ch thoughts enter your mind, Peter!" she exclaimed
reproachfully.

"Louis of Nassau has fallen," he murmured in a hollow tone, "his army is
scattered."

"Oh-oh!" cried Maria, clasping her hands in horror, but he continued:

"It was our last body of troops. The coffers are empty, and where we
are to obtain new means, and what will happen now--this, this--Leave me,
Maria, I beg you. If we don't profit by the time now, if we don't find
the right paths now, we shall not, cannot prosper."

With these words he threw the bouquet on the table, hastily seized a
paper, looked into it, and, without glancing at her, waved his right
hand.

The young wife's heart had been full, wide open, when she entered the
room. She had expected so much that was beautiful from this hour, and
now stood alone in the apartment he still shared with her. Her arms had
fallen by her side; helpless, mortified, wounded, she gazed at him in
silence.

Maria had grown up amid the battle for freedom, and knew how to estimate
the grave importance of the tidings her husband had received. During his
wooing he had told her that, by his side, she must expect a life full of
anxiety and peril, yet she had joyously gone to the altar with the brave
champion of the good cause, which had been her father's, for she had
hoped to become the sharer of his cares and struggles. And now? What was
she permitted to be to him? What did he receive from her? What had he
consented to share with her, who could not feel herself a feeble woman,
on this, the anniversary of their wedding-day.

There she stood, her open heart slowly closing and struggling against
her longing to cry out to him, and say that she would as gladly bear his
cares with him and share every danger, as happiness and honor.

The burgomaster, having now found what he sought, seized his hat and
again looked at his wife.

How pale and disappointed she was!

His heart ached; he would so gladly have given expression in words
to the great, warm love he felt for her, offered her joyous
congratulations; but in this hour, amid his grief, with such anxieties
burdening his breast, he could not do it, so he only held out both
hands, saying tenderly:

"You surely know what you are to me, Maria, if you do not, I will
tell you this evening. I must meet the members of the council at the
town-hall, or a whole day will be lost, and at this time we must be
avaricious even of the moments. Well, Maria?"

The young wife wa