Chapter 6 No.6

The same evening of the ceremonies two persons conversed together in one of the salons of the superb mansion of Hochstetter. One of them was a man of about sixty years of age, of a venerable aspect, whose features expressed mildness and benevolence. This was Hochstetter. Not far from him was seated in a heavy oaken chair the young man whom we have followed from the river to the church; he appeared a prey to great despair and tried vainly to repress his tears.

The father was reading the letter which the servant of Katharina had given to the lover of her mistress, and from time to time he stopped to bestow upon his son a regard full of tenderness, but the contents of the letter were not of a nature to calm his sorrows, or to give him courage. It ran as follows:

"It is eight long days that I have not seen you, nor your worthy father, and I have not even been able to send you any word. Perhaps you have already accused me of forgetfulness and ingratitude. If it is thus, ask God to pardon your unjust suspicions, for never were reproaches less merited. If you knew my situation you would feel only pity for my unhappy fate, and you would not impute sentiments to me which are far from my heart. Since the day your father, my esteemed guardian, came to demand my hand, my father has changed so much that I can hardly recognize him. Not contented with forbidding me all communication with you, he will not even allow me to talk with any one; even my own maid is a prisoner like myself. Not a word from you or your father have I had. I have only been told you asked my hand in marriage. When I asked my father for an explanation he answered me that it was not yet time but that he would give me one later. I cannot comprehend it-my father who has appeared to love me so tenderly and has always gratified all my wishes-to treat me suddenly with so much severity, so much cruelty. What can I say? He knows that I love you, and what adds to my grief is not to be able to tell you my troubles, and not to see you. He is not ignorant that I suffer and weep almost continually. I fear you will ascribe my silence to other sentiments. He has kept me from your father and all my friends who could speak to me of you. He has also changed so much that it astonishes me; he is always agitated, filled with a continual fear which it is impossible for me to understand; he trembles and turns pale at the slightest noise, speaks of thieves and robbers as if the city contained them by thousands; in the evening he dares not retire until he has assured himself that the doors are well fastened. His long, strange absences, of which I have formerly spoken to you, become more and more frequent, and they often last for hours. No one sees him go out, but he is nowhere to be found. Then suddenly he appears without any one being able to say how he has entered. He has forbidden me to go to the morning mass as I have always done, and it was with great reluctance that he accompanied me to the church of St. André to pray for the repose of the soul of my deceased mother, whose loss I have never felt more deeply than now. As I have the hope of seeing you there, I know not why, I have written these lines, and confide them to Clara and pray that she may find means of giving them to you."

This letter did not appear to astonish Hochstetter much, but his discontent was none the less visible.

"Decidedly he is losing his senses," murmured he, throwing it upon the table. Then, turning towards his son, "Carl," said he, taking his hand, "calm yourself, you see that all is not lost as you feared, and you were wrong to doubt Katharina. The poor child loves you more than ever."

"But her father," sighed Carl, "her father. I avow that his conduct...."

"But I think I understand it. I have been connected with him twenty years and I think I know him well enough to flatter myself that he had much friendship for us, and that it must cost him something to sacrifice it for an idea; but still he shows himself uncivil, refuses to have any more transactions with me, and when I visited him to demand an explanation he would not receive me. He forbids his daughter, my ward, all communication with us, and for what?-because I have asked of him her hand in marriage for my only son, whose fortune is larger than that of any other in the city! He has seen this attachment in the games of your infancy and has always approved of it. If I regret one thing it is not the interruption of our commercial relations, or the loss of his friendship, but the sudden disappointment of the hopes which this union had made me form for you. Alas! do not be discouraged, my son; you have not so much to complain of, it appears to me. The young girl loves you, you cannot doubt it, and in spite of the severity of her father she finds means to communicate with you, and then she says that she does not comprehend her father's strange conduct, and gives us to understand that he must labour under some aberration of mind. I am sure that when he is re?stablished in health we shall find him the same old friend and tender father, who will be pleased to have you for a son-in-law. For where will he find one more suitable in every respect? Besides, you will be immensely rich."

"If Frügger will not accord me the hand of Katharina of what use will all the riches of the earth be to me?"

"Lover's words! Riches are always useful; you will learn that later. He will consent; but if he persists in his absurd obstinacy will you consent to marry her without any dowry, or even the fortune which belongs to her from her mother?"

"Instantly, even if she were the daughter of the most humble artisan."

"I will make another attempt. I know him well enough to prophesy that my offers will be accepted. Console yourself; all will be well." After this they separated, each to retire to his apartment.