of our times. This city has thirty
thousand inhabitants. Every adult among them has heard of Hans Shund
the thief, usurer, and companion of harlots. And I assure you that not
a voter, not a progressive member of our community, thinks himself
doing what is at all reprehensible by conferring dignity and trust on
Hans Shund. You have no idea how comprehensive is the soul of
liberalism."

"Let us quit a subject that appears to me impossible, nay, even
unnatural," said Gerlach.

"No, no; for this very reason you need to be convinced," insisted the
banker with earnestness. "My prospective--but hold--I was almost guilty
of a want of delicacy. No matter, my _actual_ friend, landholder and
millionaire, must be made see with his eyes and touch with his fingers
what marvels _progress_ can effect. Let us make a bet: Eighteen days
from now Hans Shund will be mayor and member for this city. I shall
stake ten thousand florins. You may put in the pair of bays that won
the best prizes at the last races."

Seraphin hesitated.

"Come on!" urged the banker. "Since you refuse to believe my
assertions, let us make a bet. May be you consider my stakes too small
against yours? Very well, I will say twenty thousand florins."

"You will be the loser, Greifmann! Your statements are too
unreasonable."

"Never mind; if I lose, you will be the winner. Do you take me up?"

"Pshaw, Carl! you are too sure," said Louise reproachfully.

"My feeling so sure is what makes me eager to win the finest pair of
horses I ever saw. Is it possible that you are a coward?"

The landholder's face reddened. He put his right hand in the banker's.
"My dear fellow," exclaimed he jubilantly, "I have just driven a
splendid bargain. To convince you of the entire fairness of the
transaction, you are to be present at the manipulation that is to
decide. Even though you lose the horses, your gain is incalculable, for
it consists in nothing less than being convinced of the wonderful
nature and of the omnipotence of progress. I repeat, then, that,
wherever progress reigns, the elections are the supreme folly of the
nineteenth century; for in reality there is no electing; but what
progress decrees, that is fulfilled."

CHAPTER II.

THE LEADERS.

The banker was seated at his office table working for his chance in the
wager with the industry of a thorough business man. Whilst he was
engaged in writ