A hundred years had elapsed. It was in our own days; the lake had been
transformed into marsh land; the whole baronial seat had, as it were,
disappeared. A pool of water near some ruined walls was the only
remainder of the deep ditches; and here stood a magnificent old tree with
overhanging branches-that was the genealogical tree. Here it stood, and
showed how beautiful a willow can look if one does not interfere with it.
The trunk, it is true, was cleft in the middle from the root to the crown; the
storms had bent it a little, but it still stood there, and out of every crevice
and cleft, in which wind and weather had carried mould, blades of grass and
flowers sprang forth. Especially above, where the large boughs parted, there
was quite a hanging garden, in which wild raspberries and hart’s-tongue
ferns throve, and even a little mistletoe had taken root, and grew gracefully
in the old willow branches, which were reflected in the dark water beneath
when the wind blew the chickweed into the corner of the pool. A footpath
which led across the fields passed close by the old tree. High up, on the
woody hillside, stood the new mansion. It had a splendid view, and was
large and magnificent; its window panes were so clear that one might have
thought there were none there at all. The large flight of steps which led to
the entrance looked like a bower covered with roses and broad-leaved
plants. The lawn was as green as if each blade of grass was cleaned
separately morning and evening. Inside, in the hall, valuable oil paintings
were hanging on the walls. Here stood chairs and sofas covered with silk
and velvet, which could be easily rolled about on castors; there were tables
with polished marble tops, and books bound in morocco with gilt edges.
Indeed, well-to-do and distinguished people lived here; it was the dwelling
of the baron and his family. Each article was in keeping with its
surroundings. “Everything in the right place” was the motto according to
which they also acted here, and therefore all the paintings which had once
been the honour and glory of the old mansion were now hung up in the
passage which led to the servants’ rooms. It was all old lumber, especially
two portraits-one representing a man in a scarlet coat with a wig, and the
other a lady with powdered and curled hair holding a rose in her hand, each
of them being surrounded by a large wreath of willow branches. Both
