He gave him a hearty kiss, and went on:—
"You have no father, and I,—I'll go with you to the altar when you're married. Give me your hand. And people say, there are no miracles in these days! Every single day there's a miracle wrought, just exactly as much as in the good old times; only we know how to explain it to-day, and in old times they didn't understand it."
Fräulein Milch had uncorked the bottle and filled the glasses.
"Drink with me, my son!" cried the Major. "Drink! real Johannisberg."
They touched glasses, and the Major, emptying his, kissed Eric again, and then said,—
"Whew! You've learned to kiss. Give one to Fräulein Milch, too,—you've my permission. Fräulein Milch, no flinching! Come here—there—give her a kiss. She's a friend,—you've not a better in the world except your mother,—and you'll find out she's more than the whole world knows; you deserve to."
"I beg, Herr Major," Fräulein Milch interrupted with trepidation.
"Very well," said the Major, in a soothing tone, "I'll say nothing more. But now a kiss."
Eric and Fräulein Milch kissed each other, the Fräulein's face turning red as fire.
They now engaged in a friendly talk together, the Major taking special delight that Pranken would not get the magnificent girl and her millions; but his chief satisfaction arose from the convent's being circumvented.