He laughed again loud and long, but the old Freiherr evidently did not appreciate the joke of the affair; he sat at first speechless with indignation, and at last broke forth: "Your son? Only Hans Wehlau? And I received him as an equal, and treated him like one of my own rank! A young man of no name, no family----"
"Pardon me," interrupted the Professor. "I do not mean to excuse the trick, but as for a name and a family, in the first place Hans is my son, and I have achieved somewhat in the scientific world, and in the second place he himself is not without fame in another domain. The name of Wehlau may well compare with that of Eberstein, which owes all its importance to mouldy old traditions, entirely disregarded nowadays."
This touched the Freiherr on his most sensitive side; he arose in furious indignation: "Mouldy traditions? Disregarded? Herr Wehlau, I cannot, of course, require from you any appreciation of matters far too lofty for your bourgeois apprehension, but I demand respect for----"
"But I have none,--none at all!" shouted the Professor, angry in his turn. "I am a scientific man of enlightened ideas, and I have not the slightest respect for the mouldy dust of the tenth century, nor for the Udos and Kunos and Conrads and whatever else the fellows were called who knew nothing save how to drink themselves drunk, and kill one another. Those times, thank God, are past, and when your old owls' nest, the Ebersburg, has quite fallen to decay, no human being will know anything more about it."
"Herr Professor!" exclaimed Eberstein, fairly growing purple in the face; he could get no further, for his fury brought on so violent a paroxysm of coughing that at sight of his distress all the physician stirred within Wehlau, and in spite of his anger he forced his visitor into a chair, and supported his head, while the old man repulsed his aid, gasping, "Leave me! I wish no help at the hands of an iconoclast--a blasphemer--a----"
With a sudden accession of strength he regained his feet, seized his cane, and hobbled out of the room.
"Applications of ice to the head during twenty-four hours; don't forget!" the Professor called after him, throwing himself into a chair and allowing his wrath to cool. The Freiherr, on the contrary, hobbled along, nursing his ire, to his daughter's room to relate the dreadful story to her. She knew the 'young man of no name, no family,' who had insinuated himself as an equal into the Ebersburg; she would, of course, share his indignation at the deceit.
While this passage at arms had been taking place between the two fathers, their children had been enjoying the most peaceful and friendly tête-à--tête. Hans Wehlau had come over from Tannberg, as was his wont, to see his dear father and to inquire after the Countess. This last seemed to be the most important purpose of his coming, for it was his first care, and he made his inquiries, not of his father, who was surely more than able to satisfy his anxiety, but of Fräulein von Eberstein in person. The Professor, of course, knew nothing of these interviews, but supposed that his son came directly to himself, and was deeply touched by his recent increase of filial devotion.
On this day the young artist had been sitting in the reception-room with Fräulein von Eberstein for full half an hour, and they had been talking of other things besides the Countess's illness. Hans had just said, "Then you have not told your father yet? He still thinks me a Wehlau Wehlenberg?"