“Oh yes; there was always something violent about him,” said Ulrich.
“And he was always handling pistols and whips, especially behind one’s back,” Fritz added.
“Especially behind one’s back—ha! ha! ha! that is characteristic, that is his way. Ah, gentlemen, secret malice never brings good, as the proverb in this almanac says, and if Heaven permits me to recover again, you shall see how I will take my revenge—first on the rogue, the incendiary, the villainous fellow, to whom all my misery is due, and then on my dear son who treats his father so badly. I shall disinherit him, hunt him away from the farm. Shall I be right, gentlemen, if I do this?”
“Quite right,” both declared.
“How do you do?” said Paul, coming forward.
All three started. His father crouched shyly down in his arm-chair, like a dog who fears the whip, and the brothers stretched out their hands, very embarrassed and very humble, and begged him to let by-gones be by-gones.
“Why not?” he answered, combating his repugnance; “you know the right way now.”
When the two brought forward their suit, the old man’s boastfulness broke out stronger than ever.
“Gentlemen,” he said, repressing his voice so that it might sound more dignified, “your proposal is a great honor naturally, but I am not able to answer it with ‘Yes.’ First, I must ask for a sufficient guarantee, that I may know what future awaits my daughters, who, by their beauty and amiability, as well as by stainless virtue, are destined for a high position. I have educated them most carefully, and watched over them so lovingly that my fatherly heart cannot decide to give them away without serious consideration.”
In this tone he went on boasting till Paul quietly said, “Let it be, father, the matter is already settled.” Then he was silent, secretly highly elated to have made such a magnificent speech.