The seller was an unlucky speculator, pressed by his creditors, threatened with an execution, and determined to frustrate their hopes by driving an immediate bargain with a stranger, and then making off with the money.
Perhaps Ehrenthal knew this; perhaps the baron too surmised that there must be a mystery, for he shook his head.

And yet _he_ ran no risk, incurred no responsibility; he but lent his money to a safe man, whom he had known for years, and in a short time he should get rid of the evil genius that tormented him ceaselessly.

Too much excited to reflect whether this was not a casting out of devils by Beelzebub, their chief, he rang the bell for his carriage, and said, in a lordly tone, "You shall have the money in an hour." From that day the baron led a life of anxious suspense.

He was always going over this interview, always thinking of the piles of wood; and, whenever he rode out, his horse's head was turned to the river, that he might watch the progress of the thaw.
He had not seen Ehrenthal for some time.

At length he came one morning with his endless bows, and, taking out a large packet, said triumphantly, "Well, baron, the affair is settled.