My brother is in the right," roared Francis: "Throw the black rags
into the store-chest, and trim yourself up again in the colours that
suit you so well. You must not think of leaving life yet; 'twould be
pity of such a handsome thing. Nor would we Schweidnitzers allow it,
and you are within our walls now, and under our jurisdiction. Come
along, then, to the dance. We'll waltz it bravely with each other; and
if your cap should happen to get awry in it, and point to the widower,
there may be a remedy for that too. My house-plague, besides, is always
ill; and if she loves heaven better than I do, there may chance to be a
pair of you and me."

"Your mouth is a sluice," exclaimed the old Schindel, wrathfully,
"which, once opened, overwhelms every thing with its mire."

"Good God, Frank! how can you indulge in such unseemly language?" cried
Christopher; while Althea bent down to her child as if she had heard
nothing; Francis turned upon his brother.

"Don't you play the governor, Kit! In your heart you mean just as I do,
only you go winding about the porridge: but that's not my way, and
therefore I say plainly, Cousin Althea, I am horribly thirsty with
you."

"There stand the flask and goblet," replied Althea, shortly--"help
yourself;" and she turned away with her boy to the window.

"You don't stand on much ceremony with your kinsfolk," muttered
Francis, going to the table and filling up a bumper, while Christopher
went up to the widow.

"I hope you will not make me suffer for my brother's rashness, but will
give me a favourable answer."

"I have already told you the reason why I must decline the invitation."

"And you really, then, will put off my father with this poor excuse?"

"Agree to go," whispered the uncle: "It is a family festival, and all
the Schindels of the neighbourhood are invited. It is better not to be
singular and offend any one."

"I will come," said Althea, after a moment's hesitation.

"I have to thank you, Schindel, for this _yes_," returned Christopher,
mortified: "The former _no_ was intended for me alone; which cannot but
grieve me, however handsome the lips that pronounced it."

He went; and Francis, filling the goblet for the third time, cried out
after him, "The wine is good; I shall stop a little longer."

There was now a clattering on the stairs, as if a whole troop were
coming up, and in rushed Althea's brother-in-law, Anselm of Netz, with
his Pylades, Frederick of Reichenbach, s