In the large drawing-room, which was furnished more richly than tastefully, and where everything looked stiff rather than comfortable, Herr Kraft and Herr Warner were pacing up and down. Their conversation had come to a stand. They had been disputing about some of the measures of the government, and Herr Kraft had called the government stupid and despotic; he said it took upon itself to be the guardian of the nation, and to treat the burghers as if they were children under age, prescribing for them, forsooth, what they were to do, and meddling in their own private affairs! He was as warm a supporter of free trade for the higher grade of merchants, as he was an advocate for restraints upon the working classes, for he looked upon all those in an humble sphere of life as 'trash, full of fraud and tricks,' who must have 'a rod held over their heads.' It was the old story--liberality for the higher, despotism for the lower; and this will be repeated till the end of the world. Herr Warner had differed from him in opinion; he thought confidence might be placed in a wise government, and he wished freedom and justice for all, whether they were rich or poor. The argument might have become an angry one, but Warner gave in, for he was anxious to avoid exasperating his violent-tempered cousin, to whom he had come that morning on a delicate mission, requiring no small degree of tact.
A very fine young man, who had been for some time much attached to Louise, and who had won her affections, had determined to ask her hand in a respectful letter to her father. But the reply he had received was a flat refusal, Herr Kraft having made up his mind to listen to no proposals for his daughter except from a suitor selected by himself. Louise wept and was very sad. 'Aunt Regine,' as she was styled, favoured her with sundry ill-natured dissertations upon ungrateful and disobedient children, Mops growled and snarled as if he were taking part with his mistress in the family disagreement, and the entire house and household appeared even more dull and silent than usual. Herr Warner exerted himself to the utmost to bring his cousin to reason, but in vain. Herr Kraft was much enraged that his daughter should have presumed, even at the house of his own sister, to have become intimate with any person who was unknown to him, and could not forgive her having dared even to think of anyone as a lover without his permission. 'And the fellow such a poor wretch into the bargain!' For what was a small landed property, not much bigger than a couple of peasants' cottages and cabbage gardens? He was of an ancient and noble family, it had been said--but what of that? He, Herr Kraft, did not care a straw for nobility; it was merely an idea--an imagination--that some men are to be better than others, because their forefathers, perhaps a hundred years ago, had been people of some renown. Herr Warner maintained that such an 'imagination' contained a moral obligation to be also a distinguished, or at least a worthy man, not to dishonour one's ancestors; and reminded his cousin that he himself was by no means indifferent to his descent.
'No, in that he was certainly right,' said the merchant: 'but he had good grounds for his pride in his forefathers, because for more than a hundred years they had been wealthy merchants, who had established and maintained a highly-esteemed commercial house. That was something solid--not mere fancy.' And then he went on exhibiting all that arrogance which is sometimes to be found among the rich burghers, who are quite as proud of their wealth, and their burgher's brief of a century old, as any nobleman of his genealogical table, or his forefathers' wounds or scars received on the field of glory. But Herr Warner had to go away without having disclosed his errand, and could only console poor Louise with the uncertain hope of a brighter future, in which, however, he himself had little confidence.
Soon after, her prospects became still darker. Herr Kraft gave notice suddenly one day that he had promised Louise to the son of one of his commercial friends, that the betrothal was to take place in eight days, and the wedding in three months. The husband destined for Louise was the son of a rich man, but he was far from handsome, and was still less agreeable. Aunt Regine bestirred herself to make every preparation for the betrothal; Louise implored with tears that her father would not insist on this sacrifice; she said she would give up the man she loved, to please him, but she could not marry another. Uncle Warner, as Louise called him, did all he could for her, and pleaded her cause with her father to the best of his ability; but Herr Kraft laughed--a thing he seldom did--at hearing him speak of true and faithful love. 'Sheer folly, childishness, absurd sentimentality and foolery, that would not pay a shilling of interest.'
'You will make your child miserable,' said Warner.
'On the contrary, she will get a husband worth half a plum, with the prospect of a great deal more,' said the father.
'That may be; but he squints, and has red flaming hair.'
'Bah! People don't notice these trifles after they are married.'
'But he is also dull and stupid, and obstinate and wearisome, and unfeeling and conceited--'
'Well! and what else? However, whatever he may be, she shall take him, and so--Basta!'