At this, however, Bloemstein’s paternal feelings revolted. His daughter, his pretty Marieke—dead! No, he would rather see her married to the Prussian doctor, for the Prussians were not so bad after all! Nay, they even knew how to appreciate beauty—had not Bismarck himself written that she was a “charming, lovely girl”?
Klessens also was for peace, and so was Marbaise. “Against 150,000 Prussians,” said the latter, “and a few thousand Hollanders on top of those, you, Bauer, with your hundred and twenty men——”
“A hundred and twenty-three!” interrupted the commander of the Altenet forces.
“Well, a hundred and twenty-three, if you like—but you can’t do anything with them!”
A great deal more talking and shouting took place, and at last the President determined to end the debate by putting the question to the vote.
“War!” yelled Holzert. “Peace!” “Peace!” “Peace!” muttered Conrads, Marbaise, and Klessens, in succession.
“War!” thundered Bauer; and “I’m for peace,” said the President in conclusion.
Peace was therefore resolved on by a majority of two votes.
Several months have passed. The miners are at work again; the farmer is ploughing his fields; the lark sings high in air; the Altenet postage-stamps have been destroyed; and Marieke is the happy wife of Dr Olthausen.
No answer was ever received from the rest of the kings and emperors,—it is just possible that Marieke may have forgotten to post the letters entrusted to her care.