ger at him and calling out, "Take him
prisoner! He is a murderer!"

The church service being over, the distinguished company drove to the
company's colony, and went over the works. They drove under triumphal
arches which were erected in the streets, and were received by a
deputation of workmen. The best orator made a speech, which would have
been very eloquent only he stuck fast in the middle. The young girl
who recited some verses was more happy in her delivery, and her
youngest sister presented a bouquet to Eveline, who kissed the child.

"Ah! you are little Marie. Don't you know me?"

The child, however, was too frightened at this beautiful lady to make
her an answer.

The guests visited the buildings under the guidance of Herr Raune, who
spared them nothing--the factory, the machinery, the iron-works. They
were terribly tired of it all, and glad to get into the large rooms
which had been temporarily arranged as the banqueting-hall. Here they
were received by two bands playing Rakoczy's "March." To the banquet
came a crowd of guests alike invited and uninvited--gentlemen,
peasants, clergymen, and Bohemians. Eveline, however, looked in vain
for her former master. Ivan was not among the guests. He had not even
sent an excuse. What an uncouth man! and yet, perhaps, he had reason.
If you drink beforehand to the skin of the bear, the bear has every
right to decline being present at the feast. Peter Saffran, however,
came; he was treated as the chief guest, and given the first place at
the workman's table. This struck even his obtuse senses. Looking
round he saw he was the only representative of the Bondathal mine.

The banquet lasted far on into the evening. Gentlemen and workmen were
exceedingly merry. Towards the close of the feast Felix sent for
Peter. He presented him to the prince.

"Here is the brave miner of whom I have told your excellency."

Saffran felt the blood rush to his face.

"Well, my good friend," continued Felix, "how has the world treated
you since I last saw you? Are you still afraid of 'the doctor'?
There's a plaster for you; it will heal any remains of your former
injuries." So saying, he took out of his pocket-book a note for a
hundred gulden and put it into Peter's hand. "No," he added, "don't
thank me, but thank the kind lady there, who remembered you."

He pointed to Eveline, and Peter kissed her hand, or, rather, her
beautiful mauve glove.

What a transformation in the man-eater! He