The young girl advanced, and asked, timidly, "That angry old man who does not like sacred pictures----?"
"Is one of the first scientists of the age, a magnate in science, in whom all eccentricity must be forgiven. He is, it is true, of a rather choleric temperament."
Gerlinda still gazed after the Professor with some anxiety. No name had been mentioned in the conversation which she had overheard, and she asked no further question, for the beginning of the tableaux was announced, and all the guests betook themselves to the drawing-room, where the stage was set up.
Hans Wehlau, on this evening, covered himself with glory. The pictures which he arranged, not after famous examples, but after his own ideas, in illustration of familiar legends and poems, did honour to his artistic capacity. Each was a creation in itself, and every time the curtain was raised there was a fresh surprise.
The laurels of the evening, however, were borne off by the Countess Hertha Steinrück, enthroned upon a rock, in the richest of robes, as the Loreley. Hans knew very well why he chose to have this picture last in the series, placing the young Countess alone in the frame, with no companion-figure. A long-drawn 'Ah!' of admiration pervaded the assembly at sight of a loveliness that threw all else that had been seen into the shade. She was, indeed, the breathing embodiment of the legend with its intoxicating witchery.
Even Professor Wehlau forgot his vexation for a few minutes, although he had been nursing it all through the entertainment, and was all admiration. But when the curtain had fallen for the last time, and the youthful manager with his assistants appeared in the drawing-room, Wehlau's indignation began to boil afresh, and he tried to speak with his son. This was no easy matter, however, for Hans was in great requisition, the hero of the hour, flattered and caressed; he shared with the Countess Hertha the triumph of the evening. Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed before the Professor succeeded in capturing him. "I wish to speak with you," he said, with an ominous countenance, drawing the young man aside into the window-recess where Fräulein von Eberstein had been standing.
"With pleasure, papa," said Hans, who was positively beaming with delight.
This only increased the Professor's vexation, and he came to the point at once. "Is what I heard just now from the Countess Steinrück true? Is the picture you have painted a sacred picture?"
"It is, papa."
"Indeed! Have you both lost your senses? Michael as a saint! It must be a perfect caricature."