Paul Haber, who was in Berlin again, and paying a great deal of attention to Fraulein Marker, was grieved and really angry at the turn his friend’s romance had taken.  He knew through Fraulein Marker how Herr von Pechlar was trying to supplant Wilhelm, and that he took every opportunity of making abominably false representations about him.  There ought to be no more foolish loitering about.  It was unpardonable to let the golden bird fly away so easily.  Once open the hand, and she might be off.  If Fraulein Ellrich was beginning to flirt with Pechlar, it was quite excusable, as Wilhelm’s coolness might well drive her to it.  But if he stuck to his absurd whim, that she was too superficial for him!—­as if every girl were not superficial, and as if a man cannot educate her to whatever level he pleases—­then in heaven’s name let him make an end of it all, or the affair would become ridiculous and contemptible.  But other considerations had weight with Wilhelm.

Through Paul and the officers of his acquaintance he heard very unfavorable things of Pechlar.  He was only moderately well off, and had more debts than hairs on his head; perhaps for a son-in-law of Herr Ellrich’s that was a venial offense.  He was also a common libertine, whose excesses were more like those of a pork-butcher than of a cultivated man.  His companions were not disinclined for little amorous adventures—­a joke with a pretty seamstress or restaurant waitress were their capital offenses.  But the manner in which Pechlar carried on his amours was such as did not commend itself to either the easygoing or cautious among the officers.

Wilhelm clearly saw that Pechlar did not love Loulou—­he was probably incapable of loving, and only wanted her dowry.  Without a thought of jealousy, and out of compassion for an inexperienced and guileless creature who was dear to him, he thought it his duty to warn her before she sullied herself by becoming bound to such a man.  To save Loulou he at last took the step which no respect for his own peace or honor had allowed him to take before.

He went to the Ellrichs’ house the next day at the usually early hour of eleven o’clock, and asking for the young lady, he was shown into the little blue boudoir, where he hoped to find Loulou alone.  But he was painfully surprised.  Herr von Pechlar sat there, and appeared to be in the middle of a conversation with Loulou.  She smiled at Wilhelm, and beckoned to him to come and sit near her, without embarrassment.  Wilhelm stayed a moment at the door irresolute, then he went forward, and bowing to her without looking at the hussar, said earnestly:  “I came in the hope of speaking to you alone, gnadiges Fraulein.  Perhaps I may be so fortunate another time.”

At these unexpected words Loulou opened her eyes wide.  Herr von Pechlar, however, who since Wilhelm’s arrival had been tugging angrily at his red mustache, could contain himself no longer, and said in a harsh voice, which trembled with passion: