"And you are going to diminish that pittance? Will you not at last be reasonable, Leo, and see that you can give me no greater pleasure----"
"Not a word more, Paul! You know that you can never offend me except by offering me money."
"I am dumb, but I cannot suppress the remark that you are a greater egotist than I. What the deuce is the good of my money if the man whom I love best in the world will never take a penny of it, and looks as if he would bite me if I so mach as mention his doing so? But there, I am dumb. I must take you as you are. You will live on your two thousand thalers then until you have arranged your future existence,--what sort of an existence? I am greatly mistaken if you contemplate acceding to your amiable uncle's proposal."
"Never! the mere idea of marrying for money disgusts me!"
"I thought so. For my part, my sentiments are expressed in the saying, 'Wealth is no disgrace, and poverty no virtue;' but you would of course refuse your cousin Hilda's hand, just because she happened to be wealthy."
"No; if I loved her and was loved by her, I should, although I admit it would be difficult and against the grain, try to forget that she was rich; but I do not love her, and I never can love her!"
"You don't know her yet. To be sure, judging from her father, whose letter is not exactly instinct in every line with delicacy of sentiment, there is not very much to be expected of her; but she may, nevertheless, be an extremely charming girl."
"And if she were,--if she were possessed of the beauty and amiability of an angel,--still I could never love her!"
"In--deed, in--deed? You seem surprisingly secure in your knowledge of yourself. Hm! I suspected as much. I remarked, you may remember, that you were in a deuce of a scrape. You'll have, at all events, to sacrifice some one of your principles, for I suppose you number filial duty among them. Do you forget that your father threatens to disown you if you sully his name by quill-driving or daubing canvas for a living, and if you do not start to-morrow for the Tyrol to see your uncle? Take one piece of advice from me, Leo: obey this last demand of your father's. Go to the Tyrol and make your uncle a visit,--you bind yourself to nothing by doing so. It cannot hurt you just to look at your cousin Hilda--the name sounds really very pretty--besides, it is best for you to be out of the way for the present of all the gossip that there will be here. Nothing surely can be more beneficial to your art than a sojourn among the glorious Alps. Be reasonable for once, Leo. Time is everything to you now. In time your father, even though he be as thick-skulled as yourself, must listen to reason, and see that a Heydeck can work without disgrace if he has not money enough to live upon."
Paul's advice was so reasonable that Leo could not but accept it. Undesirable as nearer intercourse with his uncle and cousin must be, judging from the letter which had produced a very unfavourable impression, he could not but feel it his duty to conquer his aversion to the journey which his father had enjoined upon him. Paul was right; it was very desirable to gain time, for only with time was there any chance of combating successfully the old soldier's prejudices. And so, after a short pause of reflection, Leo declared that he would follow his friend's advice and set out for the Tyrol the next morning, if Delmar would first assure him that the duel between the old colonel and Bertram should not take place.