elop into a mania, and he will end by setting fire to
houses and other buildings."

"I will tell you what to do, baroness. In order that the little monster
may not play his tricks about here, give him to me; I will take him with
me."

"No; I had rather keep him here. I shall take good care, however, that
he does not get hold of tinder and flint, and have him constantly
watched. You have quite ruined my system of education. _I_ taught him to
kneel and fold his hands to the music of the organ; _you_ taught him to
dance and grimace to the drone of the bagpipe. You have even accustomed
him to drink wine, which is unchristian."

The company laughed at this harmless anger.

Then came the fireworks.

When the Roman candles and the fire-wheels illumined the darkness, it
became impossible to control the little monster. He rushed into the
thickest of the rain of fire, and tried to catch the red and blue stars
in his hands. The sparks burned holes in his clothes, and he would not
have escaped a severe burning himself had not some one thrown a pail of
water over him. It was impossible to restrain him. He struck out with
hands and feet, and bit at any one who attempted to prevent him from
running into the fire. Suddenly a rocket shot in an oblique direction,
and dropped into the lake. When the human beast saw this he uttered a
yell, and dashed into the water. He thought that the beautiful fire
belonged to him because it had fallen into his lake, and he went to hunt
for it. He did not return. The baroness had search made for him; but he
knew so well how to escape his pursuers that he was not seen again at
the manor.

The next morning, while yet the stars were glittering in the sky, the
trumpets sounded the departure of the regiment.

The sounds were familiar to Count Vavel. Even yet, when the blare of
trumpets roused him from sleep, he felt as if he must hasten to the
stable, saddle his horse, and buckle on his sword. But those days were
past. His trusty war-horse had become used to the carriage-pole, and the
keen Toledo blades were drawn from their scabbards only when they were
to be oiled to prevent the rust from corroding them.

The departure of the troops removed one care from Count Ludwig's mind:
the noise and turmoil would cease, and peace would again return to the
silent neighborhood.

One morning when Frau Schmidt brought her basket, as usual, to the
castle, there was a letter in it for the count. He recognized the