ill afford to subscribe for one myself.  Later, he loaned me some books; he has the classics of all nations—­the works of Wieland, Kleist, Boerne, Lessing, Locke, Schleiermacher.  Then we began to write about the books, and became entangled in a most exciting argument.  Frau Schmidt, who was the bearer of this exchange of opinions, very often passed to and fro between the castle and the parsonage a dozen times a day; and all the time we never said anything to each other, when we happened to meet in the road, but ‘good day.’  From the letters, however, I became convinced that the mysterious gentleman is neither a criminal, nor a fugitive from justice, nor yet an adventurous hero who abducts women!  Nor is he an unfortunate misanthrope.  He is, on the contrary, a philanthropist in the widest sense—­one who takes an interest in everything that goes on about him, and is eager to help his suffering fellows.  In a word, he is a philosopher who is happy when he is surrounded by peace and quiet.”

The baroness, who had listened with interest to the reverend gentleman’s words, now made inquiry: 

“How does this nameless gentleman learn of his poor neighbors’ needs, when neither he nor his servants associate with any one outside the castle?”

“In a very simple manner, your ladyship.  He has a very powerful telescope in the tower of the castle, with which he can view every portion of the surrounding region.  He thus learns when there is illness or death, whether a house needs repair; and wherever anything is needed, the means to help are sent to me.  On Christmas he has all the children from the village up at the castle, where he has a splendid Christmas tree with lighted tapers, and a gift for every child,—­clothes, books, and sweets,—­which he distributes with his own hand.  I can tell you an incident which is characteristic of the man.  One day the county arrested a poor woman, the wife of a notorious thief.  The Herr Vice-palatine will remember the case—­Rakoncza Jutka, the wife of the robber Satan Laczi?”

“Yes, I remember.  She is still in prison,” assented the gentleman referred to.

“Yes.  Well, she has a little son.  When the mother was taken to prison, the little lad was turned away from every door, was beaten and abused by the other children, until at last he fled to the marshes, where he ate the young shoots of the reeds, and slept in the mire.  The nameless count discovered with his telescope the little outcast, and wrote to me to have him taken to Frau Schmidt, where he would be well taken care of until his mother came back.”

By this time the tears were running down the baroness’s cheeks.

“Poor little lad!” she murmured brokenly.  “Your story has affected me deeply, Herr Pastor.”

Then she summoned her steward, and bade him fill a large hamper with sweets and pasties, and send it to Frau Schmidt for the poor little boy.  “And tell Frau Schmidt,” she added, “to send the child to the manor.  We will see to it that he has some suitable clothes.  I am delighted, reverend sir, to learn that my tenant is a true nobleman.”