he Blue Stone. Which of you wants to inaugurate them?"

The men, to whom these words were addressed, were not the bravest of
mortals, and not a syllable was heard, as Aquanus led the young wife into
the tavern. The landlord's wife and daughter received her in their own
rooms, which were separated from those occupied by guests of the inn, and
begged her to make herself comfortable there until the crowd had
dispersed. But Maria longed to reach home, and when she said she must go,
Aquanus offered his company.

Georg von Dornburg was standing in the entry and stepped back with a
respectful bow, but the innkeeper called to him, saying:

"There is much to be done to-day, for many a man will doubtless indulge
himself in a glass of liquor after the good news. No offence, Frau Van
der Werft; but the Junker will escort you home as safely as I--and you,
Herr von Dornburg--"

"I am at your service," replied Georg, and went out into the street with
the young wife.

For a time both walked side by side in silence, each fancying he or she
could hear the beating of the other's heart. At last Georg, drawing a
long breath, said:

"Three long, long months have passed since my arrival here. Have I been
brave, Maria?"

"Yes, Georg."

"But you cannot imagine what it has cost me to fetter this poor heart,
stifle my words, and blind my eyes. Maria, it must once be said--"

"Never, never," she interrupted in a tone of earnest entreaty. "I know
that you have struggled honestly, do not rob yourself of the victory
now."

"Oh! hear me, Maria, this once hear me."

"What will it avail, if you oppress my soul with ardent words? I must not
hear from any man that he loves me, and what I must not hear, you must
not speak."

"Must not?" he asked in a tone of gentle reproach, then in a gloomy,
bitter mood, continued: "You are right, perfectly right. Even speech is
denied me. So life may run on like a leaden stream, and everything that
grows and blossoms on its banks remain scentless and grey. The golden
sunshine has hidden itself behind a mist, joy lies fainting in my heart,
and all that once pleased me has grown stale and charmless. Do you
recognize the happy youth of former days?"

"Seek cheerfulness again, seek it for my sake."

"Gone, gone," he murmured sadly. "You saw me in Delft, but you did not
know me thoroughly. These eyes were like two mirrors of fortune in which
every object was charmingly transfigured, and they were rewarded; f