The Freiherr knitted his brows. "In this matter your discretion is the merest make-believe. The note was written to Johanna,--that is clear. Has she seen it?" "On my honour, she neither has seen it nor ever would have seen it----" "Prevarication--forever!" the Freiherr interrupted, impatiently. "Whether she has seen it or not, you wrote it to her, and I ask you what right you have to entreat her for an interview and to call her what you do here?" The Freiherr handed him the note. Otto, who remembered its contents imperfectly, saw clearly that there was no way to save Magelone except by acting upon his grandfather's unconscious hint; but the falsehood would not come glibly. He looked down mute, while the Freiherr arose and paced to and fro in increasing impatience. Suddenly he paused in front of his grandson. "Is there an understanding between you?" he asked. "No," Otto replied, in a tone that carried conviction with it. After a pause his grandfather asked again, "Do you think your affection is reciprocated?" "I--I do not know," Otto stammered. "Nonsense! You must know!" the Freiherr roared, now thoroughly indignant. "You're not so over-modest, and when it is a question of your whole future life----or, can it be?"--and his eyes flashed fire from beneath his bushy brows,--"have you dared to trifle with Johanna? In that case, my boy, you will answer it to _me_. Johanna is my daughter's child, and a Dönninghausen, even although she does not bear the name." Otto sat as if spell-bound by his grandfather's angry eyes. "I assure you----" he began at last. "No fine phrases!" the Freiherr interrupted him again, but far more gently. "Prove that you are in earnest. Put an end to misunderstandings, and you shall have my blessing." Otto started up. He had prepared himself to endure violent reproaches and perhaps temporary banishment from Dönninghausen, but to be obliged to betroth himself--to Johanna! What would his former comrades, what would the Klausenburg sisters, above all, what would Magelone say? "My dear sir," he stammered, as all this flashed through his brain like lightning, "how is this possible? My affairs----" "Are certainly not in a condition to make you a very brilliant match," the Freiherr sarcastically completed his sentence. "But Johanna is magnanimous. If she loves you, she will not be calculating. Her maternal inheritance is not large, but it will suffice to make you modestly independent----" "My dear sir, neither am I calculating," Otto interposed. The Freiherr laughed contemptuously. "I scarcely need to be told that; but all these are secondary considerations. The point at issue is whether Johanna feels sufficient affection and esteem for you to allow of her intrusting to you her future, and to this question you must ask the answer yourself. You can do it immediately. I have nothing more to say to you."