in such a work. Not one of them had ever beheld the like. They felt
there must be some magic in it. They now crowded around the artist, who,
modest and deeply affected, felt every eye that beamed upon him. The
Mayor stepped forward and heartily shook him by the hand. Each one
followed his example, except the Counselor, who leaned sullenly against
a pillar.

Marie, who had been permitted to return for this occasion, stood beside
her father, paler than ever, but with a heavenly expression in her
charming face.

"Do you not notice that one of the angels on the altar resembles Marie?"
said one to the other.

"True it is."

"And that another angel resembles the Emperor Maximilian?" said an old
man. Like lightning, this news flew from row to row. Marie and the
Emperor had been portrayed.

"Yes, my friends," said Hans, calmly and distinctly, "I did that because
I know of nothing more beautiful in the world than the Emperor and
Marie. God made people in His image, and the sculptor, who is like a
creator, has the right to choose those forms which he feels are most
like the Image."

"Well said," echoed from all sides.

Now Hans, with bold strides, neared the bench where the Counselor sat
with his daughter.