ot ready in haste. The laughter and the flow of
conversation ceased. Paumgartner and Spangenberg could neither of them
move his eyes away from the beautiful girl, and even Master Martin
watched her housewifely activities with a smile of satisfaction, as he
leant back in his chair with folded hands. When Rosa would have left
them, old Spangenberg jumped up as briskly as a youth, took her by both
shoulders, and cried over and over again, with tears in his eyes, "Oh
thou good, precious angel!--thou sweet, kind, charming creature!" Then
he kissed her three times on the forehead, and went back to his chair
in deep reflection. Paumgartner drank a toast to her health.

"Ay!" began Spangenberg, when she had left the room; "ay, Master
Martin! Heaven has, in that daughter of yours, bestowed on you a jewel
which you cannot prize too highly. She will bring you to great honour
one day. Who--be he of whatsoever condition he may--would be otherwise
than only too happy to be your son-in-law?"

"You see," said Paumgartner; "you see, Master Martin, the noble Herr
von Spangenberg thinks exactly as I do. Already I see my darling Rosa a
nobleman's bride, with the rich pearls in her lovely fair hair!"

"Dear, dear! good gentlemen!" cried Master Martin, looking quite out of
temper, "why should you persist in talking about a matter which has not
even begun to enter my thoughts? My daughter Rosa is only just
eighteen; she is too young to be thinking of a husband; and how
matters may come to pass hereafter, I leave wholly in God's hands.
But thus much is certain that neither a noble nor any other man shall
have my daughter's hand, save and except that cooper who proves
himself, to my satisfaction, to be the most utterly perfect master of
his craft--always supposing that my daughter loves him; for I am not
going to constrain my darling daughter to anything whatever in the
world, least of all to a marriage that does not please her."

Spangenberg and Paumgartner looked each other in the face, much
astonished at this remarkable statement of the Master's. Presently,
after clearing his throat a good deal, Spangenberg began:

"Then your daughter is not to marry out of her own class, is she?"

"God forbid that she should," answered Martin.

"But," continued Spangenberg, "suppose some doughty young Master
belonging to some other craft--say, a goldsmith, or perhaps a talented
young painter--were to come wooing your daughter, and pleased her very
sp