of the skin betokened rather a son of the south than of German parentage.  Neither did the eyes, which flashed in the youthful countenance, belong to the cool, earnest north; they were enigmatical eyes, dark as the night, and full of hot, passionate fire.  Beautiful as they were, however, there was something uncanny hidden in their depths, and though the laughter which accompanied Hartmut’s words was free and unrestrained, it was not a hearty, merry boy’s laugh.

“You certainly conduct yourself in a very free and easy manner,” said Wallmoden, sharply.  “You evidently take advantage of the fact that the inmates of Burgsdorf think little of etiquette.  I have no doubt, however, that your father would protest against such an entrance into the dining-room.”

“He would not do it if his father were here,” said Frau von Eschenhagen, who did not seem to notice the stab intended for herself in her brother’s remark.  “And so you have come to your breakfast at last, Hartmut.  But laggards get nothing to eat; did you know that?”

“Yes, I know that,” replied Hartmut, quite undisturbed, “so I got my breakfast some time ago from the housekeeper.  You can’t starve me, Aunt Regine.  I stand on too good a footing with your people.”

“And so you think you can do as you please and go unpunished,” cried the irate lady.  “Break all the rules of the house, leave no one and nothing in peace, and stand all Burgsdorf on its head; but I’ll soon stop all this business, my lad.  To-morrow I’ll send a messenger over to your father requesting him to come and take home his son who knows neither punctuality nor obedience.”

The threat had its effect.  The youth was frightened, and thought it well to surrender at discretion.

“Oh, you are only jesting; shall I not enjoy my short vacation with—­”

“With all manner of folly?” Frau von Eschenhagen added for him.  “Will has not done so much mischief in all his life as you have accomplished in the last three days, and you’ll spoil him with your bad example and lead him into all manner of misdoing.”

“Oh, Will is not the kind to be spoiled.  I could not do it if I tried,” said Hartmut very warmly.

The young heir, who certainly did not look as if he could be led into any impropriety, ate on, untroubled by these personal allusions, until he had finished the last slice of bread on the table; but his mother was highly incensed at this remark.

“That must grieve you greatly,” she retorted.  “It is certainly not your fault, for you have tried hard enough to ruin him; but as I just said I will write to your father to-morrow.”

“That he is to come and fetch me away?  You won’t do that Aunt Regine, you are far too good.  You know how very strict papa is, how severely he can punish; you won’t complain of me to him; you have never done it yet.”

“Leave me alone, don’t bother me with your flatteries.”  Frau Regine’s face was as inflexible as ever, but her voice had a certain unsteadiness which made Hartmut feel he had won the day.  He laid his arm upon her shoulder with the freedom of a child.