“Donder and blitzen! So I always have supposed. And is it to impart this precious piece of information that you have come here?” “No, your excellency,” hesitated Heinrich; “but the fact is, that—that—in short, an attachment has sprung up between your daughter and myself; and I am here to crave your permission to marry her.” “Well, that is coming to the point with a vengeance!” exclaimed the testy little superintendent. “And may I beg to know whether my daughter sanctioned this visit on your part?” “She did.” “Then she has less wit than I thought for. She—the daughter of the superintendent of the royal Dock Yard of Amsterdam—to stoop to be the wife of a common workman! The girl must be out of her senses. But if she chooses it to be so, I shall not. Young man, you have been presumptuous. For once, I will pass over it; but beware of offending a second time.” The little great man made an imperious gesture of withdrawal, which Heinrich could not do otherwise than obey. He returned home in great depression, as might be anticipated of one whose dearest hopes had been crushed out. Sitting at the door, he perceived his mother’s lodger and his own fellow-workman, Peter Timmerman. The latter, contrary to his custom, opened a conversation with Heinrich, whose manner he could not avoid noticing. “What has befallen you, comrade,” he said, “that you should look so woe-begone?” “And if I tell you,” returned Heinrich, whose disappointment had made him somewhat testy,—“if I should tell you, how could you help me?” “Perhaps not at all,—perhaps very much. At all events, it will relieve your mind to unburden it of sorrow, if any weighs upon it.” “You may be right,” said Heinrich, after a pause. “At all events, it will do no harm. You must know, then, that I have been foolish enough to fall in love with the superintendent’s daughter, who favors my suit. But because I am not wealthy, and am _only a workman_” (the young man emphasized the last words in a bitter tone), “her father rejects my suit.” “But how if you occupied as high a position as himself?” “Oh! then there would be nothing to fear.” “Listen, then, in your turn. I may help you to what you seek. Did you ever hear of Russia?” “I have,” said Heinrich. “It is a great country, but a barbarous one.” “That is true; at least, it is not so far advanced as its neighbors. But, if I live to accomplish all my plans, it shall yet equal any of them.” “_You!_ Who, then, are you?” exclaimed the young man, in astonishment at such language from such a source.