All three started. His father crouched shyly down in his arm-chair, like a dog who fears the whip, and the brothers stretched out their hands, very embarrassed and very humble, and begged him to let by-gones be by-gones. “Why not?” he answered, combating his repugnance; “you know the right way now.” When the two brought forward their suit, the old man’s boastfulness broke out stronger than ever. “Gentlemen,” he said, repressing his voice so that it might sound more dignified, “your proposal is a great honor naturally, but I am not able to answer it with ‘Yes.’ First, I must ask for a sufficient guarantee, that I may know what future awaits my daughters, who, by their beauty and amiability, as well as by stainless virtue, are destined for a high position. I have educated them most carefully, and watched over them so lovingly that my fatherly heart cannot decide to give them away without serious consideration.” In this tone he went on boasting till Paul quietly said, “Let it be, father, the matter is already settled.” Then he was silent, secretly highly elated to have made such a magnificent speech. In the afternoon Paul went into his sisters’ room and said: “Children, say a prayer for Frau Douglas, who was buried to-day.” They looked at him with eyes sparkling with joy, and a dreamy smile passed over their faces. “Have you not understood me?” “Yes,” they said, softly, and looked terrified--they clung to each other as if they feared the rod. He left them alone in their happiness, and stepped out into the clear, cold winter air. “How is it,” he thought, “that everybody now fears me and no one understands what I mean?” The same day he dismissed all the servants, and wrote to the foreman to come back on the morrow to resume work again. * * * * * During the same week it began to thaw, the work went on quickly, and one Friday evening at the beginning of March “Black Susy” stood there, smart and shiny in her newly-mended garment. Next day the boiler was to be tried, and the wood and coal lay heaped up by the walls of the shed. Paul, unable to sleep, tossed on his bed. The hours crept slowly by, and a short eternity of the most painful expectation elapsed between midnight and dawn. “Will she come to life? Will she?” The clock struck one. He could not stand it any longer; he dressed and crept out into the cold, wet March night, a flickering lantern in his hand. The wind caught his clothes and the icy drizzling rain scourged his face. “Black Susy” glared sulkily out of the dark shed as if she resented being deprived of her last night’s rest.... The lantern threw a ghostly light over the inhospitable place, and each time it flickered the shadow of the machine danced in grotesque forms on the yellow deal wall. “Shall I wake up the foreman?” thought Paul. “No, let him sleep; I will have the first pain or the first joy all to myself.”