"My son just engaged to your daughter. For Hildegarde's sake will try to assist you and your son. Expect you both to-morrow for consultation on subject."

This telegram sent off by the old manufacturer caused indescribable excitement in the major's home; weeping with joy and agitation the husband and wife flung themselves into each other's arms and blessed the day on which Heaven had given them Hildegarde.

"A fine girl, a good girl," said the major a dozen times over, and if there was anything that troubled his intense joy it was that Hilda was not with them. He would so much have liked to take her in his arms, and in his somewhat rough fashion to have patted her on the shoulder and said: "You have done well, my girl."

He laughed hoarsely, and lit the dearest cigar he had in the house. One ought to make merry on festivals whenever they occur, and to-day was truly a festival: Hildegarde engaged to the son of one of the richest wholesale manufacturers, that was indeed more than mere good luck, and almost unconsciously the major folded his hands and thanked the good God for having sent him so rich a son-in-law. He read and re-read the telegram; he could not at once take in the whole extent of the joyful news, and the oftener he read the telegram and the more calmly he gradually accepted its contents, the more he took exception each time to the words: "For Hildegarde's sake will try to assist you and your son. Expect you both to-morrow." What did that mean—will try; it was not a question of will, but must. Did this parvenu imagine, perhaps, that the major would give his beautiful child, his only daughter, to his son without his having to pay heavily for it? Oh, no, indeed! No gains without pains; if the honorary commercial adviser did not pay his debts and his son's, then there would be no engagement, for he, as father, would never give his consent. That would indeed be a fine thing if he gave his child to the first best suitor without any compensation. "No, no, that's not what was intended, that won't do at all."

The major talked himself into a rage over the matter to his wife, who vainly tried to calm him. "You don't know these shop-keeping creatures, they grow rich by haggling; their chief characteristic is avarice, and you see all that here. Do you suppose a decent man would ask what were the debts of the father and mother of his future daughter-in-law? He would simply pay them, and on the spot. And what does this fellow say: 'Expect you both to-morrow to discuss affairs.' He ought to come to us, and ask for our daughter's hand on his son's behalf in the proper way, instead of which we are simply commanded to come to him. I, an old major, must receive instructions from a parvenu. He has not a trace of respect for my noble birth, my position, my name; he has the money-bags, so we must pipe to his tune. Well, I shall soon make him see how matters stand, I shall soon show him what an honour it is for him and his family if we let his son, who, as far as I know, is only a discharged lieutenant, marry our Hilda. I will soon open his eyes."

He walked up and down the room grumbling and cursing, but gradually joy in Hildegarde's engagement again got the upper hand, and earlier than usual he went off to his special table at the restaurant in order to relate the news and to receive congratulations on the happy event.

Next morning he set out on his journey; his wife had wanted to accompany him, but he would not allow this. "Fritz and I must first have a talk with the old man and arrange affairs. I will telegraph you how things are, and then you might come. I repeat, if the old fellow does not pay up at once, there will be no engagement."

Fritz, who met his father on the way, quite agreed with him. He had also received a telegram in which was expressed only a desire to help, and he was no less angry than his father. "You are quite right in what you say, papa, there is only one thing to be done, we must simply threaten to take Hildegarde immediately home with us if he does not consent to everything we want. We must act very energetically, and show fight, but above all we must make the old fellow feel what an enormous social barrier divides us; then you see he will look small."

But the old manufacturer was very far removed from looking small.

In the conversation that had taken place between Hildegarde and Elsa, the former had considered it her duty to tell her new friend frankly about her family affairs, and to confess quite plainly how she had been sent year after year to Berlin to get a rich husband. With tears she confessed she loved George, but declared she must renounce him, for she could not endure that George should believe, even for a moment, that she loved him for his money. At first when Elsa heard this she assumed a somewhat distant air, then she felt the most sincere sympathy for Hildegarde, whose every word showed clearly and distinctly how good and true she was. Elsa tried to console her to the best of her ability, and assured her that George would not doubt her, but that his love would be all the greater when he heard what a sad life she had had. Elsa undertook to inform her father what Hildegarde had told her, and at the first moment he was quite overcome, and kept on saying to his son—"George, leave the thing alone, give up all thoughts of Hildegarde, don't be drawn into that wretched family affair." But he made no further opposition after he had seen Hildegarde and had had an hour's conversation with her tÊte-À-tÊte. He took his son aside and said, "George, the girl's an angel, we must make her happy and compensate her for all she has gone through by a future without a care or worry."

So they had all taken counsel together as to how Hildegarde's relatives were to be helped. Hildegarde had told them the extent of the debts so far as she remembered it from her last visit home, and at last it was arranged that old Winkler should pay one half of the debts, and George, out of his own income, the other. Besides this, Winkler intended to put aside a certain sum every year, from which Hildegarde could make her parents an allowance, and so they would be removed from all pecuniary anxiety.

It was more difficult to arrange what was to be done about Fritz. George wanted to pledge himself to give his brother-in-law a monthly allowance, but Hildegarde shook her head at this. "There is really no object in doing that, George. If, in your kindness, you were to give him thousands and thousands, it would be so much money thrown away. The more Fritz has the more he needs. He would never manage on whatever he had; he would always borrow from us, he would not stop gambling, and if we wouldn't help him he would borrow on I O U's, and would soon be as deeply in debt as he is to-day. It is sad for his own sister to have to say this, but I can only see one way of helping Fritz—he must leave the army and go abroad. He will never be any better until he works and earns his own living and so gets to understand the value of money."

"Hildegarde is right," agreed the old manufacturer. "Hildegarde is certainly the most sensible girl I have ever known, and if she, who knows her brother so well, says that there is no other means of helping him except a change of climate, then he shall have it. Let him go to America, I have business connections there, and can easily get him a post. He shall not starve, I will see to that all right, but he shall only get as much money as will keep him from want. He will therefore be forced to work for his living."

Thus all was settled and arranged when the major and his son arrived, and at the sight of the absolute calmness and firm determination which were visible in the manufacturer's whole bearing, they were quite unable to carry out their proposal and take the high hand. They could not explain why, but as they sat with the old man, they were almost ill at ease when he asked them about their debts, and told them in what way he proposed to settle them.

Fritz could hardly believe his ears when he was told he was to leave the army. He opposed it as much as ever he could, but he was so deeply involved that he could not hang on for more than a few weeks. It would, therefore, be best for him after all to resign at once. But if he left the army there was really no object in paying his debts at once; the people could wait for them, he would be quite content to go on owing them money. He made this clear to old Winkler, who might thus save the money and give him a few more thousand marks for his journey.

"For you to gamble them away on board ship. No, there's no sense in that, and quite apart from that, in our plebeian circles it is considered honourable to fulfil one's obligations. Surely you, who belong to a class which is nicknamed nowadays 'the first class,' ought not to think differently in this matter. I should not have expected this of you."

Fritz could not help feeling uncomfortable, and both father and son were delighted when Elsa inquired whether lunch could not be served, and so brought the conversation to an end.

The major was in the seventh heaven: his debts were paid, he received an extra allowance, he had no longer any need to give his son any money, and henceforth he could live free from care. He did not, of course, quite like it that his son Fritz should have to go abroad, but if the old manufacturer insisted upon it, why one must agree to it, and perhaps he might find a rich wife there. In America there were still people who thought aristocratic birth more than out-weighed gold, and, besides, America was not far off, he could be back again in a few days, if need be. He whispered all this to his son, when he was alone with him for a moment, and Fritz made the best of a bad bargain. Father and son thoroughly enjoyed the excellent luncheon of which they all partook, and appeared to take no notice of the somewhat cold, distant behaviour of the Winklers at the beginning of the interview.

Next day the manufacturer with his children and Hildegarde intended to go home.

He would indeed have gone on this day but George, who had given in his resignation, had invited the "Golden Butterflies" to a splendid banquet, and at six o'clock the whole of the corps of officers were assembled in a splendid suite of rooms in the best hotel in Berlin. George in his heart disliked all this ostentation, but on this occasion he had ordered the best and most expensive of everything. The French champagne flowed in streams, the finest wines, the best viands were set before them.

George as the host sat between the colonel and the major, and secretly he was immensely amused to notice how the former was beginning to think about his speech.

"What is he going to say?" thought George. "Does not the man see that this farewell banquet is a pure farce? There is not a single being at the table who is not delighted that I am going, and yet they all come here to stuff themselves at my expense, and to get more or less drunk."

In a few words George bade his guests welcome, and wished them a pleasant evening. That was all he said. He could not bring himself somehow to say that he was delighted to be once more among his dear old comrades again, or something of the kind. He had only said what was absolutely necessary for the occasion, and, therefore, he was all the more curious to see how the colonel would reply to his remarks. The latter struck his glass, and rose, his example being followed by all the other officers.

"Gentlemen," began the colonel, amid profound silence, "we are to-day assembled for the last time to do honour to a beloved comrade, who is leaving not only us, but the army, to go into his father's business as worker and partner. Although it is usually the custom for the departing officer to be entertained by his corps, to-day it is otherwise, and it is we who are the guests and you the host, because we believe by this means to show you, dear Winkler, how delighted we are once more to have you in our midst. To invite you to a dinner would have been the ordinary etiquette of the regiment, but etiquette does not oblige us to accept your invitation. The fact that everyone of us is here is a clear and eloquent sign, dear Winkler, that all who are here have not a word to say against you. I cannot deny that there were at one time differences between you and the other officers, but to-day shows that all those have disappeared. And so, with sincere regret, we witness your departure from our midst, although you have only been here such a short time, and our wishes for your health and prosperity in the future are expressed in the toast. Three cheers for our former comrade, Lieutenant Winkler. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

"Coldly as they received me into the regiment, coldly they bid me good-bye," thought George during the colonel's speech. "Not a single kindly word for me, merely a variation on the theme—what fine, good-natured fellows we are for coming here to-day on your account."

The hurrahs rang out, the band struck up a fanfare, and then the song, "Ich hatte einen Kamraden, einen bessern fandst du nicht."

"I am to have that as well," thought George, and a feeling of bitterness rose within him. "Lies and hypocrisy to the very end."

The colonel drew him into the conversation, but, while George was apparently listening to a description of an incident in the war, his thoughts were far away. He looked at his comrades who from joy at getting rid of him had drunk more than was good for them, and many of whom would soon be completely intoxicated. And suddenly a feeling of joy which he could not prevent came over him that in future he would no longer belong to a profession, the majority of whose members had not yet learned to work and to take life seriously; and who had not yet grasped the real nature of its task—that of educating the German youth.

Wyman & Sons Ltd., Printers, London and Reading.