"May be so," explained Jettchen, "yet Spoelmann--our Samuel N. Spoelmann--is hardly responsible for it, for he is really nothing but an heir, and may quite well not have had any particular taste for his business. It was his father who really made the pile, I've read all about it, and may say that I really know the general facts. His father was a German--simply an adventurer who crossed the seas and became gold-digger. And he was lucky and made a little money through gold-finds--or rather quite a decent amount of money--and began to speculate in petroleum and steel and railways, and then in every sort of thing, and kept growing richer and richer, and when he died everything was already in full swing, and his son Samuel, who inherited the Croesus' firm, really had nothing to do but to collect the princely dividends and keep growing richer and richer till he beat all records. That's the way things have gone." "And he has a daughter, has he, Jettchen? What's she like?" "Yes, Ditlinde, his wife is dead, but he has a daughter, Miss Spoelmann, and he's bringing her with him. She's a wonderful girl from all I've read about her. He himself is a bit of a mixture, for his father married a wife from the South--Creole blood, the daughter of a German father and native mother. But Samuel in his turn married a German-American of half-English blood, and their daughter is now Miss Spoelmann." "Gracious, Jettchen, she's a creature of many colours!" "You may well say so, Ditlinde, and she's clever, so I've heard; she studies like a man--algebra, and puzzling things of that sort." "Hm, that too doesn't attract me much." "But now comes the cream of the business, Ditlinde, for Miss Spoelmann has a lady-companion, and that lady-companion is a countess, a real genuine countess, who dances attendance on her." "Gracious!" said Ditlinde, "she ought to be ashamed of herself. No, Jettchen, my mind is made up. I'm not going to bother myself about Spoelmann. I'm going to let him drink his waters and go, with his countess and his algebraical daughter, and am not going so much as to turn my head to look at him. He and his riches make no impression on me. What do you think, Klaus Heinrich?" Klaus Heinrich looked past Jettchen's head at the bright window. "Impression?" he said.... "No, riches make no impression on me, I think--I mean, riches in the ordinary way. But it seems to me that it depends ... it depends, I think, on the standard. We too have one or two rich people in the town here--Soap-boiler Unschlitt must be a millionaire.... I often see him in his carriage. He's dreadfully fat and common. But when a man is quite ill and lonely from mere riches ... Maybe ..."