The boy did not seem satisfied with this answer, and Sonnenkamp added,—
"My son, one is rich only by comparison."
"Mark the words, rich only by comparison," repeated Pranken; "that's a fine expression; it includes a whole balance-sheet."
Sonnenkamp smiled; he was always pleased when any one dwelt on an expression of his with special emphasis.
"Ah, travelling is so pleasant, so jolly, if we only had Eric with us!" cried Roland.
No one answered. The boy seemed unusually talkative, for as the champagne was opened, and Bella proposed Manna's health, he said to Pranken,—
"You ought to marry Manna."
The ladies gave an odd look at the two men; Roland had given utterance to the wish of all. He became more and more the central object of the conversation and the jesting, and more and more talkative and extravagant; he uttered the wildest nonsense, and at last complied with Pranken's request that he would imitate the candidate Knopf. He smoothed his hair back, took snuff from his left hand, which he held like a snuff-box, and constantly tapped; he suddenly assumed a perfectly strange voice and expression, as, in a stiff, wooden manner, he declaimed the fourth conjugation, and the precepts of Pythagoras, with a mixture of all sorts of other things.
"Now can you mimic Herr Dournay?" asked Pranken.
Roland was struck dumb. A stony look came into his face, as if he had seen some monster; then he grew suddenly calm, and looked at Pranken as if he would annihilate him, saying,—