It was the evening of the third christmas holiday. The snow-flakes were merrily whirling about out of doors; and in a well warmed room at Sagan sat the merchant's widow, Prudentia Rosen, with her daughter, the lovely Faith. Both of them were industriously winding the fine spun thread upon the twirling spindles. The impudent captain of the guards had planted himself in the matron's armchair, at the table, and was afflicting the poor women by a recital of his terrible warlike deeds, while he emptied the silver goblet standing before him, and directed love-glances, which made him look even more disagreeable, at poor Faith, who, sighingly and reluctantly replenished it from time to time. The servant announced a stranger who wished to speak with madam Rosen alone. The widow rose to go out in obedience to the summons; but the captain sneeringly observed that as she could have no motive for a secret interview with the stranger, she could give the required audience in his presence. The widow nodded to the servant, with a slight shrug of the shoulders at this new exhibition of insolence. The latter immediately ushered in a young man, who greeted the ladies with modest friendliness, and the captain with cold courtesy. 'I am the book-keeper of your son-in-law,' said he. 'I have the honor to hand you this letter as my credential, and to inform you, that, if agreeable, yourself and daughter can accompany me to Schweidnitz to-morrow morning.' 'How? You wish to leave Sagan now, madam Rosen?' asked the captain, angrily stroking his red beard. 'Family affairs render this journey unavoidable,' answered the widow, with quiet firmness. 'You must arrange the matter otherwise,' blustered the ruffian. 'Your most imperative duty is to remain here and provide for the comfort of those who are quartered in your house.' 'Do not be anxious on that score, captain,' answered the widow. 'Every thing will be furnished that you need in my absence.' 'Then go, in the devil's name, where you please,' cried the captain; 'but, that my comfort may not be disturbed, your daughter remains behind to discharge the duties of hostess.' 'Give yourself no uneasiness, madam Rosen,' said Dorn, consolingly, to the terrified woman. 'If you are not by the duke of Friedland's command a prisoner in your own house, the captain will let you go without requiring a hostage.' 'How is that?' cried the irritated captain, viewing the young man from head to foot. The latter quietly returned his measuring glance, whilst the beauteous Faith timidly raised her eyes from her spindle, inwardly delighted with the fearlessness of the interesting stranger. 'You are a fine fellow,' said the captain with a malicious smile; 'well-grown and strong; and your bold behavior is very becoming. You would make a good trooper. Come, do me justice to the health of our most gracious emperor.'