It happened to be the very Sunday on which Master Martin was giving his great official dinner in honour of his appointment, and it was exactly dinner-time. Thus, when Reinhold and Friedrich crossed Master Martin's threshold, they became aware of a ringing of wine-glasses, and the confused buzz of a merry dinner-company.
"Ah!" said Friedrich, despondingly; "I fear we have come at an unfortunate time."
"I think just the contrary," said Reinhold; "for Master Martin will be in a fine temper, after all that good cheer, and disposed to grant our requests."
And presently Master Martin--to whom they had caused their coming to be announced--came out to them, in festal attire, and with no small amount of rubicundity of nose and cheeks. As soon as he saw Friedrich, he cried out, "Aha, Friedrich, good lad, thou art home again! That is well; and thou hast betaken thyself to the noble cooper-craft, too! No doubt Herr Holzschuer makes terrible faces when thy name is mentioned, and says a really great artist is spoilt in thee, and that thou couldst very likely have cast all sorts of little niminy-piminy figures, like those in St. Sebald's--that, and trellis-work, such as there is in Fugger's house in Augsburg. Stupid stuff and nonsense; thou hast done the proper thing in turning to what is right; many thousand welcomes to thee." With which Master Martin took him by the shoulders and embraced him, according to his wont when highly pleased. Friedrich completely revived at Master Martin's kind reception of him. All his bashfulness abandoned him: he not only laid his own desires before Master Martin, fully and unhesitatingly, but begged him to take Reinhold into his service too.
"Well," said Master Martin, "you could not possibly have come at a better time; there is heaps of work, and I'm greatly in need of men. You are both heartily welcome. Take off your bundles and come in; dinner is nearly done, but there is room at the table, and Rosa will take every care of you." And Master Martin went in with the two journeymen.
The worthy and honourable masters were all seated there, Herr Paumgartner in the place of honour. Their faces were all aglow; dessert was just served, and a noble wine was pearling in the great drinking-glasses. Matters had arrived at a point when each of the masters was talking, very loud, about something different from all the others, yet they all thought they quite followed and understood; and now one, and now another, laughed loud, without quite knowing why or wherefore. But when Master Martin, with Friedrich and Reinhold in either hand, announced that those two fine young journeymen, with good certificates, the sort of fellows after his own heart, had come offering to work for him, all grew silent, and everybody looked at the handsome lads with a pleasant satisfaction. Reinhold glanced round him with his clear eyes, almost proudly; but Friedrich cast his down, and toyed with his barret-cap. Master Martin gave the two lads places at the bottom of the table. But they were the most glorious places of all, for presently Rosa came and sat down beside them, carefully helping and serving them with exquisite dishes and delicious wines. All this made a delightful picture to behold. The beautiful Rosa, the handsome lads, the bearded masters, one could not but think of some shining morning cloudlet rising up alone on a dark background of sky; or, perhaps, of pretty spring flowers, raising their heads from melancholy, colourless grass. Friedrich could hardly breathe for rapture and delight; only by stealth did he now and then glance at her who was filling all his soul. He stared down at his plate; how was it possible for him to swallow a morsel? Reinhold, on the other hand, never moved his eyes (from which sparkling lightnings flashed) from the girl. He began to talk of his far travels in such a marvellous style, that she had never heard anything like it before. All that he spoke of seemed to rise before her eyes in thousands of ever-changing images; she was all eye, all ear. She did not know where she was, or what was happening to her when Reinhold, in the fire of his discourse, grasped her hand and pressed it to his heart. "Friedrich," he cried, "why are you sitting mum and sad? Have you lost your tongue? Come, let's clink our glasses to the health of this young lady, who is taking such care of us here." Friedrich took, with trembling hand, the tall goblet which Reinhold had filled to the brim, and which, as Reinhold did not draw breath, he had to empty to the last drop. "Here's to our brave master!" Reinhold cried again, filling the glasses; and once more Friedrich had to empty his bumper. Then the fire-spirit of the wine permeated him, and set his halting blood a-moving, till it coursed, seething and dancing, through all his veins. "What a blissful feeling," he whispered, as the glowing scarlet mantled in his cheeks; "I cannot express how delightful; never did I feel so happy in all my life before."
Rosa--to whom those words might, perhaps, convey another sense smiled on him with marvellous sweetness, and he, befreed from all his bashfulness, said: "Dear Rosa, I suppose you don't remember me at all, do you?"
"Now, Friedrich," answered Rosa, with downcast eyes; "how could it be possible that I should forget you so soon? At old Herr Holzschuer's I was only a child, certainly, but you did not think it beneath you to play with me; and you always talked of such charming things. And that beautiful little basket of silver wire which you gave me one Christmas, I still have, and shall always prize it as a precious keepsake." Tears stood in the lad's eyes, in the intoxication of his happiness. He tried to speak; but only the words, "Ah, Rosa! Dear Rosa!" came out of his heart like a deep sigh. Rosa went on to say: "I have always wished most heartily that I might see you again, but that you should take to the cooper's craft, I never could have imagined. Ah! when I think of the beautiful things you used to make at Herr Holzschuer's, it is really a shame that you do not keep to your own art."
"Ah, Rosa," said Friedrich, "it was all for your sake that I was faithless to my own beloved art." Scarcely were the words spoken than he would fain have sunk into the ground with shame and alarm. The most unintentional of avowals had come from his lips. Rosa, as if she saw it all, turned her face away from him. He strove in vain for words. However, Herr Paumgartner rapped on the table loudly with a knife, and announced to the company that Herr Vollrad, a worthy master-singer, would favour them with a song. So Herr Vollrad stood up, cleared his throat, and sung such a beautiful song in Hans Vogelsang's "golden tone," that all hearts throbbed for joy, and even Friedrich recovered from his serious embarrassment. After Herr Vollrad had sung other beautiful songs, in various other "tones" or "manners,"--such as the "sweet" tone, the "crooked horn" manner, the "flowery paradise" manner, the "fresh orange" manner, etc.,--he said that, should there be any at the table who knew anything of the gracious craft of the master-singers, he should now be so good as to sing a song. At this Reinhold rose, and said that, if he might be permitted to accompany himself on the lute, after the Italian manner, he too would be happy to sing a song, keeping, however, in it wholly to the German "modes." No one saying anything to the contrary, he got out his lute, and after preluding a little in the loveliest way, went on with the following song:--
"Where is the little fount,