angry with me for weeping. I am still a little shaken: it
will soon pass."

"My precious sister--dear, dear Sabine!" cried the merchant; "I can not
but fear that you thought of me when you refused."

"I thought of you and of your self-sacrificing, duty-loving life, and
his bright form lost the fair colors in which I had once seen it
clothed."

"Sabine, you have made a sacrifice for my sake," cried her brother.

"No, Traugott; if this has been a sacrifice, I have made it to the home
where I have grown up under your care, and to the memory of our good
parents, whose blessing rests on our quiet life."

It was late when Fink re-entered Anton's room; he looked heated, threw
his hat on the table, himself on the sofa, and said to his friend,

"Before any thing else, give me a cigar."

Anton shook his head as he reached him a bundle, and asked, "How have
you fared?"

"No wedding to be," coolly returned Fink. "She plainly showed me that I
was a good for nothing sort of fellow, and no match for a sensible girl.
She took the matter rather too seriously, assured me of her regard, gave
me a sketch of my character, and dismissed me. But, hang me!" cried he,
springing up, and throwing away his cigar, "if she be not the best soul
that ever preached virtue in a petticoat. She has only one fault, that
of not choosing to marry me; and even there she is right."

Fink's strange bearing made Anton feel anxious.

"Why have you been so long away, and where have you been?" said he.

"Not to the wine-shop, as your wisdom seems to surmise. If a man be
refused, he has surely a good right to be melancholy for a couple of
hours or so. I have done what any one would in such desperate
circumstances. I have walked about and philosophized. I have quarreled
with the world--that is to say, with the black-haired and myself--and
then ended by standing still before a lamp-lit stall, and buying three
oranges." So saying, he drew them out of his pocket. "And now, my son,
the past is over and gone; let us speak of the future: this is the last
evening that we shall spend together; let no cloud hang over our
spirits. Make me a glass of punch, and squeeze these fat fellows in.
Orange-punch-making is one of the accomplishments you owe to me. I
taught it you, and now the rogue makes it better than I do. Come and sit
down beside me."

The next morning old Sturm himself came to carry off the luggage. Fink
took Anton's hand, and said, "Before I go through