"What! with my gout!" the old gentleman exclaimed, in dismay. "I cannot
endure the least cold, and if you will investigate my case----"
"Not the slightest necessity. I know perfectly well what ails you,"
declared the Professor.
The Freiherr's respect increased for this famous physician, who could
pronounce upon a patient's condition by merely looking at him, without
asking a single question.
"The Countess certainly spoke in the highest terms of your keenness of
apprehension," he rejoined; "but I should like to ask you a question,
Herr Professor Wehlau. Your name strikes me as familiar. Can you be in
anywise related to Wehlau Wehlenberg of the Forschungstein?"
"Forschungstein?" Again the Professor hastily felt the Freiherr's
pulse, while the old man resumed, condescendingly,--
"It would not be the first time that a member of an ancient family had
refused to adopt a title when forced by circumstances to embrace a
bourgeois profession."
"Bourgeois profession!" exclaimed Wehlau. "Herr von Eberstein, do you
imagine that scientific pursuits are followed like--shoemaking, for
example?"
"They certainly are very unbefitting noble blood," said Eberstein,
haughtily. "As for the Forschungstein, it is the ancestral seat of a
young nobleman who came to the Ebersburg last autumn and partook of my
hospitality during a stormy night. An amiable young man that Hans
Wehlau Wehlenberg----"
"Of the Forschungstein!" the Professor interposed, with a burst of
laughter. "Now I understand it all. It is another prank of that
graceless boy of mine. I remember his telling me that he had passed
a stormy night in an old castle. I am sorry, Herr Baron, that my
good-for-naught should so have imposed upon you. His Forschungstein is,
however, all the antiquity that either he or I can lay claim to. No, he
is plain Hans Wehlau like myself, and when next I lay eyes upon him I
shall give him my opinion of his promotion to the nobility."
He laughed again loud and long, but the old Freiherr evidently did not
appreciate the joke of the affair; he sat at first speechless with
indignation, and at last broke forth: "Your son? Only Hans Wehlau? And
I received him as an equal, and treated him like one of my own rank! A
young man of no name, no family----"
"Pardon me," interrupted the Professor. "I do not mean to excuse the
trick, but as for a name and a family, in the first place Hans is _my_
son, and I have achieved somewhat in the scientific world, and in the
second place he himself is not without fame in another domain. The name
of Wehlau may well compare with that of Eberstein, which owes all its
importance to mouldy old traditions, entirely disregarded nowadays."
This touched the Freiherr on his most sensitive side; he arose in
furious indignation: "Mouldy traditions? Disregarded? Herr Wehlau, I
cannot, of course, require from you any appreciation of matters far too
lofty for your bourgeois apprehension, but I demand respect for----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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