the idea of being taken
into the free air.

Sonnenkamp was unusually cheerful at dinner; his contempt for men had
to-day received new confirmation, and he had fresh conviction of his
ability to play with them. He enjoyed a special sense of freedom in the
thought that this Herr Dournay, who undertook to dictate matters for
him and for so many other people, was now done with. Yet he must
acknowledge to himself, that he could, probably, have made no better
choice for his son.

After dinner, Pranken allowed the Justice, who was in a hurry, to be
driven to town in Sonnenkamp's carriage; he himself remained in very
confidential conversation with Sonnenkamp, who admired the art with
which a young man, who was a suitor for a wealthy maiden, worked
himself into a state of enthusiasm thereat.

After Pranken had departed, Sonnenkamp went to the conservatory, where
Roland soon came to him and said:--

"Father, I have a request."

"I shall be glad, if it is a request that I can grant."

"Father, I promise to learn everyday the names of twenty plants, if you
will give me Herr Eric again."

"Very nice of Herr Dournay to teach you to promise me that."

The boy looked at his father, as if confounded, his lips swelled, and
gazing timidly around upon the plants, as if he called upon them to
bear testimony that he was speaking the truth, he cried:--

"Eric has not said to me anything of the kind, any more than those
plants have; he has not taught me to say that; but if he had, I would
learn it from him, and from nobody but him."

"Not even from me?" exclaimed Sonnenkamp.

The boy was silent, and his father repeated the question:--

"Not even from me?"

His tone was vehement, and he doubled up his great fist.

"Not even from me?" he asked the third time.

The boy drew back, and cried with a thrilling voice:--

"Father!"

Sonnenkamp's fist unclosed, and with forced composure he said:--

"I didn't mean to punish you, Roland--come here--nearer--nearer yet."

The boy went to him, and his father placed his hand upon his forehead,
which, was hot, while the father's hand was cold.

"I love you more than you can understand," said the father. He bent
down his head, but the boy stretched out both hands, crying with a
voice full of anguish:--

"Ah, father! I beseech you--father, I beseech you, not to kiss me now."

Sonnenkamp turned and went away. He expected that the boy would follow
him, and clasp him round the neck, but