"You will be entirely engaged in adoring your children. Nothing else in the world will interest you."
Ingeborg stood looking at him with a surprised face. "Oh?" she said. "Shall I?" Then she added, "But I've never had any children."
"It was not to be expected," said Herr Dremmel.
"Then how do you know nothing else in the world will interest me?"
"Foolish Little One," he said, taking her in his arms, his eyes moist with tenderness, for he knew that here against his breast he held in her slender youth the mother of all the Dremmels, and the knowledge profoundly moved him. "Foolish Little One, is not throughout all nature every mother solely preoccupied by interest in her young?"
"Is she?" said Ingeborg doubtfully, quite a number of remembered family snapshots dancing before her eyes. Still, she was very willing to believe.
She looked at him a moment thinking. "But—" she said, gently pushing herself a little way from him, both hands on his chest.
"But what then, small snail?"
"Wouldn't they be German children?"
"Undoubtedly," said Herr Dremmel proudly.