do it with everybody. Aunt Sidonie scolds me enough about it. But after all, she is right. One may do it to one’s equals, even to superiors⁠—towards inferiors, never. Inferior? He is a gentleman, whatever else he is. I have nothing to reproach myself with, but that I have treated him as if he were our equal, as I would have treated any of our young officers.”

She went back to the sickroom to ask the woman whether it were really impossible to procure a doctor. The farmer, to whom she had addressed the same inquiry, had shaken his head.

“The young lady thinks it would be so easy,” said he to the gentlemen, when Elsa had left the room; “but the nearest doctor is at Prora, and that is a three hours’ drive, and three back, besides his time here. Who can blame the doctor if he thinks twice before he makes up his mind to the journey? In summertime, and fine weather, he might come by boat, that is easier and simpler; but now, with our roads⁠—”

“Yes, yes,” said the President; “the roads, the roads! The Government cannot do as much there as it would like. The communes moan and groan as soon as we touch the tender place. Your Count, Herr Pölitz, is one of the worst grumblers at the Communal Assemblies!”

“Notwithstanding that he throws all the burden upon us,” answered the farmer; “and he has made our lives hard enough already. Yes, sir, I say it openly; and I have said it to the Count’s own face.”

“And what do you think about the railroad?” asked the President, with a glance at the General.

A bitter smile came upon the farmer’s face.

“What I think of it?” he returned. “Well, sir, we all had to sign the petition. It looked very well upon paper, but unfortunately we do not believe a word of it. What do we want with a railway? We have no money to spend upon travelling, and the little wool and corn that we sell when things go well, we could carry to the market at Prora in an hour and a half, if we only had a high-road, or even a good road of any sort, as we easily might have if the Count and the rest of the gentry would put their shoulders to the wheel. And then, as you know, sir, the sea is our real high-road, and will always be so; it is shorter, and certainly cheaper than the railway.”

“But as to the harbour!” asked the President, again looking at the General.

“I do not understand anything about that, sir,” answered the farmer; “the General will know more about it. For my part I only know that it would be very difficult to build a harbour in our sand, which is blown by the wind here today and there tomorrow, and that we country people and the sailors and fishermen need no harbour, whether for war or peace; and that the best and only thing for us would be just a breakwater, and a certain amount of regular dredging. Railroad, harbour, ah! yes, they will swallow up many a tree that will be cut down for them and turned into money, and many an acre of sand which is not worth sixpence now, and many an acre of good land too, on which now some poor man drags on his life in the sweat of his brow, who will then have to take his staff in his hand, and set out for America, if there is still room there for the like of us.”

The man’s rough voice trembled as he spoke the last words, and he passed the back of his sunburnt hand across his forehead. The President looked at the General again, but this time not inquiringly as before. The General rose from his seat, walked a few paces about the room, and went to the window which he opened.

“The messenger is a long time,” said he.

“I will go and look after him,” said the farmer, leaving the room.

The General shut the window, and turned quickly to the President:

“Do you know, I wish we had not sent to Golmberg. Our visit there, however involuntary it may be, puts us under an obligation to the Count, and⁠—”

The General rubbed his high forehead that was already getting bald at the temples, and angrily pulled his thick grey moustache; the President shrugged his shoulders.

“I am in a much more ticklish position,” said he.

“It is different with you,” answered the General; “you are acquainted with him, on friendly terms: you have been so, at any rate. And you cannot altogether avoid intercourse with him; business must bring you constantly together; this is only one instance amongst many. I, on the other hand⁠—”

The President smiled.

“My dear General,” said he, “you speak as if intercourse with the Count were a serious matter in itself! Confess now, it is not the stupid business of the railway and harbour that have set you against the Count, but the conversation of the worthy farmer.”

“Are the man’s complaints unfounded?” asked the General, turning on his heel.

The President again shrugged his shoulders.

“That is as you choose to consider it. The Count might perhaps do more for his tenants, but we must not be too hard upon him. The property was heavily embarrassed when he came into it as a very young man. To retain it at all it was necessary to raise the rents as high as possible. He was not in the happy position of your late brother-in-law, who allowed himself to be guided rather by the impulses of his kind heart than by economic considerations in his leases. The Warnow property falls in next Easter, does it not? You will be obliged then, as one of the trustees, to concern yourself more particularly about the condition of affairs here. Who knows whether this day year you will lend so willing an ear to the complaints of people whose discontent with everything has become

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