have seen him again, Maria?"

"Now I know, what my duty is. Do you see, that my peace here is not
disturbed by idle gossip."

"Certainly not, Maria; yet I am still curious about this Chevalier Georg
and his singing. Unfortunately we shan't be long together. I want to go
home."

"The doctor will not allow you to travel yet."

"No matter. I shall go as soon as I feel well enough. My father is
refused admittance, but your husband can do much, and I must speak with
him."

"Will you receive him to-morrow?"

"The sooner the better, for he is your husband and, I repeat, the ground
is burning under my feet."

"Oh!" exclaimed Maria.

"That sounds very sad," cried Henrica. "Do you want to hear, that I shall
find it hard to leave you? I shouldn't go yet; but my sister Anna, she is
now a widow--Thank God, I should like to say, but she is suffering want
and utterly deserted. I must speak to my father about her, and go forth
from the quiet haven into the storm once more."

"My husband will come to you," said Maria.

"That's right, that's right! Come in, children! Put the flowers on the
table yonder. You, little elf, sit down on the stool and you, Salvatore,
shall give me the flowers. What does this mean? I really believe the
scamp has been putting perfumed oil on his curly head. In honor of me,
Salvatore? Thank you!--We shall need the hoops later. First we'll make
bouquets, and then bind them with the leaves to the wood. Sing me a song
while we are working, Maria. The first one! I can bear it to-day."

CHAPTER XXIII.

Half Leyden had followed the brave captain's coffin, and among the other
soldiers, who rendered the last honors to the departed, was Georg von
Dornburg. After the funeral, the musician Wilhelm led the son of the kind
comrade, whom so many mourned, to his house. Van der Werff found many
things to be done after the burial, but reserved the noon hour; for he
expected the German to dine.

The burgomaster, as usual, sat at the head of the table; the Junker had
taken his place between him and Maria, opposite to Barbara and the
children.

The widow never wearied of gazing at the young man's fresh, bright face,
for although her son could not compare with him in beauty, there was an
honest expression in the Junker's eyes, which reminded her of her
Wilhelm.

Many a question and answer had already been exchanged between those
assembled round the board, many a pleasant memory recalled, when Peter,
after