"I have no more money for the workmen's wages,--and it would be well, now that work must be suspended for a time, to pay them up. It might keep them in good humour. I know that you will vent all your anger upon me again, but I tell you I will put up with nothing more. I was an honest man until you tempted me and made me your accomplice. Still, I have not played the rogue to you, my principal, although I have, more's the pity, made myself amenable to the law. You have gone on just like Herr Neuenstein, who became bankrupt too, because he would not listen to me; but he was an honourable man, and paid up every penny that he owed, so that he was not afraid to look any one in the face. If you fail, you drag down your ward, whose money you have been using, with you,--and me too,--poor devil that I am! There is truth in the proverb 'Ill-gotten gains never prosper.' God help me! "Yours, etc., "Clemens Prücker, "_Overseer_." It was too much. "My child! my child! I have sinned, forged, embezzled, for your sake, in vain! Can you be sufficiently proud of such a father?" he moaned,--his head fell back in his chair, and he lost consciousness. The day had dawned when he opened his eyes; the atmosphere was full of the disagreeable odour of the dying candles, his limbs were stiff and numb from his uneasy posture, and he was shivering with cold. When he tried to walk, his hands and feet were asleep, and he staggered like a drunken man. At last his eyes lighted upon the letters. He picked them up and went to his writing-table. There he put them away in a secret drawer, then drew forth a safe and investigated its contents. It contained certificates of stock and some rolls of ready money. The sun shone brightly into the room, and still the pale man sat there counting and calculating. At last he put all the contents of the safe into a leather travelling-bag. Then he rang the bell and ordered the servant, who appeared, to have the carriage brought round and to pack up for him sufficient clothes to last during a journey of several days. When he heard that his niece had arisen, he went to her. "Good-morning, Ernestine," said he. "How are you to-day?" "I should put that question to you, uncle," she replied. "You look as if you had just arisen from the grave!" "Oh, there is nothing the matter with me. I did not sleep much. The overseer at Unkenheim writes to me on the part of my Italian friend, begging me to come as soon as possible to the factory, where everything is going wrong. I think it my duty to do what I can in the matter, as I know all about the business, and unfortunately advised my friend to make the purchase." "Are you going, then?" asked Ernestine, with a feeling of secret delight that she could not explain to herself.