“Well, now to end this affair, dear Meyerhofer,” Ulrich began. “What is done cannot be undone. We will not stop to inquire whether we ran most after your sisters, or your sisters after us; anyhow, it is just as much their fault as ours. We love them with all our hearts; they are the prettiest girls in the neighborhood, and we are truly sorry when we think that we have injured their reputation; but that we should marry them now you can’t possibly expect of us.” Paul cast a hesitating glance at him, and began, dejectedly, “That is the least that--” he did not get any further; he felt as if the blood was freezing in his veins. “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Fritz; and Ulrich continued: “Look here, we would be willing to do it because we think a lot of them, although they have lowered themselves so much”--a spasm of fury darted through Paul’s brain, but he controlled himself; “we would fulfil your wish directly, but first tell us what dowry will you give them?” “I have nothing,” stammered Paul. “There it is,” answered Fritz. “And we want money, a great deal of money,” Ulrich continued. “I am the eldest, and if I take the estate for myself alone I must pay Fritz so much to enable him to purchase for himself.” “I will work,” Paul gasped out, and looked at the brothers in humble entreaty. “You have worked already for ten years and have not saved anything.” “The fire came and prevented me,” stammered Paul, as if he were asking pardon for the misfortune that had happened to him. “And next year something else will come and prevent you. No, dear friend, we cannot depend upon that.” The fear that he would have to return to his sisters without bringing any consolation sank deeper and deeper into his heart. He was so overpowered that it loosed his tongue, and he cried out, “But for God’s sake, listen to reason. I can’t do more than work.... I will work like a slave.... Will work day and night. I will pinch, save, and starve even, and all I earn shall be yours.... Just see.... I have splendid prospects.... The locomobile will soon be repaired ... and the moor is very lucrative ... it is fifteen feet deep ... you can measure it.... The cart-load of peat fetches ten marks ... and the dowry shall be paid to the last farthing in yearly instalments.” He gazed at them with expectant eyes, for he felt sure they would seize this offer directly; and when they continued silent, he passed his hand despairingly over his forehead, from which the cold perspiration was streaming, and murmured, “Well, what more can I do?... Yes, I _will_ do more; I will ask my father to give up the farm to me, and will make it over to you, so that ... when my father dies one of you will be master there.... I will go away and take nothing but the clothes I stand up in. Is not that enough for you?” But still they were silent.