"God grant, my friends, that at the close of the next year, which looks so threatening, we may all be sitting here as happy and as cheerful as we are now," said the president, with emotion in his face and voice; "and now," he added cheerfully, as he felt general conversation could not be again resumed, "let us rise and smoke the pipe of peace. John, bring the bowl, we will have another word with that."
The whole party rose and returned to the drawing-room. They found the doors leading into the hall set open; the enormous house-door was also thrown wide open, so that they saw right into the courtyard, with the old linden-tree in the midst. It was lighted up with dark red flames, and amidst the masses of smoke which here and there interrupted the fiery waves, groups of men appeared, their movements looking strangely fantastic in the reflections of the flames, and from them came the sound of whispering voices.
The president was amazed and even alarmed, for his first idea was that a fire had broken out in his stables; but the old servant stepped up to him and whispered: "The young people from the village wish to serenade you, sir, the evening before your birthday."
The president, who had been about to hasten into the courtyard, paused, a look of happy emotion shining in his eyes. The pastor, who was prepared for the surprise, exchanged a smile with the lady of the house, and the young people gazed inquisitively into the courtyard.
After the president appeared, there was a moment of deep silence; then strong, clear voices raised the simple touching chorale, "Oh! God, our help in ages past."
"Wer nun den lieben Gott läszt walten."
The full ringing sounds, and the dark red light of the torches streamed through the large hall and entered the room where the family stood, while from the large window on the garden side the full moon shone brightly in from the dark evening sky, and shed long streams of light upon the floor.
The president stood still, surrounded by those he loved in his quiet home, the calm light of the moon falling upon him, as if it were the farewell greeting of the past year. Was the uncertain, blood-red light filling the courtyard the picture of the coming year? Yet from the fiery light came the old pious hymn which has so often strengthened and comforted men's hearts. Let the Future come; if she brings strife and sorrow, she will also bring strength and consolation.
Such thoughts as these passed through the mind of the president. His wife, who had placed herself beside him, had folded her hands together and slightly bowed her head.
"O God, our help in ages past,