Whereupon Lotta looked at him very significantly. "As if every one did not know what those get who come to the Herr Baron for money," she murmured.
The old man's face flushed purple. "Leave the room!" he cried, pointing to the door.
Lotta arose, pushed back her chair to the wall, and walked out of the room with much dignity. She was accustomed to such conduct on her master's part: it had to be borne with. And she knew, besides, that her words had produced an impression, that he would not be angry with her long.
When the door had closed after her, the old man seated himself at his writing-table, determined to write to Harry, putting his veto upon the marriage of his nephew with the "Harfink girl;" but after the first few lines he dropped the pen.
"What affair is it of mine?" he murmured. "If he had yielded to a foolish impulse like my Fritz,"--he passed his hand over his eyes,--"why, then I might have seen things differently, and not as I did twenty years ago. But if, with love for another girl in his heart, he chooses to sell himself for money, he simply does not exist for me. Let him take the consequences. My money was not enough for him, or perhaps he was afraid he should have to wait too long for it. Well, now he can learn what it is to be married without a penny to a rich girl whom he does not love."
He pulled the bell furiously. The young gamekeeper who always filled the position of valet to the Baron upon these spasmodic visits to Vorhabshen entered.
"Harness the drag, Martin, so that I can catch the train."
That very evening he returned to Franzburg, where he sent for his lawyer to help him make a new will.