George shook his head. "The sooner I go the better, father. I don't get on among the officers, who often have the most extraordinary views on things." And, as if in confirmation of these words, the servant brought in a letter at that moment. "Is there any answer?" "No." The servant went away and George opened the letter. "Whatever is the matter?" asked Elsa, who had been watching her brother while he was reading. George jumped up. "I have never heard such a piece of insolence in my whole life. Just listen to this; but first of all I must recall to you one of my fellow-officers who was sitting in the same restaurant with us yesterday." "Oh, yes, that odd young man who was not quite sure at first whether he should bow to us, and then afterwards attempted to flirt with me so outrageously," said Elsa. "Well, what about him?" "Not much," answered George apparently calmly. "He merely wishes to be allowed to ask for your hand." Father and daughter looked at one another, speechless with astonishment, then Elsa broke into a hearty laugh, in which the others joined too. "Why, he doesn't even know me," she said. "Oh, that isn't in the least necessary; he knows your fortune, he knows that you are a very good _parti_, and naturally that's quite enough for him. A man can get on all right without love, but not without money. Well, now, listen to what this fine fellow writes. But I must tell you beforehand that from the first few of my comrades were so unfriendly to me as he was." Then he read out the letter: "MY VERY DEAR WINKLER,--I am sitting alone and solitary in the restaurant, and for a whole hour I have been impatiently watching the door in the hope of seeing you and your people come in, for I heard by chance that your father had ordered dinner here for this evening.