conceit and pretentiousness of the young fellows for whom the best is not considered good enough; whether they have not often bitterly repented having allowed their sons to choose a profession which often estranges them from their own parents, who are too often only regarded as the source of money for their frivolous or luxurious lives." "George, you are exaggerating absurdly," said Olga, rebukingly. "Do you really think so? I can only say I have often known young lieutenants who are really ashamed because their fathers are teachers or something similar, but in spite of this they are not ashamed to send home for more money in order to maintain a good appearance. They wish--no, according to their view they _must_ give the idea of coming from good families. I was once at dinner and I heard with my own ears how a lieutenant pretended his father was a pensioned officer because he felt embarrassed at having to say he was a doctor." "Fi, that's a beautiful idea." Count Wettborn had, therefore, an easy task when he came to persuade George to go on furlough. He was much astonished when he heard that George was quite determined to send in his resignation, and to enter his father's factory; but, naturally, he made no attempt to dissuade him. "And when do you think of sending in your request?" "In a day or two. My father writes to me that he is commanded to an audience with His Majesty, and that he will be here at the beginning of next week. Although I am a completely free agent in this matter, and can go and come as I like, still I think it is my duty to inform my father of my resolution as soon as possible." "Certainly, certainly," agreed Count Wettborn, "a week sooner or later makes no difference." And that was just what the officers thought when they heard that Winkler was going. Whether he remained a week more or less--that was a matter of no importance--the thing was, they were going to get rid of him. "I say, boys, we'll be a little bit nice to him during these last few days," suggested one of the officers. "We will behave as if we were rather sorry that he's going, for, after all, it's not exactly his fault that he doesn't suit us. Besides, it would be a good thing for us if the memory of his last days among us was a pleasant one; later on he will often tell stories of the days when he had the honour of belonging to us, and although, of course, it doesn't really matter what he says about us to his shopkeeper friends, still, it won't do us any harm if he says, 'The "Golden Butterflies" are a damned fine regiment; they're a charming set of good-hearted, dear fellows who are second to none in their friendliness and good fellowship.'" But the proposal evoked no response. "For his own sake he won't say much about his dealings with us and how we drove him out." But they all agreed, however, to drop every appearance of ill-will and to be, at least outwardly, polite and amiable during these last days.