This conversation took place in the apartments formerly inhabited by Assessor Winterfeld, which that gentleman, on his sudden departure from R----, had made over to his friend. On his recovery, Max had returned to these quarters, and had this morning brought home to them his father, whose release from imprisonment now filled him with joy. The notice of Brunnow's liberation, an act of clemency confidently expected by the nation at large, had been received with general and loudly-expressed satisfaction. In high places it had been agreed to overlook the Doctor's obstinacy, which would not stoop to a petition, would not allow him to move hand or foot in his own behalf--a full and free pardon had been vouchsafed to him. Nevertheless he had the appearance of being depressed and careworn; he was very pale, and evidently ill in mind and body.
Max, on the other hand, was absolutely his own old self. His vigorous constitution had, as he prophesied, enabled him rapidly to recover from the effects of his accident, of which the fresh scar on his forehead was now the sole reminder. One change was noticeable in him, however. The young man's manner to his father, somewhat curt, formerly, and unsympathetic, was now marked by an affectionate and respectful deference. He felt deeply the proof of devotion his father had given him, and Brunnow, for his part, had grown aware how dear his son really was to his paternal heart. That hour in the sick-room had transformed the cold and distant relations existing between the two, had roused within them genuine affection, and brought about a thorough understanding.
"But now to other matters," said Max, changing the subject. "I have a confession to make to you. Look at me well, father. Do you remark nothing extraordinary about me?"
Brunnow inspected him from head to foot with some curiosity.
"No; only that you have got well with extraordinary promptitude. I remark nothing else."
Max drew himself up with much dignity, took a step forward, threw out his chest, and announced with complacency, "I am an engaged man."
"An engaged man? You?" repeated the Doctor, in surprise.
"Yes; I have sustained the character some weeks now. There has been too much at stake for us all of late, I could not worry you with my love-affairs. But now that you are safe and at liberty, I must ask for your approval and consent. You already know my future wife--I mean Councillor Moser's daughter."
"What, not the young girl who gave me my information as to your state of health? Impossible!"
"Why impossible? Does not Agnes please you?"