manifest his gratitude.  ’Send me every day a truffle-pie and a bottle of Hungarian wine,’ I replied.  Swiet was greatly amused.  ’I have something better than a truffle-pie,’ said he.  ’I have a daughter who will inherit all my fortune.  You are not rich in ducats, but largely endowed with wit.  I wish that my grandchildren, who will be immensely wealthy, may have a father who will endow them richly with intellect.  Wed my daughter, and present me with a grandson exactly like yourself.’  I accepted this proposition, and promised the good Van Swiet to become his son-in-law in eight days; to dwell with him in his house, and to cheer and enliven him daily for a few hours after dinner, with merry, witty conversation, that his liver might be kept in motion, and his digestion improved.”

“Just think of this tender Hollander, this disinterested father, who selects a husband for his daughter in order to improve his digestion!”

“Did you not see your bride before the wedding?  Perhaps she was a changeling, whom the father wished to get rid of in some respectable manner, and therefore gave her to you.”

“I saw my bride, sire, and indeed Esther was a lovely girl, who had but one fault—­she did not love me.  She had the naivete to tell me so, and indeed to confess that she ardently loved another, a poor clerk of her father’s, who, when their love was discovered, a short time before, had been turned out of the house.  They loved each other none the less glowingly for all this.  I shrugged my shoulders, and recalled the wish of her father, and my promise to him.  But when the little Esther implored me to refuse her hand, and plead with her father for her beloved, I laughed and jested no longer, but began to look at the thing gravely.  I did go to her father, and informed him of all that had passed.  He listened to me quietly, and then asked me, with a fearful grimace, if I preferred prison fare to truffle-pie, every day, at my own table.  You can imagine that I did not hesitate in my choice.

“‘Well, then,’ said my good Swiet, ’if you do not wed my daughter, I will withdraw my protecting hand from you, and your enemies will find a means to cast you into prison.  A new book, “L’Homme Machine,” has just appeared, and every man swears it is your production, though your name is not affixed to the title-page.  The whole city, not only the priests, but the worldlings, are enraged over this book.  They declare it is a monster of unbelief and materialism.  If, in spite of all this, I accept you as my son-in-law, it is because I wish to show the world that I despise it, and am not in the slightest degree influenced by its prejudices and opinions, but am a bold, independent, freethinker.  Decide, then!  Will you marry my daughter and eat truffle-pie daily, or will you be cast into prison?’

“’I will marry your daughter!  I swear that in eight days she shall be my wife!’