The next afternoon, after planning a pleasant walk for Leonore and Mazli, Mrs. Maxa started on her way to the castle. As soon as she neared the grated iron door it opened wide, and holding his hat in his hand, Mr.

Trius stood deeply bowing in the opening.

"May I see the Baron?" asked Mrs. Maxa.

After another reverence Mr. Trius led the visitor up the hill, and when he had duly announced her, invited her with a third bow to step forward.

It was quite evident that Mr. Trius had been definitely ordered to change his usual mode of behaviour.

Mrs. Maxa now approached the chair near the pine tree.

"Have you really come, Mrs. Maxa?" said the sick man, putting out his hand. "Did no bitter feelings against the evil-doer keep you back?"

Mrs. Maxa pressed the proffered hand and replied, "I could wish for no greater joy, Baron, than to have your door opened for me. I have wondered oftener than you could think if this would ever happen, for I wanted an opportunity to serve you. I know no bitter feelings and never have known them. Everybody who has loved this castle and its inmates has known they suffered grief and pain."

"I returned to this old cave here to die," said the Baron. "You can see plainly that I am a broken man. I only wished to forget the past in this solitude, and I thought it right for me to die forgotten. Then your little girl came in here one day--I have not been able to discover how."

"Oh, please forgive her," said Mrs. Maxa. "It is a riddle to me, too, how she succeeded in entering this garden. I knew nothing about it till yesterday evening when the children came home from the castle. I am terribly afraid that Mazli has annoyed you."

"She has not done so at all, for she is her mother's true child," said the Baron. "She was so anxious to help me and to bring me what I lacked.

Because she loved Leonore so much, she wanted me to know her, too, but I cannot understand Leonore. She begged and begged to be allowed to see her uncle, as she wished to live with him and love him like a father.

She even longs to seek him out in a foreign country. What shall I do?

Please give me your advice, Mrs. Maxa."

"There is only one thing to do, Baron," the lady replied with an overflowing heart. "G.o.d Himself has done what we never could have accomplished, despite all our wishes. The child has been led into your arms by G.o.d and therefore belongs to you from now on. You must become her father and let her love and take care of you. You will soon realize what a treasure she is, and through her the good old times will come back to this castle. You will grow young again yourself as soon as you two are here together."

The Baron replied: "Our dear Maxa always saw things in an ideal light.

How could a delicate child like Leonore fit into a wilderness like this castle. Everything here is deserted and forlorn. Just think of the old watchman here and me, what miserable housemates we should be. Won't you receive the child in your house, for she clearly longs to have a home? I know that she will find one there and apparently has found it already.

She can learn by and by who her uncle is and then she can come to visit him sometimes."

Amazed at this sudden change, Mrs. Maxa was silent for a while. How she would have rejoiced at this prospect a few days ago!

"I love Leonore like my own child and wanted nothing better than to keep her with me," she said finally, "but I think differently now. The children belong to you, and the castle of their fathers must become their home. You must let Leonore surround you with her delightful and soothing personality, which is sure to make you happy. When you come to know her you will soon realize of what I should have robbed you. There is no necessity at all for the castle to remain forlorn and empty. Despite the loss of our dear loved ones, the life here can again become as pleasant as in former times. Your mother always hoped that this would happen at her eldest son's return, as she had desired that his home should remain unchanged even after her death. Leonore can have her quarters in your mother's rooms."

"I wonder if you would like to see the rooms you knew so well, Mrs.

Maxa," the Baron said slowly.

Mrs. Maxa gladly a.s.sented to this.

"May I go everywhere?" she asked. "I know my way so well."

"Certainly, wherever you wish," the Baron replied.

Entering the large hall, Mrs. Maxa was filled with deep emotion. Here she had spent the most beautiful days of her childhood in delicious games with the unforgettable Leonore and the two young Barons. Everything was as it had been then. The large stone table in the middle, the stone benches on the walls and the niches with the old knights of Wallerstatten stood there as of yore.

When she went into the dining-hall, everything looked bare and empty.

The portraits of ancestors had been taken from the walls and the glinting pewter plates and goblets were gone from the large oaken sideboard. Mrs.

Maxa shook her head.

Going up the stairs, she decided first of all to go to the Baron's rooms, for she wondered what care he was receiving. Rigid with consternation, she stopped under the doorway. What a room it was! Not the tiniest picture was on the wall and not a single small rug lay on the uneven boards. Nothing but an empty bedstead, an old wicker chair and a table which had plainly been dragged there from the servants' quarters, comprised the furniture. Mrs. Maxa looked again to make sure that it was really the Baron's room. There was no doubt of it, it was the balcony room in the tower. Where did the Baron sleep?

As the sight proved more than she could bear, she quickly sought the late Baroness' chamber. Here, too, everything was empty and the red plush-covered chairs and the sofa in the corner over which all the pictures of the children used to hang were gone. Only an empty bedstead stood in the corner.

Mrs. Maxa went next to Leonore's room, which used to be extremely pretty. Lovely pictures used to hang on the walls, chairs covered in light blue silk were standing about, a half-rounded bed was placed in a corner, and she remembered the dearest little desk on which two flower vases, always filled with fresh roses, used to stand. Mrs. Maxa did not even go in this time, it was too horribly forlorn. The only thing which still spoke of old times was the wallpaper with the tiny red and blue flowers. She quickly went out. Throwing a single glance at the large ball-room, she likened it to a dreary desert. Not a curtain, not a chair or painting could be seen. Where could all the valuable damask-covered furniture have gone to? Was it possible that the castle had been robbed and no one knew of it?

It was probable, however, that Mr. Trius did not know about anything, and it was plain that the Baron himself had not troubled about these things. Mrs. Maxa hurriedly went back to him.

"To what a dreary home you have come back, my poor friend!" she cried out, "and I know that your mother never wished you to find it like this.

How unhappy you must have felt when you entered these walls after so many years! You cannot help feeling miserable here, and it is all quite incomprehensible to me."

"Not to me," the Baron quietly replied; "I somehow felt it had to be that way. Did I value my home before? It is a just retribution to me to find the place so empty and forlorn. I only returned to die here and I can await death in daytime on my chair out here and at night time in my nest.

I need nothing further; but death has not come as quickly as I thought it would. Why are you trying to bring me back to life again?"

"This is what I decidedly mean to do, so we shall banish the subject of death from now on, as I confidently believe that our Lord in Heaven has other plans for you," Mrs. Maxa said decisively. "I can see for myself that it is better for Leonore to stay with us, and I am ever so happy for your permission. May I write the ladies in Hanover that you do not want Leonore to be fetched away for the present?"

The Baron heartily gave this permission.

"I have to trouble you for one thing, Baron. Can you remember Apollonie, who was for many years your most faithful servant?"

The Baron smilingly answered, "Of course I remember her. How could I possibly forget Apollonie, who was always ready to help us in everything.

Your little daughter has already given me news of her."

"She is the only one who might know what happened to the furniture," Mrs.

Maxa continued. "I am going to see her right away, and I wish you would admit her when she comes. In case the place has really been robbed, you must let me get what you require. n.o.body is looking after you and you stand sorely in need of good care. I am quite sure that your mother would like me to look after you. Do you not think so?"

"I do," the Baron replied smilingly, "and I feel that I ought to be obedient."

After these words Mrs. Maxa took her leave and rapidly walked down the mountain.

She unexpectedly entered Apollonie's garden while the latter was working there, and immediately described to her the terrible state of things at the castle. She had always believed that the Baron would find it home-like and furnished, and now everything was gone, and he had not even a bed to sleep in, but was obliged to spend both day and night in his chair.

Apollonie had been wringing her hands all the time and broke out at last bitterly, "How could I have foreseen that? Oh, what a Turk, what a savage, what an old heathen that miserable Trius is," she sobbed, full of rage and grief. "I understand now why he never answered my questions. I have asked him many a time if he had taken out the right bed and was using the things belonging to it which were marked with a blue crown in the corners. He only used to grin at me and never said a word. He never even looked for them and calmly let my poor sick Baron suffer. Nothing is missing, not even the tiniest picture or trifle, and he had to come back to a terrible waste! All my sleepless nights were not in vain, but I had not the slightest idea that it could be as bad as that. The worst of it is that it is my fault.

"Yes, it really is all my fault, Mrs. Maxa," and Apollonie went on to tell how this had come about. Baron Bruno had only heard the news of his brother's marriage and his mother's death when he returned the first time years ago. He left again immediately, and she was quite sure that he did not intend to return for a long while. As no one had lived at the castle for so long, she had decided to put all the beautiful things safely away, in order to keep them from ruin and possible thieves. So she had stored them in the attic, wrapped in sheets, and had locked the place up.

Apollonie had never doubted that she would be called to the castle as soon as the Baron returned, for she belonged there as of old and occupied the little gardener's cottage belonging to it. But her dreams were not to come true.

"I must go to him this minute," gasped Apollonie; she had spoken rapidly and with intense excitement. "I want to fix my master's room to-day. I am sure I can do it, for all the furniture from the different rooms is marked and grouped together. But shall I be let in? The horrible stubborn old watchman always keeps me out."

But Mrs. Maxa was able to quiet her on that score by the Baron's recent promise, and she even urged Apollonie to start directly. The Baron should be told of the situation and have a bed prepared for him that night. After this Mrs. Maxa left.

Leonore, knowing where the mother had gone, flew to meet her when she saw her coming.

"Did he give you the address, Aunt Maxa," she asked expectantly.

"He means to let you know when he has traced it."

This seemed quite hopeful to Leonore, and she was glad to be able to give her brother this news. Mrs. Maxa herself lost no time in writing to the ladies in Hanover that Leonore's uncle had returned and wished to keep her near him.

Apollonie was meanwhile getting ready for her walk. Her agitation was so great that she took rather long in getting ready. Her toilet finally completed, she hurried up the incline with astonishing ease, for the hope of being admitted to the castle made her feel at least ten years younger, though she still had some doubts whether the door would be opened for her; On her arrival she pulled the bell-rope. Mr. Trius appeared, quietly opened and silently walked away again. Apollonie, who knew from Mazli where the master was, went towards the terrace. When she saw the sick man, she was completely overcome by memories of former times. She only said shakily, "Oh, Baron, Baron! I cannot bear this! It is my fault that you have no proper room or bed! And ill and suffering as you are!"

Apollonie could get no further for sobs and tears.