Mother Manon herself was pleased with her son-in-law when she came to know the full extent of his property, and especially when she found that Monsieur Hautmartin and his nose had been arrested. “But am I then really a wife?” asked Marietta; “and really Colin’s wife?” Mother Manon nodded her head, and Marietta hung upon Colin’s arm. Thus they went to Colin’s farm, to his dwelling-house, through the garden. “Look at the flowers, Marietta,” said Colin; “how carefully I cultivated them for your cup!” Colin, who had not expected so pleasant an event, now prepared a wedding feast on the spur of the occasion. Two days was it continued. All Napoule was feasted. Who shall describe Colin’s extravagance? The broken cup is preserved in the family to the present day as a memorial and sacred relic. CASTLE NEIDECK BY WILHELM HEINRICH VON RIEHL [Illustration] _Popular wherever German is read, Riehl ought to be more than a mere name among readers of English. In “Castle Neideck” there is the old-world atmosphere, the truth to nature, the originality, the seriousness of aim, lightened with a sly humor, that characterize all the writings of this most important author--including his histories of culture and morals. Of his culture novels in general the author himself says: “The problem of the historical novel is to display upon the background of social conditions freely modeled characters”--and of “Castle Neideck” in particular: “It is entirely imaginative, based on a study of the times.”_ _Riehl was born in 1823 at Biebrich, near Wiesbaden. His father was Castle Administrator of the place, and undoubtedly prototype of the old schoolmaster in Castle Neideck, as, by his son’s own account, Burg Reichenberg, near St. Goarshausen, was prototype of Castle Neideck itself. In 1880 Riehl was ennobled, and died in 1897._ [Illustration] CASTLE NEIDECK BY WILHELM VON RIEHL Translated by A. M. Reiner. Copyright, 1907, by P. F. Collier & Son. I In Germany there are several castles of the name of Neideck, but, doubtless, the most beautiful is that of the principality of Westerau, whose proud ruins looked down from the steep slate rock over the broad plain of the Felber Valley, and far beyond to the heights of the Dill Mountains. On the slope of the mountains nestles the little village of Westerau: the site of the new castle. At the time of the Seven Years’ War a part of this was habitable, but even then most of it was roofless and a ruin. At the back the castle was open, but the front was protected by a moat and a drawbridge.