“Certainly,” was the answer, and opening the door at the same moment, Wilhelm appeared fully dressed and ready for inspection.

“You have kept up your old habit of early rising—­that is right,” said Paul, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“So have you,” returned Wilhelm with a smile.

“I—­oh, that’s different.  I am a farmer, and you know the proverb—­ ‘The master’s eye makes the cattle fat.’  But your books don’t require to be fed and watered at break of day.  As you are ready, come down now, and we can have a chat over breakfast.”

Malvine met him downstairs with a friendly smile and shake of the hand.  This morning she wore a long blue morning gown with gay colored embroidery at the throat and wrists and a little lace cap with blue ribbons.  The breakfast was as elaborate as on the day before.

“I want to take you over to my place to-day, Wilhelm.  We have a shooting party, the weather is lovely, and it will be a nice change for you.”

“Thanks, Paul, but I would much rather you left me here.  I am no sportsman, as you know very well.”

“We’ll soon make you into one.  Nobody is born a sportsman, or rather we are all born sportsmen, but forget it in our wretched town life, and afterward have to set to work and learn laboriously the art that came so naturally to our forefathers.  Not, however, that you need fire a single shot, it is more for the healthy out-of-door exercise, and to show you Friesenmoor in its winter dress, and for the society which will interest you.  They are neighbors of mine—­nearly every one of them a character—­old Baron Huning, who fought in the Crimea as an English officer, Count Chamberlain von Swerte, crammed with curious court stories, Graf Olderode, who, in spite of his gout, will jump for joy when I introduce you as the best friend I have in the world, and add that you have just been banished from Berlin under the Socialist Act.  And then there are my pupils—­I’ve got a Russian prince among them, and a very near neighbor, a young nobleman from the Marches, an officer in the Red Hussars.  Now don’t be a slow coach, come along.”

“You are very kind, but I should be very sorry to make your gouty Graf jump, even for joy.”

“Dr. Enyhardt is quite right,” Malvine now joined in.  “What an idea too to carry him off from me before he has had time to settle comfortably.  You stay with me.  Herr Doctor; this is my day, and you shall make the acquaintance of some charmingly pretty girls this afternoon.  That will interest you more than Paul’s old Chamberlains.”

“All right,” laughed Paul; “but you had better look out, Wilhelm, I smell a rat.  Malvine has designs upon you, she wants to get you married.  If you came with me you would be the hunter, but if you stay here you will find yourself in the position of the game.”

“And if he is,” retorted Malvine, “it is surely the better part to let yourself be caught by a pretty girl than to go and shoot poor hares and wild ducks.”