"No," growled the doctor, while he turned away.
"Well, as you choose, Hugo. I shall conform in this respect entirely to your wishes. But Peter and Leonie do not suit together at all, you must perceive that yourself."
Again Hagenbach growled, but this time in a much more subdued tone. He did not find his new name so bad, after all, when pronounced in this tone. But immediately there loomed up before him the horrors of petticoat government, and he felt himself pledged to guard his supremacy once for all.
"Peter it stands," he decided. "You must submit to me in this, Leonie."
"I submit myself in everything," asserted Leonie in tenderest tone. "I am, in general, a weak, dependent creature, who has no will of her own. You shall never listen to a contradiction in the whole course of our married life, dear Hugo--but surely you will not refuse the first request I make of you, and that on our betrothal-day?"
Dear Hugo began to melt under the softening influence of this gentle voice and these pleading eyes, and his constancy as well as supremacy showed signs of giving way.
"Well, if it gives you such great pleasure, you can call me so yourself," he admitted. "But on the cards of invitation it shall stand----"
"Leonie Friedberg and Dr. Hugo Hagenbach! I thank you, Hugo, with all my heart, for this proof of your love!"
What was poor Peter Hagenbach to do? He pocketed the thanks and covered his shameful retreat by bestowing a kiss upon his beloved. In this first dispute the "weaker" half had come off with flying colors and the stronger had had to lower his flag--it might be an omen----
Meanwhile Dernburg was in his office, receiving announcements from the works that were anything but quieting. At other times, any unusual occurrence had found him either in the midst of or at the head of his workmen, but now he avoided any contact with them. Of late he had not spoken a word to any of the men, or taken the least notice of any, although he went daily to the works.