If Frau Margaret was alarmed at the beginning of the evening, she was now doubly fearful Her quiet in-door happiness seemed to be all at once threatened by some great danger. She trembled to think that her husband could find pleasure away from home—away from his children, and she had the sense to foresee the consequences. But she remained silent, for she was too bewildered to find words to express her apprehensions, and then, she knew that when her husband had once made a promise, nothing would lead him to break it. This made her sorrow the greater, and for the first time since her marriage, her pillow was wet with tears. She, however, concealed her sadness from her husband; she hoped that the good old habits would rule again, and make him dislike passing his evenings away from home. Although Frau Margaret was prudent and sensible, she deceived herself in this matter. Truly enough, Baptist at first went out for the evening unwillingly, and not without a struggle, but gradually this resistance disappeared, and at last he longed for the hour which led him among his companions. He was a man of clear judgment, knew how to deliver his words neatly, and his comfortable circumstances gave him a certain importance, so that, quite naturally, in course of time he gave the tone to the company, and his sayings were received as oracles. That flattered his vanity, which therein got full satisfaction, and before long, he wondered in secret how he could have lived so many years in the background, and had so little to do with the world. The political and religious questions of the day, about which he had never before troubled himself, began to excite his eager attention. He read newspapers, journals, pamphlets, and became a great politician—at least in the eyes of himself and his companions. The magic circle of his calm and peaceful happiness was broken. Baptist himself had done it, but without a foreboding of what he had destroyed. He fancied himself happier than ever, and could not see that all his household joys were blighted. But Margaret saw and felt it. She mourned in secret; the evenings when she sat at home alone were sad and sorrowful for her, and at last, as Baptist left off observing any rule in his outgoing, but longed more and more to be away from home, she plucked up a heart, and begged of him to leave her no more. “But why not!” rejoined Heinzelmann; “we do nothing wrong. We debate about matters for the good of the town and of the state. There must be great changes, Margaret, before things can be better with us. But, presto, it will come.” “Oh, Baptist, what concern have you with the town and the state?” answered Frau Margaret. “Look at your family, that is your town and state. When you are with it, and fulfill your duty rightfully, then are you one of the best of citizens. Consider well: the skin is nearer than the fleece.” “Yes, wife, but what do you mean by that?” said Baptist, a little angrily. “Perhaps I am not fulfilling my duty?”