"Will you really not be angry with me, Herr Baron, if I speak perfectly frankly to you?" Lucie asked, laying her little hand on the old man's brown, wrinkled fist, and bestowing upon him one of her charming smiles.
"Little flatterer, how can any one be angry with you? Oh, you have the old bear fast in your toils, and now come, tell me all about it."
"You shall hear, Herr Baron. First read this note which I received not an hour ago from Herr von Poseneck; it will tell you all, and when you have finished I will tell you how it came to be written."
The Baron read Kurt's note, while Lucie noted with keen anxiety every change in his features as he read. She saw his face darken, and then a smile dawned about his mouth; he was not very angry. She could have shouted for joy at her victory.
"A most interesting production!" the Freiherr said, he handed the note back to her. "Really, this Herr von Poseneck----"
"Wait until you hear all, Herr Baron, and then judge," Lucie interrupted him.
And she went on to tell the old Freiherr how Celia had accidentally made the young man's acquaintance; how, in her childlike innocence and trust, she had grown to love him, and how, at last, chance had betrayed her secret. She told how Kurt had given his promise never to see Celia without her governess's consent, and how faithfully he had kept his word. "And now for my request, Herr Baron," she said, in conclusion. "I know it will be hard for you to grant it, but I hope everything from your magnanimity. Let me take Celia with me; she knows nothing of this note, and if you refuse me she shall know nothing; but you will not be so cruel. There must be a farewell,--a last farewell. May not Celia go with me?"
"You are a white witch, and know how to wind the old ogre round your finger," the Freiherr said, shaking his finger at Lucie. "In fact, I ought to be excessively angry with you, but as this is impossible I may as well take my pill without a wry face. The will-o'-the-wisp had certainly better see the young man under your auspices than run off, perhaps through the night and storm, to take leave of him; the child might do it if she should hear that Poseneck was going away. But one very serious word I must speak. Your Poseneck certainly is an honest, honourable young fellow, his note and his whole conduct show that. Celia in her unsuspicious innocence might have fallen into bad hands. You cannot expect me to be quite content, but time will bring counsel. Only there must be no more of it all for the present; no talk of a betrothal as yet, no tender exchange of letters and such stuff. Celia is as yet little more than a child. If the young man ever comes back from the war he may come and see me here and we will talk it over together. But before then I'll not listen to another word about it. Do you agree, you white witch?"
"Your will shall be my law in the matter, Herr Baron, and I thank you from my very heart for conquering for your child's sake your dislike of a Poseneck."
"You may spare your thanks, child, or rather keep them for yourself, who honestly deserve them for taking care that my dislike should gradually subside. Have you not hammered away at my heart with your Poseneck every evening, for weeks, until at last the tough old muscle has grown quite tender?"