He was all the more inexorable towards Magelone. She longed to accompany him to Vienna. In imagination she revelled in delicious toilettes, saw herself with crowds of admirers, completing conquest after conquest, and returning laden with who could tell what spoils of victory, when her grandfather's 'no' cut short all her dreams and aspirations. "If you were free as you appear to be, or bound outwardly as you are in spirit, I should not object," he said; "but, as you are, misunderstandings might arise that had better be avoided. And I think, too, that you ought to remain here, out of regard for Johann Leopold." Magelone knew that when her grandfather spoke thus he was not to be contradicted; but she was vexed enough at having placed herself in an ambiguous position, and when she went to bed she cried herself to sleep, like a child who has lost its Christmas-gift by its own fault. On the same evening Aunt Thekla, when she was alone with her brother, ventured timidly to propose that he should take Johanna to Vienna with him. "I have already thought of it," he replied. "I should like to give the child a pleasure, and, moreover, she is the truest Dönninghausen of them all,--she would have done me credit. But to introduce her by that name which she clings to so nonsensically--I cannot bring myself to do it." Thus it was that the Freiherr started on his journey accompanied only by old Christian. Aunt Thekla's preparations for it were sufficient for a voyage around the world. Now and then she reproached herself for saving herself all the inconveniences and fatigue of travel while thus sending her old brother into the world alone; but he would not listen to her. "Don't behave as if I were too infirm to bear a railway journey," he said at last, rather impatiently. "Our Emperor is just my age, and he travels from one end of his kingdom to the other." This example silenced the old lady's anxiety and helped her to undergo her brother's departure with dignity. But when, having accompanied him as far as Thalrode, she returned without him, and reflected that each flying minute bore him farther and farther from her, and that days and perhaps even weeks must pass before she should hear his step or see his dear handsome face again, it was all over with her, and she atoned by floods of tears for her previous fortitude. "Dear aunt, do not cry any more," Magelone said to her in the course of the afternoon. "You behave as if grandpapa were going to his own funeral. Come, let us drive out, to Klausenburg, to Remmingen,--wherever you will,--it will divert your mind." "I don't wish to have it diverted," sighed Aunt Thekla. "To think of my dear good Johann, or to do something for him, is the only consolation I can have. Come, Johanna, let us dust the archive-room thoroughly. You know grandpapa cannot endure to have a servant enter it."