Albert groaned as if he had sprained his foot on a real stone during this imaginary promenade. He started up from the sofa, and walked thoughtfully up and down in the room, folding his hands behind his back. "The plats are ready," he said, stopping before his drawing-board; "Anna Maria has paid me; I have nothing more to do here, and the baroness' question, when I thought I would leave, was clear enough. How I hate this proud, good-for-nothing race--all of them, not one excepted, not even the beautiful, high-nosed Helen, who always looks at me with such cool contempt in her big, cold eyes; and least of all my noble friend Felix, who I think would be delighted if he could cut me out with Marguerite. If I could but play you all a good trick, that you should think of me your life long! If I could, for instance, discover the heir to Stantow and Baerwalde in the person of--Ah! There is the rub! In whose person?" "I can do something with the letters I have, but not much. As yet I cannot even frighten excellent Anna Maria with them. If I could only have a chance of examining that big chest of Mother Claus'! It is a fixed idea of mine that there must be something to be gotten there. But I have in vain reconnoitred the whole house; I have in vain watched it by day and by night, to find a moment when the old witch should leave it for a moment--she sits there like a toad in the rock.--_Apropos_ of that amiable young man! I thought of making him the Pretender, _nolens volens_, for he is too stupidly honest to look at the whole thing as a merry, and at the same time profitable, masquerade. It is wonderful how honest people are when they have all they want! The best way to get rid of thieves would be to pension every one of them. And this Stein is not even so lucky as that. He cannot have any money--why else would he plague himself with these boys? He would be just the man to spend a fortune handsomely. And so far everything seems to fit exactly. He has the requisite age; he has told me himself that he has never known his mother, or--his father excepted--any other relative. And, besides that, he has a striking likeness to the older line of the Grenwitz family. I only wish I were he, that is to say, with my brains added to what he has ..." A timid knock at the door interrupted Albert's meditations. As upon his "Come in!" no one entered, he went to open the door. A little peasant boy, fair-haired and bare-footed, stood there, looking at him with his stupid eyes wide open. "Whom do you want, my boy?" "Are you the candidate here?" "To be sure!" said Albert, always ready for any fun or joke. "Mother Claus sends me----" "Who?" "Mother Claus sends me----" "Come in, little one," said Albert, taking the boy by the hand and locking the door when they were both inside. "What does Mother Claus want of me?" "Mother Claus is dying, and sends me to tell the candidate to come and see her."