The tall man, the very model of a stately burgher, who paid careful heed to his outward appearance, now looked careless of his person.

His brown hair hung over his forehead, his thick, closely-trimmed moustache straggled in thin lines over his cheeks, his doublet had grown too large, and his stockings did not fit snugly as usual, but hung in wrinkles on his powerful legs.
Greeting his wife with a careless wave of the hand, he approached the child and gazed silently at it a long time with tender affection.

Bessie turned her pretty little face towards him and tried to welcome him, but the smile died on her lips, and she again gazed listlessly at her doll, Peter stooped, raised her in his arms, called her by name and pressed his lips to her pale cheeks.

The child gently stroked his beard and then said feebly: "Put me down, dear father, I feel dizzy up here." The burgomaster, with tears in his eyes, put his darling carefully back in her little chair, then left the room and went to his study.

Maria followed him and asked "Is there no message yet from the Prince or the estates ?" He silently shrugged his shoulders.
"But they will not, dare not forget us ?" cried the young wife eagerly.
"We are perishing and they leave us to die," he answered in a hollow tone.
"No, no, they have pierced the dykes; I know they will help us." "When it is too late.