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The baroness held views of this sort concerning Hilda and old Berbel. It was characteristic of her that, as soon as her generosity had got the better of her hesitation in regard to the marriage, she began to consider Greif in the light of a well-beloved adversary, whom the feminine powers of Sigmundskron must vanquish for his own good.
'It is not gay, said Berbel grimly. 'Now look here. Do you see the pocket? Yes. Well, do you see that the lining is torn just above it? Good. Herr von Greifenstein wrote his letter and slipped it into his pocket, because he was thinking of other things at that moment, and paid no attention to what he did, which was natural enough, poor gentleman.
He was no longer arrayed in his magnificent velvet coat as on the previous day. Such finery was only for the greatest festivities, and at present he wore no jacket at all, but a rough waistcoat with metal buttons, which hung loose and open over his shirt, and he had a bundle under his arm. 'Good morning, Wastei, answered Berbel, fixing her sharp eyes upon him with a look of inquiry.
Berbel showed the collar of the coat to Hilda, putting her finger on each spot in succession. 'It looks like rust, said Hilda. 'It is the blood of Herr von Greifenstein, answered Berbel solemnly. 'The ball went in just below the right ear, as I have heard your mother say more than once. 'How horrible! exclaimed Hilda, drawing back, though her eyes remained riveted on the rusty marks.
'Very well, replied Berbel, suppressing a smile by force of habit. 'So I took the gold piece, but I would not use it nor change it, for I said it was the price of bad news, though I owed the host at the Ox three marks and a half at the time. I took my gold piece and I put it in a safe place, where nobody would have thought of looking for it. 'Where was that? asked Berbel, as he paused.
She wondered why he had come. 'I have brought you something, he remarked, standing still before her, and tapping the bundle he carried with one hand. 'More trout? inquired Berbel with a twitching smile. 'There is no gold to be picked up to-day, Master Wastei. 'Unfortunately, he answered. 'But then one can never know, he added reflectively.
They knew, for the knowledge could not be kept from them and their kind, how very few were the silver pieces which were ever seen in the hands of old Berbel, when she came down to the village market to buy food, and they naturally concluded that the baroness was a miser even like some of themselves, keeping her store of gold in a broken teapot somewhere among those turrets in a spot known only to the owls.
And if you could spare the time Berbel looked at Greif. 'Very well, said the latter. 'I have plenty to do, dear. Finish your business with Berbel and meet me on the tower there is a man waiting for me, I believe. Thereupon Greif went on his way down the broad corridor, leaving Hilda and Berbel to their own devices.
'The Jew? inquired Berbel, looking sharply at Wastei. 'Yes and do you know what I think, Frau Berbel? Wastei lowered his voice to a whisper. 'What? 'I believe it is the coat the old wolf died in, and that is the reason it brings me luck. 'What makes you think that? inquired his companion, knitting her rough brows.
On the other hand the baroness was older and wiser, though not so wise as Rex. The balance lay between the sympathy Berbel felt for the one, and the unbounded respect she felt for the other.
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