Late on the following day he returned in a very different mood--happier, indeed, than he had ever been since his wife's death. He enchanted his son by his account of the incredible charms of the extensive business, and the kindness of the great merchant toward himself. He had been invited to dinner, he had eaten peewits' eggs, and drunk Greek wine, compared to which the very best wine in Ostrau was mere vinegar; and, above all, he had received the promise of having his son taken into their office, and a few hints as to the future course of his education. The very next day saw Anton seated at a ledger, disposing arbitrarily of hundreds of thousands, converting them into every existing currency, and putting them out at every possible rate of interest.
Thus another year passed away. Anton was just eighteen, when again the windows remained darkened, and the red-eyed servant-girl ran up and down, and the doctor shook his head. This time it was the old gentleman by whose bed Anton sat, holding both his hands. But there was no keeping him back; and after repeatedly blessing his son, he died, and Anton was left alone in the silent dwelling, at the entrance of a new life.
Old Wohlfart had not been an accountant for nothing; he left his house in the highest order; his affairs were balanced to a farthing, and he had written a letter of introduction to the merchant only a few days before his death. A month later, on a fine summer morning, Anton stood upon the threshold of his home, placed the key in a friendly hand, made over his luggage to the carrier, and, with his father's letter in his pocket, took his way to the great city.
The new-mown grass was already fading in the sun when Anton shook the hand of the neighbor who had accompanied him as far as the nearest station to the capital, and then walked off merrily along the high road. The day was bright, the mower was heard whetting his scythe in the meadows close by, and the indefatigable lark sang high overhead. On all sides rose church-towers, central points of villages buried in woods, near many of which might be seen a stately baronial residence.
Anton hurried on as if his feet were winged; the future lay before him sunny as the plain, a life of radiant dreams and evergreen hopes; his heart beat high, his eyes beamed, he felt intoxicated by the beauty and the fragrance around him. Whenever he saw a mower, he called out to him that it was a lovely day, and got many a friendly greeting in return. The very birds seemed as though they congratulated him, and cheered him onward.