"That's enough," the Freiherr interrupted her. "I know that with you whatever Werner does is right. But I tell you that your paragon, in spite of his excellent qualities, his scholarship, his cleverness, and so forth, is as crass an egotist as ever wore pantaloons. What with travelling here and there, as he has done, he has lost his love for a house and home, and now he's trying to make Johanna as great a vagabond as himself. Fortunately, she's made of too noble stuff for that. Don't you remember she wrote in her last letter from London that, in spite of all that she had seen that was interesting and beautiful, she was looking forward with unutterable delight to a quiet home in Vienna? I was sure she would have been there by this time, and expected to receive my birthday letter from her there." There was a pause. Aunt Thekla took from her pocket a letter which she had thrust there upon her brother's entrance, and, summoning courage, she said, timidly, "Dear Johann, I have received a letter from Vienna. Magelone----" The Freiherr extended his hand forbiddingly. "Not another word!" he cried. "You know I will not hear that name, and one other beside it. Do not spoil the day for me. I am anxious enough about Johanna." He frowned and cast down his eyes. Thekla sighed. Neither had heard a carriage drive into the court-yard; nor did they notice the restlessness of Leo, who pricked his ears, and ran to and fro between the window and the door. But now steps and voices were audible in the corridor. The door was hastily opened. The dog rushed out, barking loudly, and Lisbeth rushed in. "Grandpapa! Aunt!" the child called out. "Here they are! here they are!" The next moment Johanna's arms were around her grandfather's neck; Aunt Thekla, forgetful of her gout, was stretching out both hands to Ludwig, who entered the room with Johann Leopold; and Lisbeth was calling out, in the midst of salutations and congratulations, that she and Uncle Johann Leopold had been certain all along that the travellers would come to grandpapa's birthday, but that they had thought best to say nothing about it. "No; the surprise is a perfect success," said the Freiherr. "But now sit down, children, and give an account of yourselves. It really looked as if you did not want to come back." "And yet we have so longed to be here," Johanna replied, as she took a seat beside her grandfather, drew her little sister towards her, and patted and caressed Leo, who pressed up to her side. "If we could have followed our inclinations, you would have had us here weeks ago. But patients, and colleagues, and all sorts of learned people were not to be set aside. That is the night side of fame. But I must not say that," she interrupted herself. "Look how my tyrant frowns."