betrothed bride, and soon after condescended to receive her again as his
daughter and enter into close relations with her father? Yet this must
be done. Ernst Ortlieb was the only person who could help him. It had
become impossible to seek aid from Herr Berthold Vorchtel, the man whose
oldest son Wolff had slain, and yet he possessed the means to save the
sinking ship from destruction.

When the news of the duel reached him the messenger's blanched face had
made him believe that Wolff had fallen. In that moment he had perceived
that his loss would have rendered him miserable for the rest of his life.
This was a source of pleasure, for since Wolff had extorted his consent
to the betrothal with Els Ortlieb, and thus estranged him from the
Vorchtels, he had seriously feared that he had ceased to love him. Nay,
in many an hour when he had cause to feel shame in the presence of his
prudent, cautious, and upright partner, it had seemed as if he hated him.
Now the fear of the judge whom he saw in Wolff was blended with sincere
anxiety concerning his only son, whose breach of the peace menaced him
with banishment--nay, if he could not pay the price of blood which the
Vorchtels might demand, with death. Doubtless he had done many things
to prejudice Wolff against his betrothed bride, yet he who had cast the
first stone at her now felt that, in her simple purity, she would be
capable of no repudiation of the fidelity she owed her future husband.
However strongly he had struggled against this conviction, he knew that
she, if any one, could make his son happy--far happier than he had ever
been with the tall, slender, snow-white, unapproachable countess, who had
helped bring him to ruin.

While consuming the food and drink, he heard his wife, usually a most
obedient daughter, disputing with her mother. This was fortunate; for,
if they were at variance, he need not fear that they would act as firm