As the time drew near, he tried in vain to conceal his emotion by a great deal of cheerful whistling. He stroked Pluto tenderly, executed all his various odd jobs with intense zeal, and kept as close as he could to his father, who often left his barrels to place his hand in silence on his son's head. "Nothing heavy in farming!" said the paternal Sturm to Anton, looking anxiously into his face. "Heavy!" replied Anton; "it will be no light matter to learn all connected with it." "Learn!" cried the other; "the more he has to learn the better, so it be not very heavy." "No," said Pix, who understood his meaning, "nothing heavy. The heaviest are sacks of corn--hundred and eighty; beans--two hundred pounds. And those he need not lift; the servants do it." "If that's the case with farming," cried Sturm, contemptuously rearing himself to his full height, "it's all one to me whether he lifts them or not. Even my mannikin can carry two hundred pounds." CHAPTER XIV. Anton was now the most assiduous of all the clerks in the office. Fink was seldom able to persuade him to accompany him out riding or to the shooting gallery, but, on the other hand, he made diligent use of his friend's book-shelves, and having, after arduous study, gained some insight into the mysteries of the English language, he was anxious to exercise his conversational powers upon Fink. But the latter proving a most irregular and careless master, Anton thought it best to put himself in the hands of a well-educated Englishman. One day, looking up from his desk as the door opened, he saw, to his amazement, Veitel Itzig, his old Ostrau schoolfellow. Hitherto they had but seldom met, and whenever they did so, Anton had taken pains to look another way. "How are you getting on?" asked he, coldly enough. "Poorly," was the reply; "there is nothing to be made in our business. I was to give you this letter, and to inquire when Mr. Bernhard Ehrenthal may call upon you." "Upon me!" said Anton, taking the letter and a card with it. The letter was from his English master, asking whether he would join young Ehrenthal in a systematic course of some of the older English writers. "Where does Mr. Bernhard Ehrenthal live?" asked Anton. "At his father's," said Itzig, making a face. "He sits in his own room all the day long." "I will call upon him," rejoined Anton; and Itzig took his departure. Anton was not much inclined to agree to the proposal. The name of Ehrenthal did not stand high, and Itzig's appearance had not conferred any pleasant associations upon it. But the ironical way in which he had mentioned his master's son, and something Anton had heard of him besides, determined him to take the matter at least into consideration. Accordingly, one of the next days he mounted the dingy staircase, and was at once ushered into Bernhard's room, which was long and narrow, and filled with books great and small.