Only an empty bedstead
stood in the corner.
Mrs. Maxa went next to Leonore's room, which used to be extremely
pretty. Lovely pictures used to hang on the walls, chairs covered in
light blue silk were standing about, a half-rounded bed was placed in a
corner, and she remembered the dearest little desk on which two flower
vases, always filled with fresh roses, used to stand. Mrs. Maxa did not
even go in this time, it was too horribly forlorn. The only thing which
still spoke of old times was the wallpaper with the tiny red and blue
flowers. She quickly went out. Throwing a single glance at the large
ball-room, she likened it to a dreary desert. Not a curtain, not a chair
or painting could be seen. Where could all the valuable damask-covered
furniture have gone to? Was it possible that the castle had been robbed
and no one knew of it?
It was probable, however, that Mr. Trius did not know about anything,
and it was plain that the Baron himself had not troubled about these
things. Mrs. Maxa hurriedly went back to him.
"To what a dreary home you have come back, my poor friend!" she cried
out, "and I know that your mother never wished you to find it like this.
How unhappy you must have felt when you entered these walls after so many
years! You cannot help feeling miserable here, and it is all quite
incomprehensible to me."
"Not to me," the Baron quietly replied; "I somehow felt it had to be that
way. Did I value my home before? It is a just retribution to me to find
the place so empty and forlorn.
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