Ah! Anhalt, I am glad you are come. My conscience and myself are at variance.
MR. ANHALT.
Your conscience is in the right.
BARON.
You don’t know yet what the quarrel is.
MR. ANHALT.
Conscience is always right—because it never speaks unless it is so.
BARON.
Ay, a man of your order can more easily attend to its whispers, than an old warrior. The sound of cannon has made him hard of hearing.—I have found my son again, Mr. Anhalt, a fine, brave young man—I mean to make him my heir—Am I in the right?
MR. ANHALT.
Perfectly.
BARON.
And his mother shall live in happiness—My estate, Weldendorf, shall be hers—I’ll give it to her, and she shall make it her residence. Don’t I do right?
MR. ANHALT.
No.
BARON.
[surprized]. No? And what else should I do?
MR. ANHALT.
[forcibly]. Marry her.