He had intentionally kept silence concerning Sir Seitz Siebenburg’s challenge and his master’s other dealings with the “Mustache.”  On the other hand, he had eagerly striven to inform Els of the minutest details of the reception he met with from her betrothed lover.  With what zealous warmth he related that Wolff, like the upright man he was, had rejected even the faintest shadow of doubt of her steadfastness and truth, which were his own principal virtues also.

Even before Sir Heinz Schorlin’s visit young Herr Eysvogel had known what to think of the calumnies which, it is true, were repeated to him.  His calm, unclouded courage and clear mind were probably best shown by the numerous sheets of paper he had covered with estimates, all relating to the condition of the Eysvogel business.  He had confided these documents also to him to be delivered to his father, and after discharging this duty he had come to her.  According to his custom, he had reserved the best thing for the last, but it was now time to give it to her.

As he spoke he drew from the breast pocket of his long coat a wrought-iron rose.  Els knew it well; it had adorned the clasp of her lover’s belt, and the unusual delicacy of the workmanship had often aroused her admiration.  What the gift was to announce she read on the paper accompanying it, which contained the following simple lines: 

         “The iron rude, when shaped by fire and blows,
          Delights our eyes as a most beauteous rose. 
          So may the lies which strove to work us ill
          But serve our hearts with greater love to fill.”

Biberli withdrew as soon as he had delivered the gift; his master was awaiting him on his return from his early ride with the Emperor; but Els, with glowing cheeks, read and reread the verse which brought such cheering consolation from her lover.  It seemed like a miracle that they recalled the words of her dying mother concerning the forge fire which, in her last moments, she had mentioned in connection with Eva’s future.  Here it had formed from rude iron the fairest of flowers.  Nothing sweeter or lovelier, the sister thought, could be made from her darling.  But would the fire also possess the power to lead Eva, as it were, from heaven to earth, and transform her into an energetic woman, symmetrical in thought and deed?  And what was the necessity?  She was there to guide her and remove every stone from her path.

Ah, if she should renounce the cloister and find a husband like her Wolff!  Again and again she read his greeting and pressed the beloved sheet to her lips.  She would fain have hastened to her mother’s corpse to show it to her.  But just at that moment Eva returned.  She must rejoice with her over this beautiful confirmation of her hope, and as, with flushed cheeks and brow moist with perspiration, she stood before her, Els tenderly embraced her and, overflowing with gratitude, showed her her lover’s