Soon after these disclosures she was again attacked with convulsions, and Els thought of them and the fact that they were caused by Eva’s imprudence, instigated by the maid, when she refused Biberli her intercession with her father in behalf of him and his bride, as he now called Katterle.

The servitor uttered a few touching exclamations of grief, yet meanwhile thrust his hand into the pocket of his long robe and, with a courteous bow and the warmest message of love from her betrothed husband, whom Katterle had seen in perfect health and under the best care in the Zollern castle, delivered to the indignant girl the letter which Wolff had entrusted to the maid.  Els hurried with the missive so impatiently expected to the window in the hall, through which the sun, not yet reached by the rising clouds, was shining, and as it contained nothing save tender words of love which proved that her betrothed husband firmly relied upon her fidelity and, come what might, would not give her up, she returned to the pair, and hurriedly, but in a more kindly tone, informed them that her father was greatly incensed against both, but she would try to soften him.  At present he was in his office with Herr Casper Eysvogel; Biberli might wait in the kitchen till the latter went away.

Els then entered the sick-chamber, but Biberli put his hand under his sweetheart’s chin, bent her head back gently, and said:  “Now you see how Biberli and other clever people manage.  The best is kept until the last.  The result of the first throw matters little, only he who wins the last goes home content.  To know how to choose the bait is also an art.  The trout bites at the fly, the pike at the worm, and a yearning maiden at her lover’s letter.  Take notice!  To-day, which began with such cruel sorrow, will yet have a tolerable end.”

“Nay,” cried Katterle, nudging him angrily with her elbow, “we never had a day begin more happily for us.  The gold with which we can set up housekeeping—­”

“Oh, yes,” interrupted Biberli, “the zecchins and gold florins are certainly no trifle.  Much can be bought with them.  But Schorlin Castle razed to the ground, my master’s lady mother and Fraulein Maria held as half captives in the convent, to say nothing of the light-hearted Prince Hartmann and Sir Heinz’s piteous grief—­if all these things could be undone, child, I should not think the bag of gold, and another into the bargain, too high a price to pay for it.  What is the use of a house filled with fine furniture when the heart is so full of sorrow?  At home we all eat together out of a cracked clay dish across which a tinker had drawn a wire, with rude wooden spoons made by my father, yet how we all relished it!—­what more did we want?”

As he spoke he drew her into the kitchen, where he found a friendly reception.