"As far as your ambition takes you, no doubt." There was an unmistakable slight in the father's tone. "You will very probably found an extensive practice, and look on your calling altogether in the light of a lucrative profession. I do not question it in the least."
At this Max evidently had to fight down some rising irritation, but he answered with tolerable calm:
"I shall certainly found a practice of my own at the earliest opportunity. You might have done the same twenty years ago, but you preferred to write medical works which bring you in very little money, and, at the best, only obtain recognition from some few choice spirits among your colleagues. Tastes differ."
"As our conception of life differs. You do not know what it means to sacrifice yourself--to live for science."
"I sacrifice myself for nobody," said Max, defiantly. "I intend conscientiously to fulfil my duties in life, and shall think that, in so doing, I have done enough. You have a fancy for useless self-immolation, father. I have none."
"Leave this incorrigible realist to his errors, Doctor," struck in George, who from the irritated tone of both men began to fear a scene, such as was not unfrequent between father and son. "I have long given up all attempt to convert him. But now we will neither of us disturb you any longer. Max promised to go for a walk with me to the wood this morning, as soon as he returned."
"Now, just at mid-day?" asked the Doctor, in surprise. "Why not go later?"
Some slight confusion was visible in young Winterfeld's face, but he quickly mastered it.
"Later on I have to pack up and make ready for my departure, and I should like to take one last look at the lake and the mountains. It is hard on me, I assure you, to go away and leave them."
"That I believe," said Max, with a peculiar and rather malicious intonation; but he relapsed into silence on meeting his friend's half-angry, half-imploring glance.