he expected the German to dine.

The burgomaster, as usual, sat at the head of the table; the Junker had
taken his place between him and Maria, opposite to Barbara and the
children.

The widow never wearied of gazing at the young man's fresh, bright face,
for although her son could not compare with him in beauty, there was an
honest expression in the Junker's eyes, which reminded her of her
Wilhelm.

Many a question and answer had already been exchanged between those
assembled round the board, many a pleasant memory recalled, when Peter,
after the dishes had been removed and a new jug with better wine placed
on the table, filled the young nobleman's glass again, and raised his
own.

"Let us drink this bumper," he cried, gazing at Georg with sincere
pleasure in his eyes, "let us drink to the victory of the good cause,
for which you too voluntarily draw your sword. Thanks for the vigorous
pledge. Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it."

"We learn it in various places, and not worst at the University of Jena."

"All honor to the doctors and professors, who bring their pupils up to
the standard of my dead brother-in-law, and judging from this sample
drink, you also."

"Leonhard was my teacher in the 'ars bibendi.' How long ago it is!"