"If I were your husband, I should have."

"Surely,--but you are not."

"Yes, but this honest man here is as good as your husband."

"No!"

"No?" said the other three; and Jodoque, but for presence of mind,
might have overthrown the big jug of beer.

"No,--for, truly, I'm not going to marry Jodoque."

"Not going to marry me?"

"Not going to marry him?--Why, as sure as you call me Doome, there
are the townsfolk, and the musicians, and the good father, and the
burgomaster, all with their faces already turned this way, I would
wager these new ribbons of mine!"

"Let them all come!"

"To send them back again?"

"No, to witness my marriage."

"And who's the bridegroom?"

"Somebody all of you have forgotten."

"No," said Doome, "I never forget a soul."

"Do you remember the poor sailor-boy Daniel?"

"I never saw him," said Doome. "No, friend sailor, you need not
squeeze my hand,--I never did see him."

"Well, he has grown a man, and has come home."

"Then," said Jodoque, "I suppose _I_ may go home."

"Come home?--where _is_ he?--Still, my sailor friend, I can't tell
why you should tremble."

"Yes, he has come home; and if he will have me, I will marry him."

"And he'll have a good wife, Bertha," said the sailor, and he made a
movement as though about to run to the girl; but little Doome, too
impulsive to think about the Fraeulein Grundei, enthusiastically
clasped the arms of her friend's eulogizer.

"Yes,--marry him!--and at this moment he is in that room! And now any
one of you may open the door."

"Open the door?--I'll smash the door!" said the sailor, roughly
pushing the girl away from him. "So, Daniel is there, is he? Well,
let him come!"

He ran up to the door, threw it open, and there, standing just within,
was the young French prisoner of war.

"Good morning, all!" he said.

"You are Daniel, are you?" said the sailor, drawing the other
forward to the light. "You are Daniel, are you?"

He dragged him near the window and looked quickly at him. Then he
turned pale himself, and wrung his hand.

"Yes!" said he, "yes!--it _is_ Daniel himself,--the very Daniel!"

"Ah! so much the better!" said Doome.

"Daniel? the _very_ Daniel?" said Bertha, faintly, and turned paler
yet.

"I know you, comrade," said the sailor, aside,--"I know you. You are
the French officer who has escaped, but I'm down in your log for a
lump of gratitude; and so, you are Daniel. When a fellow saves you
from a sh