knew the
real Daniel, having discoursed with him about the French fleet
riding off the island, that very morning,--his dignity prevented him
from suddenly spoiling matters. Before he could sufficiently recover
himself from the blow which his dignity had received, Daniel came up
to him and said these two words,--"Your neck!"

"What do you mean, young man?"

"Suppose the French took Ruegen?"

"Well, suppose they did?"

"And suppose you had caused the recapture of a French officer?"

"I haven't the least idea that I have caused a recapture; but
suppose so?"

"Well, and if he was hung, and if the French took the place, you'd
be hung too."

"What do you mean, young man?"

"That man over there is the French officer who has escaped."

"Good gracious me!"

"Yes, and you must suppose him to be me. Marry him to Bertha, and
help him to escape to the French fleet."

"No!--on the faith of a burgomaster, no!--on the word of a German, no!"

"But your neck?"

"I don't care. The French may not take the place."

"And the French may. Who'll be the wiser, burgomaster?"

"My conscience, young sailor."

"And you'll save a man."

"Oh, dear! dear! dear!"

"Here! the best table for the burgomaster! The handsomest chair for
the burgomaster! Make a good pen for the burgomaster!"

"Oh, dear! dear! dear!"

The burgomaster then, in the homely German fashion, asked the usual
questions, filled up the marriage-contract, and then handed the pen
to the bride. She trembled rather as she put her name to the paper,
but not so much as the young sailor.

As for the Frenchman, he hesitated before he put his name down,--and
when he had done so, he flung the pen away, as though he had done
wrong. One hour after that, these two young people were married in
the village church.

The little village festivities which followed need not be dwelt upon;
but imagine the summer-evening come, and Daniel and the French
officer stealing down to the rocky beach. The young sailor showed a
deal of doubtful feeling as he saw the tearful energy with which
little Bertha parted with her make-believe husband; and when little
Doome, who had been let into all the secrets, except the one that
Daniel kept to himself--namely, that he was Daniel,--when little
Doome crept up to condole with him on the hard case of the
newly-married pair, it must be said that he pushed her away quite
roughly.

Soon the two men reached the shore. Daniel instinctively went to a