“Sent a—?” Frau Regine laid down knife and fork in unbounded astonishment.  “Sent away,” she exclaimed, greatly irritated, “and in the name of common sense, where?”

“Well, first to the university, and later to travel, that he may learn something of the world and of men.”

“That he may be altogether ruined by this world and these men, and no comfort to me at all!  No, Herbert, I’ll never do that, and I tell you so now, once for all.  I have educated my son to be honest and fear God, and do not think I shall turn him loose in your Sodom and Gomorrah which the dear Lord in his forbearance has yet spared from the fire and brimstone which it so richly deserves.”

“You only know this Sodom and Gomorrah by hearsay, Regine,” interrupted Herbert, sarcastically.  “You have lived in Burgsdorf ever since your marriage; you must acknowledge that yourself!”

“I acknowledge nothing at all,” declared Frau von Eschenhagen, obstinately.  “Will shall become a capable farmer; he is qualified for that, and for that he needs no cramming at your universities.  Or perhaps you’d like to educate him in your own school, and make a diplomatist of him?  That would be too great an honor.”

She began to laugh loudly, and Will, to whom the whole conversation had appeared very comical, joined in in the same key.  Herr von Wallmoden took no part in this sudden explosion of gaiety; he only winced again, as though his nerves were affected, and shrugged his shoulders.

“No, I had not thought of that.  I know full well I should have my trouble for my pains.  But Willibald and I are the only representatives of our family, and if I should not marry—­”

“Should not?  You are not thinking of marrying in your old age?” interrupted his sister, sharply.

“I am in my forty-fifth year, dear Regine, and a man is not usually considered old at that age,” said Wallmoden, somewhat vexed.  “Above all things I consider marriages made late in life by far the happiest; one is not influenced then by passion, as Falkenried was, to his lasting wretchedness, but gives to reason the decisive word.”

“The saints protect us!  What if Willibald should wait to marry until he is fifty years old and gray-headed?” cried Frau von Eschenhagen, greatly vexed.

“As an only son and future heir he will have to consider such matters; as for the rest, the main point will be his own inclinations.  What do you think, Willibald?”

The young heir, who had disposed of his ham and eggs by this time, and with undiminished appetite was now attacking the sausage, was evidently much astonished that his opinion had been asked.  Such a thing had never happened before, and he was obliged to reflect deeply before he could answer at all.

At length he reached a conclusion.  “Yes, of course I must marry some time, but mamma will choose a wife for me when the right time comes.”

“She will indeed, my boy,” assented his mother, warmly.  “That is my affair, so you need not trouble your head about it, and until then you will remain here in Burgsdorf where I can have my eye upon you.  As to the university and traveling, that matter is—­settled.”