Johannes and Hilsborn stood for one moment, not knowing what to reply. They could not console the unhappy father by the assurance that he would need no substitute. They well knew how important it was that what the conscientious old man proposed should be done. At last Hilsborn said, with characteristic gentleness, "If you wish to make sure of a substitute in case of the worst, it is best that you should do so as soon as possible, as in the event of undergoing an operation you would be unable to work for a long time, and, besides, I cannot answer for the result." "Thank you, kind sir. You have told me the truth, and now I know enough," said the schoolmaster, wiping his eyes with a coarse, gaily-printed cotton handkerchief. "Have I not often told you," said Hilsborn, "that you never ought to touch your eyes except with linen cambric?" "True! true!" said the pale, troubled man, forcing a smile, "but where am I to procure such a luxury?" "Why, your lady at the castle should give it to you," said Hilsborn. "She would do so willingly, I am sure, but I could not make up my mind to so bold a request; for, since the other villagers have treated her so badly, she has avoided us also; and I fear she has visited us with some of the indignation that she must feel at the shameful insults she has received." "Well, then, I will ask for you," cried Johannes. "I will go back to the castle, and you shall have what you require in a few moments." As he spoke, Frau Brigitta entered, with a bottle of wine and the soup. Her good old face beamed with delight at the opportunity of offering her hospitality to such honoured guests. Her husband seized the gentlemen's hands, while she was busied with laying the table, and whispered, "Promise me, I beg you, that you will not mention what you have told me to any one, that my poor wife may be allowed to enjoy all the hope that she can for the future." "We promise you," was the grave reply.