"Oh, yes; you are betrothed," joined in Rojanow. "I heard at Rodeck who was to be the Chief Forester's son-in-law, and have also seen Fraulein von Schonan. Let me congratulate you with all my heart."
Willibald accepted the good wishes with a peculiar face, and looked to the floor as he replied, half audibly: "Yes, but to tell the truth, mamma made the engagement."
"I should have known that," said Hartmut, laughing, "but you have at least said 'Yes' without being forced?"
Willy did not answer. He studied the carpet intently and suddenly asked quite disconnectedly: "Hartmut, how do you do when you compose poetry?"
"How do I do?" Hartmut with an effort suppressed his laughter. "Really that is not easy to tell. I do not believe that I can explain it sufficiently."
"Yes, it is a funny condition to make poetry," assented the young man with a sad shake of the head. "I experienced it last night when I returned from the theatre."
"What! You compose poetry?"
"And such poetry!" cried Willy in high satisfaction, but added in somewhat subdued tones: "Only I cannot find rhymes, and it also sounds quite different from your verses. To tell the truth, it did not run right, and I want to ask you how you do the affair. You know it is not to be anything grand like your Arivana--only just a little poem."
"Of course to 'her,'" finished Hartmut.
"Yes, to her," assented the young lord with a deep breath, and now his listener laughed aloud.