With his left hand he pulled at his long, light mous- 
 tache, and whispered a few words in Henneberg's 
 ear. 
 
 " I will write to you, my dear king, I will write to 
 you," Henneberg Said, and he rang for the servant, 
 who at once appeared in the doorway. 
 
 There was nothing for the king to do but to go ; he 
 left the salon in silence, without looking towards 
 Henneberg, who accompanied him half across the 
 anteroom, and then rapidly returned. 
 
 " Your arrival was most welcome, my dear Koppel," 
 he said cordially, dropping into a seat on the sofa be- 
 side his visitor. " If it had not been for you, I could 
 not have shaken him ofl for the rest of the day." 
 
 " Does he still amuse himself with his burlesque of 
 royalty ?" 
 
 " Burlesque ! You have hit it exactly. It really is 
 a frightfully tiresome melodrama. The fellow bores 
 me to death, and there is no possibility of protecting 
 oneself from him. What a power there is in a mere 
 word ! Would you believe it, my people cannot suc- 
 ceed in sending him away? It is no use for me to 
 give orders, the fellow comes, and coolly forces his 
 way in ; and my men have not the courage to stop 
 him. When I make a row, they reply piously : ' But 
 we cannot ! A king !' " 
 
 " What is it that he wants ?" 
 
 " You can imagine ! Money it is that he wants ! 
 He desires to return to his kingdom, he says ; his 
 absence has been taken advantage of by evil-disposed 
 persons to excite revolt ; he must purchase weapons 
 and hire troops ; for which purposes he requires ready 
 money. I have a suspicion myself that he is more 
 afraid of his creditors here than of the Laotian 
 rebels." 
 
 " An ordinary swindler ! The fellow really is unin- 
 teresting." 
 
 " I would not say that. There is something in 
 him, after all. It would amuse me to send him back 
 to his land merely to see how the affair would come 
 
412 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 out. But this special performance would cost too 
 much ; the times are not favourable just now." 
 
 Henneberg himself had given Koppel the handle 
 for which he had been wishing. 
 
 " Isn't everything doing well ?" he asked. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" Henneberg rejoined, 
 throwing his head back. 
 
 " You complain of the times, which is a new thing 
 for you to do." 
 
 " I did not intend it. I only meant that it would 
 require about a million francs to put this Primeval- 
 Forest Spectacular Drama on the stage, and that I had 
 other uses for the money just now." 
 
 " Is it true, then, what I read in the papers ? That 
 your syndicate is attacked, and that you are obliged to 
 defend it ?" 
 
 " Of course it's a battle ; and I hold it wise to bring 
 all my forces into the field. God is, undoubtedly, on 
 the side of the heaviest battalions. It is impossible to 
 have too strong an army on the field." 
 
 " I confess the papers have made me anxious ; and 
 that is why I came to see you." 
 
 " You are very kind. But you have no cause to 
 worry about me. I know well enough what the news- 
 paper campaign against me costs. The enemy are of 
 opinion that they have not lost hair enough yet. Very 
 well. I am ready to shear them again." He gave a 
 short laugh with an evil grimace which lifted the cor- 
 ners of his mouth, showing the points of the canine 
 teeth. 
 
 Koppel had noticed him closely while they talked, 
 and was struck with the change in his friend's face 
 during the past year. His hair had grown thin about 
 the temples, and many white threads showed in the 
 brown of the close-cropped pointed beard ; a constant, 
 cynical smile had drawn Mephistophelian furrows 
 around the nose and lips, and the eyes, behind the tired 
 wrinkled lids, looked pitilessly hard. Henneberg's evi- 
 dent physical decadence caused Koppel a shock. He 
 believed that it was sympathy with his friend. In truth 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 413 
 
 it was a suspicion that his friend's appearance was an 
 omen of evil for himself. 
 
 " It would be a good idea, then," at last he ventured 
 to say, " to sell Almaden since it is so butchered by 
 your enemies ?" 
 
 Henneberg looked keenly at him. " Why do you 
 
 ■'Oh, I thought you would, perhaps, condescend to 
 give a friend a useful hint." 
 
 " My dear Koppel, that is very much as if you 
 should suggest to the general of an army to betray to 
 an unauthorized person his plan of a campaign. Such 
 a blessed bit of sentimentalism you would scarcely ex- 
 pect of anybody but an old woman." 
 
 Koppel did not let himself be bluffed off. " If one 
 had Almadens, then, you would advise him to keep or 
 to sell? I mean if he were a friend." 
 
 " Are you that friend ?" Henneberg said, roughly. 
 
 " Well — yes ; I am." 
 
 " But, man ! how could you go into speculation ? 
 A teacher, without means ! The father of a family !" 
 His tone was of a mingled displeasure and contempt 
 which was very cutting to Koppel. 
 
 " My impressioji is," Koppel said, " that you and I 
 were fellow-teachers once. The father of a family 
 you were not, it is true, and it appears that specula- 
 tion has not resulted badly in your case." 
 
 Henneberg's face twitched. " Well and good," he 
 said, " if you wish to take me as a model — which is 
 very complimentary to me — you must do just as I do. 
 In the first place, I have never speculated. I have 
 dealt with affairs ; I have devised and carried out en- 
 terprises. This is a different matter. And, secondly, 
 I have never asked advice of any man, but have acted 
 on my own judgment." 
 
 This was plain talk. Koppel's first impulse was to 
 rise and go. But he controlled himself. So much 
 depended upon this conversation ! " You are mis- 
 taken," he said ; " neither have I speculated. I have 
 bought a few Almadens, knowing that you were con- 
 
414 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 cerned in the affair, and having confidence, myself, in 
 your star." 
 
 " So ?" Henneberg said, somewhat appeased. " How- 
 much have you ?" 
 
 " Oh, a few shares," Koppel said, conscious that he 
 reddened, as he spoke ; " about ten." 
 
 " What did you pay for them ?" 
 
 "About 530 francs." 
 
 '•■ Well, what is the matter, then ? You can get out 
 of it at this moment with 150 francs profit on a share." 
 
 " But they have been as high as 810 francs. And it 
 is not pleasant to give up good money that you have 
 had once in your pocket." 
 
 " My dear Koppel, I shall do all that in me lies to 
 bring Almadens up to 1000 — up to 1500 — francs. 
 But, since you are anxious, and since you can, to-day, 
 sell, not only without loss, but with brilliant gain, I 
 must advise you, as a matter of the simplest common 
 sense, to turn your ten Almaden certificates of stock 
 into money. With battles of giants, small men have 
 nothing to do. Even as mere lookers-on, they experi- 
 ence more alarm than is good for their health." 
 
 " My nerves are not so feeble as you think. I hope 
 you giants may not find the battle any worse for your 
 health than I, the small man, find looking on at it to 
 be." 
 
 " It has been bad for my health," Henneberg said 
 grimly ; " but after the victory, one recuperates." 
 
 " Do you think it is worth while to poison one's 
 short life with excitements like this ? Certainly you 
 have no need to do it ?" 
 
 " What can I do, my dear Koppel ? I was never 
 made for cutting coupons and growing fat over it. I 
 require things on a broad scale, great activity, a des- 
 tiny transcending the commonplace lot. I must live 
 amid the scenes of an exciting drama, and be its 
 hero." 
 
 " Life on any scale, broad or narrow, admits of 
 that," Koppel rejoined ; " dramas are enacted in the 
 soul, not in space. And the grandest tragedies are 
 precisely those which go on in silence." 
 
The fickle goddkss. 415 
 
 He was thinking as he spoke of his son's insubordi- 
 nation towards himself and that this warfare was in 
 truth a fragment of the world's history, going on in 
 the little apartment of the rue Saint Andre-des-Arts, 
 between parents and child, an echo of a great historic 
 race-rivalry, something incomparably higher and more 
 forceful than the obtaining or the squandering of 
 money — however much — by the quicksilver ring. 
 
 He rose. "If I have rightly understood you,'" he 
 said, " the newspaper reports of the embarrassment of 
 the quicksilver syndicate are false, and the fall in 
 Almadens is made to order." 
 
 " I say again to you, this is a battle ; and I am de- 
 termined to win it. But, further, I say this, you have 
 no right to speculate, and it is not your duty to fasten 
 your punt to my ship." 
 
 The two men shook hands, and looked at each other 
 with unusually expressive eyes ; then Koppel went 
 away, accompanied by Henneberg to the door of the 
 apartment. 'On his way down stairs, the extraordinary 
 stillness of the great, empty house seemed to be alive 
 with ghostly voices, filling his ears with whispered talk, 
 unintelligible, yet cruelly exciting. 
 
 Upon the whole, the mood of mind which he brought 
 away from his visit, in spite of certain discords of anxi- 
 ety, was one of encouragement. He no longer felt 
 himself an unresisting sheep before the butcher's 
 knives of the Bourse ; but stood in an attitude of de- 
 fence, or felt, at least, that some one else was fighting 
 for him, that Henneberg defended him, a very Tamer- 
 lane against the Bajazets of the opposing faction. He 
 needed, however, to repeat this to himself over and over 
 again, for the situation went from bad to worse. The 
 settlement at the middle of the month found the ruble- 
 Russians at 65, and the Almadens at 660. Koppel had 
 to make good a difference of 200,000 and some hun- 
 dred odd francs. His entire gains had vanished, to 
 the last penny ; and he had to use 25,000 francs of his 
 wife's property to pay the coulissier. 
 
 When he received his broker's memorandum, the 
 sight of this total, at the first glance, was a fearful 
 
4l6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 blow, but he was still scarcely conscious of its actud 
 significance. He lived in a sort of dream, into which 
 reality could not force its way. He was still, in his 
 mind the possessor of an income of 25,000 francs, and 
 only for the moment obliged to make heavy disburse- 
 ments. It was a tiresome incident, which in no way 
 affected the final result. Only when he stood in the 
 vault of the Credit Lyonnais, and unlocked his box for 
 the purpose of taking away all the loose bank-notes and 
 the last of his Almadens, and a large package of his 
 wife's securities as well, did there come a rent, for a 
 fleeting moment, in the cloud of self-delusion that en- 
 wrapped him, and the actual truth appeared before his 
 sight. A voice within him cried aloud : " What are you 
 doing ! You are stealing from your wife and children ! 
 They suspect no evil ; they regard you with confi- 
 dence and affection ; they feel safe in your care — while 
 you, with diabolical wickedness, are working their 
 ruin ! Stop where you are ! Save what can yet be 
 saved !" 
 
 So clear these words rang in his mind, that he invol- 
 untarily turned, as if a person who had spoken them 
 must be standing behind him. The papers shook in 
 his hands, his knees seemed to give way under him, 
 and, one after another, cold chills ran down his spine. 
 He made an effort, however, to master his weakness ; 
 he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and hastened to 
 get up-stairs and out into the air. Was this the 
 strength of nerve on which he had prided himself ? At 
 the first alarm-shot to throw away his gun ? How base 
 the thought ! Now was the time for courage. To 
 sell when all was at its worst ? No such triumph over 
 him should the Bourse have. He was used to flurries. 
 They could not worry him. He stood firm. Should 
 he now let go, everything was lost, even his wife's pro- 
 perty broken into, that sacred family treasure, that 
 consecrated store. If he stood firm, without doubt all 
 would be regained. For the decline could not last for- 
 ever, could not continue into fathomless depths, it 
 must be at an end now, and better days be close at 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 417 
 
 hand. Therefore, courage ! and keep up the strug- 
 gle! 
 
 A few minutes later, with his valuable package under 
 his arm, he entered the broker's ofifice. He found the 
 head of the house and Pfiester with very sombre faces 
 standing togetlier in the reception room. They 
 seemed to be engaged in conversation and suddenly 
 broke off when Koppel appeared. They both came 
 forward to meet him, greeted him with unusual cordi- 
 ality ; the coulissier, after shaking hands with him re- 
 peatedly, took his package, passed it to the cashier, 
 who was at his desk, and while the employee countec' 
 and examined the papers and prepared the receipt, 
 the broker addressed encouraging words to his cus- 
 tomer. 
 
 " The Bourse is wild," he said. " Ruble-Russians at 
 65 ! What can men be thinking of ! A man would 
 be a fool to sell now." 
 
 "Yes, the Bourse is mad," Koppel regained, " but I 
 have no idea of going mad myself." 
 
 "That is good," Pfiester struck in. 
 
 " And how do you feel about Almadens ?" Koppel 
 asked, in an easy tone. 
 
 " Well, I can hardly say. A man needs to look 
 over the shoulders of the players. But only the initia- 
 ted can do that." 
 
 " The Herr Doctor is one of the initiated," Pfiester 
 said, with a fawning smile. 
 
 " But the actual value of the stock }" Koppel per- 
 sisted, without noticing Pfiester at all. 
 
 " That depends entirely upon the price of quick- 
 silver, which is the point in dispute between the 
 syndicate and its enemies." And after a pause, the 
 coulissier added : " The word is now, to keep a sharp 
 look-out." 
 
 "Yes, indeed! A sharp look-out," asseverated 
 Pfiester. 
 
 " Of course, a sharp look-out," Koppel repeated ; 
 but when he sought to make it clear to himself what 
 these energetic words really meant, he could not help 
 feeling that he had no idea. 
 
41 8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Pfiester accompained Koppel to his fiacre. " What 
 do you suppose, Herr Doctor," he narrated to him 
 confidentially, " the man was in a great fright, and 
 pounced upon me." 
 
 " Why so ?" Koppel asked, offended. " So far as I 
 know, this is pay-day." 
 
 " Oh yes ; but usually the accounts are adjusted 
 before noon, and as you had not showed up at a few 
 minutes before five — " 
 
 " But very often I have not come until afternoon." 
 
 " That was when you came to get money. Gentle- 
 men are never impatient when they are to pay," re- 
 plied Pfiester, with an affected laugh. " When, how- 
 ever, they are to be paid 200,000 francs, they become 
 extremely particular and take it very ill if you are not 
 there the moment the doors are opened." 
 
 Koppel said nothing, but his face grew more som- 
 bre. 
 
 " I told the gentleman my opinion very plainly," 
 Pfiester went on : " ' Herr Doctor Koppel,' I said, 'is 
 not the kind of man to get all he can and run off with 
 it and then keep out of sight when it comes his turn 
 to pay up ; you may be perfectly safe about the gen- 
 tleman.' They are nothing but calculating machines, 
 these fellows, they have no discernment of character, 
 whatever." 
 
 " This suspicion of the broker's is insulting," Kop- 
 pel began. 
 
 " How can a man like that insult you?" Pfiester in- 
 terrupted eagerly, " he is accustomed to move in a 
 circle " 
 
 " In future, I shall be there before twelve " 
 
 Koppel resumed. 
 
 " Next time it will not be to pay money but to re- 
 ceive it, Herr Doctor," Pfiester said impressively. He 
 grinned and rubbed his hands. 
 
 " And as soon as this business is concluded, he will 
 have seen me for the last time," Koppel concluded. 
 
 "And serve him right," Pfiester declared. "When 
 I bring him such a customer as you are, he ought to 
 know what sort of man he is dealing with. But you 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 419 
 
 are not at all beholden to him, we have a choice. 
 Every coulissier in Paris would think it an honour to 
 operate with you." 
 
 The second half of the month was like the first. 
 The situation did not improve. The Job's messen- 
 gers from Russia followed each other in rapid succes- 
 sion. The reality was worse than the most malicious 
 rumours of the Bourse had represented it. The har- 
 vest had failed completely ; famine was a fact in most 
 of the provinces, and, in the midst of all this disorder, 
 came an official announcement that the interest on the 
 ruble-Russians would be reduced from five per cent to 
 four. As upon this news, a serious depreciation in 
 paper rubles took place, Koppel's Russians dropped 
 lower and lower. And also, Almadens showed no 
 sign of lasting improvement. The journalistic attack 
 upon the quicksilver-ring continued ; at the same time, 
 the voices raised in its defence became louder and 
 more numerous. The quotations fluctuated vio- 
 lently, but on the whole, the downward tendency pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 Koppel had now but one thought in his mind — the 
 quotations. In the morning he was comparatively 
 calm, though fatigued and depressed. About noon 
 his excitement began. The Bourse was opened ! The 
 scalp-dance had begun ! In the afternoon he could 
 scarcely control his impatience. His body was in the 
 school, but his soul was in the pillared temple of the 
 Place de la Bourse. He conducted his class mechani- 
 cally, with frequent noticeable pauses, of which he 
 himself was unconscious, with slips of the tongue that 
 made the boys titter ; he failed to hear or to under- 
 stand the answers made ; and his inattentiveness be- 
 came the talk of the whole school. Scarcely was it 
 four o'clock before he snatched his hat and dis- 
 appeared. He could no longer wait for ,the Temps. 
 It was too late in arriving in his part of the city. He 
 ran or drove across the Seine to get the report earlier. 
 Although a subscriber to the Cote, he bought the num- 
 bers every day at the printing-office. Thus he got 
 them almost as soon as they were out, shortly after 
 
420 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 four, while at the house they would not have reached 
 him until the last delivery, between eight and nine. 
 
 Soon, even this did not suffice to his impatience. 
 It was insufferable to remain until after four without 
 any news of the day's events at the Bourse. He had 
 discovered that the first quotations were posted on a 
 pillar in the great hall of the Credit Lyonnais, be- 
 tween one and two o'clock. He made it a custom to 
 rush over to the Boulevard des Italiens, before he went 
 back to school. Dinner, in these days, was always too 
 prolonged for him. He made impatient remarks as to 
 the slowness with which the maid served or removed 
 the dishes, until Frau Kathe and Elsa took hold them- 
 selves to hasten matters. He had his eyes forever on 
 the clock, which hung between the two windows, and, 
 usually left the desert untouched, to get away the 
 sooner. 
 
 The figures which he obtained, at half past one in 
 the Credit Lyonnais, and at half past four in the 
 printing-office of the Cote, busied him during the re- 
 maining hours of the day. His brain repeated them, 
 turned them over and over, grouped them, subjected 
 them to extraordinary treatment and maltreatment. 
 His head became a kind of calculating machine, which 
 from morning till night reeled off, as with the hum of 
 machinery at work, rows of figures in various com- 
 binations. His imagination now worked only with 
 these crude materials. First, he reckoned at every 
 quotation how much he would have to pay at the 
 settlement ; how much he had now lost ; how much the 
 price must rise, for him to recover his own again ; how 
 much, for him to regain the profits he had had ; how 
 much, for him to reach the goal that he had fixed for 
 himself. 
 
 But he did not limit himself to this. He made new 
 ventures in his mind. He took, for a starting point, 
 the quotations which the different securities, at var- 
 ious times, had had ; he bought at a low price ; sold, a 
 few months later, when the price had doubled ; then 
 again bought, after the stock had dropped very low ; 
 and gained from each transaction the more because 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 42 1 
 
 he in no way restricted himself among the mass of 
 securities which were the object of this game ; and 
 thus became, in the turn of a hand, once, twice, four- 
 fold, a millionaire : all, in his head. 
 
 From this series of dreams, he, with childish scrupu- 
 lousness, banished all caprice ; the quotations with 
 which he juggled must be exactly those which had 
 occurred ; at the bi-monthly settlements, he set down 
 to his own account the amounts which he found 
 stated in his year-books of the Bourse ; nor did he 
 allow himself the convenience of using round numbers, 
 in his imaginative arithmetic ; he neglected no frac- 
 tion. If reckoning in his head became fatiguing, he 
 continued his additions and multiplications on paper ; 
 and he became so deeply absorbed in these calcula- 
 tions that he would be extremely vexed if any one 
 interrupted him. He was conscious of the insanity of 
 this imaginary speculating, and angry when he caught 
 himself at work in this way, but he could not let it 
 alone ; it was an obsession, under which he came more 
 and more as he abandoned himself to it, and he 
 would not cease from this unnatural exertion of the 
 mind until it had exhausted him into unconscious- 
 ness. 
 
 His life in these days was that of a sleep-walker in 
 the daylight. He scarcely noticed what went on 
 about him, being too deep sunken in his torturing, 
 futile meditations. The quotations, however, followed 
 their downward path inexorably, till they had reached 
 the limit of his solvency. On the day when, at his 
 noon visit to the Credit Lyonnais, he saw chalked up 
 as the opening quotations of the Bourse : Ruble-Rus- 
 sians, 61 ; Almadens, 640, he became dizzy, and was 
 obliged to lean against the pillar on which the black- 
 board hung. Now, all was over. With this, he owed 
 53,000 francs, and he had left, at most, not over 50,000. 
 There was a vacancy in his head, and he could not col- 
 lect his thoughts. He came back to school, but he 
 could not remember by what streets. He looked at 
 his class as at a far-off, floating picture in the clouds, 
 •md while he sat in his teacher's chair, and apparently 
 
422 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 listened to boys translating from Horace, only one 
 image was clear before him — a kind of blackboard, 
 with glaring white figures on it : 6i — 640 — 53,000 — 
 50,000. 
 
 He did not wait for the stroke of four, but got off a 
 few minutes earlier, across the Seine to the printing- 
 office of the Cote, which was not out yet. He stood 
 among the newsboys and the dealers, and there were 
 also a few men, evidently, like himself, speculators, 
 who, also, like himself, awaited over the counter their 
 fate, life or death ; when the papers came in, he 
 pushed and crowded forward, to get one of the first ; 
 then, with the wet and ill-smelling paper in his hand, 
 he, trembling, turned it over and over, till he found 
 the place which concerned him ; he was not conscious 
 that impatient men behind him were crowding roughly 
 past, he did not hear a surly voice that said : " You 
 can read somewhere else ; don't keep in the way." 
 He only saw the final quotation of the day. Saved ! 
 There had been a slight rally in the prices. Not 
 much ; but enough to make his obligations no more 
 than he could meet. From stupefied despair his mood 
 changed to clear confidence. The wheel turns so 
 quickly at the Bourse ! The danger was past. In a 
 few days he would be again a prosperous man. 
 
 And for days the Bourse played with him thus, as a 
 cat plays with the mouse. At noon, ruin ; at night, 
 rescue ; or, the other way. Twice daily, in the mask 
 through which Fate looked at him, cheering smiles al- 
 ternated with gloomy menace. The prices of his 
 securities kept near the water-mark at which he lost 
 footing ; they grazed it, sank a little under it, went a 
 little above it, and kept him all the time in the anguish 
 of a man drowning. In these circumstances he was as 
 sensitive to every political or business disturbance in 
 both worlds, as an aching tooth is to the touch of cold. 
 Every word in his morning's paper which seemed 
 likely to disturb the temper of the Bourse cut him to 
 the quick. An insurrection in Chili and a suspension 
 of payment in Australia were alike his personal con- 
 cern ; a cabinet crisis in Madrid was as much a blow to 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 423 
 
 him as was a lack of rain in the Kapminenbezirk. There 
 was nothing in the whole circuit of the globe that could 
 happen without findingan echo in hisanxiousquestion : 
 " What will the Bourse say about that ?" 
 
 He lost appetite and sleep ; his eyes were more and 
 more sunken ; his face grew pallid. His family must 
 have been blind not to observe these changes. And 
 even if his appearance had escaped notice, they could 
 not but remark that he, the cheerful and talkative, the 
 one who enjoyed talking and talked so well and easily, 
 was absent-minded, silent, and often, the whole day 
 long, did not willingly open his lips. Frau Kathe had 
 asked over and over again; " Hugo, what is the mat- 
 ter?" But as he had answered in a sullen way, 
 " Nothing," and very soon after left the room, she 
 did not venture to urge the question. Oscar came to 
 the conviction that he was the cause of his father's 
 depression. This occasioned the boy deep distress. 
 More than once he was on the point of throwing him- 
 self into his father's arms, and saying; "Father, 
 forgive me ; I will not be stubborn any longer ; I have 
 been an ungrateful son ; I am not worth all this 
 anxiety which you feel on my account." But a mix- 
 ture of timidity, false shame, and some lingering 
 defiance, restrained him from acting upon the impulse. 
 
 Amid these mental tortures the end of the month 
 came. The quotation for the Russians was 60, the 
 lowest of the month. Almadens had worked up grad- 
 ually from their lowest point and closed at 657 fr. 50. 
 Koppel had, at the settlement, about 45,000 francs to 
 pay, and there remained about 5,000 francs in his box 
 after he had put together the securities which he had to 
 give up to make his account even with the coulissier. 
 The handsome leather portfolio, once so full, now had 
 fallen in, like leaky bellows. His drawer yawned 
 empty and dismal to his sight. He gazed for a full 
 minute into this black hole before he found the 
 strength to close it. Thoughts of all kinds rushed 
 through his brain. If Almadens had remained only 
 a few sous lower, what would he then have done ? 
 He would have been insolvent. Would he have given 
 
424 THE DRONES MUST DIE, 
 
 up what he possessed? Would he have said only: 
 " I am bankrupt," and kept the 50,000 francs that he 
 still would have had? Would it not be the best thing 
 for him to do now, to put back this 45,000 francs that 
 he had taken out, and now, at once, announce to the 
 broker that he could do no more? 
 
 He was ashamed of the impulse and suppressed it 
 with a great flood of self-contempt. Had he come to 
 that ? Was he a thief ? Besides, would it not be 
 as foolish as it was base ? From mere good sense, he 
 must remain an honest man. Here, as ever, honesty 
 would be the best policy. So long as he continued 
 to pay what v/as due, though he should pour out to 
 the last drop all that he possessed, still he kept 
 open to himself the possibility of winning back what 
 he had lost. And accordingly, he took his risk. 
 
 The broker had had the insolence to^^disti -ist him 
 the previous time ; this time Koppel came at ten, be- 
 tween two lessons, shortening each fifteen minutes. 
 Again Pfiesterwas there, and greeted him with exuber- 
 ance. Koppel did not deny himself the pleasure of 
 saying to the coiilissicr: " It is inconvenient for me to 
 come at this hour, but since, last time, you took excep- 
 tion because I was not here until afternoon — " 
 
 The conlissier was profuse in his denials : How could 
 Koppel have had such an idea ? Pfiester had al- 
 together misunderstood him, and had, as usual, done 
 harm with his chatter. Whereat Pfiester shrugged his 
 shoulders and ducked his head and made no reply. 
 But when Koppel was going away, the remisier has- 
 tened after him, and said to him on the stairs : " You 
 gave it to him well, Herr Doctor ! He plays the in- 
 nocent, but only yesterday he had me up again, and 
 says to me : ' Is this Doctor Koppel so rich, that he 
 can afford to lose a quarter of a million monthly ? 
 But I lighted him home ! I said to him : ' Doctor 
 Koppel is not one of your gamblers ! He knows what 
 he is doing ; he has his plan, and he carries it out un- 
 dismayed. The means for it he has, in unlimited 
 abundance. The greatest people in Paris stand be- 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 42 ^ 
 
 hind him. And depend upon it, he will get the better 
 of these tricksters ;' I said that to him, Hcrr Doctor.' " 
 
 Koppel had deteriorated so much both in character 
 and in intelligence, that he believed what Pfiester said. 
 He drank in the other's words with pleasure. They 
 seemed to him as the words of an oracle. The contemp- 
 tible parasite did not suspect that fate through his base 
 lips made a secret promise to himself ! In the first 
 three days that followed, things went better. The 
 ruble-Russians dropped no further ; and Almadens 
 slowly began to rise. But then, there came a black 
 day ; the Russians fell to 58 ; and Koppel's castles in 
 the air again were destroyed. 
 
 Now, fate had done its worst ! Now, he was de- 
 finitively ruined. Definitively ? Who could be sure 
 of that? There were yet five days to the i6th of 
 July. Much might happen yet. In the second fort- 
 night of June, also, he had, at one moment, seemed to 
 be ruined and had come out safe. This might hap- 
 pen again. It must happen ! 
 
 In his soul a childish superstition grew up. He 
 devised signs which should have a certain significance. 
 If the first fiacre that he met, on his way to school in 
 the morning, was an " Urbaine" with yellow wheels, 
 he would come out safe ; if it was a black one, a 
 "Gauloise," he was doomed. Other omens he con- 
 structed, according to the first letter of the leading 
 article in his paper and the date of the coins that fell 
 into his hands. 
 
 With fancies like these, he got through the day and 
 the sleepless night. At one clear moment, the voice 
 of his conscience cried out to him : " Since the 9th 
 of July you are a swindler ! You are playing with 
 money not your own ! Every penny that you now 
 lose at the Bourse you take out of the pocket of the 
 coulissier, to whom you cannot repay it !" But he 
 found an answer which tranquillised him : " In mak- 
 ing good my standing at the bi-monthly settlement," 
 he said to himself, " I buy the right to use to the 
 utmost all possibilities of the fortnight following. The 
 
426 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 last moment of the last Bourse in the- present half- 
 month may make me safe again." 
 
 It did not make him safe. The compensation price 
 of ruble-Russians was 58X, that of Almadens, 665. 
 He had 9,500 francs to pay ; he had but 5,000. A 
 sharp pang went through him, when he read the 
 broker's note, that almost made him cry out. P^or the 
 lack of a miserable sum like that — 4,500 francs — must 
 he acknowledge himself defeated, and throw down his 
 weapons, after he had gallantly paid up, within six 
 little weeks, 345,000 francs ! Could he find help no- 
 where ? By this time the money must be due for 
 Elsa's pictures, which were to be delivered early in 
 July. What if he went to the dealer, and asked for 
 the payment? From this, however, he shrunk back, al- 
 though he sought to persuade himself that it would be 
 for the good of all, Elsa herself included. Then he 
 thought of recalling the money that he had put into 
 Madame Masmajour's business. But no ; that also 
 was not possible, for the contract required a long 
 notice to be given. He could perhaps make over 
 his claim to some other person ? Yes. But he had 
 still judgment enough left, in spite of the confusion of 
 his thoughts, to see that such a transaction would re- 
 quire several days to be carried into effect, and that it 
 would then be too late. 
 
 Even, at last, he thought he would go to Henne- 
 berg, and beg for help. What were a few thousand 
 francs to this man, who juggled with millions ? He 
 would be obliged however, in that case, to confess 
 that, on his last visit, he had told a bare and vulgar 
 falsehood to his friend ; for this confession he had not 
 the courage. At the root of the whole thing, how- 
 ever, it was not from pride, that he did not go to 
 Hcnneberg, it was not from common sense that he 
 did not seek to render at once available the money 
 that he had put into Madame Masmajour's business, 
 not from a conscientious scruple that he did not lay 
 hands upon his daughter's money at the picture- 
 dealers ; it was from mere pitiable, miserable feeble- 
 ness. His capacity for making a decision was destroyed. 
 
THE FICKLE GODDES 42/ 
 
 He had impulses yet, but his will was no longer able 
 to carry them out. 
 
 That night, as he tossed sleepless and restless upon 
 his bed, with bitter self-reproach, and with sudden 
 shocks of terror as to the future, a thought came into 
 his mind which made him almost tranquil, and, on the 
 following morning, made it comparatively easy for 
 him to go to the broker's. 
 
 It was but just nine o'clock when he appeared in 
 the rue de Provence. No one was at the office except 
 the janitor, and he had to await the arrival of the 
 coulissier. 
 
 " Really, Herr Doctor," exclaimed the latter, when 
 he appeared and discovered Koppel in the office, " you 
 overdo your punctuality, to put me to shame. And 
 you will have to wait now a little longer, for that idle 
 cashier of mine has not yet come in. I beg a thous- 
 and pardons. I will myself make out your account." 
 And he was about to do this, but Koppel detained 
 him. 
 
 " Excuse me," he said, speaking, in spite of himself, 
 with a smothered voice. " I have not come to-day to 
 get my account, but to make a proposition to you. 
 Or, to beg a favour of you. I am, this time, unfor- 
 tunately, unable to pay the difference." 
 
 The coulissier stood still, and looked at Koppel in 
 astonishment, while his face clouded and his brows 
 contracted. 
 
 " A part of what I owe I will pay at once," Koppel 
 went on, "and the rest you shall very soon receive to 
 the last penny. But I beg you not to sell me out. 
 If you throw my securities into the market now, you 
 ruin me, and you lose your own money. If you hold 
 me up, we have the certainty of seeing better prices. 
 In this way, you help yourself and me." 
 
 " How much is due from you to-day?" 
 
 " 9S7S francs." 
 
 " And how much can you pay me ?" 
 
 Koppel hesitated. " If you accept my proposition,' 
 he began, but the broker interrupted him. 
 
428 THE DRONES MUST DIE 
 
 " That has nothing to do with it. You say you can 
 pay a part of what you owe. How much will it be?" 
 
 "I would make an effort," Koppel stammered, "I 
 would get together a few thousand francs, if I had the 
 certainty that I should not be slaughtered." 
 
 " Slaughtered !" exclaimed the broker wrathfully. 
 "That is a fine thing to say ! I think I am the one 
 who is to be slaughtered. What security can you of- 
 fer me ?" 
 
 " My promise that I will meet my engagements," 
 Koppel said. " I give you my signature " 
 
 " Your signature !" broke in the coulissier roughly. 
 " That is not worth a penny, according to what you 
 yourself have just said. How can I, without security, 
 hold you up? Your plan is to speculate at my risk. 
 If your securities go up, you win ; if they go down, I 
 lose. I can see that this would be very agreeable for 
 you. It is simply childish." 
 
 As Koppel remained silent, after a short pauje the 
 coulissier went on : " Without doubt, you must be sold 
 out at once. It can only be done with extreme pre- 
 caution, for the market is bad. And until I succeed 
 in getting rid of the whole thing, I am exposed, alone, 
 to all the danger. It is unheard-of ! How can any 
 one involve himself to such an extent when he is so 
 weak? 800,000 francs of ruble-Russians! 1,000 Al- 
 madens ! I supposed you had your millions." 
 
 He walked excitedly up and down the room", and 
 the movement increased his anger. He now aban- 
 doned all consideration. " The quotations have been 
 nearly the same for a week," he said. " Before that, 
 they had improved. You have known, therefore, for 
 a week, that you could not pay. And not a word has 
 been heard from you all this time. Instead of coming 
 and saying : ' I cannot pay the difference, you must 
 realize,' you quietly go on at my risk. Does an hon- 
 ourable man do that ? Is that decent ? In your place 
 I should sink into the ground with shame." 
 
 " I beg you not to talk in that way," Koppel said, 
 but not with any firmness. 
 
 " So you take offence, do you ?" cried the exasper- 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 429 
 
 ated broker, now in a furious passion. " You arc a 
 fine customer truly ! You were very ready to take in 
 your profits, but when you have to give out anything, 
 then the word is : ' I cannot pay.' I ought to have 
 known it before. Anything tliat comes to me through 
 Pfiester is always to be suspected. And I never once 
 asked you for security, from your looks and your title, 
 I can't understand how I could let myself be taken in 
 like this. I should like to kick myself." He said this 
 in a way that made it mean : " I should like to kick 
 you." 
 
 Without saying a word Koppel rose and went out of 
 the ofifice. The conlissier followed him hastily, but 
 Koppel had closed the door as he went and was already 
 beyond recall. 
 
 It had then come to this ! A trickster of the Bourse, 
 a man of the breed that he had always despised, might 
 cast in his face the vilest insults, and he dared not 
 make answer, dared not say a word in defence of his 
 honour ! His honour ! Had he then any such thing ? 
 No, he had none. He was a bankrupt swindler, who 
 could not pay his losses ; and if the conlissier had gone 
 to extremities, if he had smitten him upon the cheek, 
 there would have been no redress, for he had incurred 
 the answer : " First, pay what you owe ! Then you 
 can talk !" 
 
 There was no excitement raging within him, no 
 strong, wild impulse of resistance and retaliation ; he 
 no longer had the energy for it. It was rather a des- 
 olating consciousness of being humiliated, of being 
 crushed to the ground. So might a man feel who had 
 been run over by a railway train and, out of the first 
 swoon, had awakened to consciousness : both your legs 
 are gone ; even if you do not die at once, you will al- 
 ways be a mutilated creature. Koppel seemed to 
 himself to have shrivelled bodily. It appeared to him 
 that he was a very small and feeble person, whom 
 every passer-by might jostle or step on, at will ; and 
 who must accept it humbly and silently ; this idea 
 wrought in him such a feeling of despair and helpless- 
 ness that he made his way along close to the wall, and 
 
430 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 timidly bent his head before what seemed to him the 
 threatening look in men's eyes as he passed. 
 
 In this condition, it was not possible to live longer. 
 Of that he was certain. When, at brief moments, he 
 looked forward into the future, he shuddered at the 
 picture of poverty and distress that he saw there ; but 
 with a motion of the body he shook these thoughts 
 out of his head. Why think of the future ? For him 
 there was no future. He had played at dice with 
 Fate, and he had lost. What he had lost was his life. 
 
 This idea filled his mind, as he went toward the left 
 bank, slowly, with the dragging steps of an old man, 
 without thought as to the hour of the day, without 
 caring that his class awaited him, and that his unex- 
 cused absence was an unexampled offence. In the rue 
 Richelieu he passed a gunsmith's shop. Should he 
 buy the revolver here. Perhaps in the next shop. He 
 saw himself in his own room, at' his writing-table. 
 Against his right temple he felt a circular, ice-cold 
 touch. A shot rung out. He lay upon the floor with 
 a hole through his head. Then rushed in his mother, 
 his Kathe, his Elsa ; also, the ill-conducted Oscar. 
 There was screaming, and wringing of hands, and des- 
 pair ! It would, perhaps, break their hearts. His old 
 mother, at least, could never survive it. " How could 
 you do this to us ? And why did you do it ?" they 
 wailed, and flung themselves upon his dead body. 
 Yes, why ? And the shame would come to light. 
 Then, they would learn, through the broker or through 
 Pfiester, sooner or later, that he had deceived, betrayed, 
 cheated them, and was a miserable wretch, a gambler, 
 a swindler, a cheat. And after that, perhaps, they 
 would shun the thought of him, and would feel that 
 the name they bore was a disgrace. 
 
 It was perhaps this one thing which hindered him 
 from suicide ; if he should take his life, all would be 
 at once revealed ; if he lived he could perhaps keep 
 the shameful secret. And behind this first and lowest 
 motive, which instinctive, foolish vanity flung out 
 against the decision of his despair, rose other and bet- 
 ter motives. He must not cause to his own family 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 43 1 
 
 this extreme of suffering. His life belonged to others 
 and he must not rob them of it. He must work to 
 expiate his offences. What lay before him was an in- 
 tolerably barren existence of repentance and hopeless- 
 ness ; a lifelong treadmill ; the pettiest cares, early 
 and late ; to be lost in the great crowd of the educated 
 proletariat. But he could still be of some use to his 
 family, until Elsa and Oscar had no further need of 
 him and his Kathe could have a better home with her 
 children than with her wretched husband. And he 
 might perhaps hope, very slowly, by degrees, to pay 
 off what he owed, or at least to lessen the sum, if he 
 should patiently scrape and save to his life's end. This 
 resolution raised him a little above himself. He des- 
 pised himself somewhat less, and he began to have 
 sympathy instead, a profound sympathy with this poor, 
 unlucky fellow, who had dared to dream of a brighter 
 destiny, and with whom all had gone wrong ; and the 
 intolerable tension of the last few hours gave way to 
 an emotion which made his eyes overflow with tears, 
 so that an occasional passer-by noticed it, and turned 
 to look after him. 
 
 In the course of the day his mood changed diamet- 
 rically from what it had been at first. Suicide had 
 seemed to him then a last refuge, but now a violent, 
 excited, extraordinary fear of death took possession 
 of his mind. He had nothing left but his life. If he 
 were to lose that, how could he make good the wrong 
 he had done. He must, at once, obtain a life-insur- 
 ance. How inconsiderate that he had not done this 
 long before ! 
 
 He went the same afternoon to three Life-Insur- 
 ance Companies and obtained their tables, which he 
 examined and compared until late into the night. He 
 made his choice and the following day applied for a pol- 
 icy for 75,000 francs. Now, should he die, his Kathe at 
 least, would receive her dowry and her inheritance. 
 He wished to have it done in the turn of a hand, on the 
 spot, at the moment he made his application. He 
 was extremely disappointed on being told that the 
 formalities necessary in the case would occupy several 
 
432 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 days, especially since so considerable an amount of 
 money was involved. A considerable amount ! A 
 few weeks before, he had been the possessor of five 
 times as much, and had considered himself by no 
 means, as yet, well off. He was also informed that he 
 must undergo medical inspection. Upon this, a new 
 alarm seized him. Was he sound in body ? Had he, 
 unknown to himself, some hidden malady which would 
 cut him off from life-insurance ? He expressed a 
 wish that there should be no delay and was assured 
 that the doctor would come to him on the following 
 day. To this he objected, and said that he would pre- 
 fer to go to the doctor's office. 
 
 And until the policy was paid for ? It seemed to 
 him that until then there was nothing to do. His 
 imagination depicted to him all the dangers in the 
 streets of a great city. The news of the day in his 
 paper terrified him. How many accidents! How 
 many crimes ! Vehicles ran over men, there were ex- 
 plosions of gas, insane men in the street fell upon in- 
 nocent people and shot or stabbed them fatally. In 
 a hundred forms Death stalked through the streets 
 and houses. He would have preferred to remain 
 indoors, shut up in his own room, not even going 
 out to the school, until he had the policy safe in 
 his writing-table. But that could not be. He must 
 go out as usual and incur all the dangers with which 
 cruel chance forever besets the inhabitant of a great 
 city. A way of escape presented itself. He took out 
 a very heavy Accident-Insurance policy for a month. 
 Now, for the first time, with this paper safe in his 
 pocket, he breathed freely. Now a mad dog might 
 bite him, or a runaway horse knock him down, or a 
 falling beam hit him on the head. He would leave to 
 his family ioo,ooo francs, much more than he was 
 worth to them as he stood. 
 
 The matter of the accident policy occupied his 
 attention for the time and helped him through the five 
 days until he could receive his life-insurance policy 
 and pay the first premium. When he held in his hand 
 this document, he felt as if a part of the great burden 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 433 
 
 of anxiety which had oppressed him for weeks was 
 taken away. He had, in some degree fulfilled his 
 duty towards his family. In case of his der'th, they 
 would not be left absolutely penniless. And now, a 
 thick veil over the past ! A new life was to begin ; a 
 life of humble but fruitful labour ; a life without 
 buoyancy and outlook, but also without torturing 
 excitement and vicissitudes ; all would be quiet and 
 dull within him and around him, but he would again 
 have peace, the often despised, the never fitly appre- 
 ciated, the most precious thing that man can have. 
 
 Thus he laid out his future, but it was decreed that 
 the reality should rudely awaken him from his dreams. 
 In the two days that followed his visit to the coulissier 
 came two letters, which made known to him that his 
 ruble-Russians had been sold at 57 and 57^, and his 
 Almadens at 655 and 660 ; and that he owed 21,150 
 francs. These letters made no deep impression upon 
 his mind. He felt them as dull shocks, which awak- 
 ened the earlier pain, but were not in themselves note- 
 worthy. His fate was decided. There was no further 
 surprise possible. The Bourse had ceased to interest 
 him. In the evening paper, he no longer sought the 
 quotations. He did not even open the " CSte," for 
 which his quarter's subscription had not yet expired. 
 This was in a sense a relief and a comfort. But there 
 was still the debt ! It was to be hoped, however, that 
 the coulissier would have consideration and grant him 
 reasonable respite. This respite must be of some length, 
 it is true ; for it would be difficult for him henceforth to 
 meet his current expenses, to pay the premium on his 
 life-insurance policy, and have anything over towards 
 the payment of this debt. However, he would do all 
 that was possible. 
 
 As he did not reply at once to the two notifications 
 he had received, there came a third letter, after two 
 days, requiring him to pay his debt at once ; other- 
 wise, legal proceedings would immediately be institu- 
 ted against him. Koppel had come to no decision 
 what steps to take when Pfiester once more appeared. 
 Koppel felt as if a venomous snake was before him. 
 
434 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 This man seemed to be the personification of his own 
 errors. He had driven him into the path of ruin. 
 And he dared now to appear in the presence of his 
 victim ! 
 
 And he appeared with extreme composure. " We 
 have been very unlucky," he began, playing with his 
 pince-nez, " but that will happen in the best of families. 
 You are not discouraged, I hope " 
 
 " What I" exclaimed Koppel bitterly, " You seri- 
 ously believe that I shall begin anew.?" 
 
 " Why, certainly ; or I am very much mistaken in 
 you. You have been so brave and steadfast — it sur- 
 prised me that you should let yourself be sold 
 out " 
 
 " I had no choice. Since I could no longer 
 pay- 
 
 Pfiester smiled in a knowing way. " That's just 
 where it was. In my opinion, you ought to have 
 paid " 
 
 " So ? With what ? I have nothing more." 
 
 " Oh, I know, you said that to the broker. But, of 
 'course, it is not to be taken literally." 
 
 " You think I am a cheat then ?" 
 
 " Herr Doctor ! Who is saying such a thing ! 
 What puts that into your head ! I take you to be, 
 simply, a clever and prudent man. I am not a child ; 
 I know the price of corn. You never would, at three 
 settlements, have paid out something like 340,000 
 francs, if that had been all you had in the world. No- 
 body strips himself to the last penny. Every man 
 keeps something back, so that he can operate again. 
 Otherwise, how would he get his revenge ? If you 
 really had nothing more, excuse me, Herr Doctor, then 
 — but I would better not express my opinion." 
 
 Koppel was infuriated. He wished to have done 
 with the fellow, at once and forever. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said roughly. " I am busy. 
 Tell me, in as few words as possible, what brings you 
 here." 
 
 " You must know," Pfiester answered. " I am re- 
 sponsible to the CQuHssier for half the loss. If you do 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 435 
 
 not pay, I must take out of my pocket on your 
 account ten thousand francs and more. You can't 
 be willing I should do that." 
 
 " You have made more than ten thousand francs out 
 of me, in this past eighteen months " 
 
 " Yes. Did you expect me to give back what I have 
 honestly earned ?" 
 
 " You never earned that money." 
 
 " That is your view of the matter. It is not the 
 view generally accepted. But I will not discuss social- 
 istic theories with you " 
 
 " Quite right ! I will discuss nothing with you any 
 further. I shall pay the house what I owe ; perhaps 
 slowly, but to the last penny." 
 
 " Don't be self-willed, dear Doctor." Pfiester became 
 again shamelessly confidential, after the manner of an 
 accomplice : " If one is unlucky in affairs, one com- 
 promises. As for the house — it is my house no longer. 
 The man is a fool, and an insolent fellow. I have left 
 him and go elsewhere now. What I think is, you 
 ought to compromise with him. He will listen to a 
 reasonable offer. I make you this proposition. I will 
 settle with the coulissier, and you shall pay me — say, a 
 third. Is it agreed ? You will make a good thing of 
 it, in this way. But this third I must have, money 
 down." 
 
 " And if I pay you this 7000 francs, you will bring 
 me a receipt from the house, in full, of all demands ?" 
 
 " With the house, you have nothing more to do. 
 That is my affair. The receipt you get from me." 
 
 Then Koppel understood. That Pfiester was willing 
 to pay one single penny for him, he did not for a mo- 
 ment believe. The man sought to plunder him to the 
 last. He rose and said : " In my future relations to 
 my creditor, I need no go-between. Thank you." 
 
 " But, Doctor," Pfiester still urged, " you are evi- 
 dently ruled by a .mistaken sense of honour. The 
 Bourse is neither a conventicle of elders nor an offi- 
 cers' club. Business is business. Why should you 
 continue to drag round with you a debt of 21,000 
 francs, when you can compromise, and pay a third^r 
 
436 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 or perhaps, even less ? Sacrifice the few thousand 
 francs. They must be of very Httle consequence to 
 you, since you were willing to sacrifice 350,000. And 
 then, with fresh courage, we will work for our re- 
 venge!' 
 
 " Will you leave me alone," Koppel said, at last, 
 straight out. " I have nothing more to say to you." 
 
 '• Now is that fair ?" rejoined the remisier impu- 
 dently. " You talk big, and leave me in the mud. 
 You laugh now in your sleeve. You have what you 
 need. How can I go back to a broker if I don't pay 
 my debt 1 And what should I do for a living if I were 
 excluded from the Bourse .?" 
 
 " Break stones !" 
 
 " Yes, and have a school-teacher come along and 
 take away from me what I have earned at doing it." 
 
 " Get out of this !" Koppel shouted in a fury, and 
 fiung open the door of the room where they had been 
 talking, which was adjacent to the class-room. 
 
 Pfiester would have been glad to attack Koppel, but 
 as the latter, with swollen veins upon his forehead and 
 fiery eyes, was evidently quite ready for a fight, the 
 remissier only shrugged his shoulders, muttered some 
 insulting words and rapidly departed. 
 
 Koppel had not yet recovered from the excitement 
 of this base proposition, when on reaching home a let- 
 ter was given him, addressed in an unfamiliar hand- 
 writing, whose substance was that the writer desired 
 to see Koppel on a matter of vital importance to the 
 latter, and begged him to call at the writer's office 
 within two days. 
 
 The note was signed " Emmery," and Koppel had 
 no difficulty in conjecturing that it referred to his 
 debt to the broker. Everything, however, naturally 
 connected itself in Koppel's mind with this matter, 
 and everything vague and unknown seemed to him 
 ominous. He replied, however, without delay, saying 
 that he had not the advantage of knowing his corres- 
 pondent, had no idea what there was to be told to him, 
 and had no reason for going to see the writer. But if 
 the latter wished to take the trouble of coming to see 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS 437 
 
 him, he would be found at such and such hours, giving 
 the address of the school. 
 
 The next day, in the afternoon, as he returned from 
 school, Frau Kathe came out into the anteroom to 
 meet him, and whispered that a gentleman was waiting 
 to see him. Koppel changed colour, he could not have 
 told why ; and it appeared to him that there was some- 
 thing strange in his wife's look, an unusual sadness and 
 a reproach. But almost everyone impressed him thus, 
 at that time, and he thought no more of it. 
 
 " My name is Emmery," the stranger said, rising as 
 Koppel entered. 
 
 "Ah !" Koppel said, and no more ; then, with a ges- 
 ture bade the visitor follow him into his study, where, 
 after closing the door, he said coldly : 
 
 " I desired you to come to see me at the school." 
 
 " I preferred to come to your residence," the other 
 said, without seeming at all abashed at the coolness 
 with which he was received. " Here we can talk more 
 at our ease." As Koppel remained silent, and looked 
 at him inquiringly, he went on : " You doubtless un- 
 derstand that I come about the affair of Monsieur 
 .Silbert." This was the cottlissicr. " He has placed 
 the matter in my hands. Before I institute a suit 
 against you, I would like to ask, in your own interest, 
 whether we cannot come to an agreement ourselves. 
 I await your proposition in the matter." 
 
 " I shall pay the entire sum to Monsieur Silbert, but 
 he must give me time." 
 
 " That is too indefinite. Will you give us a note }" 
 
 " My note would have no more value than my prom- 
 ise. And I fear that I cannot bind myself to any 
 fixed dates. I do not yet know with certainty what 
 my income will be, or how much I shall be able to 
 employ annually for the extinction of this debt." 
 
 " That looks very much like evasion — " 
 
 " Sir !" 
 
 " Pardon me. Compose yourself. I am not here to 
 waste your time, or my own, but to come to some re- 
 sult. You have said to Monsieur Silbert that you 
 would pay part of what is due." 
 
438 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 "Yes. But since that time I have used the money 
 in paying for a life-insurance policy." 
 
 " How could you do that ? The money was not 
 yours." 
 
 " No. It was my wife's, and I used it for her bene- 
 fit." 
 
 "But a man must first pay his debts." 
 
 " I do not understand that yon are here to lecture 
 me on morals." 
 
 " I am sorry that you take this tone. I do not think 
 you clearly understand what your situation is. If we 
 are convinced that we have to deal with an ill-disposed 
 debtor, we shall proceed against you inexorably. You 
 will count upon no consideration whatever from us. 
 You may be perfectly certain that we shall take your 
 furniture and trustee your salary. We shall leave you 
 nothing but your beds, and the clothes that you have 
 on. Consider also, the injury that this will do you. 
 It will scarcely be an advantage to you in the school, 
 when it is understood that you have played beyond 
 your means at the Bourse." 
 
 Koppel was overwhelmed, every word which this 
 man said so quietly and calmly smote him like a blow. 
 " I assure you," he said, " I have nothing, nothing at 
 all ! There is left possibly 2,000 francs, and that is not 
 my money, but my wife's." 
 
 " Your wife's ! Your wife's ! That is a form of 
 speech. You will have to offer more than that, other- 
 wise we must resort to legal measures ; 2,000 francs 
 we should get in any case, for your furniture is worth 
 that." 
 
 " But I have no more," Koppel cried despairingly. 
 
 Emmery smiled incredulously. " For the moment 
 you perhaps have no more at your command. But 
 you have friends. You have, as you say, a policy of 
 life-insurance. Give us that in pledge. Make an 
 effort. Show your good will." 
 
 Koppel remained silent, and did not lift his eyes 
 from the floor. 
 
 " Monsieur Silbert," Emmery continued, " has com- 
 puted, from his books, that you must still have 9 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 439 
 
 large sum left from your winnings which he has paicK 
 you, unless you have been speculating through other 
 houses, and have had losses about which he knows 
 nothing." 
 
 Koppel started up. " That is false ;'' he said, " in 
 his own books he can see that I have paid him 70,000 
 francs more than I have ever received. If he says 
 otherwise, he lies." 
 
 " You must not use violent language ; I will not listen 
 to it. I ask once more ; will you make us a reasonable 
 offer ?" 
 
 " I have nothing further to say." 
 
 Emmery rose. " Then I am sorry that I must de- 
 clare war. And again I repeat, you must expect no 
 consideration." 
 
 Koppel bent his head silently. The visitor put his 
 hat on, and passed through the salon without remov- 
 ing it. 
 
 The threat shocked Koppel indescribably. He re- 
 mained as if crushed, sitting at his writing-table, his 
 head buried in his hands. His most immediate terror 
 was that his wife might come in, and ask him what 
 the man had wanted. He was so shattered that he 
 would not have been able to evade or conceal. This 
 cup, however, passed from him — to his relief and a 
 little to his surprise, Frau Kathe left him undis- 
 turbed. He made an effort to represent to himself 
 the results of Emmery's visit. He saw the officer of 
 justice, I'homme noir, as he is called in Paris, come into 
 the apartment and carry everything away ; he saw his 
 salary trusteed ; he saw Wolzen, giving him notice, since 
 the head of a school could no longer employ a bankrupt 
 gambler, a prosecuted debtor; and his family, from 
 whom nothing could be concealed, as soon as the apart 
 ment had been made empty ; and the report of the 
 court, which would bring his name into all the papers. 
 This was to be unmasked in the presence of his wife 
 and children, to be disgraced before the world, to be 
 made a beggar. 
 
 This must be prevented, even at the cost of a new 
 crime. Two days before, he had received the money 
 
440 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 for Elsa's pictures, and had it in his care. So much 
 the worse. He must lay hands upon this 10,000 
 francs. Also the money loaned to Madame Masma- 
 jour, the last crumb of his wife's property, he must 
 call in. It mattered not. He must go on to the bit- 
 ter end. But this theft of what belonged to his 
 daughter seemed to him such a monstrous thing that 
 he would wait and see if the coulissier really was in- 
 tending to carry out his threat. 
 
 He had not long to wait. On the second day there 
 came a summons from the Tribunal of Commerce " for 
 him to appear and receive sentence to pay to Monsieur 
 Silbert the sum of 21,150 francs, with current interest 
 and costs." And so the peril took definite shape. It 
 stood before the door. Before he did what seemed to 
 him the last thing, namely purloining his daughter's 
 money, he thought it worth while to consult a lawyer. 
 To his neighbour in the house he would not go. To 
 him, he would not reveal his situation. He therefore 
 made choice of the first name he found in the address- 
 book. But he did not see this gentleman, as an office- 
 boy on guard, after one glance at the document 
 Koppel brought, informed him that he must go to a 
 solicitor of the Tribunal of Commerce, and indicated 
 to him the office of one. 
 
 Here, also, he did not reach the solicitor himself, 
 but was referred to an assistant, a scornful young man, 
 who seemed to have been hardened by all the fires of 
 Paris life. This individual carelessly looked over the 
 summons, desired an account of the affair from Kop- 
 pel, but interrupted him almost at the first sentence 
 with the exclamation : " What is your opponent 
 thinking about ! This is a gambling debt not recog- 
 nized by the courts, Article 1965 of the Civil Code." 
 
 As Koppel gazed at him astonished and perplexed, 
 the young man went on : " Of course your dealings 
 have been on time only, with Monsieur Silbert .?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " I mean to say, you have only risked your money 
 in the rise or fall of stocks, and never really taken the 
 securities up T' 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 441 
 
 Koppel was obliged to confess tliat he had in small 
 blocks, by degrees, taken up 300 Almadens. " And I 
 paid for them with the profits," he hastened to add, 
 but the young man interrupted him. 
 
 " That makes no difference. As long as you have 
 taken up anything, the plea of a gambling debt offers 
 no full security. It is a two-edged sword. The judge 
 will accept this plea only when it is entirely valid. 
 Let us try to find some other way out. In what secur- 
 ities have you gambled?" 
 
 '•■ In Almadens and ruble-Russians." 
 
 '• In these only ?" 
 
 " The debt depends on these only." 
 
 " Were these securities officially dealt in?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir, now we have the privilege of the 
 agents de change, article J^i of the Commercial Code." 
 
 " Which is — " 
 
 "Which is that the coulissier has no right to handle 
 tliese securities ; and that Monsieur Silbert has no 
 right to ask a single sou from you. You can go home 
 in peace. Things will b.,- settled in five minutes 
 before the court. The privilege of the agents de 
 change is unconditional and admits of no response." 
 
 " This law is very hard upon the coulissier, and I 
 should be sorry — " 
 
 " It is very advantageous for the customer. The 
 coulissier must look out for himself. He acts at his 
 own risk." 
 
 "I should not be willing to be unjust. lam per- 
 fectly ready to pay Monsieur Silbert what I owe 
 him." 
 
 " But you don't owe him anything, — at least, accord- 
 ing to the law." 
 
 " According to my conscience — " 
 
 " Your conscience, eh ?" the young man said, with 
 a sarcastic smile. '' That's altogether superfluous in 
 the Tribunal of Commerce. You will be glad to know 
 that you have no use for it there." 
 
 Koppel felt himself insulted. He resented the 
 undisguised contempt of this youthful cynic, whose 
 
442 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 mien said plainly enough : " It's understood that 
 you're a swindler who wants to elude his creditor; but 
 you have the law on your side. To try to appear as 
 if you were an honest man is both unnecessary and 
 childish, and it won't go down with me." 
 
 As if replying to these unspoken words, Koppel 
 said : "All I want is that Monsieur Silbert shall not be 
 able to get a judgment against me and send an officer 
 into my house. Without any compulsion I shall, in 
 time, pay him in full. Since the end of May I have 
 now paid him about 350,000 francs." 
 
 " You ought not to have done that," the young man 
 remarked calmly as he selected a cigarette and lighted 
 it. " If a man wins at the Bourse — which, all the 
 same, he is very likely not to do — he is wise to keep the 
 money, and not let it go again. Don't waste any 
 thought on this matter. It was probably a mock-sale, 
 any way, and this Monsieur Silbert got all the profits." 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
 " As you please. An outsider like yourself is always 
 cheated when he ventures into that den of thieves. 
 If you feel desirous to make Monsieur Silbert a pres- 
 ant of 20,000 francs, you can do it. It is not my 
 affair." 
 
 The young man required a large retaining fee, and 
 sent Koppel away with repeated assurance that he 
 positively had not the slightest cause for anxiety, and 
 that his opponent had only undertaken this absolutely 
 hopeless prosecution for the purpose of extorting 
 money. 
 
 Procedures in the Tribunal of Commerce are very 
 simple and rapid. Before the week had ended, judg- 
 ment had been given. The plaintiff was non-suited, 
 with payment of costs on account of infringement of 
 the privileges of the agents de change. The terrific 
 ghost of prosecution and distraint was laid. The coii- 
 lissier had no further claim, and it was declared that 
 Koppel owed him nothing. When this decision of 
 the court was announced, Koppel felt, certainly, the 
 relief which an escape from overwhelming peril always 
 causes, but he could not silence a voice within him 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 443 
 
 which cried to him incessantly: " Your creditor, and 
 your own counsel, and the judge who decided in your fa- 
 vour, all of them are convinced that you are a common 
 swindler, who has been enabled, through a crevice in 
 the law, to escape merited punishment." 
 
 Amid the alternations of despair, anxiety, and ex- 
 treme depression, amid these struggles of self-con- 
 tempt and good resolutions, July came to an end and 
 August began. Wolzen's Institute and Oscar's gym- 
 nasium were closed. Of a journey, either into Ger- 
 many or in any other direction, Koppel, for eight 
 weeks, ha4 said not a word. Evidently there were to 
 be no more summer trips. He no longer had the 
 means. He must again seek, as before, to find profit- 
 able occupation for the holidays, in preliminary and 
 other forms of private instruction. It was fortunate, 
 amid the general misfortune, that the disaster had oc- 
 curred before he had given notice to Wolzen, as he 
 was intending to do at the beginning of June. What 
 if the crash had not come until after he had resigned 
 his place ? He would then, within a year, have been 
 in the street ! What irony of fate ! He must now, in 
 all humility, recognize it as an undeserved favour of 
 destiny, that there was still left to him the occupation, 
 to be set free from which had seemed to him the most 
 precious change in his existence, the attractive, de- 
 lightful goal of his efforts. He could but bow his 
 head and endure this mockery also, with all the other 
 humiliations. 
 
 But what must his own family think of it, that he 
 never again had recurred to those plans of travel which 
 he had so formally announced to them ? It was most 
 considerate of them that they never had made it hard 
 to him by any question or reminder. But some ex- 
 planation he must offer to them. What should it be ? 
 The true one ? He had not the moral courage for 
 that. To go to his wife, to say to her : " I have ruined 
 you, the children, all of us ' ■ — no ; impossible ! Yet 
 something must be thought of, must be devised ; for 
 a simulation of prosperity could not be kept up. Ear- 
 lier or later, the truth would come out ; it would at 
 
444 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 least be better that it should come later, when he had 
 in some degree regained his equanimity and the old 
 patience and strength for his routine of work ; also, it 
 must come by degrees, with slow, careful preparation, 
 ^ that his poor Kathe might not be crushed under the 
 weight of a sudden disclosure. 
 
 Yes, poor Kathe ! She had, without that, already 
 trouble enough ! For he now began — after the long 
 weeks in which men and things had been like shadows 
 to him — to be capable of observing what was around 
 him, and he saw how painfully introspective she had 
 become, how sad was her look, what furrows had ap- 
 peared in her forehead and around her mouth. And 
 he knew the cause of this. Oscar had fallen sadly into 
 the rear at school. Was it from idleness ? Was it sheer 
 incapacity ? He who for years had been a pattern 
 pupil, the pride of the school as well as his parents, 
 had this year, neither in the general examinations nor 
 even in those in his own class, received even the small- 
 est " accessit." This must be a cause of great grief to 
 the mother. Koppel knew well how greatly she took 
 to heart the up and downs of the boy's school-life, and 
 what importance she attached to them. But he could 
 not believe that Oscar's abilities, of which he himself 
 had a great opinion, could be permanently withered 
 and shrivelled up. The boy was disabled temporarily 
 by the indecision as to his future. And here an oppor- 
 tunity presented itself to Koppel for giving a credible 
 explanation for his change of plans. He would say to 
 Oscar that he had forgiven him his insubordination, 
 that he had relinquished the design of sending him, 
 against his will, into Germany, and that now he should 
 expect from him much greater industry and better re- 
 sults than had characterized his school-work in the past 
 year. The boy had not earned any holiday trip, and 
 must regard it as a duty, to which he was in honour 
 bound, to spend the summer months in preparation 
 for a brilliant Baccalaureate examination, instead of 
 idly bicycling at the seashore. To his wife he would 
 then explain that it would be cruel to leave the boy 
 alone in Paris, and themselves go to the sea ; and that 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 44$ 
 
 on this account they must all deny themselves the 
 pleasure of the journey. So the difficulty of the mo- 
 ment would be gotten over, a year's respite would be 
 gained, and, for the future, a feeble mortal had no 
 need to care. 
 
 He turned these thoughts over and over in his mind 
 while he went hither and thither, making efforts to re- 
 gain the holiday classes and private lessons which, a 
 year before, he had so loftily given up. Since the last 
 day of July, he had proposed to himself every daj', 
 morning, noon, night, to have the inevitable talk with 
 his wife ; but, each time, he shrunk back from doing 
 it ; and on the third of August he still had said not a 
 word. On this day, when he came home at night from 
 his disagreeable and not very successful search for 
 pupils, something very surprising met his sight. In 
 the parlour Elsa sat on a low bench at her mother's 
 feet, her head buried in Frau Kathe's lap ; her mother 
 was talking with her in a very low tone and very earn- 
 estly. As Koppel came in, they both started, and he 
 saw that their faces were agitated and tearful. 
 
 He stood a moment, as if spell-bound, at the door 
 of the room, and then exclaimed hastily : " What's 
 this ?" 
 
 Elsa looked at him for a moment, her eyes full of 
 tears ; then crying, " I cannot !" ran out of the room. 
 
 "What does this mean?" Koppel repeated, and 
 came toward his wife. 
 
 She turned her head away, and looked out of the 
 window. 
 
 " Kathe, for God's sake, don't torture me, what is 
 the matter ?" he exclaimed, and his voice was agitated. 
 
 Then she turned slowly round and said in a dull 
 voice : " Briinne-Tillig has been here and proposed 
 for Elsa.'' 
 
 Koppel was thunderstruck. The ground seemed to 
 yawn at his feet, and a frightful faintness came over 
 him. With this, his carefully framed deceit must be 
 shattered. Now he must confess that he no longer 
 had "the officer's guaranty." 
 
44^ THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " That is — that — that is very good — and, what— does 
 Elsa say ?" 
 
 Frau Kathe was silent for a minute ; then she re- 
 plied : " Elsa has refused him." 
 
 Koppel drew a long breath. This way came rescue, 
 then ! But he felt how monstrous was the selfishness 
 which made him rejoice in his own heart that his 
 daughter had refused a suitor who doubtless would 
 have made her happy ; and he despised himself more 
 than ever. But he sought to conceal what went on 
 within him, and said, with an air of deep sympathy : 
 
 " That is a pity. Has the child positively decided ?" 
 
 Instead of answering, Frau Kathe shrugged her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " But why does she refuse ? She seemed to like 
 him." 
 
 " Ask yourself," Frau Kathe said, in a low voice. 
 
 He sat down and stared at vacancy. Then he rose, 
 walked about the room for awhile, and finally stopped 
 before his wife : " There is something here," he said, 
 "which I do not understand. I don't see why Elsa 
 said no, at once ; and, still less, why, just now, she was 
 sobbing in your arms. It seems to me you are con- 
 cealing something from me." 
 
 " It would only be to follow the example you have 
 set us," Frau Kathe replied. 
 
 Koppel started. " What do you mean by that ?" 
 he said. 
 
 "Hugo," she answered, with great sadness in her 
 voice, and lifted her pathetic brown eyes reproach- 
 fully to his, " do you think that we are blind ? You 
 neither talk, nor eat, nor sleep ; you are absent-minded, 
 you look distressed and ill ; and you don't tell us 
 what it is that burdens you. Is this right ? Are we 
 strangers 7 Do we belong to each other or do we 
 not ?" 
 
 He looked into her tear-wet eyes and her agitated 
 face, he marked the intense feeling in her voice, and 
 a full consciousness of what he had done came over 
 him as never before. The little arts of concealment, 
 denial, evasion, vanished as if scourged away, and, 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 447 
 
 like a flood breaking through all barriers came, almost 
 unconsciously and uncontrollably, from his lips the 
 words: " Kathe, you are right. 1 am a wretch. My 
 conduct towards you has been base. I have lost 
 every penny that was yours, and I have not had the 
 courage to tell you." And he himself fell on his 
 knees beside her, hiding his face against her breast, as 
 Elsa had done a few moments before. And Frau 
 Kathe held him close to her heart — that throbbing 
 heart of wife and mother, whose destiny it was to take 
 into itself every grief of those who were her own ; 
 and while with very gentle hand she smoothed his 
 hair, she said: 
 
 " Poor Hugo, I knew all this before." 
 
 He lifted his head hastily. What!" he said, "you 
 knew it ? How could you know it?" 
 
 " The man who came here ten days ago to harass 
 you gave me to understand very nearly how things 
 stood. He spoke of your transactions at the Bourse, 
 and he questioned me as to our means. And then a 
 paper, you know, came from the Tribunal. If you 
 had not been so worried, you would have noticed that 
 it was only folded together, and that any one could 
 read it." 
 
 " And you said not a word, though you knew it all 
 the time ?" 
 
 " It was for you to speak of it first." 
 
 " And you have not a word of reproach for me 
 now ?" 
 
 " You have suffered enough without that ! Indeed, 
 I saw it." 
 
 " Ah, Kathe, Kathe !" was all that he could sob 
 out. 
 
 " You have made me suffer bitterly," she went on, 
 speaking softly, " not because of the loss, for we shall 
 get over that, with God's help, but because of your 
 lack of confidence in me. How could you find it in 
 your heart to keep all this a secret? Have I ever 
 concealed anything from you ? Could I do it ? Until 
 now, you could not have done it. Hugo, you have 
 ceased to love me. That is what hurts, you see." 
 
44^ THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 He rose to his feet, then sat down by her side and 
 drew her into his arms, covering her with caresses. 
 And he sought to explain that it was not through any 
 lack of love, but instigated by love, that he had done 
 these wrong and foolish things, to spare her anxiety at 
 the moment, and, in the end, to lay a completed 
 fortune at her feet. 
 
 " But have I not been content with what we had ? 
 You might have asked my advice." 
 
 " If I had done that," he said, " I should be happy, 
 and not miserable, to-day!" 
 
 Briefly he told her the entire truth to the very last 
 word, with a kind of painful delight ; every sentence 
 of the avowal relieved his heart, and loosened the 
 fetters from his soul. The wonderful healing virtue of 
 confession penetrated to the innermost fibres of his 
 being, and imbued him with new life. 
 
 "Can you forgive me?" he- said, when she had 
 heard all. 
 
 " Now, I can," she said softly. 
 
 " Perhaps you do not consider the full extent of my 
 offence. Your money — the children's inheritance — " 
 
 " Let that go," she interrupted him tenderly ; " for 
 twenty years you have worked for us, and supported 
 us honestly ; I have no reproaches to make you." 
 
 He remained silent, Idst he should say too much. 
 Suddenly he asked a question : " Does Elsa know ?" 
 
 Frau Kathe bent her head in assent, and brushed 
 away the tears which again came to her eyes. 
 
 " Was it for this reason — " 
 
 Again she bent her head. 
 
 " Poor child !" he groaned ; " and this, too ! The 
 happiness of her life wrecked !" 
 
 He covered his face with his hands. And the poor 
 mother was too sorely affected herself to be able to 
 say a word. 
 
 After he had composed himself a little, he asked to 
 know the whole story, and Frau Kathe told him, as 
 she had heard it from Elsa. 
 
 Briinne-Tillig had just been there. He had come 
 early in the afternoon, and had begged Frau Kathe's 
 
THE FICKLE GODDESS. 449 
 
 permission to speak with Elsa alone. The mother 
 accordingly had withdrav;-n and left them together. 
 He began by saying to Elsa that, as he understood 
 they were soon to leave Paris and he himself was soon 
 to go, on leave of absence, and very probably would 
 not return, he felt that he must now speak. He had 
 loved her, he said, even since the first time he saw her, 
 and the year's acquaintance had shown him that she 
 was as good and clever as she was beautiful and at- 
 tractive ; he was sure he could never have a moment's 
 happiness without her, and he bagged her to become 
 his wife. She was extremely overcome ; and at first, 
 could not reply. He believed this was only a girl's shy- 
 ness and embarrassment, and went on to tell her what 
 he was in a position to offer her. He had no money 
 he said, beyond his officer's pay. She would probably 
 have to exchange her splendid Paris for some little 
 German country town. But he should worship her, 
 and he should make it the object of his life to com- 
 pensate her for the sacrifice. She had stopped him 
 here, that she might not lose what strength was left 
 to her, and had told him that it was impossible. He 
 could not believe he had heard aright, and asked her 
 if she had indeed said " no." And she was obliged to 
 repeat the "no," although it seemed as if she would 
 die. He questioned if she loved some one else ; upon 
 which she had cried out : " How could you think it ?" 
 He asked if she had not cared for him a little } Where- 
 at she would not answer, and began to shiver. He 
 was anxious to understand the matter, he begged, 
 implored ; but she was too proud to let him know 
 that " the officer's security " of 40,000 marks could not 
 be furnished by her parents, and only implored him to say 
 no more. No reason could be given ; but, it was im- 
 possible for her to marry him. Upon this, he desired 
 to see Frau Kathe — though much agunst Elsa's wish 
 — and told her frankly what distress Elsa's refusal had 
 caused him, begging the mother to tell him whether 
 really there was no hope. Frau Kathe could only say 
 that the girl herself must decide such a question, and 
 that no compulsion would be exercised over her by 
 
450 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 any one. With this answer, Briinne-Tillig went si- 
 lently away. And Elsa dropped upon the floor at her 
 mother's side, and whispered : " Mother, my life goes 
 with him." 
 
 " What I have to do," Koppel said, when Frau 
 Kathe, between her sobs, had told it all, " is to go to 
 Briinne-Tillig and tell him exactly the truth. He 
 ought to know that Elsa loves him, and that she only 
 cannot marry him because she has no dowry." 
 
 " Why should you humiliate her to no avail ?" 
 
 " It is not a humiliation to her, and if Briinne-Tillig 
 loves her truly, he will wait till he can marry her." 
 
 " That is Elsa's hope, too," Frau Kathe said eagerly. 
 " She could perhaps, herself, he able to earn this 
 money." 
 
 " Ten thousand francs she has already." 
 
 " But that does not belong to her." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " You must pay that to your creditor." 
 
 " Never!" Koppel said. " He has no claim on me, 
 you know." 
 
 " Oh yes ! he has. We are not dishonest people. 
 You owe the money and it must be paid. But we will 
 talk about this later. What I say now is that perhaps 
 Elsa would be able to earn her 75,000 francs. She 
 feels quite sure she could do it before so very long a 
 time if she is industrious and has good luck as before." 
 
 " Certainly, then, I will see Briinne-Tillig." 
 
 " It seemed to me we ought to say this to him. But 
 Elsa will not let you do it. She says : ' No. He must 
 be told nothing ; he must not feel himself bound ; if 
 he forgets me, it is not the love I have dreamed of, and 
 I will see then how I can bear it ; but if he is what I 
 think, he will be true to me until the time comes when 
 I can say to him that I am ready.' " 
 
 "That is a frightfully dangerous experiment." 
 
 " Poor child ! she knows that it is." 
 
 Both were silent, lost in painful thoughts. Koppel 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 " What am I now ?" he said. " A most unhappy 
 
ATROPOS. 45 1 
 
 wreck. I meant well for you all, but I have failed ; 
 and now I have to lannent over a life forever ruined." 
 
 " A humble life is not a ruined one," Frau Kathe 
 rejoined. " I am always contented when we are to- 
 gether. You would have remained so, too, if Henne- 
 berg had not made you dissatisfied. We cannot all be 
 millionaires. Nor do we need to be. Noise and show 
 are not happiness. A quiet life and to do one's duty — " 
 
 " But I have not done my duty — " he interrupted 
 her. 
 
 "You had been doing it for years, and you will do 
 it once more," Frau Kathe said, with her hand cling- 
 ing to his. " You meant well for us ; but you did not 
 take the right way. Why seek to go higher ? As for 
 me, I love dearly to be content with what I have. A 
 ruined life, you say ? Oh, no ; no life is ruined which 
 gives love and receives love." 
 
 " I have received love, my Kathe ; far more than I 
 deserve ; far, far more than I deserve," Koppel said, 
 and snatched her again into his arms, holding her 
 close, as if some one were going to tear her from him. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ATROPOS. 
 
 The Baroness Agostini went to her chateau in Brit- 
 tany, as usual, immediately after the Grand Prix, and 
 Henneberg accompanied her. But to his extreme 
 vexation he could not long remain, the situation of 
 the quicksilver-ring urgently recalling him to Paris. 
 The newspapers spoke of mysterious journeys which 
 he made in August and September. He was seen in 
 London, in New York, and in Chicago, then vanished 
 as unexpectedly as he had appeared. The Bourse 
 followed his movements with feverish attention and 
 gave expression in violent fluctuations of Almaden 
 and other quicksilver stocks to the conjectured mean- 
 ings of these journeys. 
 
452 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Near the end of September, Baron Agostini received 
 a telegram from Henneberg desiring him, with the 
 greatest urgency, "to come immediately to Paris for a 
 meeting of the syndicate which absolutely required his 
 presence and could not possibly be postponed." The 
 old baron, whose personal will had been, during the 
 last two years, completely destroyed, and who obeyed 
 Henneberg at a nod, at once ordered preparation to 
 be made for the journey. The baroness proposed to 
 accompany him, but he was unwilling to have her 
 abridge by three weeks her stay in the country. He 
 knew that she especially enjoyed the sunny, dreamy 
 early autumn of Brittany, with its warm colouring on 
 wood and heath, the melancholy music of its winds, 
 and that slight fragrance of the withered foliage and 
 dried aftermath, which reminds one of a faint trace of 
 incense ; and that she never willingly abandoned her 
 beloved wilderness until howling storms and pelting 
 rain rendered it nearly uninhabitable. He would see 
 what " the great planner," as with smiling, condescend- 
 ing admiration, he called Henneberg, wanted of him 
 so soon again ; and he would then return. Tlie jour- 
 ney in the luxurious parlour-car was not fatiguing. 
 
 In the library of his vast, silent house, Henneberg, 
 one morning, had gathered his associates. Besides 
 Agostini, there were Count Beira, General Zagal, 
 Kohn, the president of one of the great mining com- 
 panies, and two other financiers belonging to the 
 ring. The library had been selected, because it could 
 be most securely isolated from the rest of the house. 
 When the rooms on each side were locked, there was 
 no cause for anxiety about being overheard by the 
 servants. Excessive caution was necessary in this 
 respect, for the matter to be discussed was extremely 
 important. 
 
 Henneberg's calculations had proved to be in fault 
 at one point. It had been planned that the syndicate 
 with its own means, should pay for one year's output 
 from the mines, and it was the expectation that, for 
 the second year's purchase, the sale of the quicksilver 
 in the hands of the syndicate would amply provide the 
 
ATROPOS. 453 
 
 means. But it came about that this sale was not 
 made. The consumers refused to pay the syndicate's 
 price, and preferred to stop work, or to cany it on in 
 extremely reduced proportions. But at the mines, on 
 the other hand, work was urged to the utmost ; the 
 output was greatly increased and far more quicksilver, 
 was delivered than had been expected. The syndi- 
 cate, however, was obliged to accept it all, at the 
 price agreed upon, for otherwise the companies were 
 at liberty to throw it upon the market at their own 
 price, whereby the syndicate's stock would become 
 entirely unsalable. 
 
 During the first year the syndicate had had no 
 trouble in paying for all the quicksilver which the 
 mines delivered to it. In the second year it became 
 necessary to pledge this stock of metal to obtain 
 means to pay for further deliveries. Six months 
 earlier there would have been trouble if the fifty mil- 
 lion francs which the "shorts" in Almaden were 
 forced to pay, had not tided over the difficulty. Now, 
 however, there was no resource of any kind. The quick- 
 silver continued to pour in, in an ever-increasing mass, 
 inexhaustible, alarming, overwhelming ; and there was 
 scarcely any perceptible out-flow. 
 
 Although the utmost ingenuity was exerted to keep 
 secret the amount of the metal in hand, the dealers 
 and the great speculators conjectured the plethora. 
 It. became almost impossible to raise money on it any 
 longer. The banks and the moneyed men would lend 
 but very little, and required large interest. If terms 
 like these were accepted, then the lenders became very 
 suspicious, and conjectured that the syndicate was in 
 extremis. If they were not accepted, then, no loan 
 could be obtained. The enemies of the syndicate 
 meanwhile were far from idle. They had their emis- 
 saries everywhere, and seemed to have a presentiment 
 of the crisis, perhaps even more than a presentiment. 
 The attacks of the press became more and more violent 
 and well-directed. To fight them off required great 
 expenditure of money which could ill be afforded. 
 The influence of a large operator, heavily short, set par- 
 
454 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 liament and the government on the track. It was per- 
 haps at this man's instigation that a London bank called 
 in for Octobir its loan on a very large mass of metal, and 
 could not be persuaded to extend the time. Henne- 
 berg had endeavoured to gain over American multi- 
 millionaires for the syndicate. For this purpose he 
 had gone to America. But unacceptable conditions 
 had been insisted upon by the Americans. They in- 
 sisted on having the entire control of the syndicate ; 
 they would take the metal in hand at half the price 
 which the syndicate itself had paid for it ; in short, 
 they proposed to slaughter their European colleagues. 
 If one wished to cut his throat, one could do it with- 
 out applying to the Yankees. 
 
 "What a shameful race of adventurers!" Count 
 Beira said, with righteous indignation. 
 
 " Not the slightest fellow-feeling towards their col- 
 leagues !" whispered Kohn to hi<n, with a scarcely 
 perceptible wink. 
 
 " The situation will become extremely critical," 
 Henneberg went on, " if at least we cannot procure, 
 within the next two weeks, the 8,000,000 francs due in 
 London." 
 
 " And the French-Oriental Bank }" one of the finan- 
 ciers asked. 
 
 Baron Agostini looked up, and answered with an 
 impatience that ill concealed his anxiety : " What 
 more do you want of us ? Our entire stock, all our 
 deposits, are already sunk. We have nothing in our 
 vaults but quicksilver-warrants and Almaden certifi- 
 cates of stock. We cannot discount a note for our 
 oldest customers. If our depositors should require 
 their money any day, we should have to turn our 
 pockets inside out. Instead of crowding us any fur- 
 ther you ought to make things easier for us. That is 
 what / expect will be done to-day." 
 
 " Are we so bad off as that ?" sighed the second 
 financier, with discouraged aspect. 
 
 " My dear General, I depend upon you," Henne- 
 berg said, turning towards General Zagal. 
 
 " Upon me ?" hissed the little fat man, and his face 
 
ATROPOS. 455 
 
 grew more coppery than ever. "I have put nito this 
 enterprise 65,000,000 francs so far. Shall I sell my 
 Orders and the scabbard of my sword ? You have got 
 all my money." 
 
 "You are amalgamated," Kohn whispered to him. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" Zagal rejoined, savagely. 
 
 " Quicksilver has the property of taking up gold. 
 We call it amalgamating," Kohn said, impressively. 
 
 "I admire your cheerful mood, Monsieur Kohn," 
 Henneberg said. "You do not seem to observe that 
 is a question of safety or ruin, neither more nor less. 
 It is true you are only in for 3,000,000. The rest of 
 us have over 300,000,000 at stake. It is, therefore, of 
 some importance to us whether we win or lose." 
 
 " Don't be excited, my dear baron," Kohn rejoined 
 tranquilly ; " you have to be cool, to win in games like 
 these." 
 
 Henneberg gave him a savage look, which, however, 
 did not disturb him in the least, and went on : " The 
 situation demands effort and sacrifice from each one 
 of us. I have worked out a plan which will, without 
 any doubt, bring us out safe. We must have fresh 
 capital ; but this we cannot get from individuals, for 
 we should have to allow them to look into our affairs; 
 upon which they would at once decide that it was 
 more profitable for them, at present, to work against 
 us, than with us." 
 
 A faint groan came from one of the financiers. 
 
 " But what individuals will not give us we can obtain 
 from a great number. We must form a stock-com- 
 pany. We are not obliged to show our hands to the 
 public. There must be a great operation. We require 
 six hundred million francs. Whether obtained from 
 shares only, or whether in part from bonds, I leave an 
 open question, for the present. Thus we obtain the 
 means to hold out for at least two years longer ; and, 
 at the worst, the consumers cannot continue to sulk as 
 long as that." 
 
 Baron Agostini nodded approvingly, and Kohn's 
 face became suddenly very serious. 
 
 "A very good idea," he said; "but what if the 
 
4S6 THE DKONES MUST DIE. 
 
 public don't bite ? The newspapers, and all sorts of 
 individual efforts, will scare them off." 
 
 " I think, to begin, we should not try here," rejoined 
 Henneberg ;~ " we should turn to the Belgian, English, 
 and South-German money-markets. I have every- 
 thing in readiness to open the campaign through the 
 newspapers in these countries, as soon as the signal is 
 given." 
 
 " That would be all very well," Count Beira re- 
 marked, " but if we tui'n the syndicate into a joint- 
 stock company, our profits go to the stockholders ; 
 and all our anxieties and efforts for the last two years 
 have been for their benefit." 
 
 A fleeting smile of commiseration crossed Henne- 
 berg's face. " Don't suppose I am a child, my dear 
 Count. We reserve for ourselves founders' shares. 
 We guarantee the stockholders a dividend of, say five 
 per cent ; what is earned beyond that, we divide — 
 half to the shares, and half to the founders' shares." 
 
 " That would do very well," said Count Beira, paci- 
 fied. 
 
 Kohn was still very thoughtful. " You are quite 
 right," he remarked ; " we must appeal to the great 
 public ; but a small amount is not what we need, and 
 whether we can secure six hundred millions seems to 
 me very doubtful." 
 
 " You may suppose that I have taken that into con- 
 sideration," Henneberg said, somewhat superciliously ; 
 " something we are sure to get from the everyday 
 man ; in this way we get over the most urgent neces- 
 sity ; and after this we are not obliged to have ready 
 money. We can pay for the further output of the 
 mines in stock. The mines will consent, we may hope, 
 for they have the same interest with ourselves in 
 keeping up the syndicate." 
 
 All eyes were turned toward the president of the 
 mining company, who obstinatly perused a paper which 
 lay before him, and gave no indication as to the effect 
 of Henneberg's words upon him. 
 
 Henneberg turned directly toward him. " How do 
 you regard this idea, monsieur le directeur ?" he said. 
 
ATROPOS. 457 
 
 " The idea is good," the other replied, with some 
 reserve of manner ; " to me, personally, it commends 
 itself, but, of course, I, alone, can say nothing deci- 
 sive. I am dependent upon my finance committee. 
 And, besides, you need to have the consent of the 
 other mines, also. From us alone you would not get 
 the help you need." 
 
 " But you alone are of more importance than all the 
 others taken together," Henneberg said, persistently ; 
 " do not forget, monsieur le directeur, that we have 
 paid you, within the last two years, six hundred mil- 
 lions for an article which, at the utmost, is worth four 
 hundred and fifty millions. Whatever may become of 
 us in the future, you have already profited to the ex- 
 tent of a hundred and fifty millions, money down, and 
 this really makes it your duty to give us credit, at least 
 up to half that sum. If you agree to my proposition 
 and accept stock in payment, we are relieved from all 
 anxiety. Of course, I take for granted that you would 
 not bring it into the Bourse without suitable consider- 
 ation for the state of the market." 
 
 The president of the mining company remained im- 
 passive as ever. 
 
 " Go on and found your stock-company," he said ; 
 " when you get it established we will decide upon your 
 proposition." 
 
 " Since the matter in question is very comprehen- 
 sive and very difficult to handle," Henneberg went 
 on, " we must exercise great prudence, and must avoid 
 precipitate action. In two weeks we cannot possibly 
 get our company formed, send out our prospectuses, 
 and open our subscriptions. These preliminaries. I 
 should say, would require six weeks at least. Ibe 
 loan, whose payment is called for, is due in a fortnight. 
 We must not separate to-day until we have made pro- 
 vision to meet this London obligation. These rocks 
 passed, there is again plain sailing before us. Eight 
 millions must be raised. Upon this the future of our 
 enterprise depends absolutely. I have, personally, 
 through a heavy sacrifice, procured a million and a 
 half of ready money. I have, with the loss of half a 
 
4S8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 million francs, sold this house in which we now are. I 
 expect that you all will make like efforts. You will 
 make them more willingly if you reflect that every- 
 thing will be a hundredfold returned to us if once we 
 get safely past the tenth of October ; and, on the other 
 hand, that everything is lost if we fail to meet this ob- 
 ligation." 
 
 A profound silence followed Henneberg's words. 
 The two financiers looked at each other with anxious 
 faces ; the president of the mine examined his watch ; 
 Baron Agostini seemed broken and absent-minded ; 
 Zagal played nervously with his heavy gold chain and 
 his round eyes roamed from one to another. Count 
 Beira was the first to speak. " We have scarcely yet 
 recovered," he said, hesitatingly, " from our surprise 
 at being so abruptly recalled to Paris. What mon- 
 sieur le baron has had to say is most unexpected. 
 The situation is entirely different from what we had 
 supposed. I do not feel that I really understand it 
 now. To make up the eight millions will not be 
 difficult, however. I am ready for my part — " 
 
 " How much ?" broke in Henneberg. 
 
 " I cannot say off-hand. The matter is not so 
 urgent, I must look into my affairs a little. Probably 
 we all of us must do the same. Let us meet again in 
 a few days, in a week, say. Then we can each of us 
 make his proposition." 
 
 Murmurs of approval were audible, and Zagal 
 added : " That is the least — a few days' breathing 
 space." 
 
 The men all rose, and, in little groups, made brief 
 comments before leaving. " This contribution for 
 destitute milliardaires is amusing," Kohn said, coming 
 up to Henneberg. 
 
 " I admire your inexhaustible hilarity," Henneberg 
 replied in an exasperated tone. 
 
 " It is because I despise money. The first requisite 
 for a financier is contempt for money," Kohn said 
 smiling. 
 
 At this moment Baron Agostini joined them : " A 
 good idea," he said, " your stock-company, my dear 
 
ATROPOS. 459 
 
 baron. The quicksilver, as it were, a metal security 
 for the stock we issue. A very good idea." 
 
 "Stock with quicksilver value," Kohn observed; 
 and, as he went out, he whispered to Count Beira, who 
 did not at all understand what he meant : " If only 
 quicksilver is not too mobile for a support !" 
 
 The enemies of the ring must have known more 
 than Henneberg supposed, for, in the next few days, 
 extremely disturbing indications appeared. There 
 was an alarming amount of Almaden offered at the 
 Bourse, and in the quicksilver market there were sales 
 for future delivery. The most serious thing was that 
 certain great customers of the French-Oriental bank 
 withdrew their deposits. Baron Agostini was just pre- 
 paring to return to Brittany when the three heads of 
 departments from the bank, came to see him, and 
 made known to him that there was great need of an 
 immediate supply of ready money for the bank. Its 
 paper began to be regarded with distrust. That day 
 it had been refused by one of the most important 
 banks, and it would not be safe to offer their signa- 
 ture a second time there. If the refusal became pub- 
 licly known the worst might be feared. In no case 
 must the baron leave Paris. The situation absolutely 
 required his presence. 
 
 Baron Agostini used his last strength of self-com- 
 mand as long as his co-workers were present, and only 
 the tremulous motion of his head gave any reason to 
 suspect the impression which their news made upon 
 him. He bade them return to the bank and quietly 
 pursue their regular routine of duty, saying that he 
 would take the subject into consideration. To the 
 baroness he telegraphed that business would not allow 
 him to prolong his vacation any further, but that she 
 was not to be disturbed by this. Then he telephoned 
 Henneberg to come to him at once, and as soon as 
 the latter appeared, made known to him the steps 
 that had been taken by his heads of departments. 
 
 Henneberg's face grew grey as he listened, and he 
 .set his teeth hard. 
 
 "The most urgent thing now is," Agostini said, as 
 
4.6o THE DRONES MUST, DIE. 
 
 Henneberg remained silent, " that yon. come to my 
 • aid. This is more urgent than the London obliga- 
 tion." 
 
 V " That I see," Henneberg replied, " but I don't 
 understand why you depend upon me. You are one 
 of the money-kings • for thirty years you have held a 
 commanding position in the financial world ; you 
 know personally all the great bankers, both French 
 and foreign; it is far easier for you than for me, to 
 obtain assistance, if you will make personal effort. " 
 
 Baron Agostini would not let him go on. " That 
 is all talk," he said, with senile violence, "and is oi 
 no service in the case. My personal effort ? Do you 
 think it would be well for me to go and confess my- 
 self to Baron Zeil, for instance, or to Count Halevy 
 de Bruges, and implore assistance? At that price, I 
 would save neither myself nor my bank. My best 
 friends have drawn away from me of late. Three 
 months ago, my colleague, Gallois of the Gironde 
 Commercial bank said to me: 'My poor Agostini, be 
 careful ! you are in a bad way.' I gave myself into 
 your hands. That was, perhaps, an error. But it is 
 your business, now, to help me out of the difficulties 
 into which you have brought me." 
 
 In proportion to Agostini's increasing excitement, 
 Henneberg grew cooler. " Be assured, my dear 
 baron, that on my part, I will not be idle. But at this 
 moment every man must do his utmost. It is not a 
 time for any of us to sulk or to reproach one another. 
 If you, from despondency or obstinacy, fold your 
 hands and do nothing, you harm yourself, not me." 
 
 " Pardon me," the baron said angrily, "I am not at 
 all in difficulties. You, only, are embarrassed ; and it 
 is you who must look about for help. You forget that 
 I only need to sacrifice you, and I myself am freed 
 from all further anxiety." 
 
 " How is that ?" Henneberg asked derisively. 
 
 " How is it ? You are dreaming, are you ? I only 
 need to throw your Almadens upon the market, and to 
 sell the quicksilver that is in pawn to me, and I am 
 secure." 
 
ATROPOS. 461 
 
 " Let us examine into this," Henneberg said, and his 
 disdainful smile had not vanished. " You carry for the 
 syndicate 214,000 Almadens. The last bi-monthly set- 
 tlement gave the price at 670. This makes about 143 
 million francs. When we began this affair, Almadens 
 were 180, which is about their actual value. If you 
 sell us out, the price drops at least to 150, perhaps 
 lower. You get therefore about 32 millions. Loss, 
 109 millions ; that is to say, nine millions more than 
 your stock with the dividends amounts to. Do you 
 follow me ?" 
 
 Baron Agostini looked into vacancy, and his under 
 jaw trembled. 
 
 " It is the same with the quicksilver that you have 
 in pledge," Henneberg went on cruelly. "You have 
 about 800,000 flasks. Your loan is to the amount of 
 150 francs on the flask. This makes 120 million francs. 
 The natural price of the article is about 75 francs. If 
 you force a sale, you will hardly get 50, which at most 
 will make 40 million francs, leaving you here 80 mil- 
 lions out of pocket. On the additional 500,000 flasks 
 on which, in London and in Brussels, 75 francs had 
 been raised, you have given 60 francs more — 30 mil- 
 lions. This is lost to the last penny, if you sell in 
 haste. According to my calculations, your whole loss 
 would amount to 219 million francs, which means all 
 your own property, and a good deal more than half of 
 the deposits which remain to the bank. Hence, there 
 is no sense in your saying that you will throw me 
 over. You ruin me, no doubt, but yourself with me ; 
 and yourself first." 
 
 Baron Agostini breathed heavily and unevenly. 
 " It is all your fault," he raged ; " I don't know why I 
 have not been on my guard against you." 
 
 " This reflection comes too late," Henneberg re- 
 torted, with equally brutal frankness ; " we are now in 
 the same boat ; and, together, we go to the devil or 
 we come out safe. Remember, that all our difficulties 
 are over as soon as we get our stock-company estab- 
 lished. Until then, you will have to try to strike one 
 or another of your colleagues for the needed amount, 
 
4^2 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 however much your pride may kick against it. And, 
 on my part, I shall act with equal promptness." 
 
 He rose to go. Baron Agostini stretched a trem- 
 bling hand toward him. " You are going to leave me 
 alone," he complained, almost tearfully; "what shall 
 I do ? Upon whom can I depend ? My wife is not 
 here, either." 
 
 Henneberg looked at the old man with mingled 
 scorn and contempt. He had noticed the decline of 
 Agostini's mental strength for months, but that he 
 had become so enfeebled as this was a surprise. In 
 the usual routine of daily life, the baron did not as 
 yet show himself incapable. Silent he had always 
 been, and his present taciturnity could not be regarded 
 as a sign of mental enfeeblement ; his manners and 
 dress were, as always, faultless ; his chivalrous cour- 
 tesy towards his wife had remained unimpaired ; and he 
 played whist at the club no worse than he had always 
 done. It was only when he came into circumstances 
 which required extraordinary efforts of thought and of 
 will, that his loss of mental strength betrayed itself. 
 
 " Somebody to depend upon, dear baron," Henne- 
 berg said sharply ; " what the devil ! Somebody to 
 depend upon ? You are not a child to be afraid of 
 being left alone ! Go to your club, if you want com- 
 pany ! There will not be many people there just now, 
 but you can make up a game of whist any time. But 
 don't say a word about business." 
 
 " That is never done at the club," the baron said, 
 with a reminiscence of his earlier pride in correctness 
 of manners. 
 
 " Very good ! Then don't do it now ; for if you let 
 it be supposed that you have any causes for anxiety, 
 you would not even find a partner for a game of whist. 
 And, above all things, leave the baroness in peace. I 
 hope you will not disturb her. It is fortunate that 
 she is in Brittany, and our troubles are out of her 
 sight. She must stay there till we have hewn our way 
 through. That is a respect that you owe to the 
 baroness." 
 
ATROP()S. 463 
 
 " Concerning the respect I owe to my wife, I accept 
 no man's instruction," the baron said with dignity. 
 
 " Certainly not. I only meant — Well, then : Cour- 
 age ! 1 shall stand by you. But compose yourself as 
 much as possible. Remember that I lose nothing but 
 money if we go on to the rocks, but you have a great 
 name and reputation in the world of finance at stake. 
 Although you are the chief owner in your bank, still 
 there are other stockholders and there are many de- 
 positors. You are responsible to them, but I am re- 
 sponsible to nobody." 
 
 " What !" Agostini exclaimed, " not responsible 
 towards me?" 
 
 " Yes, of course ; in a way, yes. But that is only 
 moral responsibility, which is not so important. I was 
 thinking of legal responsibility, in court, I mean." 
 
 " In court !" The words were like drops of molten 
 lead falling on the baron's ear. His face was distorted 
 for an instant as if by a sharp twinge of physical pain, 
 and his head shook. 
 
 "Good-bye, then, dear baron," Henneberg said, at 
 last. " This evening, about nine, I will look in. It is 
 to be hoped we may have good news for each other." 
 He extended his hand, into which, hesitatingly, 
 the baron laid two fingers of his own, and went 
 out, passing the lackeys in the ante-room and on the 
 stairs — now not in their grand livery, because the 
 baroness was absent — with head held as high, and 
 glance as hard and cold as ever in the height of his 
 prosperity. 
 
 When Baron Agostini was alone he literally col- 
 lapsed like an india-rubber figure which had been 
 punctured. His capacity for resolute action was des- 
 troyed, but he had a full consciousness of Henneberg's 
 conduct towards himself. He had at first patronized 
 the younger man, then admired him ; the syndicate 
 had seemed to him a very brilliant conception, the 
 Almaden speculation which was grafted upon it a 
 clever trick of the Bourse united with a serious mone- 
 tary scheme. To his co-workers in the French-Ori- 
 ental bank, who, a few months after the ring had 
 
4^4 THE DRONES MUST UIE. 
 
 been formed, attempted respectfully to warn him, lie 
 explained, in a friendly way : " We Frenchmen arc 
 too timid. We do not venture beyond the trodden 
 paths. This Prussian, on the contrary, is bold, orig- 
 inal and full of ideas. He calculates prudently, like 
 a German, and acts daringly, like an American ; we are 
 sure to succeed if we copy his methods." 
 
 When the difficulties began, the old rnan became 
 anxious, he spoke of curtailing his share in the syndi- 
 cate, did not propose to become involved to any dan- 
 gerous extent ; but Henneberg held him fast and 
 would not let him go, persuading and threatening, de- 
 picting, with the skill of a preaching friar, the two 
 worlds — an inferno of ruin, the penalty of cowardice ; 
 a paradise of untold millions, the reward of valour. 
 Baron Agostini felt himself in an iron grip, and made 
 no further effort to escape. The undaunted courage 
 of Henneberg's words and bearing inspired him with 
 confidence. He lamented, privately — on general prin- 
 ciples of self-respect, so to speak — that he had deliv- 
 ered himself over to Henneberg, but he felt secure in 
 the other's ability to bring everything to a prosperous 
 termination. 
 
 Within the past three days this confidence had been 
 rudely shattered. The critical moment of the strug- 
 gle was at hand, and instead of shielding the baron 
 with his own body, Henneberg placed him under fire. 
 His valiant talk was all brag, then ? He slipped away 
 at the moment when others most needed him ? This 
 was a frightful awakening. 
 
 The baron was embittered towards Henneberg 
 because the latter had presented to him as carefully 
 matured, firmly grounded plans, a something which 
 proved to be mere empty dreaming ; but he was even 
 more bitter towards himself, in that he could have 
 been deceived by the illusions of a schemer. His 
 irritation against Henneberg was, however, exceeded 
 by his fear of him. The baron knew that Henneberg 
 was indispensable to himself at this crisis of the 
 adventure, but he was conscious of the other's pitiless 
 hardness and selfishness, which scarcely veiled itself 
 
ATROPOS. 465 
 
 behind an exterior of common civility. He felt as an 
 Alpine climber might feel at the most dangerous 
 point of a glacier, conscious that he was entirely in the 
 hands of his guide, and suspecting the man's intention 
 to rob, or perhaps even to murder him. A horror 
 seized him when Henneberg had gone. This cool 
 adventurer had no idea of saving him, he thought, but 
 used him as a last stake in a cut-throat game, where 
 he himself had nothing more to lose. There must be 
 an escape from this shameful dependence. Alone, 
 however, he could not encounter his enemy ; alone, he 
 could not carry on the war. He was too feeble, and 
 he was too anxious. He must have some one at his 
 side to inspire him with confidence. Henneberg had 
 almost threateningly insisted that the baroness should 
 not be sent for. Naturally : he was afraid of her. 
 She, alone, had any ascendancy over him. It was 
 scarcely courteous to summon her at this time to 
 Paris, but courtesy must give way. In his distress it 
 was permissible to call for help. The mere presence 
 of this strong, decided and tranquil woman was a pro- 
 tection to him. He knew not why, nor at this moment 
 did he ask, but he felt sure that behind that stately 
 figure he could shelter himself from attack. 
 
 His will was too much broken for him to decide at 
 once even on the s^imple measure of sending her a 
 telegram ; but after, for a whole long hour, he had 
 tortured himself with attempts to do it, and the sub- 
 sequent failures, he finally came to the point ; he tele- 
 graphed, begging the baroness to return to Paris at 
 her earliest convenience, saying that he was in circum- 
 stances of distress, where her intelligence and, at any 
 rate, her kindness would be of inestimable value to 
 him. This being done, he felt somewhat more confi- 
 dent, and pulled himself together sufficiently to go to 
 the bank, and, by his presence, re-assure his heads of 
 departments. 
 
 Henneberg was meditating, as he left the baron, 
 upon possible expedients for getting over the embar- 
 rassment of the moment. A run upon the French- 
 Oriental bank was, again, a disaster upon which he had 
 
466 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 not counted. If this were not averted, the storm 
 would break before the London loan became due, and 
 the founding of a stock-company would come far too 
 late to be of any service. He reflected upon the sit- 
 uation calmly, for he had accustomed himself for sev- 
 eral weeks to consider the worst possibilities, even 
 complete ruin, and he had taken his precautions for 
 this case. He had arranged to " fall easy " himself. 
 But he would fight till the last moment, from self-re- 
 spect or from vanity. His opponents, and especially 
 that one great speculator whose enormous purchases 
 of Almaden had not ceased during two years, should 
 not see themselves in the position of victors able to set 
 their feet upon the neck of the vanquished. He now 
 proposed remorselessly to make use of his accomplices. 
 He would take their last drop of blood. Perhaps from 
 the extreme sacrifice victory might come ; so much the 
 better, if it did. But if not, it would cause him not the 
 slightest regret that his comrades should lie upon the 
 field, a prey to vultures and wolves. 
 
 He caught himself more and more frequently in a 
 savage way wondering how they would look when they 
 began to creep away. The unspeakable General 
 Zagal ! whether he would seek to set on foot another 
 revolution in his country in order to pilfer on all sides 
 a new fortune ? And poor Count Beira, not over 
 strong of brain ! Would he establish new street rail- 
 ways, or content himself to spend the evening of his 
 days in genteel poverty at Wiesbaden ! And the 
 others — what thrashing about, what wide-opened 
 mouths seeking revenge, when these sharks should lie 
 out on dry ground ! It vexed him that he could not 
 hope to get an amusing spectacle of this kind at the 
 expense of Kohn. That crafty knave had not delivered 
 himself over completely, as the others had done. He 
 had only assumed a limited responsibility. If he lost 
 the three million francs which he had risked, he had 
 still property enough, and also he had his business as a 
 broker, which would, in a short time, make him rich 
 again. Almost as diligently as he sought for means 
 of safety, did Henneberg also seek to find some means 
 
ATROPOS. 467 
 
 whereby Kohn might be so enmeshed that the down- 
 fall of the group would drag him down ; but so far, 
 unsuccessfully. 
 
 The downfall of Baron Agostini was a different 
 matter. Henneberg had made the baron the main 
 pillar of the syndicate for the purpose of establishing 
 a lasting tie between himself and the Agostinis. He 
 desired to have, as it were, a legal right to come and 
 go at all times, in their house. He desired to have 
 his relations with them placed above all chance of 
 social accident, and to make it impossible for the 
 baron ever to neglect him, or even to throw him over, 
 as the result of any caprice, or if irritated by any 
 gossip. Perhaps it was this wish, rather than a desire 
 for enormous wealth, that suggested to him the idea 
 of the quicksilver ring. In the self-wor.ship of his own 
 strength, he despised the baron for his senile weakness 
 of mind and will ; but he could not be jealous of him ; 
 nor did he hate him. The baron was a hindrance, 
 doubtless, that often roused his impatience, but he 
 felt that this could not last much longer, and, mean- 
 time, the old man had his usefulness. 
 
 Her marriage had very nearly rehabilitated the bar- 
 oness. It was true indeed that some extremely fastidi- 
 ous and high-bred ladies kept aloof from her, but 
 there were many others of equal wealth and station 
 with these, and of unquestionable descent, who chose 
 to ignore completely her past history, and sought 
 her society freely. For a man who had not the ex- 
 tremely high standing of Baron Agostini, it would 
 have been, certainly, a false step to marry the mistress 
 of the late Count Rigalle ; but to m.arry the widow of 
 Baron Agostini was to run no risk of incurring disap- 
 proval, even in the very strictest salons. 
 
 That the collapse of the ring would give to the 
 baron his death blow, Henneberg did not for a 
 moment doubt, though whether the excitement and 
 humiliation would kill him quickly or slowly, could 
 not be foreseen. This conviction mingled an exciting 
 hope — wicked, but none the less pleasing on that 
 account — with Henneberg's heavy anxieties concern-. 
 
468 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 ing the future. At the same time, a worrying uncer- 
 tainty as to how the baroness would regard the disas- 
 ter, overlay, and in a degree smothered, this feeling 
 in his heart. It was so difficult to tell what she would 
 do, in any given case, and the code of morals — differ- 
 ent from every other known — which she had laid 
 down for herself, contained so many entirely unex- 
 pected decrees! He trusted, however, to his own 
 daring and his own determination to conquer the 
 beautiful, self-willed v/oman, who for two years, had 
 been the one great incitement of his life ; and he 
 tranquillised himself with the assurance that, once 
 she were free, he should know how, with the might of 
 a desire that made his will unbending, to master her, 
 no matter what had gone before. 
 
 The situation appeared to his mental vision in the 
 form of a singular picture. Before him yawned an 
 abyss, filled with impenetrable clouds. On the further 
 side, the baroness sat on the terrace of her Breton 
 chateau and looked across, with something like a 
 promise in her brilliant dark eyes. Yet, how to reach 
 her ? This was the problem of the hour. He must 
 bridge the gulf in some way, or seek to fill it, were it 
 with the bodies of men. Which he should do was a 
 matter of indifference to him — only to cross, in some 
 way, the impassable gulf, and reach her on the terrace 
 there. Could he but be there, it would not disturb 
 him in the least, whatever groans or cries of distress 
 might follow him. 
 
 Henneberg went first to General Zagal, who occu- 
 pied a magnificent house near the Arc de Triomphe. 
 He explained to the South-American the situation of 
 the bank, and that he must make some sacrifice, or else 
 lose everything, while he would save everything if the 
 bank stood firm. Zagal writhed like a snake under his 
 words and look. He cursed the day on which he had 
 first heard of the quicksilver syndicate. But Henne- 
 berg only smiled derisively, dilated on the necessity of 
 protecting the bank, and never ceased, until Zagal, 
 overpowered, groaned out that he would consult his 
 brother-in-law, who had recently arrived in Paris. 
 
ATROPOS. 469 
 
 The money was needed on the instant, it was plain, 
 for the dawning anxiety of the depositors would in- 
 crease hourly ; but nothing more could be obtained 
 from Zagal but the promise that he would go to see 
 his brother-in-law, immediately after dejeuner. 
 
 From 'LdL%3S., Henneberg drove to Kohn's, and found 
 him at table in company with the painter, Pierre. 
 Kohn would not hear of interrupting his repast, but in- 
 vited the visitor to share it. The meal was not a pro- 
 longed one, for before twelve o'clock, Kohn must be at 
 the Bourse ; but during its progress the master of the 
 house chatted vivaciously and diffusively, as usual about 
 paintings and artists, and manifested a tranquillity of 
 mind, a withdrawal from all thoughts of business of 
 whatever kind, that filled Henneberg with envy, wrath, 
 and reluctant admiration. Not until Kohn had luxur- 
 iously enjoyed the last bit of his exceptional calville, did 
 he allow himself to say to his sombre visitor : " Now 
 tell me what has given me the pleasure — " which was 
 a signal to Pierre to take his leave. 
 
 Henneberg had a message to entrust to Kohn. He 
 was to go to the great speculator who had so long 
 raided Almaden, and, in Henneberg's name, make 
 propositions for peace. As Kohn looked much sur- 
 prised, Henneberg went on to explain. Kohn was to 
 point out to the enemy that he would make more by 
 coming to an agreement than by continuing hostilities. 
 If he , resisted, Almaden would be made to go up to 
 1,000 francs, to 1,500 francs, and he would get the 
 worst of it in the end. If he would agree, he would 
 be allowed to cover at the present quotations, and 
 should then be taken into the syndicate, so that he 
 might quickly make good his loss. 
 
 " If you are successful, my dear Kohn," Henneberg 
 said, " that saves us. The bank can without fatal loss, 
 unload its Almadens, and obtain enough ready money 
 to leave us undisturbed to mature peacefully our 
 plan for the stock-company." 
 
 Kohn, smiling, praised this idea, and promised to 
 act in accordance with Henneberg's instructions 
 After the Bourse, at four o'clock, he would report. 
 
47° THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 rienneberg awaited the result of this step with a 
 good deal of impatience. To control this, in a reason- 
 able degree, he went to the bank, with the idea of see- 
 ing what the situation was there. The great hall was 
 unusually full ; everywhere sat or stood groups of 
 people talking eagerly but in low voices, and at the 
 counter where the checks were paid men waited in 
 crowds. An old doorkeeeper, whose breast was cov- 
 ered with ribbons and medals, rose from his seat be- 
 hind the table at the door, when he saw Henneberg, 
 saluted respectfully, and said that monsieur le baron 
 was upstairs in his private ofSce. 
 
 "I will not disturb him," Henneberg said, " I only 
 looked in as I was passing. There seems to be a good 
 deal going on here to-day ?" 
 
 " What do you think, monsieur le baron," the mnn 
 said, in a voice lowered to a whisper which was full of 
 excitement and wrath," it has been reported that we 
 are in difficulties. The French-Oriental bank in dif- 
 ficulties I Then, everything stops ! And now the fools 
 come, in a crowd, and call for their money. See 
 those men there at the counter, monsieur le baron. 
 It's getting more quiet now, but an hour and a half 
 ^go. you should have seen it ! You would have 
 thought there was a riot. I have been here twenty- 
 eight years, and I never saw anything like it 
 before." 
 
 " They got what they wanted, then ?" Henneberg 
 asked, and through his monocle he inspected the crowd 
 at the counter. 
 
 " How can any one ask that question !" exclaimed 
 the door-keeper indignantly. " Of course they did I 
 And now the doodles are ashamed of their scare, and 
 are paying in over there at the other counter what 
 they have just received at this one." 
 
 And it was a fact that some persons, not many, had 
 crossed from the left side of the hall to the right, and 
 had sat down at the long table to fill out blanks for 
 deposit. 
 
 Henneberg observed the scene for a few minutes, 
 and then went on. He was rejoiced, but surprised, 
 
ATROPOS. 471 
 
 The machinery of the bank was working smoothly ; 
 all claims were promptly paid ; the old man evidently 
 had obtained money. Yes, Henneberg thought, it 
 was an inestimable advantage to the baron to be his 
 father's son. A self-made man, the artisan of his own 
 fortunes, has only himself to depend upon. To such 
 an hereditary dynasty of finance help flows in on 
 every side, at a moment of danger. 
 
 Agostini's grandfather, a Levantine money-changer, 
 had come to Paris -in the time of the Directory, and 
 had founded a banking business. Napoleon I. had made 
 this man a baron. His son had changed the paternal 
 bank into a stock-company, under the July monarchy ; 
 and thirty years ago the third baron had succeeded 
 his father as president of the company. Agostini had 
 almost a century of undisturbed financial success be- 
 hind him, and now reaped the advantage of his family 
 position. " The old man is, by himself alone, good for 
 more than the other half-dozen of new-baked million- 
 aires that I have to deal with." This was the conclu- 
 sion of Henneberg's series of reflections, and with his 
 contempt for such a physical and mental wreck there 
 was mingled however, a certain involuntary respect 
 for the magic of secure hereditary reputation. 
 
 Kohn did not come at four o'clock to Henneberg's 
 house. He called him up by telephone instead, to say 
 that the enemy had contemptuously refused the pro- 
 position of peace. 
 
 " When I offered him Almaden at 640, he laughed 
 in my face and replied : ' I shall cover at 100.' " 
 
 " He will cover at 2000 !" cried Henneberg into the 
 telephone so that the answer reached Kohn as a roar. 
 
 " We will hope so," hummed back the reply; but 
 the tone-colour was not so decided. 
 
 All the evening papers took note of the affair of the 
 French-Oriental bank. The unfriendly said merely 
 that a beginning of panic had manifested itself, but, in 
 the course of the afternoon, confidence had been re- 
 .stored, as the current rumour of a suspension of pay- 
 ments had not been confirmed. Those papers which 
 had reason to break a l^nce in defence of the bank and 
 
472 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the ring were extremely indignant at the base attack 
 that had been made in the dark upon the good name 
 of one of the greatest monetary houses in the country, 
 and had no doubt that the authorities would proceed 
 against the originators of this malicious rumour with 
 the utmost decision, since these wretches were public 
 enemies and, through- undermining the general confi- 
 dence, might easily bring unavertible disaster upon the 
 business world and the community at large. 
 
 At nine o'clock in the evening Henneberg, according 
 to agreement, appeared in the rue Fortuny. He 
 found the baron alone in his smoking-room, cower- 
 ing in the corner of a divan, smoking a strong cigar, 
 which was not the first one, to judge by the condition 
 of the atmosphere in the room, and gazing into va- 
 cancy. At Henneberg's entrance he raised his head, 
 and without so much as offering him the tip of a 
 finger as he had done in the morning, he feebly asked : 
 "Well?" 
 
 Henneberg was surprised. He had expected to 
 find the baron triumphant, with crest erect. 
 
 " I congratulate you," he said ; "you have evidently 
 worked successfully. You see, my advice was good. 
 May I ask, from what rock your rod drew forth 
 water?"' 
 
 Agostini had the air of not hearing this question, and 
 repeated his inquiry : " Well ? How did you suc- 
 ceed ?" 
 
 Henneberg was obliged to confess that there was 
 almost nothing to say ; a promise from Zagal ; that 
 was all. 
 
 " But how much have you obtained, dear baron ? 
 How large a provision has been made ?" 
 
 The baron gave some inarticulate murmur in reply, 
 and sank back into inexorable silence, from which no 
 talk or question of Henneberg could draw him forth. 
 The latter shook his head, undisguisedly scrutinized 
 the old man for a time through his monocle, then 
 asked : " Shall I call your man ?" 
 
 " Why ?" Agostini asked, slightly stirred by this 
 question, 
 
ATROPOS. 473 
 
 " Dear baron, I fear you are ill ; or, at least, very- 
 tired. You really need repose." 
 
 " I dare say," the baron rejoined, in a surly tone. 
 " Your communications, certainly, are not very re- 
 assuring." 
 
 " For the moment you have provided nobly ; to- 
 morrow will be Sunday ; nothing can hurt us to-mor- 
 row Forget business for thirty-six hours and take 
 care of yourself, dear baron. Day after to-morrow we 
 will set to work with renewed strength." 
 
 Agostini made no reply ; he only straightened him- 
 self in his corner, leaned his head back on a cushion, 
 and blew rings of smoke into the air. Henneberg de- 
 cided that it would be best to leave him alone. As he 
 went away he recommended to the servant in waiting 
 in the anteroom to keep an eye to his master, as the 
 baron did not seem to be quite well. His own thought 
 was that the end was nearer for the old man than he 
 had thought and secretly had hoped. It vexed him 
 only that he had not been able to learn how Agostini 
 had obtained help, and how much help he had ob- 
 tained. 
 
 The baron had not thought it necessary to reveal to 
 him the state of the case. There had been paid in 
 about noon, by a small Balkan state, of which the 
 bank was agent, the money to meet coupons of its loan 
 falling due the 13th of October, and it was by the use 
 of these funds that the bank had been able to satisfy 
 its depositors. 
 
 Chance had favoured Agostini here, for the Balkan 
 state might not have furnished the requisite funds un- 
 til some days later. This seemed to him a hint of 
 destiny. Since a space was granted him he felt that 
 he must use it. A telegram from the baroness which 
 he received the next morning made it easier for him 
 to decide on a desperate step. She telegraphed from 
 Lorient that she was en route, and would arrive in Paris 
 about midnight. Now his distressing solitude would 
 be at an end. He would now have some one with him 
 upon whom he could depend. With more courage 
 
474 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 than he had hitherto had, he set forth about noon on 
 his painful errand to Baron Zeil. 
 
 In the first half of the century, the Zeils and the 
 Agostinis had been savage rivals and enemies. The 
 stroke of policy converting them both into supports 
 of the Second Empire had reconciled them with each 
 other and they had peacefully shared the world be- 
 tween them. The Zeils took the West, the Agostinis 
 the East ; the former established railways, the latter, 
 lines of steamships ; the Zeils, who were Jews, supplied 
 money to the Pope ; the Agostinis, who were Catholics, 
 made loans to the Grand Turk. Since his marriage, 
 Agostini's social relations with Zeil had ceased, for the 
 Baroness Zeil would not receive the Baroness Agostini. 
 Zeil, however, did not appear surprised when Agostini 
 came to his house. " I was just driving out to the 
 hunt," he said ; " what gives me this pleasure, my 
 dear old friend }" 
 
 " I will not keep you long, my dear baron," Agostini 
 replied : " I come to-day seeking for help." 
 
 Zeil contracted his eyebrows as he listened, while 
 Agostini revealed to him the situation of the bank, 
 which he represented as merely an embarrassment for 
 the moment, to be easily relieved by a not very large 
 amount of ready money. 
 
 " I have been expecting your visit for years," Zeil 
 said, when Agostini ceased speaking. " I fear that 
 you are deceiving yourself now, on this subject. In 
 my opinion the situation is very much more serious 
 than you seem to think it, so serious that I see no 
 possibility of doing anything." 
 
 Agostini sought to dispel this notion, sought to 
 prove that Zeil was mistaken ; but the latter shook his 
 head and replied : " I could never understand how 
 you were willing to be connected with an adventurer 
 like this Henneberg." 
 
 " The man has brilliant ideas." 
 
 " A man who has ideas must, from that very fact, 
 awaken distrust. What have you and I to do with 
 ideas ? Ideas are for paltry fellows who have to pull 
 
ATROPOS. 475 
 
 the wool over men's eyes. We have no occasion 
 to do that!" 
 
 " But you don't object to investing money in experi- 
 ments in electrical transmission ?" 
 
 " Only a few hundred thousand francs. If it 
 amounts to anything, well and good ; if not, it has been 
 an amusement to me. In the same way, I buy 
 Renaissance altars, which sometimes prove to be 
 manufactured last year. But a venture which involves 
 milliards, is quite another thing." 
 
 " I have no question myself that this quicksilver 
 business is a good scheme." 
 
 " It may be so. But, then, you must keep the mat- 
 ter entirely in your own hands. You should put your 
 Henneberg into a secretary's position, unless you shake 
 him off entirely, which is always the most advisable. 
 Such people have no idea how to handle a large 
 capital. It has been a real grief to me to watch you 
 this last year." 
 
 " I am obliged to you for this feeling, my dear 
 baron, but I should like to have something more from 
 you. Think what the results will be if I — if I am not 
 able to go on." It was not easy for Agostini to put 
 his thoughts into language. " The whole community 
 would be thrown into confusion. The public would 
 attack all the other banks of deposit. My downfall 
 would cause other disasters. The danger is beyond 
 our power to foresee." 
 
 " Unhappily, you do not at all exaggerate, dear 
 baron. And exactly because these dangers are im- 
 pending, we need to be unusually careful. Our first 
 duty is to avert disaster from the banks and protect 
 the community from a general crash. But in order 
 to save those who are yet alive, we must let the 
 dead go." 
 
 "And you throw me out among the dead, do you ?" 
 
 " I only state a painful fact." 
 
 Agostini rose and drew himself up as much as he 
 was able. " I see, then, that I have nothing to ex 
 pect from you," he said. 
 
 Zeil shrugged his shoulders indecisively. 
 
476 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 " I shall have to try to get it through alone, then," 
 he said, " I am still Baron Agostini, my dear Baron 
 Zeil." 
 
 "And I hope that you will long remain to us," 
 Zeil answered, with a faint smile, as he conducted his 
 visitor to the door. When Agostini had gone, Zeil 
 gave orders to his servant, under no circumstances 
 again to admit that gentlernan. 
 
 Before Agostini had gone to Zeil, he had planned 
 two or three other visits. The lack of success of his 
 first step deprived him of all further elasticity and he 
 returned home completely discouraged, where he 
 stupefied himself with smoking and aimless brooding 
 over the situation. From this beneficent doze he was 
 suddenly roused by Henneberg, who, towards even- 
 ing came in unannounced and asked abruptly : " Have 
 you heard anything about legal proceedings, baron ?'' 
 
 ''Legal proceedings?" Agostini said, and remained 
 open-mouthed. 
 
 " Has there no summons been sent ? Has no one 
 been here ?" 
 
 " What are you talking about ?" the old man said. 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 " So much the better. I have been seeing Zagal. 
 His ambassador was at the house of the Minister of 
 Justice to-day. He told Zagal's brother-in-law that 
 the Minister had told him, as the latest news, that he 
 had directed the attorney-general to open proceedings 
 against the syndicate. Senators and deputies had so 
 beset him that he had decided to take this step for the 
 sake of peace. You understand, I laugh at this. 
 Only on your account I should regret it." 
 
 " I know nothing about it, and I think it is all talk." 
 
 " At any rate I want to say to you that you have 
 no occasion to be disturbed. You had a perfect right 
 to employ your funds as you judged best. Neither 
 can you be accused of dividing imaginary profits. For 
 if the bank paid these dividends it must have had the 
 money to do it. And that any one should dig up an 
 obsolete statute against monopolists, to use it against 
 us, is what I cannot believe. The government is too 
 
ATROPOS. 477 
 
 up-to-date for that. They would be ashamed of such 
 tom-foolery. What I am teUing you, my dear baron, 
 is the opinion of one of our great lawyers, a former 
 president of the benchers. And so, once more, do 
 not feel anxious, even if you receive a summons." 
 
 " I am obliged to you," Agostini said gloomily ; "it 
 was hardly worth while to bring all this rigmarole to 
 me." 
 
 Henneberg bit his lips and departed abruptly. 
 
 At midnight the Baroness Agostini arrived in Paris. 
 She was accompanied only by her maid and her stew- 
 ard. The other servants were left behind at the 
 chateau. As she stepped from the train, her husband 
 stood before her. At sight of him she started invol- 
 untarily. His moustache and " fly " were badly dyed, 
 and had a flecked and smeared look. His monocle 
 hung from his neck, for the muscles of his face had 
 not the strength to hold it in the eye for more than a 
 minute at a time ; and the hard electric light deepened 
 and darkened all the wrinkles of his emaciated face. 
 
 " What is it ?" she whispered anxiously, as he bent 
 over her hand and kissed it. 
 
 " Not here," he replied in a low voice, and he rather 
 seemed to cling to her arm than to offer his. Without 
 a word they passed through to the door of exit, where 
 the landau of the baroness and a char-a-banc for the 
 servants and the luggage were waiting. No sooner 
 had the footman assisted the baron to enter the car- 
 riage and closed the door, than the old man turned to 
 his wife ; with his two trembling hands he clasped hers, 
 he leaned his head against her shoulder and mur- 
 mured : 
 
 "I thank you, Augusta. You are very kind to me. 
 You come at the first call. You do not leave me 
 alone. I thank you." 
 
 " But what is it ?" she asked. " Do not keep me any 
 longer in uncertainty." 
 
 " I am ruined. I have lost everything, " was the 
 answer. 
 
 " What did you say?" she exclaimed. " It is impos- 
 sible ! You, Agostini, ruined ! Has the Bank ol 
 
478 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 France stopped payment ? This cannot be true. You 
 are seeing ghosts." 
 
 " No, Augusta, or, rather, yes," he said, " I am see- 
 ing ghosts. But I see them because they are there ; 
 and they stretch their arms Out to me to drag me down 
 with them into the grave." 
 
 He broke into a kind of smothered sobbing with 
 which his whole wasted form shook like a dried branch 
 in the wind. Her hand, as she gently passed it over 
 his cheek, felt no tears ; but he shuddered convulsively 
 under her touch. 
 
 The baroness had but a single thought ; he had un- 
 doubtedly gone mad. She knew that it sometimes 
 occurs that a very aged person is seized with the de- 
 lusion that he has lost everything and has become a 
 beggar. Without doubt, this had happened to Agos- 
 tini. She made no effort to get any further informa- 
 tion from him. What value could anything have 
 which he might say? She endeavoured to soothe him 
 with kind words and assurances that all would yet be 
 well. He made no answer, but only shook his head, 
 and clung to her, all the time, like a frightened 
 child. 
 
 Rapidly as the carriage moved, the route from Quai 
 d'Austerlitz to the rue Fortuny seemed endless ; each 
 time a street lamp flashed its light though the window, 
 the baroness saw the worn face, with shut eyes and 
 trembling lips, that rested against her shoulder, and a 
 terror came over her that all the efforts of her deter- 
 mined will was scarcely able to subdue. If they could 
 only reach home ! Should she at once, in the night, 
 send for a specialist in brain diseases, or would it be 
 better to summon Henneberg first, and consult with 
 him ? While she still hesitated, they reached the 
 house. 
 
 From the street door to the inner rooms, all was 
 brilliantly lighted. The lackeys were in their blue and 
 silver, and stood, as usual, along the hall and on the 
 stairs, to welcome their mistress ; the baroness passed 
 them, without a look, apparently leaning on the baro- 
 ness's arm, while, in reality, she held him up and 
 
ATROPOS. 479 
 
 almost dragged him along. To the servant in attend- 
 ance she gave orders that tea and cold fowl should 
 be brought to the little salon. With the maid's help, 
 she rapidly changed her travelling attire for a lace 
 dressing-gown, and her shoes for slippers, used per- 
 fumed water for her face and hands, and hastened to 
 rejoin the baron who, cowering in the corner of a 
 divan, awaited her. When she had dismissed the 
 maids and the men, and was alone with Agostini, she 
 sat down by him, took his hands in hers, and in the 
 gentlest tone of her musical voice she said : " Now tell 
 me, mon ami, tell me the whole story." 
 
 '' What I have to tell is only this," he said gloomily, 
 " to-morrow we have reason to expect a run on the 
 bankv Our resources are completely exhausted. My 
 private fortune. The deposits. The money that we 
 keep in hand for loans. My name will be cursed by 
 thousands. The evening papers of to-night have 
 begun the attack. There is to be a prosecution. I 
 have reason to believe that, at daybreak, the police 
 will be here. That is the situation." 
 
 The baroness still held to her idea that Agostini's 
 imagination had conjured up all this alarming picture, 
 and she answered tenderly : " You see things worse 
 than they are, I believe. Let me give you a cup of 
 tea ; then try to get to sleep, and in the morning we 
 will see what can be done. By daylight things will 
 seem more cheerful." 
 
 ■ Her attempted consolation irritated the baroa : 
 " Augusta," he said, " you treat me like a child ! Do 
 you not understand what I say ? I tell you again I am 
 absolutely ruined, and I cannot save myself ; do you 
 hear me ?" 
 
 " You have been too proud to ask for help, per- 
 haps," she said, with the idea still of tranquillizing 
 him. " Your friends would be eager to help you. 
 Henneberg " 
 
 The baron interrupted her in an almost frenzied 
 tone: " Do not mention his name to me," he cried. 
 " Henneberg is a scoundrel !" 
 
 As the baroness looked at him in extreme surprise, 
 
480 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 he went on : " This is due to him, entirely. He has 
 ruined me, and now he leaves me to my destruction. 
 He is either a knave or a madman. Perhaps both. 
 The quicksilver syndicate was either folly or fraud. 
 A plot against me. In my blind confidence I did not 
 see it." 
 
 A sudden terror came over her. Suppose it were 
 no figment of the imagination ? With increasing anx- 
 iety she begged him to give her further details. The 
 baron related, hesitatingly and with difficulty, but 
 with perfect clearness and without any lack of se- 
 quence, with all the names and figures, the history of 
 the last five days,: the meeting of the syndicate at 
 Henneberg's house, his alarming revelations, the at- 
 tack of the newspapers, the rumours at the Bourse, 
 the dawning distrust of the public, the anxiety of yes- 
 terday at the bank, the postponement of the catastro- 
 phe through something almost a miracle, the unsuc- 
 cessful appeal to Zeil ; he summoned a servant and 
 had the evening papers brought from the library table, 
 and he showed them- to the baroness ; now she must 
 accept the truth as to disaster ; and her husband's 
 despair by degrees crept over her strong nerves, also. 
 
 " I understand, now," she said ; " but you must not 
 be unjust towards Henneberg. He is just as much 
 involved -" 
 
 " I will not hear a word in defence of the wretch," 
 the baron interrupted her, " he is unworthy of your 
 friendship." 
 
 " He suffers just as much as you do. Perhaps 
 more." 
 
 " You are mistaken, my child. He does not care. 
 He has nothing to lose, no name, no position, scarcely 
 any fortune. And he is young. He can begin his 
 frauds over again, and be more succe:;sful another 
 time. I implore you, Augusta, do not poison my last 
 hours with the mention of that man." 
 
 " What !" she exclaimed in anxiety, " your last 
 hours ? What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing," he rejoined. "An old man must 
 
ATROPOS. 481 
 
 think of death, yon know. But I will not be reminded 
 of that adventurer." 
 
 She made no further attempt to defend Henneberg. 
 
 " But you do not seem to have thought of me," she 
 went on. " I have something, you know. It was 
 your gift. Take it again. Take it all. It will at least 
 be enough to gain time for you." 
 
 Agostini kissed her hand and said, with a sad 
 smile : 
 
 " You are not clever at arithmetic, any of you women. 
 Just look at it. Your estate in Brittany is practically 
 unsaleable. Your diamonds and the other things are 
 worth a million francs, and you might get three or 
 four hundred thousand for them from the dealers." 
 
 " But my Rentes " 
 
 " Your 250,000 francs of Rentes would not be worth 
 much over eight millions ; certainly not nine. But 
 that is all you have. It is no more than a drop on a 
 hot plate. It will not save me, and it would simply 
 ruin you. Oh, no, my child. Keep what you have. 
 But it was kind to make the offer. You repay me 
 lavishly for what I have done for you, and my fore- 
 sight in separating your property from my own. You 
 prove yourself at this moment to be what I thought 
 you were — faithful and self-sacrificing. I am very 
 grateful to you " 
 
 " Do not thank me," she interrupted him, " but let 
 me act. Do not be obstinate, I implore you. You 
 have always had confidence in my strength of will. 
 You have said a hundred times that I could carry any- 
 thing through that I undertook. Take my eight mil- 
 lions. Surely that will be enough for to-morrow. And 
 let me go to the men, to Zeil and to the others, you 
 will see that they will not refuse." 
 
 He shook his head slowly. 
 
 " You have no knowledge of these men. You have 
 only seen them in your salon, never in their office. 
 Against their ledgers even your magic could do noth- 
 ing." 
 
 " I might at least try." 
 
 " I am not willing." 
 
482 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 She was silent, discouraged. But she soon began 
 again : " Very well ; let the thing take its course. 
 And if the worst happens, what then ? You stop pay- 
 ment. This is a business misfortune. It is nothing 
 unheard of in financial circles. You give up every- 
 thing that you have. Then, we have still what belongs 
 to me personally, which I owe to your generosity. 
 We will leave Paris. I have no desire to remain here. 
 We will live quietly at our chateau. You see there is 
 no reason for despair." 
 
 Over his face a kind of tranquillity came, as he lis- 
 tened to her. " I thank you over and over," he said ; 
 and forcing a kind of jocoseness, he added : " I should 
 not have expected, at my age and in my present cir- 
 cumstances to be able to say to myself : ' A beautiful 
 woman loves me, for myself alone.' But, my child, in 
 our family the men are not accustomed to let the 
 women maintain them." 
 
 She sought to interrupt him, but he would not let 
 her speak. 
 
 " Let the event run its course," he continued, " this 
 was what you said yourself. But again I want to 
 thank you for all that you have been to me. You 
 have been the delight of my old age and could 
 almost make ruin endurable. Hush ! not a word ! It 
 was a mad venture, when I married you, six years ago. 
 But now I know it was the wisest thing, perhaps 
 the only wise thing, that I ever did in my life. You 
 have done for me all that I promised myself you 
 would do, all and more. You have guarded your 
 honour and my own. This was not always easy, my 
 poor child. That villain loved you " 
 
 She started up and looked at him with wide open 
 eyes. 
 
 " Be tranquil," he said, " I have never disgraced you 
 by one unworthy thought. lam sure you have always 
 kept him at a distance. His very fidelity to you is a 
 proof of it. If you had been less resolute, he would 
 have long ago been faithless." 
 
 He ceased speaking and his sunken eyes rested upon 
 her very tenderly. Before she could break the silence 
 
ATROPOS. 483 
 
 which followed, he rose to his feet feebly, and with a 
 faint groan : 
 
 " We have talked long enough ; it is nearly two 
 o'clock and I am tired ; you, also, have fifteen hours' 
 railway to recover from ; permit me to leave you, my 
 child." 
 
 "You arc right," she said; " go to your rest, now, 
 and may hope go with you and give you. pleasant 
 dreams. For you shall see all will yet be well for us." 
 
 She rang for his man. 
 
 " Come and let me know when monsieur le baron is 
 in bed. I will come and bid you good night," she 
 added, addressing Agostini. 
 
 " Oh no," the baron demurred, as he left the room, 
 leaning heavily on his servant's arm. 
 
 Ten minutes later the man reported, and the baron- 
 ess went up to her husband's room. She sat down by 
 his bedside silently. " I did not come to keep you 
 talking," she said. " Let me sit here a little while. 
 Do not pay any attention to me." 
 
 For a few minutes he lay quietly ; then he became 
 restless, and after a time, he said to her : " Now go, 
 my child." 
 
 " Not till you are asleep," she answered. 
 
 He sighed heavily, and turned his face towards the 
 wall. As he remained perfectly quiet and breathed 
 regularly, after a while she rose and moved softly 
 away. At the door she glanced back, and by the 
 faint light of the night-lamp in its crimson globe, it 
 seemed to her that he had turned his head to look 
 after her. Quickly she was at his bedside again and 
 bent toward him. He lay still, with closed eyes, but 
 the slight quiver of the face had not ceased ; evidently, 
 however, he was asleep, though his rest was not tran- 
 quil. And again she moved slowly away, the thick 
 carpet making her footsteps completely noiseless. 
 
 The following morning Henneberg lay in his bed — • 
 the silver tray with coffee on the table at his side, the 
 morning papers strewn over the silk coverlet — and 
 stared blankly at the carved angels which held up the 
 canopy. The papers subsidized by the ring contained 
 
484 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the communication which he had sent to them the 
 preceding evening, announcing that the syndicate 
 would prosecute those journals which had put in cir- 
 culation the calumny that legal proceedings were 
 about to be instituted against the quicksilver ring; but 
 other papers, in the service of the enemy, had in the 
 most conspicuous place, under a heading in large 
 type : " The Quicksilver Ring before the Correctional 
 Police ;" an article confirming the rumours of the pre- 
 vious day, and loading the government with praise for 
 its decided measures towards " foreign scum." Then 
 it seemed to him that he heard the bell of the tele- 
 phone, although there were two rooms between. He 
 sat up in bed to listen ; and at the moment his man 
 appeared to announce that monsieur le baron was 
 called to the telephone. By monsieur le baron 
 Agostini. 
 
 " Naturally !" Henneberg muttered to himself, " the 
 old coward has seen the morning papers and his heart 
 has gone down into his shoes again." 
 
 He put on his camel's hair dressing-gown and his 
 crimson velvet slippers with their blue-fox trimming, 
 and in a leisurely way proceeded to answer the 
 summons. 
 
 " Hullo ! hullo !" he called into the mouthpiece; 
 " what is it ?" 
 
 " Is it you, Henneberg ?" a voice came, which hit 
 him like a heavy electric shock. He started and 
 nearly dropped the receiver. 
 
 " Do I hear aright ?" he stammered. " The baro- 
 ness ?" 
 
 "Yes. Come to me at once." 
 
 " But how does it happen you are here ? I thought 
 you were four hundred miles away. When did you 
 arrive ?" 
 
 " I will tell you presently. Come at once." 
 
 " Has anything happened ?" 
 
 " Come at once, come at once," was reiterated 
 impatiently. 
 
 " I am coming," he returned obediently, and hung 
 up the receiver on its hook. That was the baroness, 
 
ATROPOS. 485 
 
 and no mistake ! He knew it was perfectly useless to 
 ask her any further question. He ordered his carriage, 
 and made himself ready in all haste. With military 
 despatch he was in the rue Fortuny. As he entered 
 the house he perceived the lackeys, who were not in 
 their livery, standing in a group, and eagerly, but in 
 low voices, talking with each other. As he glanced 
 at them, they ceased, and furtively separated. He 
 hastened up-stairs and was met on the first landing by 
 the baroness's maid, who said ; " madame la baronne 
 is up-stairs," and indicated him to go up a second 
 flight. To his look inquiring she replied : " I am 
 afraid monsieur le baron has been taken ill, but I do 
 not know." On the floor above, the baroness came to 
 meet him in the first room; she sent the maid away 
 with a gesture of the hand, locked the door as soon 
 as the woman had gone out, grasped Henneberg by 
 the hand with an iron grip, led him silently into the 
 next room, beyond which lay the baron's bedroom, 
 and, at last, said to him hoarsely : " The baron shot 
 himself last night. He is lying dead in there." 
 
 With an unconscious wrench he freed himself from 
 her grasp ; he opened his eyes wide, and stared at her. 
 The baroness stood before him, an image of conster- 
 nation ; she was in her lace dressing-gown, her dark 
 hair knotted at the back of her head in a disordered 
 mass, her face pallid as death itself. She breathed 
 heavily. Her eyes rested with painful eagerness upon 
 Henneberg, as if she expected something from him. 
 
 He made an effort to master himself. " Does any 
 one else know?" he asked. 
 
 " Only the valet de chambre. When he went in 
 there half an hour ago he found the baron dead. The 
 man had the presence of mind to fasten the door 
 and send word to me through my maid that he must 
 speak to me at once. When I came out into the 
 boudoir he met me, with horrified aspect, and told me 
 what had happened. I ran up and found that the poor 
 baron was already cold and rigid. He must have 
 been dead for several hours. He must have shot him- 
 self directly after I left him last night. And he 
 
486 THE DRONES MUST DIE, 
 
 seemed so collected. I ouglit never to have left him 
 alone." She wrung her hands, and dropped, as if 
 faint, into a chair. 
 
 " Do not reproach yourself, Augusta ; there is no 
 use in that," Henneberg said, roughly. " Where is 
 the valet de chambre?" 
 
 " I sent him instantly for a doctor, and then I called 
 you up." 
 
 " The second thing was reasonable, but not the first ; 
 no doctor can bring the dead to life ; and, for the 
 moment, the fewer people know this, the better. Did 
 you instruct your man to keep the secret ?" 
 
 " He himself begged me to keep it, till I had had 
 time to consult with my friends." 
 
 " He is an intelligent fellow. He shall not have 
 cause to repent his conduct. Now all we can do is to 
 await the doctor's arrival. I will see him. He need 
 not see the body or be told anything definite." 
 
 " But what is the object of secrecy ? We incur a 
 heavy penalty." 
 
 " I will take the risk of that." He was silent, and 
 his aspect betrayed the turmoil of his thoughts. 
 
 "Will you see him?" the baroness said, and was 
 about to rise. 
 
 " No," he answered curtly, and laid his hand upon 
 her arm to detain her ; " it is not a pleasant sight, 
 and there is no need." He seemed to struggle with 
 himself for a moment, then drew a chair near the 
 baroness, sat down and looked at her resolutely in 
 the eyes. " Augusta, we are in a situation of great 
 danger, but we must get the better of it. We shall 
 do this, if you remain firm, and I hope you will. 
 Most unhappily I cannot be with you and help you in 
 bearing the legal annoyances of the next few days. 
 However painful this may be to me, I must at once 
 leave you, for I have to flee the country. I have yet 
 time to catch the noon train for Brussels." 
 
 " But why ?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 "Because I am in danger, of arrest. The author- 
 ities are only too glad to set on their pack at a for- 
 eigner, a Prussian,, whether he is innocent or guilty. 
 
ATROPOS. 487 
 
 They shall not have the pleasure of seeing me a pris- 
 oner. I must be at liberty in order to defend myself. 
 Then they can get no hold upon me, for we have kept 
 out of reach of the law. We have been as shrewd as 
 the prosecuting officer is." 
 
 " And the others ? Beira ? Zagal ? Must they be 
 notified ? Do you take them with you ?" 
 
 " I should think not. Each for himself ! They 
 ought to be on the look-out!" 
 
 '• But — you are their leader. They depend upon 
 you." 
 
 " Take care whom you trust in. But what could we 
 do with these staring idiots ? Let us come to essen- 
 tials. I leave Paris without regret, if I take with me 
 a certainty : promise me that you will come as soon as 
 it can be done without attracting notice." 
 
 She started, and repeated as if in surprise : " That 
 I will come ?" 
 
 " What does this surprise mean ? Come ? Cer- 
 tainly. 1 hope so. I expect it. The obstacle is re- 
 moved. Now you must be mine. Now you are mine, 
 Augusta," he said, seeking to put his arm about her. 
 
 She drew her chair hastily away. " Do you say 
 that now?" she said. " Here? One step from his 
 dead body ?" 
 
 " You are, perhaps, afraid that he may hear us and 
 object ?" Henneberg rejoined roughly. " The moments 
 are precious. Let us lose no time in pretences. The 
 man was nothing to you, and could be nothing." 
 
 " Be silent," she cried, " I allow no word against 
 my benefactor." 
 
 " What a perfunctory way of talking that is !" he re- 
 plied, with ill-restrained violence ; " the pose of a be- 
 reaved widow is not appropriate in the. present case. 
 Let us not smooth matters over. Let us not conceal 
 facts under a veil of the ideal. You were a young 
 and beautiful woman, and you married a frightful old 
 man. Is not that the truth ? And was it for love, or 
 out of respect for the character of this worn-out old 
 rou6 ? or was it, perhaps, from admiration for the in- 
 tellect of this feeble-minded dotard ? You sold your^ 
 
488 THE DRONES MUST DTE. 
 
 self — for money and a title. This is the actual truth. 
 Have the courage, now, to look the truth in the face. 
 I do not reproach you for what you did. I under- 
 stand and I pardon, because I love you. Are you 
 listening, Augusta ? because I love you and because 
 I want you. And so, do not exasperate me with a 
 simulation of grief which, really, between us, is ir- 
 rational. That, you keep to show society. You are, 
 of course, shocked by the catastrophe ; I am, my- 
 self ; but the feeling is transient, and anything like real 
 grief you cannot possibly feel for that man. It would 
 be unnatural." 
 
 During his impetuous appeal her face grew stony. 
 She looked up and said, with a very quiet, frightfully 
 serious tone :"" Every word that you have just said, 
 has been a knife-thrust in my heart. I have probably 
 deserved this martyrdom ; but now the expiation is 
 sufificient. Leave me at once." 
 
 "You send me away?" he said, becoming reckless. 
 " I will not go. I am fighting for the one aim of my 
 life — for my life itself. You have nothing to expiate. 
 In my eyes you are without sin. The past is past. 
 Let us think of the future. I ask happiness from you, 
 and I will give you happiness so far as a man can do 
 it. But do not look at me in this way. Have I iiot 
 striven hard enough to win you ? For whom have all 
 my exertions been made, but for you ? I desired to 
 have millions, that you might again live as a queen. 
 I stooped to obtain the title of baron, that you might 
 have the rank to which you had become accustomed. 
 Does this deserve no gratitude from you? Should I 
 ever have planned this syndicate but for the desire to 
 win you ?" 
 
 "That is not true," she interrupted, with a voice 
 that betrayed extreme horror at what he had said ; 
 "tell me it is not true. I will not be guilty of his 
 death." 
 
 "I cannot tell you so, for it is true. Guilty, you 
 say? How were you guilty? To be beautiful, to be 
 coveted, to drive men mad, that is no crime ; it is, 
 
ATROPOS. 480 
 
 perhaps, a curse. At any rate, it is a gift. Your 
 guilt is slight." 
 
 " And now there lies a dead man between us," she 
 said in a dull voice, "that changes everything." 
 
 " What does that amount to ?" he exclaimed, with 
 flashing eyes and grimly distorted face. " I step 
 across that corpse. Blood is a good cement, the best 
 we know. When later you remember him who lies 
 there, you will have this also to think of, that I would 
 risk a crime myself to win you. I say, a crime ; for, 
 had there been need of it, I would have killed him 
 with my hand, as he has done with his own." 
 
 " You horrify me. Go, go. I should like at least 
 to be able to think of you without a shudder." She 
 covered her face with her hand, and turned away 
 from him. 
 
 Henneberg was now quite beside himself, losing the 
 last trace of self-control. He sprang to his feet, he came 
 up to the baroness and laid his hand recklessly upon 
 her shoulder, which she endured as if paralyzed ; and 
 he said in a voice which he scarcely took pains to keep 
 low : " I am to go, you tell me ? Your saying it 
 makes no difference to me. I must have you. What ! 
 There lies a dead man ; above my head the roof is 
 falling in, chaos has come again ; and all shams fall 
 from us. We are two human souls absolutely bare to 
 each other's sight. What is the use of all this prud- 
 ery? this consideration for virtue? For weeks, you 
 loved me, once. All your grand airs of to-day cannot 
 annul that fact. And before that, there were other 
 men, not as good as I. You had not led a nun's life 
 when you went with me to Hyeres. Your past prom- 
 ised me a future. You must keep that promise. You 
 must do it. We have sinned, both of us. We belong 
 together. It is simply impossible for me to forget 
 you. I have often wished I could. But I cannot. 
 There is no interest left for me in life. A good table, 
 a good cigar — that is all that remains for me. It is 
 not enough. I must have you, besides ! And I 
 would rather strangle you with my own hand than 
 lose you." And in his desperation he actually took 
 
.490 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 her throat between his two hands, as if he were about 
 to murder her. 
 
 With a movement rapid as a flash, she shook him off 
 and sprang to her feet. " Henneberg," she said, 
 " you have lost your reason, you are insane." 
 
 " On the contrary, I was never so clear and reason- 
 able and honest in my life as now," he answered, with- 
 out falling back at all, his burning eyes fixed steadily 
 upon her face, so deathly white. " I tell you that 
 without you I cannot live. There is nothing in the 
 world to me but you. It is probably folly, like every- 
 thing else, but it is a fact. I do not admit your refusal. 
 You have no right to refuse me. We have been through 
 too much together. Augusta, give up this folly. Let 
 us be happy and merry together. I can offer you 
 wealth. I was not fool enough to let myself be bled 
 to the last drop like him there." 
 
 " You "take me for a woman to be bought with 
 money, then ?" 
 
 " To be bought ?" 
 
 "Yes. You have just shown me that you do." 
 
 " No. I take you for the woman that belongs to 
 me. It is inconceivable that you should refuse me now. 
 I have been without you so long. We were not made 
 to suffer as I have done, but to enjoy ! Six intoler- 
 able years have I allowed that fool to stand between 
 me and my happiness. Dead, he shall no longer in- 
 terpose. If his corpse lies between us, I spurn it with 
 my foot. You are mine now, and I will never let you 
 
 go-" 
 
 He stretched his arms toward her, but, before he 
 
 was aware of what she was about to do, she had 
 sprung to her feet, grasped him firmly by the arm, led 
 him towards the door of the adjacent room, thrown it 
 open and compelled him to enter with her, saying : 
 " Let me hear you say that in his presence !" 
 Henneberg started back. In the partly darkened 
 room he saw indistinctly the rigid form upon the bed, 
 and a brownish-red spot upon the white pillow where 
 the head of the dead man lay. With disgust and hor- 
 ror he struggled back from the threshold. 
 
ATROPOS. 491 
 
 " What is the use of this theatrical stroke ?" he mur- 
 mured. " Augusta, hear me ! Come !" 
 
 The baroness paid no further attention to him ; she 
 went across to the bed, knelt down, and burying her 
 face in the coverlet, began to sob bitterly. 
 
 Henneberg lingered at first ; then, in spite of his re- 
 luctance, he went in, approached the baroness and laid 
 his' hand upon her shoulder. She sprang up with a cry 
 like that of some wild creature of the woods shot to 
 death. 
 
 " Leave me !" she exclaimed, " leave me ! or I shall 
 ring for my servants." 
 
 Her face was still very pale, but her eyes were no 
 longer tearful. They blazed upon Henneberg, and as 
 he met her look, his own face grew as white as hers. 
 There seemed to be something in her attitude like that 
 of a panther about to spring. There was no chance 
 left for doubt ; in her eyes he read his final sentence, 
 from which there could be no appeal. He shivered 
 from head to foot, he bent his "head, he turned and 
 very slowly dragged himself to the locked door of the 
 other room. The baroness stood motionless, with the 
 same menace in her look and attitude, until he had 
 turned the key, opened the door and gone out ; then 
 she began to totter, stretched her hands out for sup- 
 port and fell, helpless, upon the floor. 
 
 When she recovered consciousness, her husband's 
 man stood by her and was rubbing her hands diligently. 
 She repulsed him unconsciously, rose to a sitting pos- 
 ture and looked confusedly about her. She was on the 
 floor, near the bed. Her hair hung over her shoulders 
 like a heavy black cloak. Consciousness, by degrees, 
 returned to her, and with it memory and knowledge 
 of the time and place. She rose, supported carefully 
 by the man, went into the other room, sat down, 
 twisted up her hair and secured it, then said to the 
 servant : " Have you been here long ?" 
 
 " Pardon, madame la baronne ; I just now came in, 
 and saw madame la baronne lying upon the floor. I 
 was deadly frightened. But, thank God, madame la 
 baronne seems to be recovering. The excitement has 
 
492 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 been too great. Madame la baronne should go to 
 bed." 
 
 " Yes. Has the doctor come ?" 
 
 "I have not seen him," the servant answered, " but 
 I have left word for him to come up-stairs as soon as 
 he arrives." 
 
 The baroness still felt dizzy, and she shut her eyes. 
 
 " Madame la baronne must rest," the valet repeated, 
 " I will not call the maid ; madame la baronne will 
 permit me to attend her down-stairs." He assisted 
 her to rise ; when she had left the room he fastened the 
 door ; and on the way he whispered : " Madame la 
 baronne need feel no anxiety. I will see to everything. 
 When madame la baronne has recovered she will 
 make further arrangements." He delivered his mis- 
 tress into the care of her maid, who came in great 
 haste. " Madame la baronne has had a slight attack 
 of faintness, but it was nothing," he said to the woman, 
 and hastily returned up-stairs. 
 
 The fact was that the man had never for a moment 
 thought of going for a doctor. It was not in vain 
 that he had been for three and twenty years the 
 baron's head valet. That morning, when he had 
 entered the baron's bedroom and had seen the little 
 spot of blood on the pillow, and the revolver lying on 
 the floor, it at once was clear to him that he knew 
 something which was worth a great deal of money if it 
 could for the present be kept a secret. Rapid con- 
 sideration showed him that he must communicate it to 
 the baroness, since she was the only person in the 
 house whom he could not prevent from going into the 
 baron's rooms. He urged upon her, however, most 
 impressively the keeping of the secret, because prob- 
 ably the fate of the bank and of many other corpora- 
 tions depended thereon ; and when he had the feeling 
 that he had sufficiently impressed this idea upon her 
 mind he hastily left the house, and betook himself, 
 not to the doctor, to whom she had bidden him go, 
 but to the agent de change, who for many years had 
 made little ventures for him at the Bourse. To this 
 man he confided the secret of the baron's suicide, and 
 
ATROPOS. 493 
 
 gave him the order to sell as many shares as he pos- 
 sibly could of the French-Oriental bank — ten thousand, 
 if he could — at whatever price, since undoubtedly they 
 would at once drop to zero. 
 
 To wring every possible advantage from the situa- 
 tion it was essential that the secret should be kept till 
 after the Bourse was over. He guarded it therefore 
 like a lion. He spoke with the other servants only 
 through the locked door of the little salon. The 
 steward, who had all imaginable conjectures in his 
 mind, endeavoured to force his way in, but in vain. 
 The steward declared he would go for a doctor, since 
 the one who had been called did not appear ; the valet 
 called out from inside that the steward should attend 
 to his own affairs ; the steward retorted that he would 
 call in the police, for something wrong was going on ; 
 the valet opened the door suddenly, clinched with the 
 steward, and threatened that the baroness would dis- 
 miss him instantly, if he made any further noise and 
 trouble. In the hall and in the servants' room there 
 was smothered excitement. People in the neighbour- 
 hood, overhearing the talk of the lackeys, began to be 
 suspicious. A rumour spread through the city that the 
 baron was ill ; some asserted that he had suddenly 
 become insane ; others, that he was dead. The report 
 reached the Bourse about an hour after it had opened ; 
 it produced great excitement and a wild tumult in the 
 quotations, all the more because of the heavy sales of 
 French-Oriental bank stock that had been observed 
 since the opening. From one o'clock on, swarms of 
 reporters and messengers from the Bourse were at the 
 door of the hotel Agostini ; the lackeys could give no 
 information and referred inquirers to the baron's own 
 man ; this personage received them in a dignified 
 manner, and said in a tone of grave displeasure that 
 these rumours were but a new trick of the baron's 
 enemies ; that the baron had gone the night before to 
 the railway station to meet the baroness on her return, 
 and had been up until nearly morning, so that now 
 he needed rest ; this was believed, and the Bourse 
 closed firm. Up to two o'clock he had received four 
 
494 TlIE DRONES MOST DIE. 
 
 messages, making known to him that his broker had 
 been able to sell over 1600 shares. On receiving the 
 fourth note, he took his hat, went moderately to the 
 nearest police-station, and gave information of the 
 baron's death. The well-deserved reward of his cool- 
 ness and circumspection was that on this memorable 
 day he gained over a million francs, shortly after left 
 Paris and purchased an estate in the south, where he 
 now lives, a much respected proprietor and the mayor 
 of his commune. 
 
 He considered it no longer needful to lock the 
 baron's rooms when he went out this time. All the 
 household, therefore, knew the fact when he returned 
 with the officer, and received him with furious outcry 
 that he was the murderer. He was at once taken into 
 custody, but was released when he calmly led the 
 officer to the table at the baron's bedside, and called 
 his attention to the scrap of paper, on which was 
 feebly scratched the words : " Pardon, my dear 
 Augusta, the pain that I must cause you, but circum- 
 stances render it impossible for me to live longer." 
 
 The commissary desired to see the baroness, wish- 
 ing to subject her to an examination. She sat in the 
 corner of a divan in the room adjoining her boudoir, 
 her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed upon va- 
 cancy. Thus she had sat since recovering from her 
 swoon. When her maid spoke to her she made no 
 answer, and seemed to pay no attention. At noon, 
 the servants had besonght her to eat. But she would 
 not rise from her seat and they brought her food. 
 The femme de chambre constructed a wonderful melo- 
 drama for herself. She had seen Henneberg come 
 and go, and was convinced there had been a quarrel 
 upstairs, between the husband and the friend, perhaps 
 even a break between the baron and madame, and the 
 next thing would very likely be that the old man 
 would send his wife away. This explained to her full 
 satisfaction Henneberg's perturbation in leaving the 
 house, as well as the baron's mysterious invisibility 
 and the condition of the baroness. 
 
 The latter made not the slightest movement when 
 
ATROPOS. 495 
 
 the police official with his secretary came in. He was 
 obliged to speak to her three times before she turned 
 her head towards him, looked at him like a person 
 half asleep, and returned answer to his questions in a 
 feeble, indifferent voice and only in monosyllables. 
 After every question and answer she relapsed into the 
 same stupefied condition and seemed to become un- 
 conscious of the officer's presence. He at once recog- 
 nized the uselessness of the attempt to get anything 
 more from her than "yes " and " no " and "I don't 
 know," and contented himself with questioning the 
 maid, who now, indeed, was obliged to abandon her 
 ingeniously woven romance, but in its place, however, 
 accepted the conviction that the baroness had lost her 
 reason. This the officer believed, also ; he promised 
 to direct the doctor, who would come to view the 
 body, also to examine into the mental condition of 
 the baroness ; and he bade the servants, meanwhile, 
 to keep careful watch over their mistress. The doctor, 
 who did not arrive until about four, found her stupor 
 less profound. She was able, in a degree, to be 
 aroused, was somewhat more like herself again, an- 
 swered more fluently and intelligently to the questions 
 asked her, and observed social usages. The physician 
 recommended her to take a warm bath and to go to- 
 bed, and expressed the opinion that it was merely a 
 condition of extreme despondency from which she 
 would rally as soon as she had recovered from the 
 recent shock. 
 
 Henneberg, on leaving the baroness, had driven 
 home, had ordered his man to pack a small portman- 
 teau, had ordered breakfast for half-past eleven and 
 his carriage at a quarter past twelve. Then he locked 
 himself into one of his inner rooms. Complete desola- 
 tion reigned within him. Nothing was left standing 
 after this frightful shock. His pride and his scepti- 
 cism, his hope for a future of happiness and his con- 
 tempt for mankind, lay wrecked together. He had 
 believed himself superior to his race, and he was the 
 slave of this woman who had banished him from her 
 presence. He had been able to domineer over men of 
 
49*5 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 wealth, station and power, and train them to obey his 
 nod, and he was incapable of mastering this woman's 
 obstinate will. He had without caring, indeed with 
 actual pleasure, used violence and treachery, he had 
 sought to plunder two hemispheres, and, as a matter 
 of fact, he had plundered his nearest friends, rejoicing 
 to drag the booty to his den and lay it at a woman's 
 feet ; and this woman had with contempt cast from her 
 both the robber and the spoil. It was long since he 
 had been disturbed by his own conscience, but this 
 woman's conscience rose before him like a granite 
 cliff. He had grounded his views of life on the axiom 
 that all things could be had for money. And this 
 woman had showed him that money was absolutely 
 worthless to help him to the only thing on earth that 
 he desired. 
 
 He sought to persuade himself that his desire for her 
 was but a whim. He would banish the thought of 
 her from his mind. There were other women in the 
 world. If none more beautiful, at least there were 
 younger. And equally clever. He had placed in 
 safety the price of his house and other money. Three 
 million francs lay secure in English banks. He could 
 live where and as he pleased ; perhaps more simply 
 than of late, but also more peacefully, in an epicurean, 
 enjoyment of the passing hour, since that is all we 
 really have. But his sophistry was silenced, as if 
 smitten on the mouth, when he lifted his eyes to 
 where, over his writing-table, hung the aquarelle por- 
 trait, and looked down on him, gentle, tender, willing 
 to be loved, willing to yield to his will. More than 
 once he sprang to his feet, with clenched fist, ready to 
 destroy it in his fury. But he had not the strength to 
 do this. Before the soft loveliness of the face, that he 
 had just now seen inexorably hard toward him, his 
 hand dropped, and he let his head fall upon the table, 
 and broke into a flood of dastardly, miserable tears, 
 which proved him defeated, disarmed, unmanned. 
 
 His whole life passed before his mental review — the 
 goat's stall in the Potsdamerstrasse, and its dark cor- 
 ners filled with the visions of his childish imagination ; 
 
ATROPOS. 497 
 
 he remembered his needy, humble boyhood and youth, 
 and the suddei change in his fortunes. What advan- 
 tage had his wealth been to him ? What remained to 
 him now from his journeys and. his lavish entertain- 
 ments, his questionable adventures, his gold plate and 
 gilded furniture ? It was all gray, and desolate, and 
 loathsome. To two human beings his heart had 
 clung — his mother was dead, a life sacrificed to affec- 
 tion and poverty ; and the other was dead to him ; 
 lost ; lost for ever. And so his thoughts came back 
 again to her ; from whatever remote wanderings they 
 returned to her ; he could not escape from her. 
 
 He rose, hearing some one knock. It was the ser- 
 vant coming to announce dejeuner. Was it so late ? 
 What had become of the time ? He went into the 
 dining-room. The place looked strange to him. The 
 silver and gold plate in the cabinet, the rare porcelain 
 on the walls, the Cordova leather, seemed to insult 
 him. Every separate object seemed to cry out to 
 him, with thin, sarcastic tone : " Why are you here ? 
 Back, swindler, into your goat's stall !" He found it 
 was impossible to eat. He said to his servant that he 
 had postponed his journey, the carriage might be dis- 
 missed ; and he returned into his own rooms. 
 
 About four o'clock, a shabbyvehicle drew up before 
 the house in the rue de T^h^ran. A little old man 
 got out, and two other men, stalwart and resolute of 
 aspect, remained, one on the box, the other inside. 
 The old man with the white moustache was the cen- 
 tral commissioner, who appeared with an injunction 
 against Henneberg. The alarmed servants conducted 
 him to the locked door at the back of the oriental 
 smoking-room. To a knock, no response was made. 
 A repeated and louder knocking still produced no 
 result. Then the officer sent for one of his stalwart 
 attendants, who, with a strong push from the shoulder 
 broke the door in. At his writing-table, beneath the 
 picture, Henneberg sat, lifeless ; he had shot himself 
 through the head. 
 
 The evening papers that were in the interest of the 
 ring, said, in their reports of the Bourse, that certair\ 
 
498 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 shameless speculators had gone so far as to set in circu- 
 lation the entirely groundless rumour that Baron 
 Agostini had committed suicide ; it was hoped that 
 the inventors of this base calumny could be traced ; 
 meantime the public whose interests were thus en- 
 dangered, were warned against similar disseminations. 
 But in the course of the evening, the truth became 
 known ; and the small Bourse, opening at nine o'clock, 
 which, after the summer interruption had again begun 
 within the last four days, had an aspect like that on 
 the day following a declaration of war. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AFTER THE STORM. 
 
 The morning after Henneberg's death when the 
 Koppels were gathered around the breakfast-table, 
 and Koppel, as usual, unfolded his newspaper, Frau 
 Kathe saw him suddenly turn pale, and, with a move- 
 ment of horror, drop it from his hand. 
 
 " Hugo, what is it ?" she asked, in alarm. 
 
 Instead of answering, he handed her the paper. 
 Her eye at once fell upon a row of headings in large 
 type: " A Financial Catastrophe ;" "Two Suicides;" 
 " Four Arrests ;" " The End of the Black Band ;" 
 "Government Interposition." Agostini, Henneberg 
 ■ — dead ; Count Beira, General Zagal, two other finan- 
 ciers whose names were not known to the Koppels — 
 imprisoned ; the French-Oriental bank wrecked ; the 
 Market and the Bourse in the wildest uproar ; the 
 price of quicksilver rushing downward like an ava- 
 lanche ; in the evening Bourse, the shares of the sus- 
 pended bank, which, on Saturday had been 940 francs, 
 falling to 600, then to 300, finally to 80 francs ; Al- 
 madens finding no buyers at any price. To the re- 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 499 
 
 cital of facts was added some account of the conster- 
 nation of the public and the fury of those who had 
 bought bank shares at the noon Bourse, and later, 
 with great outcry, called for the annulling of these 
 sales, inasmuch as the sellers had unquestionably been 
 informed of Agostini's death, and had not acted in 
 good faith. The subject was summed up in an ar- 
 ticle which spoke with the warmest approbation of 
 the interference of government and the Bank of 
 France. Recognizing the frightful danger which 
 threatened the whole community, the Minister of 
 Finance, late in the evening, had held a consultation 
 with Baron Zeil and other gentlemen of the very high- 
 est financial position, whose advice was that a bank- 
 syndicate should take possession of the French-Ori- 
 ental bank and should repay all deposits. The stock- 
 holders would lose everything, but the depositors 
 would be protected. 
 
 Frau Kathe glanced over the columns with dismay. 
 " What a frightful end !" she exclaimed. " But it had 
 to be so. I will not make myself out any wiser than 
 I am, but it always seemed to me as if I was oppressed 
 for breath when I have been at Henneberg's or at the 
 Baroness Agostini's. The poor, poor baroness ! I am 
 sorry for her, most of all." 
 
 The two young people were also eager to see the 
 news, but while Oscar only remarked coolly : "A little 
 extirpation of vermin quite without importance to 
 intellectual persons," Elsa was so shocked that she 
 could not finish her coffee ; and both she and her 
 mother were much concerned to know what effect the 
 whole thing would have upon Koppel. He sat silent 
 and lost in thought, his hand, which held his coffee- 
 spoon, trembled, and his eyes stared blankly, as if at 
 some frightful object. His family did not suspect, 
 however, what the events of yesterday signified to 
 him, and what feelings they awakened in his heart. 
 Not to betray himself, he rose and went out, though 
 it still lacked a half-hour of his usual time of going to 
 school. 
 
 Henneberg was dead. The commissary of police 
 
500 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 had found him with a bullet in his brain. How very 
 nearly that fate had been his own ! He knew very 
 well that, in the hour of his despair, one thought 
 alone had had power to restrain him — the thought of 
 wife and children. Had he been a bachelor, like 
 Henneberg, he would doubtless have gone the same 
 way. He had a vision of himself lying dead, he 
 seemed to hear the reporters' tattle buzzing about him 
 as now about the unfortunate Henneberg ; a prolonged 
 shudder shook his very soul within him. And he re- 
 membered further how he had implored the coulissier 
 to hold his Almadens for him, that through these he 
 might make good the loss in the Russians, and how 
 exasperated he had been against the man who brutally 
 refused his agonized entreaty. Had the entreaty 
 been successful he would now have lost a half-million. 
 He felt that he owed his thanks to the broker, who 
 had sold him out regardless of his prayers ; and he 
 felt more than ever how right his wife had been when 
 she had insisted that payment in full must be made of 
 the 21,000 francs which he owed the coulissier, not 
 legally indeed, but under the law of his conscience. 
 
 Something seemed to drag him with mysterious 
 violence to the scene of these catastrophes. He 
 awaited impatiently the close of the afternoon lessons 
 that he might hasten to the rue de Teheran — on foot, 
 for the period of fiacres was past, for him. On the 
 door of the great house was a notice offering all the 
 apartments for lease. The room of the concierge, 
 with its showy furniture, was full of a crowd of 
 reporters with their notebooks, surrounding and ques- 
 tioning its occupant. The man himself had lost all 
 his dignity and presence. The embroidered velvet 
 cap, the mark of his calling, was gone from his head. 
 His face, with the short side-whiskers as of a 
 solicitor-general, expressed violent wrath. His voice 
 scolded and broke. He spoke of his dead master in 
 the most opprobrious terms : the Prussian swindler, 
 the spy, the foreign pickpocket, had done this or that; 
 he was an arrogant, insolent, purse-proud upstart ; he 
 was a niggard and an extortioner ; he lived by trickery 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 50 1 
 
 and cheating : what had the government been think- 
 ing about to tolerate his proceedings so long, instead of 
 taking him by the nape of the neck and slinging him 
 out of the country ! Also himself, the concierge, had 
 the knave ruined completely ; all the savings of his 
 life he had put into the vile securities that the 
 scoundrel traded in, and now he was penniless. And 
 at this point of his narrative, overcome with grief and 
 rage, he sank down into the arm chair in which he 
 had formerly sat so proudly, and shed abundant tears. 
 
 With deep disgust, Koppel quitted the place, and 
 went to the French-Oriental bank. On the way he 
 became aware with compunction that it ill became him 
 to despise the concierge. This man, like himself, had 
 speculated ; like himself, had lost ; and now cast the 
 blame upon Henneberg, as he himself for a moment 
 had done. The sordid vulgarity of this man reflected 
 in a shocking manner his own moral debasement. 
 
 The narrow street in which stood the columned 
 stone palace of the bank with its tall clock-tower, was 
 black with human beings and impassible for carriages. 
 A crowd of policemen kept the mass under control 
 and preserved order. With a noticeable predilection 
 for movement, these police-soldiers cried perpetually to 
 the crowd which packed itself about them : " Move 
 on ! move on !" and at times emphasized the meaning 
 of the command by a poke in the ribs. Upon one 
 sidewalk stood the depositors, who were admitted into 
 the building a few at a time, and on the other, was a 
 mass of idlers who had gathered from all parts of the 
 city to see this spectacle of the downfall of a great 
 bank. The middle of the street was kept open by the 
 police, so far as they were able to do this. Here hawk- 
 ers busied themselves, some of whom, with yelps, 
 offered all sorts of loose sheets of printed matter, and 
 others peddled various kinds of food and drink. " Dis- 
 closures about the Black Band ! Prussians in the Paris 
 Bourse ! five centimes, one sou !" " The end of the 
 Quicksilver-Ring ! Official and full particulars !" was 
 shrieked out from hoarse throats and in voices like 
 cracked tin trumpets ; and the yet damp sheets were 
 
502 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 bought more eagerly than the oranges, the liquorice- 
 water, the thin cakesy which were the rivals of the in- 
 tellectual nourishment. 
 
 The depositors, among whom were many women, 
 stood patiently, and, for the most part, showed no ex- 
 citement. They knew already that assistance had been 
 furnished to the ruined bank, and that, inside, at the 
 counter, they were to get their money. Only when 
 stragglers came along and slyly sought to obtain a 
 place in the file, the inner excitement of those who 
 were waiting betrayed itself in the disproportionate 
 violence with which they screamed at these intruders : 
 " Go back ! Go back!" The men, as a rule, accepted 
 the rebuff, and went, accompanied by jeering outcries, 
 all the way along the living wall to the very end, and 
 took their proper place. The women conducted them- 
 selves as if they did not hear, stood firm, and gener- 
 ally held on to the desired position, unless a policeman 
 took them by the arm and led them back. 
 
 In this column of humanity stood stout and easy- 
 looking men with their gold watch-chains, and there 
 were also women in black clothes and crape veils, 
 whose anxious and gloomy faces betrayed the terror 
 they could scarcely yet control ; and there were talka- 
 tive old people, who, unasked, communicated to 
 their neighbours that all the money they had 
 in the world was in this bank and they must have 
 died if they had lost it ; and there were younger men 
 with close-shut lips and brows wrinkled as with fatigu- 
 ing brain-work. Koppel observed the faces, the figures. 
 What suffering had impended over this crowd of 
 human beings ! How many individuals, how many 
 families, had been in danger of absolute ruin until relief 
 came ! Whether the knaves who prey upon a commu- 
 nity, he queried, ever set their misdeeds before their 
 minds in such a tableau vivant as this ? Whether they 
 ever regard the mass of their victims as consisting of 
 so many individual persons ? If they were here, the 
 bandits who plundered this bank, who had robbed him 
 personally of his own property — then it suddenly oc- 
 curred to him that he had never inquired where the 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 503 
 
 quarter-million came from which he, in the height of 
 his success, had laid away in his box at the Credit 
 Lyonnais. In that quarter-million were perhaps the 
 petty means of widows or aged persons. Some of that 
 money was perhaps tear-stained, some of it even 
 stained with blood. But his conscience had been 
 dumb in the presence of Mammon, because there was 
 no face of man to see. That the crime is anonymous 
 makes the speculator comfortable in his raids. And 
 his imragination busied itself inventively with the idea 
 that securities and bank-notes might in some way bear 
 a speaking trace of the previous owner, a picture or a 
 kind of warrant of arrest, whereby the thought of any 
 given person might pursue him who had wronged that 
 person by unjustly possessing himself of the other's 
 property. 
 
 From these meditations he was diverted by Monsieur 
 Kohn who came up to him and saluted him. He also 
 had come to enjoy the spectacle of the day. He 
 looked in good case, seemed to have grown stouter, 
 and was smoking an excellent Havana cigar. 
 
 "Are you here, monsieur le professeur?" he said, 
 cheerfully. " This is a fine thing to happen, isn't it ? 
 I hope you don't lose anything." 
 
 " No," Koppel rejoined ; " but you. Monsieur 
 Kohn?" 
 
 "I .? oh, nothing serious." 
 
 " But you were in the syndicate ?" 
 
 " That is true, my dear professor, I was. The gal- 
 lant Henneberg twisted himself around me, and would 
 have liked to break my ribs, also. But I got free in 
 time, my name being Kohn, not Laocoon." 
 
 " A play upon words is your final adieu to a dead 
 friend, is it ? It is a delight to live in the world of 
 finance," Koppel said, without any desire to conceal his 
 aversion. 
 
 " What do you want me to say, my dear Doctor 
 Koppel ? In a like case, Henneberg would probably 
 have made even a worse pun about me. But you are 
 right. Henneberg, however, belonged to the world 
 of finance about as much as I belong in a professor's 
 
504 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 chair. The poor fellow was never anything but an 
 amateur in finance ; amateurship is never profitable 
 and always costs money. I know a song about that 
 myself. I am also an amateur. Ask me what my col- 
 lection of pictures has cost ! But let us leave the la- 
 mented Henneberg. How do you like this street 
 scene ? I am going to have it painted. Raffaelli, I 
 think, would be the right man. Or Beraud. There 
 are only two forces that can bring together a crowd 
 like this — money and religion." 
 
 Koppel left Kohn still delighting himself with this 
 condensed statement of the philosophy of the scene 
 before him. 
 
 Kohn had every reason to be content. When it be- 
 came clear to his mind that Henneberg had made a 
 mistake in his calculations, he at once sold short, and 
 the destruction of the syndicate was an incident which 
 threw into his hands between thirty and forty million 
 francs. He regarded the three millions that he had 
 put into it and, of course, had lost, as a very good in- 
 vestment. He was also able to trim his sails so 
 cleverly that he was received into the new syndicate. 
 
 For, without delay, a new quicksilver syndicate was 
 formed. Baron Zeil discovered that Hennebcrg's idea 
 was a fruitful one, always provided that one carried it 
 out with 1500 millions, instead of with only 300. He 
 waited till the metal and the mining-shares were ex- 
 tremely depreciated. The consumers and the specu- 
 lators waited also, hoping for still further depreciation. 
 But as soon as the price was reached upon which he 
 had fixed. Baron Zeil at once bought up everything ; 
 he concluded new contracts with the discouraged 
 mining-companies on much more advantageous terms 
 than those which Henneberg had been obliged to 
 accept ; he fixed all the prices higher than the former 
 ring had ventured to fix them ; and speculators and 
 consumers submitted to pay these prices because they 
 perceived, like intelligent men, that the new ring, 
 with Baron Zeil at its head, was stronger than they. 
 The government shut its eyes, and thought no more 
 about an investigation into the .syndicate, for it was under 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 505 
 
 obligations to Baron Zeil on account of his prompt 
 coming to the rescue in the affair of the French- 
 Oriental bank, and making this bank again solvent, 
 which it was the more for his interest to do, since he 
 had bought it up for about eighty millions, and after 
 a time, by reason of the new quicksilver ring, realized 
 something like four hundred millions upon his purchase. 
 And the press praised the baron's new syndicate 
 in that it had prevented general disaster, and had 
 rescued an important industry from the hands of 
 foreign pickpockets to place it under the control of 
 truly patriotic men. 
 
 Frau Kathe and Elsa thought incessantly of the 
 unfortunate Baroness Agostini, much as they had in 
 their own affairs to occupy their minds ; for, in the 
 midst of her bitter regret at the present, perhaps the 
 lasting, separation from Briinne-Tillig, Elsa had never 
 ceased to feel that she must not give way to her grief, 
 but must work more diligently than ever, since her 
 successful work might be perhaps the only price with 
 which she could buy her happiness. She insisted that 
 her father, discouraged and distressed and vainly 
 striving to help himself, should employ nearly all that 
 she had so far earned, about 15,000 francs, as part pay- 
 ment of his debt of honour. A bit of her heart went 
 with the money, for so much the more must now be 
 earned to make up the sum of 75,000 francs, which 
 would give her the right to accept Briinne-Tillig's pro- 
 posals. But it was no matter ; the debt must be paid 
 first. In this she and her mother were agreed. She 
 retained 3,000 francs, to hire and furnish her atelier. 
 Alas ! it was not what she had dreamed of having. No 
 tiger or bear skin lay on the floor, no silken hangings 
 adorned the walls. Cheap cretonne and oriental rugs 
 made in France were there instead. For decoration, 
 besides her own sketches, and her tenderly cherished 
 house-plants, there were only gay but inexpensive 
 posters by Ch^ret. The atelier, to which was attached 
 a little unused box of a bedroom, looked into the 
 Luxembourg Garden. The wife of the concierge was 
 employed to keep the place tidy. When it was ready 
 
$o6 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 Elsa came, often accompanied by her mother, or her 
 grandmother, Oscar, or the surly maid servant, — often, 
 however, alone, — early in the morning to her work, 
 and continued it, with a short interruption for the 
 noonday meal, until it grew dark. Hope and affec- 
 tion stimulated her, and aquarelles and pastels grew 
 under her hand, abundant and beautiful as flowers in 
 spring nights. When she had quite a number of pictures 
 ready which seemed to her successful, she invited the 
 dealer who had bought her exhibit from the Salon 
 for 10,000 francs, to come and see her new work. He 
 neither came or made any answer. Much surprised, 
 she went, accompanied by her mother, to see him. 
 He made known, rather uncivilly, that he did not re- 
 quire any more. 
 
 " Why is this ?" the girl asked, " am I not the same 
 person that I was in May ? At that time you bought 
 imm.ediately, and at your own suggestion, my whole 
 exhibit — " 
 
 The man smiled peculiarly, shrugged his shoulders, 
 and only said : " Mademoiselle, it is hard times ; our 
 patrons have no money ; my shop is full of pictures 
 now." 
 
 The mother and daughter visited other dealers. No 
 one would buy. The best-disposed agreed to have the 
 pictures on view in their shop-windows, where, how- 
 ever, they remained unnoticed. 
 
 Elsa was frightfully discouraged. They could not 
 understand it. What had changed ? Why did every 
 thing seem to fail now, when her earlier work, which 
 certainly was no better, had had snch brilliant success ? 
 The sky grew dark above her. The star of hope faded 
 and disappeared. Should she never, never reach the 
 goal she had proposed to herself ? 
 
 This was her mood of mind at the time of the down- 
 fall of the French-Oriental bank. She at once forgot 
 her own fate in that of the Baroness Agostini. Her 
 first impulse when she heard of the baron's suicide was 
 to go to the baroness at once. But Frau Kathe dis- 
 suaded her. It was not even certain that the baroness 
 was in town. And in the frightful confusion that • 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 507 
 
 must prevail in the hotel Agostini, any one's visit 
 would be burdensome. The papers soon made known, 
 however, that the baroness had returned from Brit- 
 tany ; and a few days later, after the completely pri- 
 vate funeral of the baron had taken place, Frau Kathe 
 no longer opposed the girl's eager desire to visit her 
 friend. 
 
 It was very manifest in the rue Fortuny that disas- 
 ter had been there. Most of the servants were gone. 
 The few that still remained went about in jackets and 
 shabby trousers. On many of the doors there were 
 large red seals on narrow strips of parchment. As 
 they entered the hall, the steward came to them and 
 in answer to their inquiry for the baroness, told them 
 that she saw no one. But the visitors persisted. The 
 steward was nearly at the end of his politeness when, 
 attracted by the sound of the discussion, the maid ap- 
 peared above, and called out on perceiving who 
 was there : " Frangois, let the ladies come up. • These 
 ladies are always welcome." 
 
 The steward retreated, with a shrug, and Frau 
 Kathe and her daughter went upstairs. 
 
 " The poor lady will be glad to see you, I am sure," 
 the maid said, as she conducted them in ; " since the 
 disaster she has been quite alone, and not a soul comes 
 near her except the ' black men ' who come to tease 
 and torment her." 
 
 The baroness was in her bed-room, where Frau 
 Kathe and Elsa had never before entered. The first 
 objects that met Elsa's sight, even before the baroness 
 herself, were her own pictures from the Salon. This, 
 then, was the secret of the wonderful sale ! The 
 baroness it was, who had sent the dealer, that she 
 might not hurt the pride of the young artist ! In an 
 instant Elsa understood and appreciated all the gener- 
 osity, all the considerateness, of this noble woman ; 
 and with the same rapid thought she recognized the 
 fatal importance which the change in the circumstan- 
 ces of her patroness had for herself. All self-com- 
 mand forsook her. Sobbing violently, she rushed to 
 the baroness and dropped on her knees beside her. 
 
So8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 The baroness, very simply dressed in black, sat in an 
 arm-chair near a Gothic prie-dieu. Her face was ex- 
 tremely pale, her eyes sunken and dulled. Slowly she 
 turned toward the new-comers, slowly she extended 
 her hand to Frau Kathe, slowly she put her arm 
 around Elsa and drew the girl toward her. No one of 
 the three said a word at first. But Elsa's excitement 
 and something in Frau Kathe's look and manner 
 seemed to help the baroness. Her feeble, weaiy face 
 recovered itself a little, her eyes gained expression, 
 and as she stroked the tear-wet cheek and the head of 
 the beautiful girl who knelt at her side, and drew her 
 gently nearer, she said feebly, and with a singular 
 monotony in her voice, and hesitating between the 
 words : " It was very good of you to come." 
 
 " Ach ! Frau Baroness !" was all that Frau Kathe 
 could say, while Elsa, in silence, kissed her hand. 
 
 " Ah !" the baroness replied, with a little start of 
 surprise, " did you know the baroness ?" 
 
 Frau Kathe trembled and looked at her with wide 
 opened eyes. 
 
 "And the Countess Rigalle ? She called herself so. 
 Did you know her ? No ? But you knew Fraulein 
 Hausblum, I think ? Yes ? I was sure you did. 
 They are all dead, all three of them. And the bar-on 
 is dead, too. And Dr. Henneberg also. Every one is 
 dead." 
 
 She gazed blankly into vacancy for a moment, and 
 then she went on : 
 
 " Fraulein Hausblum was rather self-willed, but she 
 was a good, honest girl. Countess Rigalle — she was 
 very much talked against ; and it was quite right that 
 she should be ; she was a very wicked woman. She 
 fought for herself, when it would have been better for 
 her to keep still and say her prayers. The baroness 
 Agostini — she was good. And she is dead, now. 
 There are very strange things in this world." 
 
 " Dear, kind, gracious lady," Frau Kathe said, while 
 the tears rolled down her cheeks, " you are alive, and 
 you will recover." Elsa remained dumb and com- 
 pletely overwhelmed. 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 509 
 
 " Whether anyone is alive or dead," the baroness 
 went on, in the same remote, monotonous, and hesitat- 
 ing voice, " is really, after all, the same thing. I did 
 not know it before, but now I do. The dead are al- 
 ways here. I don't see them, but I can hear them. 
 Did you know Dr. Klein? No? He was a great 
 scholar. He explained this to me. The dead talk to 
 us all the time, he said. It is true. With my right 
 ear I am always hearing papa, and Dr. Klein, and the 
 baron. But in my left ear people hiss and scream and 
 revile me. Why should they? They have nothing to 
 complain of that I have done. One troubles me 
 especially. He is very rude to me and calls me horrid 
 names. Must I endure it ? Tell me what you think ?" 
 
 A slight agitation was apparent in her ; a faint 
 colour came in her face, and her lip quivered like that 
 of a child who is about to cry. 
 
 Frau Kathe exchanged a sad glance with Elsa, and 
 rose from her seat. 
 
 " Are you going so soon ?" the baroness asked, 
 speaking somewhat more rapidly : " Well, it is no 
 pleasure to be with me." 
 
 " We feared to fatigue you, gracious lady," Frau 
 Kathe said. 
 
 " Oh no, it is not fatigue. It is something quite 
 different. You have changed my rhythm. You 
 know yourself, every person is a rhythm of one kind 
 or another. Earlier I was different. I was never a 
 waltz ; no ; serious and thoughtful, like : ' Ich weiss 
 nicht was soil es bedeuten.' But now I am Chopin's 
 Marche funebre. It is very confusing until one gets 
 used to it." 
 
 Frau Kathe pressed her hand long ; Elsa embraced 
 her and kissed her on both cheeks. The baroness re- 
 mained quiet, nor did she rise when they left her. It 
 was their intention to go silently past the maid, who 
 waited for them in the boudoir. The latter noticed 
 this, and only shook her head sadly and touched her 
 own forehead significantly with her finger. Neither 
 mother nor daughter could speak a word on their way 
 home. Both were ill for a day as a result of their 
 
SIO THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 visit ; and, long after, it would still happen to Elsa to 
 break out in uncontrollable tears when she was alone 
 and the thought of the baroness recurred to her. 
 
 The notary who, for nearly ten years, had had the 
 care of the Baroness Agostini's business and held full 
 power of attorney to act for her in all matters, had 
 become extremely attached to his client. And he 
 now devoted himself to her interests. He secured her 
 removal to a hospital, to which she made no objection, 
 and in the meanwhile, conscientiously protected her 
 rights. After a few months she had so far recovered 
 that it was possible for her to come out ; she still 
 heard her voices, but she no longer had the idea that 
 she was dead, and she took a certain interest in what 
 went on about her. Paris was to her insupportable. 
 She withdrew to her chateau in Brittany, where 
 solitude matured in her a pious resolve. She 
 founded a convent for the Sisters of S. Vincent de 
 Paul, giving them her chateau and the estate and all 
 her property, with the exception of a small part which 
 after her death was to go to her half-sisters. She did 
 not herself take the veil, but she wore a dress like the 
 nuns', and lived with them as a kind of lay-sister. 
 
 She passed her time in prayer and meditation and 
 the reading of works of the great Mystics, ancient 
 and modern. For hours at a time she would sit in 
 her room, which was almost as simple in its aspect as 
 a cell, and fill page after page of a book, which, when 
 it was full, she burned. She is now scarcely thirty- 
 eight years old, almost completely grey-haired, her 
 face is pale and thin, her former beauty is wonder- 
 fully spiritualized. The sisters regard her with mingled 
 affection and shy admiration ; once in the year, be- 
 tween Easter and Whitsuntide, the Bishop of Quim- 
 per visits her ; the Breton people venerate her as a 
 saint, and it often happens thatpoor women who meet 
 her in the solitary paths of what was once the chateau 
 but is now the convent park, step aside, bend a knee, 
 cross themselves, and begin to repeat the rosary. 
 
 She never knew that during the months which she 
 spent in the hospital, the gossip-papers dug up her 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 511 
 
 whole history, with exaggeration of facts and the ad- 
 dition of much scandalous fiction. This was the long- 
 deferred revenge of the Countess Rigalle. Thus the 
 whole story became known in the rue Saint-Andre- 
 des-Arts, but it could not bring any stain upon the 
 picture that, pure and beautiful, lived in the Koppels' 
 hearts. Also, the Knecht family spoke of her with 
 reverence and sincere gratitude as soon as it became 
 a fact that the bank was to stand, and the husband of 
 the blonde Marie to keep the place which the kindness 
 of the baroness had procured for him. Nor did the 
 Masmajours forget who it was that first secured them 
 their rich clientele. In the whole circle of those whom 
 she had befriended there was but one being who 
 thought of her with implacable resentment, and this 
 was the otherwise so good and amiable Adele. 
 
 On that fatal day when Masmajour read aloud to 
 his family the account of Henneberg's suicide as given 
 in the evening paper, Adfele had grown deathly pale 
 and leaned back almost fainting in her chair. After 
 a time she had been able to go to her room, whither 
 Blanche, the only person who knew the secret of her 
 heart, had shortly followed her. Ad^le was crying 
 bitterly, her face buried in her pillow. Blanche threw 
 her arms about her sister: "Adele," she said, "my 
 little Adfele, be reasonable ; it is most foolish to grieve 
 like this." 
 
 "You do not know," Adfele moaned, and sobbed 
 afresh. 
 
 "But I do know, you foolish girl. You have a stu- 
 pid idea in your head and you will not let it go. 
 What could you find in that person ? And he never 
 noticed you at all !" 
 
 Upon this, Ad^le dried her eyes and answered, speak- 
 ing low but in a tone of irresistible conviction : 
 
 " No, Blanche, you are mistaken. He was handsome 
 and proud and strong as a hero; and one could not 
 help loving him when one saw him. And he loved 
 me, also, you may be sure of that." 
 
 Blanche looked at her compassionately. Adele per- 
 sisted in her conviction and went on : " You never 
 
512 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 noticed how he looked at me and how he spoke to me 
 when we were on the Eiffel Tower, and the evening 
 we were at supper at the Koppels'. You were too 
 young and giddy. And he made known his love to 
 me. How else could I understand it when he asked 
 Elsa for my picture, and begged me, with a look, to 
 let him have it ? But because I gave him no encour- 
 agement he was hurt, and so, out of vexation, he 
 threw himself into that dreadful woman's net. She 
 was perhaps more beautiful and, at any rate, she was 
 richer than I. But I loved him better and truer than 
 she did, and if he had married me he would not have 
 been desperate, but would be well and happy now. 
 Ah, Blanche, perhaps it was all my fault. I ought not 
 to have been so reserved." 
 
 Blanche was extremely surprised at this story, 
 which the maidenly romantic soul of her sister, filled 
 with a profound, yet unconscious need of love, and 
 awakened by the first fleeting contact with a stranger, 
 had woven for itself, but she did not ridicule it, nor 
 did she say anything further. She icontented herself 
 with a sisterly embrace, and felt that time would do its 
 work in banishing the delusion from Adfele's mind. 
 Time did not disappoint the expectations founded 
 upon it. Impressions lost, by degrees, their strong 
 and lively colouring. Only at remote intervals, the 
 drama was brought again to mind. At New Years it 
 was to be read in the newspapers that the King of 
 Laos, deprived by Henneberg's death of his principal 
 support, had sailed with a handful of adventurers to 
 return to Asia ; that at Aden he had been abandoned 
 by his followers ; that, being without money or pros- 
 pects, and being regarded by the English authorities 
 as a dangerous filibuster and, as such, threatened by 
 them, he had taken poison and had died in a hos- 
 pital. And a few weeks later, Madame Masmajour 
 related to Frau Kathe (having heard it herself from 
 one of her South American customers) that General 
 Zagal, who, after a nominal prosecution had been set 
 at liberty, was absolutely ruined, and had left Paris, 
 and returned to Honduras, endeavouring to set on foot 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 513 
 
 a rebellion, in the hope of again coming into power. 
 This attempt had failed, however, his followers had 
 been punished, he himself had been taken by the gov- 
 ernment and had been summarily shot. 
 
 After Madame Masmajour had gone, Frau Kathe 
 said to her husband : 
 
 " Do you remember our dinnerat Henneberg's ? How 
 dismally right I was when I called it a Belshazzar's 
 feast. Almost every person who was at the table that 
 night is either dead or ruined." 
 
 " And I am one of them," Koppel said dejectedly ; 
 and this made Frau Kathe sorry that she had not sup- 
 pressed her comment ; but the harm was done. Kop- 
 pel remained the whole day visibly depressed. 
 
 He had not time, however, in these days, to yield to 
 his own moods. When the storm had swept past, it 
 was then necessary to rebuild what had been destroyed. 
 Stung by the consciousness of his error, which the sight 
 of his wife and daughter — uncomplaining, affectionate, 
 but evidently more serious and anxious than they had 
 been wont to be — kept active, he made the most 
 strenuous efforts, to recover his lost opportunities. 
 He was devoted to his private pupils, he exasperated 
 his colleagues by the eagerness with which he pursued 
 his classes for more advanced girls, he prepared for a 
 publisher of school-books inglorious, poorly paid, lit- 
 eral translations of the classics, true pontes asinorum 
 for idle youth. This work, which kept him busy, late 
 and early, preserved him from torturing reveries and 
 reminiscences, and even gave him at times once more 
 the comfortable self-deception that he was a good, 
 honest, hard working man. But now and then when 
 he bartered his hours for five franc pieces, and at the 
 end of the month in a house received sixty or eighty 
 francs, there would awaken in his mind grievous mem- 
 ories of the time when he drove in a fiacre to a bank- 
 er's, and received, twice a month, 25.000 to 30,000 
 francs ; and he would seriously ask himself whether he 
 really had done this, or whether it was a dream. He 
 completely forgot the abysses of his nature which at 
 critical moments yawned before his inner vision ; his 
 
514 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 falseness toward himself and others, his unconfessed 
 envy, his tranquil readiness to speculate with money 
 that was not his own, and to enjoy dishonourable gains. 
 Over these slimy depths, his self-regard flung a cloudy 
 veil which hid them from his sight. 
 
 Elsa, for her part, worked unweariedly but made 
 no apparent progress. She exhibited separate pictures 
 which, thanks to her brother and his comrades, were 
 extravagantly praised in the small papers and in the 
 " young " periodicals, but were scarcely noticed by 
 the great papers or by the public ; and, particularly, 
 attracted no purchasers. To pay the rent of her 
 studio and to pay her models she was obliged to 
 habituate herself to selling carefully finished works 
 for twenty franc pieces. After a year of steady, con- 
 scientious industry, she saw with discouragement that 
 she indeed had made both ends meet, but had com- 
 pletely lost rank in the art-market, where the dealers 
 only knew her now as the clever young lady who 
 would accept twenty francs for a large aquarelle with 
 figures. 
 
 It fell to the lot of Madame Masmajour to be able 
 really to be of service to the Koppel family. Her 
 business developed brilliantly, and her establishment 
 became one of the most fashionable in Paris. She 
 was obliged to increase her workrooms and treble the 
 number of her workwomen and apprentices. She de- 
 voted herself personally to the invention of new styles. 
 Adele reigned in the reception room, where she 
 occupied herself with the customers. Blanche gave 
 out the work and superintended in the work-rooms. 
 Masmajour was book-keeper and cashier. Madame 
 Masmajour had said to him that he must consider 
 himself not as in her employ but as in the employ of the 
 firm which she represented ; and he was regularly 
 installed in this new occupation as he had been in 
 Nimes in the insurance business. She conferred upon 
 him in due form the title of " Manager," and he put 
 this fine, proud designation upon his visiting-card. 
 He had a monthly salary of 250 francs, and performed 
 for himself a delightful comedy, on the first day of 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 515 
 
 each month, with the same ceremonial every time. 
 Madame Masmajour, as representative of the firm, 
 gave him, in the morning, 250 francs in an envelope ; 
 and Monsieur Masmajour, as husband, gave back to 
 her at noon, 150 francs. The rest he had for pocket- 
 money. He was now contented, he had recovered his 
 self-respect, and in the coffee-house where he was a 
 regular guest and every evening had his game of 
 dominos, he was wont to develop at much length an 
 idea like this : " The government is doing all that it 
 can do to destroy France ; but this wonderful French 
 people is indestructible. However often it has been 
 plundered by foreign pirates and their accomplices 
 within the country, the labour of its men replaces in 
 a short time all that has been lost." 
 
 The business throve to the degree ihat Koppel re- 
 ceived from his investment in the first year, 4,000 
 francs, and in the second year 7,000, so that, at the 
 end of eighteen months he was able to pay off his 
 debt to the coulissier. On giving him the receipt, the 
 broker said to him : 
 
 " I congratulate you, monsieur le docteur, on your 
 sudden recovery. What a pity that you did not re- 
 verse in time ! There was a fortune to be earned in 
 Almadens. Of course I mean on the ' short ' side. A 
 man cannot afford to be obstinate at the Bourse and 
 insist on his own way. It is essential to follow every 
 lead without hesitation." 
 
 " Monsieur Pfiester always preached to me that one 
 must persevere, at the Bourse," Koppel said, smiling 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Pfiester!" exclaimed the coulissier. "See what 
 has become of him, with all his wisdom. After no one 
 would trust him here any longer, he went over to 
 London to see what the stock exchange would do with 
 him." 
 
 The broker added a friendly intimation that he 
 should be happy to be useful to Koppel at any time, if 
 the latter should wish again to " operate," — of course, 
 carefully, at first, and in a small way. 
 
 Koppel fled. "At the Bourse a man must per- 
 
5l6 THE DRONES MUST DIT.. 
 
 severe ! At the Bourse a man must not be obsti- 
 nate !" rang in his ears, and it seemed to him as if Fate 
 were jeering at him with this harlequin-wisdom. 
 
 The Masmajours had no idea of the circumstances 
 of the Koppels. They supposed the latter to be rich, 
 and it was a comfort to them now to feel themselves on 
 an equality with their old neighbours and former 
 friends. The two families saw each other frequently, 
 twice or three times a week, and it was a great satis- 
 faction to Madame Masmajour to boast of her first 
 year's brilliant success, when on that very day, it hap- 
 pened that Frau Kathe and Elsa came to see her. 
 Then, Elsa could not help saying, rather sadly : 
 "Alas ! I wish I could say as much. " And then, for 
 the first time, Madame Masmajour learned of Elsa's 
 strenuous efforts, and the family's narrow circum- 
 stances. She took this news much to heart and con- 
 sulted with her daughters how they might in some 
 way be of service to their friends to whom they were 
 all so much attached. The mind soon finds a way, 
 when the heart helps in the search. Adfele overcame her 
 shyness, and was willing that her pastel-portrait, now 
 again in a handsome frame, should be placed con- 
 spicuously in the reception-room ; and Madame Mas- 
 majour asked to have some other pictures of Elsa's 
 that she might exhibit them also. And now, the 
 mother and daughters made it their business to recom- 
 mend their friend's work more assiduously even than 
 they did their own ; with every new South American 
 customer they never failed to call attention to the 
 lovely portrait of Adfele, and to make it clear that to 
 have one's picture from the hand of this young 
 artist was an imperative demand of good taste. Very 
 rich ladies learned the way to Elsa's atelier ; she again 
 received commands, and though the prices paid were 
 no longer in thousands of francs, as in the time of the 
 Baroness Agostini, but only modest sums of a hundred 
 and fifty, or two hundred, or at most three hundred 
 francs, still her second year was very much more 
 profitable than the first had been. When with much 
 emotion, she thanked Madame Masmajour for the 
 
AFTER THE STORM. S17 
 
 first successful recommendation, the other interrupted 
 her quickly ; " Mademoiselle Elsa, how can you ! I 
 was a poor woman working by the day, when you first 
 gave me a helping hand. Your mamma recommended 
 me to the Baroness Agostini ; your papa helped me 
 to establish my business. I am only too happy that I 
 can do a very little to show my gratitude." 
 
 And now, since the Masmajours were once more in 
 prosperity, the circle of their acquaintances soon 
 widened, and it was not long before there came an 
 aspirant for the hand of Adfele first, and then, one for 
 that of Blanche. Adele declared absolutely that she 
 would never marry, and begged her mother to keep 
 her at home with herself. Madame Masmajour trans- 
 lated Adfele's answer into this form : " My daughter 
 does not wish to be married at present," and assured 
 the girl that she should never be compelled to accept 
 any one. And to the younger sister, Madame Mas- 
 majour did not even mention the subject at all. 
 Blanche was but nineteen. There was no haste. 
 Very likely her little romance with Oscar still lingered 
 in her thoughts. She must have time to forget it 
 completely. 
 
 When first that affair was broken off Blanche had 
 felt extremely grieved. She had felt herself a victim 
 to domestic tyranny, and was determined to defend 
 her love against fate and mankind, against time and 
 distance, to her latest breath. She relied upon her 
 strength and persistency ; what was it to her that she 
 did not see her beloved, that she must wait perhaps for 
 years before she could again rush into his arms ? She 
 would willingly wait, patiently and faithfully. If 
 Oscar persevered she would persevere also. She gave 
 love for love, and he should never regret having 
 trusted her. 
 
 Meantime months and months passed away, without 
 her ever hearing directly from Oscar, and this was not 
 without its effect upon her. Did he think of her still ? 
 Why did he make no efforts, in spite of all hindrances, 
 to send some token, however slight, that his love en- 
 dured ? It could not be impossible to do this, if he 
 
5l8 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 were resolute. She asked Elsa. The sister was ex- 
 tremely reticent, but from her brief, evasive answers, 
 Blanche did not gain the idea that Oscar was extremely- 
 occupied with her. At first she suspected design in 
 Elsa's remarks about her brother ; but in time, so 
 many things accidentally became known to her that 
 she began to believe she was forgotten. 
 
 Oscar was never informed of his father's losses. As 
 nothing more was said about sending him to Germany, 
 he believed that his own will had conquered. His 
 victory almost grieved him, however, and he came 
 very near going to his father and saying : " Forgive 
 me my obstinacy, and do with me as you will." On 
 mature reflection he gave this up, but he proposed to 
 himself at least never again to cause his good" father 
 any trouble. 
 
 He made no attempt to approach Blanche in any 
 way. He also no longer talked with Elsa about her. 
 He was very industrious at school, he gained his bac- 
 calaureate with honour, and began to devote all his 
 energies to his work as an author. He composed a 
 drama for the Theatre Libre, and to his great joy it was 
 accepted, though as about the sixtieth on the list. 
 He was promised that its performance would not be 
 deferred beyond five years, at longest. He then wrote 
 a novel, and sought to find a publisher for it. There 
 was no difficulty about its being printed, if he were 
 willing to bear the expense. A newspaper did accept 
 it, but would not agree to pay anything for this first 
 work of a beginner, and also must postpone using it 
 for two years, being otherwise pledged by contract up 
 to that time. His father took occasion to say to him 
 that he must always bear in mind that he had no in- 
 heritance to expect, and would one day have not only 
 to maintain himself, but also to be the support of his 
 mother and sister. He saw himself, therefore, under 
 the necessity of making a practical use of his abilities, 
 and after numberless steps, visits, and sending of speci- 
 men-work, he had the satisfaction finally of being ac- 
 cepted by a second-rate paper as a reporter, at a salary 
 of 150 francs a month. What had decided the matter 
 
AFTER THE STORM. §19 
 
 in his favor was not his poetry, nor his knowledge of 
 German, nor the flattering opinions which his com- 
 rades had expressed concerning himself and his work. 
 The paper required a bicyclist for its reporter, and 
 was induced to accept Oscar, in some slight degree 
 because he could write, but chiefly because he could 
 ride a wheel. 
 
 He, however, did not long remain at the foot of the 
 ladder but soon rose to the signed " Chronique." He 
 was obliged at this time to give up living at heme, as 
 his duties interfered with any regularity as to meals 
 or sleep. He made an attempt at first to quarter him- 
 self in Elsa's studio. There soon appeared to be dis- 
 advantages in this, however ; and he then took a room 
 for himself, in a neighbourhood frequented by his 
 comrades, in the Montmartre quarter. Hs was now 
 fully fledged, he no longer came daily to see his 
 family, he asked no further help from them,. and be- 
 gan his work of conquering Paris. He received the 
 higher consecration of his profession. Before he was 
 twenty, he had fought two duels with daggers, to his 
 mother's inexpressible horror, fortunately, however, 
 without receiving serious injury — once, because the 
 opponent had, in print, called him " a nasty Prussian," 
 the other in consequence of a quarrel behind the 
 scenes in a petty theatre, to which the ewig weibliche 
 was not altogether foreign. 
 
 The time came when he was obliged to decide 
 whether he would take military service in Germany or 
 would renounce his nationality. He did not hesitate 
 at all, but reported himself to the authorities as an emi- 
 grant. But neither did he, for the present, make him- 
 self a French subject. There was no longer volunteer 
 service for a year in France, he had no influential 
 friends who could obtain favours for him, and a three 
 years' barrack-life was repugnant to his inmost soul. 
 He had, therefore, legally, no country. Nowhere, in 
 the world, was he a citizen. He regarded this as an 
 advantage, however. In the " young " periodicals, he 
 ridiculed the notion of " a fatherland ;" and this 
 brought him such honour among the callow parlour- 
 
520 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 anarchists that, in spite of his youth, they gave him 
 the complimentary title of " Master." He boasted, 
 scornfully, that he was an Individual in the abstract, 
 a Personality, pure and simple, without that vulgar 
 background which people call a nation. He was a 
 politically neutralized human being, resembling, on a 
 small scale the peaceful solution of the Alsace-Lorraine 
 question. 
 
 Where was Blanche all this time ? Alas ! she had 
 scarcely any place at all in his thoughts. He em- 
 ployed himself with his ambition, his daily work, his 
 unsavoury Montmartre adventures, and remembered 
 with only a sad, yet self-derisive smile, his first roman- 
 tic passion. With the gloomy, ice-cold intrcspection 
 habitual in the circle to which he belonged, he dis- 
 sected his former feeling and decided that it was made 
 up, partly, from the results of novel-reading, partly, from 
 unconscious or half-conscious boyish susceptibility, and 
 partly, from a certain enthusiasm for the first young 
 girl with whom he had ever come in contact. This first 
 young girl had been really very sweet and charming, 
 but it made him very uncomfortable to think what might 
 have happened, if his letter had not been discovered. 
 What if Blanche had allowed herself to be carried off? 
 He would never have deserted her ; or, at least, he flat- 
 tered himself that he would have been incapable of such 
 baseness. And now, he should have a wife and perhaps 
 a family about his neck. That would be worse than a 
 mill-stone ! He would be out of the running, then. 
 He would be doomed to obscurity and poverty all his 
 life. He could never be sufficiently thankful to fate 
 that it had graciously averted from him a disaster so 
 frightful. Oddly enough, in this consideration he 
 always thought of himself, his own lot, his own incli- 
 nations. The question what would have become of 
 Blanche, had she consented, never came into his mind. 
 
 Over two years had passed since the Masmajours 
 had left the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. Blanche had 
 never been allowed to enter the house again, lest she 
 might meet Oscar. She was excluded from her fam- 
 ily's visits to the Koppels. She felt this as a con- 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 52 1 
 
 straint, against which, at last, she rebelled. One Sun- 
 day when Adfele and her mother were preparing to go 
 and see Frau Kathe, Blanche said, with decision : " I 
 am going, too." 
 
 Her mother and sister were shocked and exchanged 
 dubious glances. But Blanche continued: "Why 
 not ? I am just as fond of Madame Koppel as you 
 are, and Elsa is just as much my friend as she is yours. 
 I am not a child any more, to be kept at home as a 
 punishment." 
 
 Madame Masmajour collected her thoughts as best 
 she could: " My dear Blanche," she said, "you know 
 why we ask you not to come with us. It is better to 
 avoid meeting ■ " 
 
 " I am not afraid," Blanche interrupted ; " I have 
 had time to think it all over, you know. I believe 
 that Oscar has forgotten me. And at least, if he has 
 not, he has become very tranquil. I feel that in my- 
 self ; and it is time the whole matter should be 
 settled." 
 
 "What do you mean?" her mother asked, much 
 confused and distressed. 
 
 " I feel this, dear mamma ; I am quite indifferent, as 
 I look back ; but to be perfectly sure of this, I want to 
 see Oscar again. I shall know then, if I am really free 
 and sound, if I find that it does n't hurt me at all to 
 see him again, and I think it will not." 
 
 " It is a serious experiment," Adele said. 
 
 "But I must try it, unless you want me to remain 
 always in doubt," Blanche insisted. She spoke so 
 firmly and with so much tranquillity, that Madame 
 Masmajour dared make no further objection. 
 
 Blanche's appearance at the Koppels' caused a great 
 sensation. Frau Kathe and Elsa understood the mo- 
 tive, and received the girl as an especially welcome 
 guest. Oscar was not there. And two more visits 
 from Blanche were equally without special result. 
 But the fourth time, it chanced that Oscar came in. 
 He was extremely surprised at seeing his former 
 sweetheart, and stood still in the doorway. Blanche 
 had the advantage of expecting to meet him, and was, 
 
522 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 calm and smiling. If her heart fluttered a little, she 
 was able to conceal the fact. He blundered some 
 words of greeting, as she calmly offered him her hand, 
 which he seemed to touch with reluctance. They ex- 
 amined each other slyly, while he took a seat, awk- 
 wardly, in his uncontrollable embarrassment, and made 
 general remarks, addressed rather to the mother than 
 the daughter. He was no stouter, scarcely any 
 broader, than of old ; but he was very stylish in his 
 clothes and the cut of his hair, and positively used a 
 monocle. And he remarked with surprise, and also 
 with dismay, that Blanche disappointed him. Time 
 had done its idealizing work upon his memory of the 
 girl. The picture that lived in his imagination was 
 quite different from the reality. He thought her 
 figure rather diminutive, her forehead rather too low, 
 her dainty little nose rather too aquiline, her lips 
 rather too full. And there was lacking especially that 
 wondrous radiance that used to surround her. He had 
 no idea that it had been purely a matter of his excited 
 fancy, and he really believed she had lost it. Now she 
 was only a nice little girl, like any other ; no more, no 
 less. There was nothing in her to make a young man 
 of lofty aims sacrifice his life to her. He would have 
 wronged himself had he done it. 
 
 These considerations restored his self-command. 
 He spoke in a fluent tone of good society to Blanche ; 
 he used votis, as if he had never said tu in his life. 
 He was quite certain he should have used the vous if 
 he had been talking with her quite alone. He felt 
 much more embarrassment than tenderness in being 
 near her. 
 
 Blanche's acuteness of perception, saw or felt what 
 passed in his mind. Nothing in him betrayed the 
 rush of any long-suppressed feeling. His eyes rested 
 on her without rapture. In his voice no longer 
 trembled things unspeakable. Her experiment had 
 given what she desired from it. She left the Koppels, 
 the richer by a sad experience. There was, it cannot 
 be denied, a slight pain at her heart as she walked 
 silently homeward at her mother's side. It was not 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 523 
 
 because she had done with Oscar that she had a heart- 
 ache, but only that she was obliged to recognise the 
 fugitive character of young, passionate, ardent love. 
 She felt sadly that if Oscar had wished it, she would 
 have been to him to-day the same that she was two 
 years before. But he had not wished it. Talking 
 with Adele that evening, she made a remark which 
 her sister didn't at first understand and only long 
 after fully appreciated. " Do you know, Adfele," 
 Blanche said, " I think that men are like fireflies. 
 They glow, but they are cold." 
 
 Soon after this, another suitor made a proposal for 
 Blanche. He was the son of one of Madame Mas- 
 majour's business associates, a well-educated, not bad 
 fellow, who would be the only heir to his father's 
 prosperous business. The parents permitted him to 
 pay his court to the girl, and, after short reflection, she 
 accepted him. 
 
 " You see, mamma," she said, " I am reasonable. I 
 ask from life nothing more than it can give. I think 
 Monsieur Georges will make a dutiful husband." But 
 to Adele she remarked : "Alas ! Adele, it is too sad ; 
 we don't marry the man we love ; and we don't love 
 the man we marry." 
 
 It was with a heavy heart that Elsa saw little 
 Blanche in her bridal dress. Not with envy ; of that 
 she was incapable ; but with sad conclusions as to her- 
 self. She thought as seldom as possible of Briinne-Til- 
 lig, for when she thought of him she had to cry, and 
 that hindered her at her painting. That he was always 
 present in her thoughts even when they were not ex- 
 pressly occupied with him, she knew by all sorts of 
 tokens ; men did not exist, so far as she was concerned, 
 and if any one showed devotion, she recoiled from it 
 instinctively. When she was very tired she would be- 
 gin to dream, and it was always the same thing ; she 
 had been able to lay up the 75,000 francs, and then — 
 but here she would shake off the dream and say to her- 
 self with bitter scorn : " If it continues to go as well 
 with me as it has this year, in eighteen or nineteen 
 years I shall have my dowry in hand. I shall be thirty. 
 
524 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 nine years old or forty, then, just the right age to do a 
 reasonable thing ! And my old-gold hair will be old- 
 silver hair by that time, and I shall be the most charm- 
 ing of my sex." 
 
 At the time Frau Kathe had related to her husband 
 the story of Briinne-Tillig's proposal and Elsa's refusal, 
 Koppel had gone, as he said he should do, to see the 
 young officer, but had not found him. The following 
 day he had made a second attempt, but Briinne-Tillig 
 liad left Paris. Koppel wrote him, however, a really 
 pathetic letter, in which he confided to him that it was 
 not from lack of regard that Elsa had refused his hand, 
 but that it was because she had not " the officer's 
 guaranty," and had no assurance that she ever should 
 have it ; and she was not willing to bring him into the 
 painful position of withdrawing his proposal of mar- 
 riage when he should learn the situation of affairs. A 
 few days later came a brief reply from Briinne-Tillig ; 
 he was very grateful for the kind explanation ; he had 
 never thought of the possibility of such a hindrance ; 
 it was, as a matter of fact, at the present time insuper- 
 able ; and he would have been very grateful if Made- 
 moiselle Koppel had deigned herself to honor him 
 with her full confidence. 
 
 After that, he had not been heard from again. 
 
 But on a radiant May morning, the day before 
 Elsa's twenty-first birthday, it came to pass that 
 Briinne-Tillig appeared unawares before the unsus- 
 pecting Frau Kathe in her salon, and — while she was 
 very much startled, and grew pale and then red, and 
 could not speak a word — came forward smiling, kissed 
 her hand, and without needless preliminaries inquired : 
 " Is Elsa free ?" 
 
 " Oh, Herrvon Briinne-Tillig, how can you ask?" the 
 mother said, reproachfully. 
 
 " Will she still accept me ?" 
 
 " Poor child !" Frau Kathe said, and wiped off some 
 tears. 
 
 " Then it's all right," the young man rejoined, "for 
 I have come to get her." 
 
 It appeared that by a cousin's death he had received 
 
AFTER THE STORM. 525 
 
 an inheritance, a large estate in the countr}- ; that he 
 had at once quitted the service, and no " guaranty " 
 was now needed. He had made inquiries through the 
 Embassy, and, learning that Elsa was not rnarried, he 
 had come in search of his happiness. Successively Elsa 
 and her father came home to dinner, and there was an 
 outcry each time ; Elsa seemed to be a little faint and 
 had to be supported, and — no one knew just how — in 
 another minute, she was crying silently, with hap- 
 piness, in Briinnc-Tillig's arms. She asked nothing; 
 he said nothing ; but it was all understood. Since he 
 was there, evidently he would never again leave her. 
 The older people left them alone, and later when they 
 came in again to invite their son-in-law to dinner, the 
 two sat hand in hand, with shining eyes, quite lost in 
 looking at each other. At table they spoke to each 
 other with the dii, and used each other's given names. 
 
 " Is it going to break your heart to leave your dear 
 Paris?" Briinne-Tillig said teasingly. 
 
 "Is it going to be hard to leave mamma and grand- 
 mamma. But against heart-break, I am secure," Elsa 
 answered, in a low voice and shyly : " I have had the 
 protective treatment to the fullest degree." 
 
 He kissed her hand gratefully and tenderly. "But 
 what is the famous artist going to do in our humble 
 
 life r 
 
 " Oh, fame ? I have given up that idea, since I 
 have had to try to sell my pictures." 
 
 "You'll not have that to do any more, my Elsa." 
 
 " But I may paint ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, for our chateau. There are rooms enough 
 to give you occupation." 
 
 It was the first happy day that Koppel had had for 
 three years. He went off to have his feelings to him- 
 self. They were not happy very long. They changed 
 by degrees into sadness, and then, into bitterness. 
 Elsa, at least, was safe. But it was no merit of his 
 that her life had not been fatally spoiled. And she 
 was to go home to Germany. But he and Frau Kathe 
 and his mother must still live far away from the 
 Fatherland, and the son was a stranger to it and to 
 
526 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 the race to which he belonged. What satisfaction 
 could he yet hope for in life ? None. Every hope 
 was destroyed that he should ever again rise out of 
 the dull, wearisome mediocrity into which he was 
 slowly sinking back. What a life he had dreamed of ! 
 What a life his had now become ! He had wished for 
 so much, and he had been able to do nothing ! noth- 
 ing ! 
 
 And suddenly the thought of the mangy dog-skin 
 that he had bought long ago in the Hotel Drouot, which 
 still lay in its quiet place, came to him and he said to 
 himself with a melancholy smile, that this mangy pelt, 
 which from a distance had seemed to him a beautiful 
 object, was the symbol of his life. 
 
 THE END. 
 
L897 
 
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