"You are welcome, Baron von Klentzin, to my house,--the house that is still mine, and that to-morrow will be yours. We are celebrating a family festivity,--the betrothal of my son,--and I beg you will join us." He introduced the young man to his wife, and to the others, and then requested him to be seated beside Madame von Wendenstein. He signed to the servant to fill his guest's glass with champagne. "To-morrow I shall resign my office to you, and I hope you will find everything in order," said the old gentleman,--"to-day allow me to treat you as my guest." Baron von Klentzin bowed. "I enter your circle as a stranger," he said, "and I feel I can scarcely be welcome. But I beg you, sir, and all here present, to believe that I deeply respect your feelings,--we know what love to the Fatherland is,--and," he added warmly, "we come to you with open hands and hearts. May the future unite us all, without grief or bitterness, in one glorious Germany! Now, permit me to empty my glass to the happiness of the youthful pair!" "Sir," said the president, with deep melancholy in his voice, "it has ever been the unalterable custom at my table to drink to the health of our king and commander-in-chief. He is no longer sovereign of this country. You will understand how I wish this last day not to deviate from the old custom of my house. A new time arises, but let us think of the old with thankfulness and love!" Baron von Klentzin seized his glass. "Only from love of the past can bloom a blessing on the future," he said feelingly; "and far be it from me to prevent, by my presence, the last farewell to such a past." They all rose. The president said, solemnly-- "'The King!' who was our lord, and to whom the service of my life belongs. May God's blessing be upon him!" They all repeated the toast. Herr von Klentzin, deeply moved, touched his glass against his host's, and the slight sound reverberated through the room. They all emptied their glasses silently. That was the last toast to George V. in the old castle of Blechow. Klentzin looked down thoughtfully. "We have won a fair country," he said to himself; "God grant that we may win these hearts to true brotherhood." CHAPTER XXIX. "GOD AND THE FATHERLAND!" King William had returned to Berlin. The nation received him with the wildest joy, scarcely knowing how to express its delight and enthusiasm at this unparalleled seven days' campaign, the wonderful success of which had placed Prussia so high amongst the first-class powers of Europe, and had so completely consolidated the unity of Germany. The first wild burst of delight was over in Berlin. Everything began to return to its accustomed course, at least outwardly, for every heart still swelled high with the proud feeling of victory. Early one morning King William entered his cabinet. He was dressed, as always, in uniform, with the iron cross and the Order of Merit.