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In the deserted log cabin, which, to their faith, seemed as one of those mansions "not built with hands" and descended miraculously from the heavens, they held their Lovefeast, while wolves padded and howled about the walls; and in that Pentacostal hour the tongue of fire descended upon Brother Gottlob, so that he made a new song unto the Lord.
“Will the Herrn Tourniquet and Tuci,” said the Frau Kupferkram one morning, with a duck and a smirk, “do us the honour of supping with us this evening? There will be a few friends, for this is the ‘nahmenstag’ of our dear Gottlob, now in England.” “Liebe Frau Kupferkram, we shall be delighted!”
At the same moment a noise of horsemen was heard coming from the entrance of the town in the opposite direction to that leading to the bridge. Those who stood nearest turned their heads eagerly that way. The first person who issued on the street, at full gallop, was Gottlob, without a covering to his head his fair hair streaming to the wind his handsome face pale with fatigue and excitement.
But then, clasping her hands before her face, she murmured "O God! it cannot be! But this is terrible!" Gottlob, who, during the whole accusation, had listened with much impatience, could now no longer restrain his generous feelings. He started forward with the words "No, no, it is impossible! Speak, Magdalena say how false is this man's tale." "God knows that it is false!" said Magdalena.
The general rumour told him confusedly the tale of the events that had just occurred. Gottlob was soon again by his side, and related to him all that he had heard. "Where is my brother?" cried the bishop. "Is he not here?" A few words told him that he had not appeared on this occasion. "I will to the palace, then," he continued.
"It was but a gift of affection, and no charm. She gave me this ring," said Gottlob, pointing to the ring hung by a small riband round his neck; "and I have worn it, as she requested, in remembrance of some unworthy kindness I had shown her." "And how long since was it," enquired the Ober-Amtmann, "that she bestowed this supposed gift upon you?"
The rest have no characteristics at all. But ah! shall I forget thee, the beautiful Louise!—the affianced of Gottlob, the blonde, the coquettish, and the gay! And you think the sentiment “so pretty and poetical!” And so it is; but we dunderheads in England have used the word so often that we have half forgotten its meaning.
As Gottlob, although of a ruined and impoverished family, was not otherwise than of noble birth, the greatest difficulty of these times was surmounted; and the Prince Bishop, by bestowing upon the young man a post of honour and rank about his person, in which the gentle youth could still continue the pursuit of his glorious art, and march on unhindered in his progress to that eminence which he finally attained, smoothed the road to the Ober-Amtmann's consent.
Gottlob was a douanier, an exciseman, at the Rannstadt gate of Leipzig, and passed his days, I dare say, as honestly as an exciseman can, in examining incoming travellers to see that they did not bring with them so much as an egg that had not paid duty. He died in 1795. Meantime, Carl Friedrich had received a thoroughly sound education, and he became deputy-registrar to the Leipzig town court.
"You have contrived to save her, have you? I was myself hurrying hither to see what could be done. Does she still live?" Upon an affirmative exclamation from Gottlob, he raised his eyes to heaven with a short thanksgiving; and then, turning to the crowd with a stern air, he asked "What were these cries and murmurs that I heard? Why were those threatening looks I saw?
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