She looked well and happy to-day as she stood upon the broad stone
veranda talking with her son who was by her side. He had never before
seemed so handsome in her eyes, for his military life and discipline had
given him a fine, stately bearing. She might well feel that he had
gained something with which her education had not provided him, but she
would not have admitted that for the world.
"So you intend to build?" she asked.
"I had thought of it."
"The old house in which your father and I lived is not good enough for
your princess, whom you must needs surround with all possible glitter
and splendor. Not that I care. You have the money to do it with. If all
these fine doings please you, well and good. It's nothing to me, thank
God."
"Don't try to be so severe, mother," laughed Willibald. "If a stranger
heard you he'd think you were the worst kind of a mother-in-law. If
Marietta's letters had not given me assurance enough that you spoiled
her, your own actions every day would do so."
"Now and then one plays, even in old age, with a pretty doll," Regine
answered dryly. "And your wife is but a fragile doll. Do not imagine
she'll ever be a capable housewife--I saw at a glance that she hadn't
it in her to manage here."
"You are quite right," answered her son eagerly "The work and the
management of the estate are my care and mine alone, and I shall never
bother Marietta with them.
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