Part 38 (2/2)

In vain had Harry tried to edge in a word. With a bitter smile he recalled a pa.s.sage in a Vienna humorous paper which, under the heading of ”A disaster prevented,” set forth the peril from drowning from which the entire government had been saved by the presence of mind of the president of the Reichsrath, Herr Doctor Smolka, who had contrived just in the nick of time to put a stop to a torrent of words from Baron Karl Leskjewitsch.

Suddenly the Baron stumbled over a stone, which fortunately caused him to pause.

”It has nothing to do with Zdena!” Harry exclaimed, seizing his opportunity.

”Not? Then----”

”I have become betrothed,” Harry almost shouted, for fear of not making his father hear.

”And what do you want of me?”

”You must help me to break the engagement,” his son cried, in despair.

At these words Karl Leskjewitsch, who with all his confusion of ideas had managed to retain a strong sense of humour, made a grimace, and pushed back the straw hat which he wore, and which had made the ascent of Mount Vesuvius with him and had a hole in the crown, so that it nearly fell off his head.

”Ah, indeed! First of all I should like to know to whom you are betrothed,--the result, of course, of garrison life in some small town?

I always maintain that for a cavalry officer----”

Harry felt the liveliest desire to summon the aid of Doctor Smolka to stem the tide of his father's eloquence, but, since this could not be, he loudly interrupted him: ”I am betrothed to Paula Harfink!”

”Harfink!” exclaimed the Baron. ”The Harfinks of K----?”

”Yes; they are at Dobrotschau this summer,” Harry explained.

”So she is your betrothed,--the Baroness Paula? She is handsome; a little too stout, but that is a matter of taste. And you want to marry her?”

”No, no, I do not want to marry her!” Harry exclaimed, in dismay.

”Oh, indeed! you do not want to marry her?” murmured the Baron. ”And why not?”

”Because--because I do not love her.”

”Why did you betroth yourself to her?”

Harry briefly explained the affair to his father.

The Baron looked grave. ”And what do you want me to do?” he asked, after a long, oppressive silence.

”Help me out, father. Put your veto upon this connection.”

”What will my veto avail? You are of age, and can do as you choose,”

said the Baron, shaking his head.

”Yes, legally,” Harry rejoined, impatiently, ”but I never should dream of marrying against your will.”

Karl Leskjewitsch found this a.s.surance of filial submission on his son's part very amusing. He looked askance at the young fellow, and, suppressing a smile, extended his hand after a pompous theatric fas.h.i.+on and exclaimed, ”I thank you for those words. They rejoice my paternal heart.” Then, after swinging his son's hand up and down like a pump-handle, he dropped it and said, dryly, ”Unfortunately, I have not the slightest objection to your betrothal to the Harfink girl. What pretext shall I make use of?”

”Well,”--Harry blushed,--”you might say you cannot consent to the _msalliance_.”

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