"Martin."
Johannes was a very spoiled creature. Martin's engagement appeared to him as high treason against their brotherly love. He felt as if his brother had deceived him and meanly deprived him of his due rights. Henceforth a stranger was to rule where hitherto he alone had been king, and his position at the mill was to depend on her favor and good will. Even the friendly message from the wind-miller's daughter did not calm or appease him. When the day of the wedding came, he took no leave, but only sent his love and good wishes by his old schoolfellow Franz Maas, who was just left off from military service.
Six months later he himself was at liberty.
How now, Johannes? We are so obstinate that on no account will we go home, and prefer to seek our fortune in foreign parts; we roam about, now to right, now to left, up hill and down hill and rub off our horns, and when, four weeks later, we come to the conclusion that in spite of the wind-miller's daughter there is no place in the world like the Rockhammer mill, we went our way homewards most cheerfully.
One sunny day in May Johannes arrived in Marienfeld.
Franz Mass, who had set up the autumn before as a worthy baker, was standing, with his legs apart, in front of his shop, looking up contentedly at the tin "Bretzel" swinging over his door in the gentle noon-day breeze, when he saw an Uhlan come swaggering down the village street with his cap cocked to one side and clinking his spurs. His brave ex-soldier's heart beat quicker under his white baker's apron as he took his pipe out of his mouth and shaded his eyes with his hand.
"Well, I declare, it's Johannes!"
"Hallo, old fellow!" And they were greeting each other with effusion.
"Where do you hail from so late in the season? Have you had to do extra service?"
"For shame!"