"If it would please you, Monsieur Seiler." Zacharias was touched. "Yes, indeed," he said, "I will accept it, and I will accompany you home. I am anxious to see this brave Foerster again. He must be getting old by now." "He is about your age, Monsieur le Juge," said Charlotte innocently, "between fifty-five and sixty years of age." This simple speech recalled the good man to his senses, and as he walked beside her be became pensive. What was he thinking of? Nobody could tell; but how many times, how many times has it happened that a brave and worthy man, thinking that he had fulfilled all his duties, finds that he has neglected the greatest, the most sacred, the most beautiful of all--that of love. And what it costs him to think of it when it is too late. Soon Mr. Zacharias and Charlotte came to the turn of the valley where the path spanned a little pond by means of a rustic bridge, and led straight to the corporal's house. They could now see Yeri Foerster, his large felt hat decorated with a twig of heather, his calm eyes, his brown cheeks and grayish hair, seated on the stone bench near his doorway; two beautiful hunting dogs, with reddish-brown coats, lay at his feet, and the high vine arbor behind him rose to the peak of the gable roof. The shadows on Romelstein were lengthening and the setting sun spread its purple fringe behind the high fir-trees on Alpnach. The old corporal, whose eyes were as piercing as an eagle's, recognized Monsieur Zacharias and his daughter from afar. He came toward them, lifting his felt hat respectfully. "Welcome, Monsieur le Juge," he said in the frank and cordial voice of a mountaineer; "what happy circumstance has procured me the honor of a visit?" "Master Yeri," replied the good man, "I am belated in your mountains. Have you a vacant corner at your table and a bed at the disposition of a friend?" "Ah!" cried the corporal, "if there were but one bed in the house, should it not be at the service of the best, the most honored of our ex-magistrates of Stantz? Monsieur Seiler, what an honor you confer on Yeri Foerster's humble home." "Christine, Christine! Monsieur le Juge Zacharias Seiler wishes to sleep under our roof to-night." Then a little old woman, her face wrinkled like a vine leaf, but still fresh and laughing, her head crowned by a cap with wide black ribbons, appeared on the threshold and disappeared again, murmuring: "What? Is it possible? Monsieur le Juge!" "My good people," said Mr. Zacharias, "truly you do me too much honor--I hope--" "Monsieur le Juge, if you forget the favors you have done to others, they remember them."