"And Trude," said Ebenstreit, quickly.

"You know she will not betray Fraulein, and you have not even tried to
make her."

"You are mistaken; Trude is as easily bought as any one."

"You say that because she has taken five hundred thalers from you. She
has not helped you, and it is useless to ask for your money, as she has
not got it."

"How so? Has she given it away?"

"You provided the money for your bride to run away and marry elsewhere,
as Trude gave it to them."

Ebenstreit stamped his foot with rage, striding backward and forward in
furious excitement, while Leberecht watched him, sardonically smiling.
"Let us come to an end with this business," said Ebenstreit, stopping
before his servant. "You know where Fraulein can be found, and you wish
to sell the secret--tell me your price."

"Three thousand thalers, and a clerkship in your bank, which you intend
to continue under another name."

"You are beside yourself. I am not so foolish as to grant such senseless
demands."

"Every hour that you wait I demand a thousand thalers more, and if you
stop to reflect long your betrothed and your title both are lost."

"You are a miserable scamp!" cried Ebenstreit, enraged; "I will
inform the police. There are means enough to force you to give the
information."

"I do not believe it. Trude will not tell you, and I should like to know
what can force me if I will not. The king has done away with torture,
and I have informed you how to make me speak. Three thousand thalers and
a clerkship in your office. Take care! it is almost eleven o'clock--at
midnight I shall demand four thousand."

CHAPTER XXVI. UNDER THE STARRY HEAVENS.

It was a beautiful, clear, moonlight night. The world reposed in
silence. Mankind with their cares and sorrows, their joys and hopes, had
gone to rest. Over town and village, over highway and forest had flitted
the sweet, consoling angel--Sleep. The sad were soothed, the heavy-laden
were lightened of their burdens, to the despairing were brought golden
dreams, to the weary rest. Sighing and sorrowful, he turned from those
with a sad face whose conscience banished repose, and, ah! their number
was legion. To the wakeful and blissful he smilingly glanced, breathing
a prayer and a blessing; but these were few and far between--for
happiness is a rare guest, and tarries with mortals but fitfully. As
he glided past the joyful couple who, with watchful love and grateful
hearts, sat in the