The son of the farmer, Titus, called the Mountain-king, who lived on the other side of the plateau, a tall fellow with broad shoulders and a boyish face, answered glibly, as though reciting a carefully committed lesson, that they had come most humbly to invite the maiden Thoma to be Maid of Honor at the presentation of the flag to the Club. "Who are to be the other maids of honor?" asked Landolin. "My sister and the daughter of the District Forester." Landolin nodded, and then asked on what day the festival was to take place. Anton, who had not before spoken, answered that the fifteenth of July had been chosen, as it was the anniversary of the declaration of war, and fortunately happened to fall on Sunday. He added adroitly, "that they desired to change the day of terror into one of gladness." Landolin looked up, astonished at Anton's temerity in addressing him; then fixed his eye on the mountain prince, who, instead of replying himself, had permitted the miller's son to speak. "You make arrangements far in advance; it's a long time from now to the middle of July; but never mind. We thank you for the honor, but we cannot join you," said Landolin, with decision. "All right, we need go only one house farther," quickly answered the mountain prince, his face reddening. He was about turning away, when Anton interrupted: "Pardon me; but if I have rightly understood the ex-bailiff, he is going to leave the decision to his daughter." The farmer compressed his lips craftily, then said: "Yes, yes; you are right. And mind you, I shall not say a word to her, and you shall find that she will give you the same answer that I gave." "May I ask why?" inquired the mountain prince. "You may ask," answered the peasant, going to the door and calling to Thoma to bring wine and something to eat. It seemed as if Thoma had already prepared this, for she came immediately, the young men following her movements with admiring eyes. She poured the wine, they touched their glasses, and Anton had begun to repeat his request, when she interrupted him: "Say no more!" Anton turned pale, and Thoma blushed; their eyes met, and Thoma's eyelids dropped. In a moment, however, she looked up frankly, and continued: "I have heard all that has been said." "Bravo! that's splendid!" cried Anton; "pardon me, but I imagine there are few who would so honestly confess that they had been listening." "I thank you for your praise, but it is nothing--that is, I mean being honest deserves no praise." The farmer shrugged his shoulders, and opened his mouth with delight. "He's getting it now," thought he, "she pays in good coin." Turning to her father, Thoma continued: "Father, did you really mean that I should do as I choose?" "Certainly! Whatever you say will be right." "Then I say yes; I accept the honor with thanks."