The King, smiling, nodded his assent, and Philip left the apartment.

“Prince!” said the King, holding up his forefinger in a threatening manner to his son, “’tis well for you that you told me nothing but the truth.  For this time I must pardon your wild scrape, but if such a thing happens again you will offend me.  There will be no excuse for you!  I must take Duke Herrman in hand myself.  I shall not be sorry if we can get quit of him.  As to the Ministers of Finance and Police.  I must have further proofs of what you say.  Go now, and give some present to the gardener.  He has shown more discretion in your character than you have in his.”

The Prince took leave of the King, and having changed his dress in an ante-room, sent for Philip to go to his palace with him; there he made him go over—­word for word—­everything that had occurred.  When Philip had finished his narrative, the Prince clapped him on the shoulder and said:  “Philip, listen!  You’re a sensible fellow.  I can confide in you, and I am satisfied with you.  What you have done in my name with the Chamberlain Pilzou, the Countess Bonau, the Marshal and his wife, Colonel Kalt, and the Minister of Finance—­I will maintain—­as if I had done it myself.  But, on the other hand, you must take all the blame of my doings with the horn and staff.  As a penalty for verses, you shall lose your office of watchman.  You shall be my head-gardener from this date, and have charge of my two gardens at Heimleben and Quellenthal.  The money I gave your bride she shall keep as her marriage portion,—­and I give you the order of Marshal Blankenswerd for five thousand dollars, as a mark of my regard.  Go, now; be faithful and true!”

Who could be happier than Philip!  He almost flew to Rose’s house.  She had not yet gone to bed, but sat with her mother beside a table, and was weeping.  He threw the purse on the table and said:  “Rose, there is thy dowry! and here are five thousand dollars, which are mine!  As a watchman I have transgressed, and shall therefore lose my father’s situation; but the day after to-morrow I shall go, as head-gardener of Prince Julian, to Heimleben.  And you, mother and Rose, must go with me.  My father and mother also.  I can support you all.  Huzza!  Gods send all good people such a happy New Year!”

Mother Bittner hardly knew whether to believe Philip or not, notwithstanding she saw the gold.  But when he told her how it had all happened—­though with some reservations—­she wept with joy, embraced him, laid her her daughter on his breast, and then danced about the room in a perfect ecstasy, “Do thy father and mother know this, Philip?” she said.  And when he answered no, she cried:  “Rose, kindle the fire, put over the water, and make some coffee for all of us.”  She then wrapped herself in her little woollen shawl and left the house.

But Rose lay on Philip’s breast, and forgot all about the wood and water.  And there she yet lay when Mother Bittner returned with old Gottlieb and Mother Katharine.  They surrounded their children and blessed them.  Mother Bittner saw if she wanted coffee, she would be obliged to cook it herself.