“I’ll go with you at once,” said the councilman, “and speak to him.”

Even though Fritz had conducted the business until now and was regarded and treated by the important people as the master, still he was not.  The old man had let him become master just as little as he had formally made over the business to him; he wanted to reserve to himself a sovereign power of interference wherever he should find it necessary.

He heard the two approaching while still at a distance and groped his way to a bench in his arbor.  There he was sitting when they entered.  After greetings had passed the councilman asked after Herr Nettenmair’s health.

“Thank you,” replied the old gentleman, “I am somewhat troubled with my eyes—­but it is of no consequence.”  He smiled as he spoke, and the councilman exchanged a glance with Apollonius that won the latter’s whole soul.  Then he told the old man the whole conference, and made Apollonius blush in his modesty so that it was long before his usual color came back.  The old man pulled his shield lower down on his face, that no one might see the thoughts which were oddly struggling with one another there.

Any one who could have seen beneath the shield would have thought at first that the old gentleman was glad; the shade of suspicion with which he had received Apollonius the day before disappeared.  He need not be afraid, then, that this son would make common cause with his brother against him!  Indeed, a something appeared on his countenance that seemed to rejoice malignantly at the elder’s humiliation.  Perhaps he might have interfered, as was his way, with a laconic:  “You will take my place from now on, Apollonius, do you hear?” if the councilman had not sung Apollonius’ praise and if it had not been so well deserved.

“Yes,” he said in his diplomatic manner of hiding his thoughts by only half expressing them; “yes, indeed, youth! he is young.”  “And yet so efficient already!” supplemented the councilman.

The old gentleman inclined his head.  One who was interested, as was the councilman, might believe that he nodded.  But he said:  “It’s the young men that are all-important today in the world!” Yes, he felt proud that his son was so efficient, ashamed that he himself was blind, glad that Fritz could now no longer do as he liked, that the honor of the home had gained one guardian more, afraid that the efficiency in which he rejoiced would make him himself superfluous.  And he could do nothing to prevent it; he could do nothing more, he was nothing more.  And as if Apollonius had expressed that, he rose stiffly erect, as if to show that his son was triumphing too early.

The councilman begged the old gentleman to keep his son at home during the time that the repairs were being made and to allow him to work at them.  The old gentleman was silent for a time as if he were waiting for Apollonius to refuse to stay.  Then he seemed to assume that Apollonius refused for, with his harsh brevity, he commanded:  “You are to stay; do you hear?”