Marie, however, shook her head doubtfully; but Hans was full of hope.
"But see how our rose-bush has grown!" cried Hans in astonishment. "You tended it well; but it seems almost as if the roses had taken from you all your life and strength and health. Return my darling's strength to her," Hans said laughingly; and taking a handful of roses, he softly stroked her face with them; but her cheeks remained white.
"Rejoice, my rosebud, rejoice, my darling, for the spring will soon be here; and with my care you will soon be well."
A half hour later, the beadle walked timidly into the council hall of the high-gabled Council House, and said, "Honored Counselor, will you graciously pardon me, but there is a man without who pressingly begs to be ushered into your presence."
"Who is it?" asked the Counselor.
"It is Hans Le Fevre," answered the beadle, "but he is handsomely attired. I hardly recognized him."
This was a great surprise to all. Hans, the runaway, the tramp, who slipped away by night—to me. "See! see! ingeniously thought out," cried he.
"But just to design a thing is far easier than to carry it out," said another.
"Hans Le Fevre never did this kind of work before."
"Perhaps he has progressed," remarked the Mayor, "and possibly he would do it cheaper than the renowned Master Artist."