And all the small windows were filled with wondering faces.  I am at home now; I seem as if I had always been a great landowner at Lauterbach, and a notable.  My kapellmeister’s life seems a dream, a thing of the past, my enthusiastic fondness for music a youthful folly!  How money does modify men’s views of things!

And now I draw bridle before the house of the village notary, Monsieur Becker.  He has my title-deeds under his care, and is to hand them over to me.  I fasten my horse to the ring at the door, I run up the steps, and the ancient scribe, with his bald head very respectfully uncovered, and his long spare figure clad in a green dressing-gown with full skirts, advances alone to receive me.

“Monsieur Caspar Haas, I have the honour to salute you.”

“Your servant, Monsieur Becker.”

“Pray walk in, Monsieur Haas.”

“After you, sir, after you.”

We cross the vestibule, and I find at the end of a small, neat, and well-aired room a table nicely and comfortably laid, and sitting by it a young maiden rosy and fresh-coloured, the very picture of modesty and propriety.

The venerable notary announced me—­

“Monsieur Caspar Haas!”

I bowed.

“My daughter Lothe!” added the good man.

And whilst I felt in myself a reviving taste for the beautiful, and was admiring Mademoiselle Lothe’s pretty little chubby nose, the rosy lips, and the large blue eyes, her dainty little figure, and her dimpled hands, Maitre Becker invited me to sit down at the table, informing me that he had been expecting me, and that before entering on matters of business it would be well to take a little refreshment, a glass of Bordeaux, etc., an invitation of which I fully recognised the propriety, and which I accepted very willingly.

And so we sit down.  We talk first of the beautiful country.  And I form opinions about the old gentleman, and wonder what a notary is likely to make at Lauterbach!

“Mademoiselle, will you take a wing?”

“Monsieur, you are very kind; thank you, I will.”

Lothe looks down bashfully.  I fill her glass, in which she dips her rosy lips.  Papa is in good spirits; he tells me about hunting and fishing.

“Of course Monsieur Haas will live as we do in the country.  We have excellent rabbit-warrens.  The rivers abound in trout.  The shooting in the forests is let out.  People mostly spend their evenings at the inn.  Monsieur the inspector of woods and forests is a delightful young man.  The juge-de-paix is a capital whist-player,” and so on, and so on.

I listen, and think all this quiet life must be delightful.  Mademoiselle Lothe pleases me a good deal.  She does not talk much, but she smiles and looks so agreeable!  How loving and amiable she must be!

At last the coffee came, then the kirschwasser.  Mademoiselle Lothe retires, and the old lawyer gradually passes to business.  He explains to me the nature of my uncle’s property, and I listen attentively.  There was no part of the will in dispute; there were no legacies, no mortgages.  Everything is clear and straightforward.  Happy Caspar!  Happy man!