And he speculated cunningly too. He determined to acquire a claim upon the baron's property by a mortgage; thus he would safely invest his capital, and work on quietly till the day came when he could get hold of the property itself. At all events, if he did not succeed in that, his money would be safe. Meanwhile, he would become an agent and commissioner, buy and sell, and do many clever things besides. Also, he must remain Ehrenthal's factotum as long as it suited him. Rosalie was handsome and rich, for Bernhard would not live to inherit his father's wealth. Perhaps he might desire to become Ehrenthal's son-in-law, perhaps not; at all events, there was no hurry about that. There was one other whom he must get on a secure footing--the little black man now drinking that expensive wine down stairs. Henceforth he would pay him for whatever he did for him, but he would not confide in him. These were the resolves of Veitel Itzig; and, having concocted his plans, he locked his door, threw himself down exhausted on his hard bed, the imaginary possessor of Baron Rothsattel's fair property. That evening the baroness and her daughter sat together in the conservatory, and both were silent; the baroness intently watching a bright moth, which was bent upon flying into the lamp, and came knocking its thick little body over and over against the glass which saved its life. Lenore bent over her book, but often cast an inquiring glance at her mother's thoughtful face. There came a quick step along the gravel, and the old bailiff, cap in hand, asked for the master. "What do you want?" said Lenore; "has any thing happened?" "It's all over with the old black horse," said the bailiff, in great concern; "he has been biting and kicking like mad, and now he is gasping his last." Lenore sprang up with an exclamation for which her mother chid her. "I will come and see to him myself," said she, and hurried off with the old man. The sick horse lay on his straw, with the sweat running down, and his sides heaving violently. The stable-boys stood around, looking at him phlegmatically. When Lenore entered, the horse turned his head toward her as if asking help. "He knows me yet," cried she. Then turning to the head groom, "Ride off instantly for a veterinary surgeon." The man did not like the thought of a long ride at night, and replied, "The doctor is never at home, and the horse will be dead before he can come." "Go at once!" commanded Lenore, pointing to the door. "What is the matter with the groom?" asked Lenore, as they left the stable. "He is grown good for nothing, and ought to be sent off, as I have often told my master; but the lout is as obedient to him as possible--he knows the length of his foot--while to every one else he is cross-grained, and gives me daily trouble." "I will speak to my father," replied Lenore, with a slight frown.