the Director. "The Baron is sure to have made his conditions. Besides, I really do not see the object of all these sacrifices. I could understand it, if they were made with a view to buying rank and a title for a daughter, but Herr Arthur will be just as plebeian as before, in spite of his wife's ancient lineage."

"Do you think so? I would wager not. They will grant to the husband of a Baroness Windeg-Babenau, to the Baron's son-in-law, all that his father has striven for in vain; and, as for the latter, in his daughter-in-law's salon, nothing can hinder him from meeting all the people who have hitherto held him at a respectful distance. Don't tell me! The governor knows well enough what this marriage will bring him in, and so he can afford to pay something for the cost of it."

One of the officials, a fair young man with a tight-fitting dress-coat and irreproachable gloves, here thought fit to put in an observation.

"For my part, I don't understand why the newly-married pair should make their wedding trip to our solitudes, and not rather to the land of poetry, to Italy" ....

The chief-engineer laughed out loud.

"What an idea, Wilberg! Poetry in a match like this, between money and a title! Besides, wedding tours to Italy have become so general that they probably appear vulgar to Herr Berkow. At such times the aristocracy retire to their estates, and we must be aristocratic before everything."

"I fear there is another and a deeper reason," said the Director. "They suspect that the young fellow would continue in Rome, or Naples, the same sort of life he has led in the capital for the last few years, and it is high time to put an end to it. His expenditure latterly might be reckoned by tens of thousands! Most springs may be exhausted, and Herr Arthur was in the right way for trying this little experiment on his father."

Schäffer's thin lips curled sarcastically.

"His father has always encouraged him in it; he only reaps what he has sown! Perhaps you are right It will be easier for him to get used to the yoke up here in these wilds, and to learn to obey his wife. I am only afraid she may not fulfil her mission with much enthusiasm. It certainly is not a very enviable one."

"Do you think she has been forced to marry him?" asked Wilberg eagerly.

"Nonsense--forced! the thing is not done in a tragic way now-a-days. She has simply yielded to reasonable advice, and to a clear insight into the position of affairs. I have no doubt this marriage of convenience will turn out tolerably well. They do mostly."

The fair Herr Wilberg, who clearly had a leaning to the tragical, shook his head with a melancholy air.

"It may be--not! If, in the heart of the young wife, true love should awake later, if another .... Good heavens, Hartmann! cannot you lead your men farther off. You are covering us with a perfect cloud of dust, you and your regiment!"

The young miner, to whom these words were addressed, and who was passing at the head of about fifty of his comrades, gave a contemptuous glance at the carefully appointed dress of the speaker, and another at the sandy carriage-road, where the miners' heavy shoes certainly had raised some dust.

"Right about face!" he cried, and the column wheeled round with almost military precision, taking the direction indicated.

"What a bear that Hartmann is!" said Wilberg, fanning the dust from his coat with his handkerchief. "Not a word of excuse for his awkwardness! 'Right about face!' in a tone of command, like a general at the head of his troops. And then he takes so much upon himself! If his father had not put in his word, he would have forbidden the girl Martha to recite my poem composed for the bride's reception, my poem--which I" ....

"Have already read aloud to everybody," finished the chief-engineer in an undertone to the Director. "If only it were a little shorter! but he is right; it was audacious of Hartmann to wish to forbid it. You should not have posted him and his people just on this spot; there is no sort of welcome to be looked for from them. They are the most rebellious fellows on the whole works."

The Director shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, but then they are the finest men. I have stationed all the others in the village and on the road, the élite of our people ought to be at the chief entrance, the post of honour. On an occasion like this, one wishes to make a show of one's belongings."

The young miner, who was thus being discussed, had, in the meantime, stationed his comrades round the triumphal arch and placed himself at their head. The Director was right; they were fine fellows, but they were all surpassed by their leader, who towered high above them. He had a powerful, well-knit frame, this Hartmann, and he looked to full advantage in his dark miner's dress. His face would hardly have been called handsome, if judged by the strict laws of symmetry. The brow might have seemed too low, the lips too full, the lines not noble enough; but those sharply-cut and well-marked features were certainly no ordinary ones.

The light curly hair lay thick on the broad massive forehead, and a wavy brown beard encircled the lower part of the face, the manly bronze of which did not betray that it was so often deprived of air and sunshine. His parted lips had a defiant look, and in the rather sombre expression of his blue eyes lay a something which can hardly be defined, but which impressed itself at once on ordinary minds, and was respected by them, as the sure token of a superior mind. His whole appearance was that of energy incarnate, and however little sympathy his stiff, unbending bearing might excite, it yet commanded attention at the first glance.

An older man who, although wearing the miner's dress, did not appear to belong to the working-men, drew near now, accompanied by a young girl, and came close up to the group.

"Good day to you. Here we are ready to take our part. How do things go, Ulric? Are you all in order?"

Ulric assented shortly, while the others returned the old man's greeting with a hearty, "Good day, Manager Hartmann!" and the looks of most of them turned on his young companion.

The girl was about twenty and very comely. She wore the holiday costume peculiar to the locality, and it became her well. Rather below the middle height, her head hardly reached to the gigantic Hartmann's shoulder; her fresh young face, with its blooming cheeks and clear blue eyes, a little sunburnt and crowned with thick dark plaits, had strength in it as well as attractiveness. She had made a movement, as if to offer her hand to the young man, but he stood with his arms folded, and she let it fall quickly. The Manager noticed this, and looked sharply at them both.

"We are out of humour because we could not have our own way for once?" he asked. "Never mind, Ulric, it does not happen often, but when you push matters too far, your father must speak a word of authority."

"If I had anything to say about Martha, I should certainly have spoken out pretty plainly," declared Ulric decidedly, and a dark look fell upon the splendid bouquet in the girl's hand, which certainly owed its origin to a hothouse.

"I believe you," said the old man equably; "it would be exactly like you. For the present, however, she is my niece and has to conform to my wishes. But what is the matter with your arch up there? The great flag-staff is drooping; you must bind it up more firmly, or the whole concern will be tumbling down, wreaths and all."

Ulric, to whom this warning was specially addressed, looked up indifferently at the wreaths in danger, but made no attempt