“Are certainly rare birds,” his wife interrupted, “and this will undoubtedly be of service to the children.  But if they are now invited to the houses of the same worthy folk who, a few hours ago, thought themselves too good to attend the funeral of their admirable mother, and anxiously kept their own little daughters away from them, they probably owe it especially to the right mediators, noble old Vorchtel and another.”

“To-day, if ever, certainly furnished evidence how heavily the testimony and example of a really estimable man weighs on the scale.  The First Losunger interceded for the children as if they were his own daughters, attacked the slanderers, and of course I didn’t leave him in the lurch.”

“Peter Holzschuher declared that you defended them like the Roman Cicero,” cried Frau Christine merrily.  “But don’t be vexed, dear husband; no matter how heavily the influence of the two Bertholds—­ Vorchtel’s and yours—­weighed in the balance, nay, had that of a third and a fourth of the best Councillors been added, what is now taking place before our eyes and ears would not have happened, if—–­”

“Well?” asked the magistrate eagerly.

“If,” replied the matron in a tone of the firmest conviction, “they had not all been far from believing, even for a moment, in their inmost souls the shameful calumny which baseness dared to cast upon those two—­just look more closely.”

“Yet if that was really the case—­” her husband began to object, but she eagerly continued:  “Many did not utter their better knowledge or faith because the evil heart believes in wickedness rather than virtue, especially if their own house contains something—­we will say a young daughter—­whose shining purity is thereby brought into a clearer light.  Besides, we ourselves have often been vexed by—­let us do honour to the truth!—­by the defiant manner in which your devout godchild—­yonder ’little saint’—­held aloof in her spiritual arrogance from the companions of her own age——­”

“And then,” the corpulent husband added, “two young girls cannot be called ‘the beautiful Es’ unpunished in houses which contain a less comely T, S, and H. Just think of the Katerpecks.  There—­thank the saints!—­they are taking leave already.”

“Don’t say anything about them!” said Frau Christine, shaking her finger threateningly.  “They are good, well-behaved children.  It was pretty Ermengarde Muffel yonder by the fireplace who, after the dance at the Town Hall, assailed your godchild most spitefully with her sharp tongue.  My friend Frau Nutzel heard her.”

“Ah, that dance!” said the magistrate, sighing faintly.  “But the child was certainly distinguished in no common way.  The Emperor Rudolph himself looked after her as if an angel had appeared to him.  You yourself heard his sister’s opinion of her.  Her husband, the old Burgrave, and his son, handsome Eitelfritz—­But you know all that.  Half would have been enough to stir ill-will in many a heart.”