Let the dear reader fancy, while his Reverence speaks, the glazed eyes of the Margrave gradually lighting up with attention; the flush of joy which mantles in his countenance--the start--the throb--the almost delirious outburst of hysteric exultation with which, when the whole truth was made known, he clasped the two messengers of glad tidings to his breast, with an energy that almost choked the aged recluse! "Ride, ride this instant to the Margravine--say I have wronged her, that it is all right, that she may come back--that I forgive her--that I apologize if you will"-- and a secretary forthwith despatched a note to that effect, which was carried off by a fleet messenger.
"Now write to the Superior of the monastery at Cologne, and bid him send me back my boy, my darling, my Otto--my Otto of roses!" said the fond father, making the first play upon words he had ever attempted in his life.

But what will not paternal love effect?
The secretary (smiling at the joke) wrote another letter, and another fleet messenger was despatched on another horse.
"And now," said Sir Ludwig, playfully, "let us to lunch.

Holy hermit, are you for a snack ?" The hermit could not say nay on an occasion so festive, and the three gentles seated themselves to a plenteous repast; for which the remains of the feast of yesterday offered, it need not be said, ample means.
"They will be home by dinner-time," said the exulting father.

"Ludwig! reverend hermit! we will carry on till then." And the cup passed gayly round, and the laugh and jest circulated, while the three happy friends sat confidentially awaiting the return of the Margravine and her son.
But alas! said we not rightly at the commencement of a former chapter, that betwixt the lip and the raised wine-cup there is often many a spill?
that our hopes are high, and often, too often, vain?
About three hours after the departure of the first messenger, he returned, and with an exceedingly long face knelt down and presented to the Margrave a billet to the following effect:-- "CONVENT OF NONNENWERTH, Friday Afternoon.
"SIR--I have submitted too long to your ill-usage, and am disposed to bear it no more.

I will no longer be made the butt of your ribald satire, and the object of your coarse abuse.