He himself is swept away in a vortex of complicated business, claims surge in upon him wave upon wave, and he, in his desperate struggle, drowning man that he is, has no choice but to cling to whatever comes within his grasp, and then, wearied by his fruitless efforts, to sink into the abyss.
Once the baron's lands had borne better crops than those of his neighbors, his herds were acknowledged to be thoroughly healthy, bad years, which crushed others, had passed comparatively lightly over him.
Now, all this was reversed as by some evil spell.

A contagious disease broke out among the cattle; the wheat grew tall indeed, but when it came to be threshed the grain was light.

Every where the outgoings exceeded the incomings.

Once upon a time he could have borne this calmly, now it made him positively ill.

He began to hate the sight of his farm, and left it entirely to the bailiff.