"It's a shame for a fellow like that to have such a horse," said Gustav Plueggen, who had joined Gotthold, while the rest of the party went to visit the stables; "a downright shame. That is: he certainly rides splendidly--for a plebeian, I mean; but a plebeian never ought to be allowed to keep race-horses. I talked about it enough in the committee, when we were arranging the races at Sundin eight years ago; but I couldn't get my way. Now we have the consequences. For the last four years Brandow has taken all the best prizes; it's enough to drive one mad. The fellow would have been ruined long ago if it hadn't been for the races, the races--and his wife." "His wife?" asked Gotthold. "Why, of course. We wouldn't have lent him another penny long ago; but for the sake of his wife, who is really a lovely woman; we can't let him go to ruin entirely. Of course he knows that better than any one else, and so she is always obliged to be of the party when any new credit is to be obtained. A week ago to-day, when we were in Plueggenhof, Otto paid his attentions to her at the table in the wildest way--in the presence of his own wife, nee Baroness von Grieben-Keffen--and half an hour after dinner Brandow had his five thousand thalers in his pocket. It was a piece of madness on Otto's part; we had agreed that we would not give more than five thousand together. It would have proved a capital thing for us, but that damned Jew has spoiled it again. The devil knows why he helped him. And the Assessor told me he had been paid too. Twenty-five thousand thalers at one slap! I don't understand it at all--and that's saying something, for I generally know all his tricks and turns. The Pastor thinks you, and nobody else, have given him the money; and in return Brandow will overlook it if you and his wife--there, you needn't fly into a rage. Parson's gossip, that's all. You would take care of yourself--twenty-five thousand--ridiculous! But he has it--that's a fact, as they say in England--ever been in England? I was there--eight years ago when we were arranging about the Sundin races--famous country! horses, women, sheep--famous!-what was I going to say? He has the twenty-five thousand, and Dollan's safe for five years, the Assessor says; and now Brownlock too! Damn! that is a horse! On my honor, I haven't seen his equal even in England. What action! What a hock! And how he went over everything! Magnificent! But too heavy! too heavy, 'pon honor--he won't cross the piece of marsh-land we have now taken into the race-course. They say Prince Prora declared it wasn't fair! It's all very well for him to talk, he has no interest in the racing! Won't you come in with us? I hear there is to be a little card-party made up." "I have never gambled, and--my headache is coming on again." "Strange, I've no more idea what a headache is than if I had no head--you artists probably get it from the oil paints; they smell abominably." CHAPTER XIX.