"Indeed? And so the boy is betrothed?" he drawled. "All very fine--without asking any one's advice, hey? Of course your old heart is dancing at the thought of it, Lotta. Oh, I know you through and through."
"I don't see any reason for rejoicing at the young master's betrothal," Lotta replied, crossly, thrusting out her chin defiantly.
The old man scanned her keenly. Something in the expression of her face troubled him.
"Who is the girl?" he asked, bluntly.
"The younger of the two Harfink fräuleins; the other married Count Treurenberg."
"Harfink, do you say? Impossible!" The Baron could not believe his ears.
"So I thought too, but I was mistaken. It is officially announced. Baron Karl has been to see the mother, and there is shortly to be a betrothal festival, to which all the great people in the country round are to be invited."
"But what is the stupid boy thinking about? What do people say of him?" thundered the Baron.
"Why, what should they say? They say our young Baron had interested motives, that he is in debt----"
The Baron started up in a fury. "In debt? A fine reason!" he shouted. "Am I not here?"