"Incorrigible!" exclaimed the other. "Remember, you are no longer a bachelor; you must think of your changed circumstances. Well, well, don't heat yourself. We'll say no more about it, but pass on to consider how all these debts are to be paid." So saying, he marked off two parallel columns on the table, over one of which he wrote, "Debit," and over the other, "Credit." "In the first place," began Richard, "I receive a hundred florins monthly from my mother, half of which is to go to my creditors." "Half of it? and does your wife agree to that?" "Oh, yes," Edith hastened to reply. Solomon made an entry in the second column. "Fifty florins more will come to me monthly as wages for my work in the machine-shop," continued Richard. "Half of it I shall use toward paying my debts, and the other half is for my wife's wardrobe." "But how can I ever spend so much?" interposed Edith. "Your dear, good mother sent me so many dresses for wedding presents that I never can wear them out. Let it all go to your creditors." She would give the two no peace until Solomon had written down the whole amount. Then the old man pushed up the sleeves of his caftan, like one who prepares to execute a masterstroke. "To that must next be added," said he, "the three hundred thousand florins that Miss Edith Liedenwall brought to Captain Baradlay as her dowry." Therewith he wrote "300,000 fl." as the next entry. The two young people looked at him to see what he meant by such a joke; but he merely rose from his chair, took each of them by the hand, and addressed them as follows: "I wish you all happiness in your married life. You are worthy of each other. What I just said, and what I wrote, were both in earnest; and now I will explain." The three resumed their seats, and the old man proceeded to explain to them the mystery of the three hundred thousand florins. "You had, my dear madam, a great-uncle, Alfred Plankenhorst, who was a rich man and an old bachelor. He had great family pride, as I have reason to know, having been well acquainted with him and acted as his banker and business agent. I thus came to know a good deal about his family affairs. The old gentleman made a will by which he left all his property--his house in Vienna and his invested funds--to his niece, Baroness Plankenhorst, and her daughter. The old uncle was long-lived,--it is a way with some people, especially when they are rich,--and before he died the young lady had a love affair which resulted unfortunately for her good name. Well, there was no help for it; but the old gentleman had very strong prejudices in such matters, and he made a new will. Hunting up the orphan daughter of a distant relative,--Edith Liedenwall was the young lady's name,--he left her in the care of the Plankenhorst ladies for her education. The substance of the second will I can give you in a few words.