way; and there is such a thing, sir, as
a public virtue; but when a man has neither, the Lord lighten him! Even
this Gondremark, that Fritz here thinks so much of----"

"Ay," interrupted Fritz, "Gondremark's the man for me. I would we had
his like in Gerolstein."

"He is a bad man," said the old farmer, shaking his head; "and there was
never good begun by the breach of God's commandments. But so far I will
go with you: he is a man that works for what he has."

"I tell you he's the hope of Gruenewald," cried Fritz. "He doesn't suit
some of your high-and-dry, old, ancient ideas; but he's a downright
modern man--a man of the new lights and the progress of the age. He does
some things wrong; so they all do; but he has the people's interests
next his heart; and you mark me--you, sir, who are a Liberal, and the
enemy of all their governments, you please to mark my words--the day
will come in Gruenewald, when they take out that yellow-headed skulk of a
Prince and that dough-faced Messalina of a Princess, march 'em back
foremost over the borders, and proclaim the Baron Gondremark first
President. I've heard them say it in a speech. I was at a meeting once
at Brandenau, and the Mittwalden delegates spoke up for fifteen
thousand. Fifteen thousand, all brigaded, and each man with a medal
round his neck to rally by. That's all Gondremark."

"Ay, sir, you see what it leads to: wild talk to-day, and wilder doings
to-morrow," said the old man. "For there is one thing certain: that
this Gondremark has one foot in the Court backstairs, and the other in
the Masons' lodges. He gives himself out, sir, for what nowadays they
call a patriot: a man from East Prussia!"

"Give himself out!" cried Fritz. "He is! He is to lay by his title as
soon as the Republic is declared; I heard it in a speech."

"Lay by Baron to take up President?" returned Killian. "King Log, King
Stork. But you'll live longer than I, and you will see the fruits of
it."

"Father," whispered Ottilia, pulling at the speaker's coat, "surely the
gentleman is ill."

"I beg your pardon," cried the farmer, re-waking to hospitable thoughts;
"can I offer you anything?"

"I thank you. I am very weary," answered Otto. "I have presumed upon my
strength. If you would show me to a bed, I should be grateful."

"Ottilia, a candle!" said the old man. "Indeed sir, you look paley. A
little cordial water? No? Then follow me, I beseech you, and I will
bring you to the stranger's be