In the mean time Jeremias Munter made with love-warm looks the following speech to his bride. "That was a joke now! that you should have made me of such consequence! How did she know that I would have her? To woo me yourself, and to take me so by surprise! To give me no time to think. What then? It is quite unheard of! Was the thing arranged beforehand? No, that is too troublesome. Nay, nay, nay, nay then, nay say I! But now I think about it, it was quite for the best that I accept you—but indeed you were a little hasty; I've a good mind to——What now? What is fresh in hand? Comes her little grace, the little sister-in-law, without any ceremony and kisses me. Heavens! the world is very merry!"
But nobody in the whole circle found the world so merry as Petrea.
"Are you now satisfied with me, Petrea?" asked Eva, archly laughing. Petrea clasped her warmly in her arms.
Now the voice of Mother Louise was heard saying, "Nay, nay, children, you must not drink a drop more! What do you say, my little David? A thee-and-thou toast with Uncle Munter? No, thank you greatly, my dear fellow, you can propose that another time. You have drunk to-day toasts enough—more, perhaps, than your little heads can carry."
"I beg for the boys, sister Louise," said the Assessor; "I will propose a skål, and they must drink it with me. Fill, yet once more, the glasses, little carousers!—I propose a skål for peace! peace in our country, and peace in our homes! A skål for love and knowledge, which alone can make peace a blessing! A skål, in one word, for—Peace upon Earth!"
"Amen! amen!" cried Jacobi, drank off his glass, and threw it behind him. Louise looked at her mother somewhat astonished, but the mother followed Jacobi's example; she too was carried away.
"All glasses to the ground after this skål!" cried the Judge, and sent his ringing against the ceiling. With an indescribable pleasure the little Jacobis threw their glasses up, and endeavoured to make the skål for Peace as noisy and tumultuous as possible.
We leave now the joyful circle, from which we have seen the mother softly steal away. We see her go into the boudoir, where reposing in comfortable quiet she writes the following lines to her friend and sister:
"I have left them now for a few minutes, in order to rest, and to say a few words to you, my Cecilia. Here it is good and quiet; and joyful voices—truly festival voices, echo to me here. The heart of my Ernst enjoys the highest pleasure, for he sees all his children happy around him. And the children, Cecilia, he has reason to be joyful over them and proud; they stand all around him, good and excellent human beings; they thank him that existence has been given to them, and that they have learned its worth; They are satisfied with their lot. The lost and again-found-one has come home, in order to begin a new life, and her charming child is quite established on the knees of the grandfather.