The magistrate having arrived, and matters being so arranged as to bring the affiance to a conclusion, Rudenfranck took the opportunity to lead Adolf apart from the rest. “Thou thrice sodden ass,” said he, “can’st thou call thyself a lover, and yet allow so much innocence and beauty to be sacrificed to age and avarice? Say thou the word; promise to obey me, and thou shalt yet possess her. See, they are about to sign. Hesitate a moment longer—and look, Barbara implores thee—she is lost. Farewell.” “Stay,” rejoined Adolf, hurriedly, “this must not—shall not be. Rudenfranck, I promise.” “Then, demand of old Mullerhorn that the ceremony be delayed, and leave the rest to me.” “Father Philip,” said Adolf, addressing Mullerhorn, who was just about to affix his name to the deed, “you are aware how long and how truly I have loved Barbara. To see her thus sacrificed, is more than I can bear, and I entreat you to consider farther upon this matter, and to defer this marriage.” The guests looked utterly confounded. Chriss Mienckel opened wide his large, gray eyes, and stared upon the bold hunter in profound amazement. Barbara turned red and pale by turns; and old Mullerhorn crimsoned with rage. “Have I not told ye, Adolf Westerbok, that I would never bestow Barbara upon a beggarly hunter? What devil then, prompts thee to interrupt a match which thou hast no power to prevent?” “Dearest father,” said Barbara, clasping the hard hand of the old man, “hearken to Adolf.” “Away, idle girl! Adolf, tempt me not to do thee an injury.” “Nay,” said the hunter, “is it even so? Well, then; gold for gold—ducat for ducat—nay, double each ducat that old Mienckel can bestow, will I lay before you, Philip Mullerhorn.” “Thy morning draught has been somewhat of the strongest, Adolf. Where should’st thou have met with these sums?” Chriss Mienckel chuckled portentously, and thrusting each hand into his capacious pockets, a melodious harmony of jingling coins soon resounded from their precincts. “Look in thy pouch,” whispered Rudenfranck. Adolf did so, and drew forth two purses, richly furnished with gold. Astonishment fairly stupified the guests; and the covetous eyes of old Mullerhorn glistened at the sight of money. But the recollection of Mienckel’s broad lands and fair cattle crossed his mind. “Gold for gold,” said he, musingly. “Well, well, it may be so; and Adolf, when thou canst certify me concerning these riches, thou shalt, perhaps, find me not altogether opposed to thee. This ceremony, for the present, with the consent of Mienckel, shall be postponed.” Mienckel nodded his assent; for he was a man of but few words. But Adolf, holding the hand of Barbara, demanded an immediate trial. “Be it so, then,” replied Mullerhorn. “My neighbor’s property is well known. Let it be thy task to prove thy fortune equal to his.” “Yes,” said Mienckel, “house and farm—cattle and gear—broad lands—rich farming ground—bright ducats——”