"You are a white witch, and know how to wind the old ogre round your finger," the Freiherr said, shaking his finger at Lucie. "In fact, I ought to be excessively angry with you, but as this is impossible I may as well take my pill without a wry face. The will-o'-the-wisp had certainly better see the young man under your auspices than run off, perhaps through the night and storm, to take leave of him; the child might do it if she should hear that Poseneck was going away. But one very serious word I must speak. Your Poseneck certainly is an honest, honourable young fellow, his note and his whole conduct show that. Celia in her unsuspicious innocence might have fallen into bad hands. You cannot expect me to be quite content, but time will bring counsel. Only there must be no more of it all for the present; no talk of a betrothal as yet, no tender exchange of letters and such stuff. Celia is as yet little more than a child. If the young man ever comes back from the war he may come and see me here and we will talk it over together. But before then I'll not listen to another word about it. Do you agree, you white witch?" "Your will shall be my law in the matter, Herr Baron, and I thank you from my very heart for conquering for your child's sake your dislike of a Poseneck." "You may spare your thanks, child, or rather keep them for yourself, who honestly deserve them for taking care that my dislike should gradually subside. Have you not hammered away at my heart with your Poseneck every evening, for weeks, until at last the tough old muscle has grown quite tender?" The Freiherr had caused his rolling-chair to be pushed near the open glass doors of the garden-room, that he might inhale the fragrance which now towards evening was borne in upon the delicious breeze from the garden, already lying in shadow from the lofty forest. The papers lay upon the table beside him. His thoughts were busy with the occurrences of the day. "Where can Werner be?" he suddenly asked himself. Several letters that had arrived at the castle for the Finanzrath and had been forwarded to his address in Dresden had been to-day returned, with the notice on the envelopes that he had left Dresden. Hence the question that the father asked himself. He nearly started from his chair when old Franz flung wide the folding-doors leading into the hall and announced, "The Herr Finanzrath!"