as it is for you to build within the Cathedral an altar that is yet
higher than the Cathedral, just so impossible is it for you to marry my
daughter, who is so much above you in station."

"Mr. Counselor, is this your last word?" said Hans.

The Counselor laughed scornfully, and said, "Carve an altar that is
higher than the church in which it is to stand. Then, and not before
then, you may ask for my daughter."

Hans hastened from his presence and turned his steps to the rose-bush.
It was a beautiful day. Shadowless the world lay before him. Splendor
and glory streamed from the sky. But nature in all her beauty seemed to
him, this day, like a disinterested friend, who laughs while another
grieves. He seated himself in the niche under the rose-bush, where
somehow he always felt the Emperor's presence and influence, and where,
too, he always found peace and hope.

But what hope could ever come to him again? Could the bush uproot itself
and plead with the Counselor? Could the King, who had never returned in
life, return from death to help him? No one could help him, for had not
the Counselor taken an oath, that he would not give his daughter to him,
unless he built an altar higher than the church in which it should
stand. This, of course, was impossible. His overcharged feelings gave
vent to tears, and he cried, "My Emperor, my Emperor, why did you desert
me?" This time Marie was not at his side to cheer him, and tell him that
God would not desert him.

All was still, except the humming of the bees among the roses; and in
the distance the birds sang. All of a sudden something struck him in the