In the houses of the park there reigned peace, forbearance, and secret hope. Since the arrival of Ilse the old strife seemed to have ceased, and the hatchet to have been buried. It is true that Mr. Hummel's dog snarled and snapped at Mr. Hahn's cat and was boxed on the ear in return; and that Rothe, the porter, of A. C. Hahn, declared his contempt of the storekeeper of the factory of Mr. Hummel. But these little occurrences passed away like inoffensive air-bubbles which rise in the place where there has been a whirlpool of enmity. The intercourse between the two houses flowed on like a clear brook, and forget-me-nots grew on its banks. If a misanthropical spell had penetrated the ground at the time when Madame Knips ruled there alone, it had now been expelled by female exorcists. One morning, shortly before the fair, a book-seller's porter placed a pile of new books on the Doctor's writing-table; they were the advance copies of the first great work he had written. Fritz opened the book and gazed at the title-page for a moment in quiet enjoyment; then he hastily seized his pen, wrote some affectionate words on the fly-leaf and carried it to his parents. The book treated, in the words of Gabriel, of the old Aryans as well as of the old Germans; it entered into the life of our ancestors before the time in which they took the sensible resolution of making pretty nosegays on the Blocksberg and rinsing their drinking horns in Father Rhine. It was a very learned book, and so far as the knowledge of the writer reached, it revealed many secrets of antiquity. It was not necessary for strangers to inform the father and mother of the importance of the book which Fritz now brought them. The mother kissed her son on the forehead, and could not control her emotion when she saw his name printed in such large and beautiful characters on the title-page. Mr. Hahn took the book in his hands, and carried it into the garden. There he laid it on the table of the Chinese temple, read the dedication several times and took a turn or so about the pavilion, looking in again occasionally, in order to observe whether the style of building harmonized well with the book; then he cleared his throat in order to master his joyful emotions. Not less was the pleasure in the study of the Professor; he went hastily through the book from beginning to end. "It is remarkable," he then said, much pleased, to Ilse, "how boldly and firmly Fritz grapples with the subject; and with a self-control, too, for which I should not have given him credit. There is much in it that is quite new to me. I am surprised that he should have concluded the work so quickly and quietly."