At ten o’clock next morning all the children were ready to leave and had formed a regular procession.  Bruno and Kurt had placed themselves at the head and were only waiting for their mother.

Now the two boys started off at such a rate that no one else could keep up with them, so the mother appointed Leonore and Mea as guides, and herself followed with Maezli.  She firmly held the little girl’s hand, for there was no telling what she might undertake otherwise, and the less independent Lippo held his mother’s other hand, so that the two older brothers were obliged to accommodate their steps to the rest.  But Kurt, simply bursting with impatience, dashed ahead once, only to drop behind again; later on he would appear from behind a hedge.  Lippo simply could not stand such disorder, and to even up the pairs he took Bruno’s hand.  When they reached the familiar iron-grated door at last, to their surprise both wings of it were thrown open.

Mr. Trius, with his hat lowered to the ground, stood at his post to receive them.  Shining silver buttons set off a coat which plainly belonged to his gala suit.  Kurt was so completely confounded by this reception that he quickly fell into line with the rest, and the procession proceeded.  The first thing they saw on the terrace was a long festive table with garlands of ivy and flowers.  Apollonie soon after appeared in a beautiful silk gown the Baroness had given her, and her measured movements made the occasion seem extremely solemn.  She had, to all appearance, become “Castle Apollonie” again.  Loneli, wearing a pretty dress and carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, stepped up to Leonore.  Then she handed her the flowers and recited in a clear, impressive voice the following words which Apollonie had composed herself: 

   “Thrice welcome to this home of thine,
   Lady of Castle Wildenstein.”

Leonore, rigid with surprise, first stared at Loneli, then looked at the mother.

Mrs. Maxa took Leonore’s hand and led her to the Baron, who had smilingly surveyed the scene.

“I think that her uncle is going to make his little niece a speech at last,” Mrs. Maxa said, placing Leonore’s hand in her uncle’s.  Like a flash comprehension dawned on Leonore.

“Dear uncle, dear uncle!” she cried out, embracing him tenderly.  “Is it really true that you are my uncle?  Is this wonderful thing really true?”

“Yes, child, I am the uncle you longed to love like a father,” said the Baron.  “I want to be your father and I hope you can love me a little.  Will you mind living with me, Leonore?”

“Oh, dear, dear uncle,” Leonore repeated with renewed signs of warm affection.  “It is not very hard to love you.  When you told me that my uncle in Spain was sick and miserable, I wished he could be just like you.  I really can’t quite believe that Salo and I may live with you in this wonderful castle, where I can be so near Aunt Maxa and everybody I love.  I wonder what Salo will say.  May I write to him today and let him know that we shall have a home with you?”