ful risk which you and Mr. Wohlfart
ran yesterday."

"Not worth mentioning, my dear lady!" replied Fink, carelessly; "I only
wanted to see how Master Wohlfart would behave in drowning. I threw him
into the water, and he was within a hair's-breadth of remaining at the
bottom, considering it indiscreet to give me the trouble of saving him.
Only a German is capable of such self-sacrificing politeness."

"But," cried the cousin, "this is a sheer tempting of Providence. It is
dreadful to think of it!"

"It is dreadful to think of the impurity of your river. The water
sprites that inhabit it must be a dirty set. But Wohlfart did not mind
their mud. He fell into their arms with enthusiasm. He threw both legs
over the boat's edge before there was any occasion."

"You told me to do so," cried Anton, in self-exculpation.

"Poor Mr. Wohlfart!" exclaimed the astonished cousin. "But your coats!
This morning I met a policeman with the wet bundle in his arms, and it
was he who told me of your accident."

"The coats were fished up at an early hour," said Fink, "but Karl doubts
whether they will ever dry. Meanwhile, Wohlfart's boots are on a voyage
of discovery toward the ocean."

Anton blushed with anger at his friend's jests, and looked stealthily
toward the upper end of the table. The merchant glanced darkly at the
cheerful Fink. Sabine was pale and downcast--the cousin alone was fluent
in her pity for the coats.

The dinner was more solemn than usual. After the plates were removed,
Mr. Liebold rose to fulfill the arduous duty imposed upon him by his
position--to propose the health of their principal. He took all possible
pains not to retract or qualify his eulogiums and good wishes; but even
this toast fell flat--a certain painful excitement seemed to prevail at
the head of the table.

After dinner they all stood round in groups, drinking their coffee; and
bold spirits--Mr. Pix, for instance, ventured upon a cigar as well.
Meanwhile, Anton roamed through the suite of rooms, looking at the
paintings on the walls, turning over albums, and fighting off ennui as
well as he could. In this way he reached the end room, and stopped there
in amazement. Sabine stood before him, tears falling from her eyes. She
was sobbing silently, her slender form shaken by the conflict within,
but yet she was trying to repress her grief with an energy that only
made it the more touching.

As Anton, filled with deepest sympathy, turned to go, she