himself, and so he told all
his hands to go to Jericho, and for a time his business went to sleep.
From this it happened that orders did not come in quite so numerously as
before, which puzzled Baptist not a little. He began to turn it over in
his mind, and all at once he bethought himself of what his good-hearted
wife had said to him one day: "Remember! the skin is nearer than the
fleece." Never had the truth of this proverb come before him so strikingly
and forcibly, as now that his delusions were losing their strength. A
singular and irresistible longing to return once more to his former
tranquil and retired, and yet happy life, overcame him. What was the
selfish love of the mob, against the pure and true love of wife and
children? a painted bubble in comparison with a bright and costly jewel.
Baptist Heinzelmann plucked up a heart; toward evening he left the
council-house and went home. No one was in the garden; it lay there in
deep stillness. He stole down a by-path to his workshop, where now but
three hands were employed out of the dozen that formerly worked therein,
and threw off his Sunday clothes, put on his dear old comfortable jacket,
his cap on his head, reached down the clay pipe which had had such a long
rest, lit it, and then went softly through the inner to the outer room.
Wife and children sat, as often before, on the threshold, not lively as
they used to be, but particularly quiet and downcast--even merry Fritz had
scarcely a word to say for himself. The sun was dropping down to his
setting, and cast golden streams of light through the thick foliage of the
vine which enwreathed the door and window, down upon the clean boards of
the floor. Sweet odors were borne in on the air from the garden, the birds
chirped and twittered their last evening notes, and peace and tranquillity
reigned around, except in the hearts which once knew nothing else than joy
and contentment.

Heinzelmann leant over the door, and for a time looked at his family in
silence. The past came before his mind as pleasant pictures. "What a fool
was I!" he said inwardly to himself; "what more blessed happiness can
there be, than the happiness in the circle of one's own family! What a
fool was I, not to see this long ago: that I could so long be blinded by
stupid vanity and foolish pride! But there is yet time, and I will not let
it escape."

"Margaret," he said aloud, and with friendly voice.

"Baptist--is that you? and so early!" she