Wegen nodded approvingly; the two guest chambers in the forest house were assigned to him and to the amber merchant, who, according to Blanden's desire, had brought his account with him.
Wegen returned to his friend, after having assumed dry clothes; he began to feel comfortable once more over a glass of negus and a cigar.
Nevertheless, he hesitated with the communication which he had to make, and moved about uneasily upon the sofa while puffing vast clouds of smoke into the air.
"What a pity about that splendid election-dinner," replied Wegen.
"I am not returned?" asked Blanden, excitedly.
"Alas, no!" replied his friend, while shaking his hand. "Now it is out! Now let us talk it over quietly."
"Tell me about it," said Blanden. The words forced themselves out with difficulty. At that moment he had become poorer by one great hope.
"It is always the old story, which ever remains new," said Wegen. "Since the dinner all was running most smoothly; even the sheep-breeder was well-disposed, and only Frau Baronin von Fuchs moved Heaven and earth to circumvent the election of a man with such a dubious past. You know woman's indefatigability when she wishes to carry a point; she offered me 'check' on every side with admirable persistency. No sooner had my brown pair left the gates, before her dappled greys appeared. She was like the evil fairy in the tale. She did not turn to the men but to the women, and she holds a position amongst them, because she possesses an imposing mind, in the presence of which one like ourselves does not feel comfortable, that outrageous decision of thought and action which allows no contradiction to arise. To marry such a woman requires courage; I am sorry for poor Baron von Fuchs. He is a well-bred, pleasant gentleman, but he is not equal to his wife's eloquence. If women possess intellect, which sometimes happens, it is sure to be of an amazing quality, and can inspire one of us with alarm."
"Well, Cäcilie von Dornau possesses intellect also. Take care of yourself!" said Blanden, playfully, hoping thus to overcome his mournful mood.
"That is quite different! Hers is intellect of a most refined kind; those are the golden threads of _esprit_ with which they entangle us; but with Frau von Fuchs they are ship ropes of logic with which she flogs us."