Hans could not see Marie, for her father had sent her far away.

From early morn till late at night Hans worked, without rest or quiet. Neither pleadings nor threats moved him to desist from his labors. He lived like a hermit in his workshop. Two long years had passed; and at last Hans appeared at the Council Chamber and made known the fact that he had accomplished the work assigned him.

Great excitement reigned in Breisach. The Cathedral was locked for three days, during which time the altar was to be placed. Many inquisitive neighbors gathered around the Cathedral to get a glimpse of the work, if possible. But well-wrapped and concealed, Hans brought the pieces, one by one, from his house—and so the excitement grew intenser every moment.

On the fourth day the altar was to be dedicated. Early in the day the people started for the Cathedral. Joyously the big clock resounded. From all sides, by foot and by wagon, the country folk swarmed to see the wonderful work, the talk of the neighborhood for the past two years.

At break of day Hans had hastened to the Cathedral once more to test his work with his critical eye. Just then the bell pealed forth. He dropped his hat, and with folded hands offered a short prayer.

Anyone who has worked for years, in the sweat of his brow, for future and fortune, knows how Hans felt as he stood there in his mute eloquence. His God understood it, too.

Now the crowd surged into the Cathedral, and the critical moment had arrived when the artist gave his work, executed through long, lonely days and nights, freely to the public eye. One last look he cast upon his creation, then he withdrew, and in anxious suspense watched the impression it would make upon the assembled people.

The morning sun sent her full rays directly upon the altar, and an exclamation of astonishment echoed from the high-vaulted roof. Joy and wonder filled each breast. There stood the altar before the people in all its glory. Was it really wood—stiff, hard wood—from which these figures had been carved? Were they not human? And that host of angels that seemed to be singing "Hallelujah," each one so perfectly natural. All figures were life size. The entire work was entwined and crowned with wreaths of artistically carved foliage, the center branch of which reached upward to the arched ceiling.

The untrained eye of the simple villagers could not all at once, drink 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.

"I still have something to say to you, and you must hear me. I have fully carried out your behest. Will you now keep your oath? You demanded of me what seemed impossible; namely, 'To build an altar higher than the Church in which it should stand,' and you solemnly vowed, that if I accomplished this, I should wed your daughter. Now, Mr. Counselor, look up. The altar is exactly one foot higher than the Church, and yet it stands within the Church—I have merely bent the top of it."

The Counselor saw it and paled. He had not dreamed of such a thing. It sickened him; but, as Counselor, in all propriety and dignity, he would have to keep his word before these assembled people.

A long pause ensued. Hans kept his patience. Then the Counselor arose, and taking his daughter by the hand, presented her to Hans, saying, "A Counselor should never break his word. There, take my child. You have fulfilled the condition and I keep my vow."

Two young boys hastily brought in some branches from the rose-bush, and wove wreaths for the pair. With loud approval, they crowned the master and his bride. Humbly, Hans removed his crown, and laid it on the altar. "These roses belong to God. With them He saved me. Do you notice, Marie," said he, as he pointed upward to the curved top of the altar, "that's what the rose-bush taught me. To you, Mr. Counselor, I would say that one may bend and still be greater than the one who causes him to stoop."

A few weeks later, Hans and Marie were married at this altar. It was a wedding the elegance of which surprised Breisach. For his work the grateful town had paid Hans a sum of money which, for that period, was a small fortune.

Marie's father paid all the expenses which this occasion demanded. By this time he realized how unreasonable he had been, and did all in his power to make amends. Besides, he now respected his artist son-in-law, and for many years he lived with the couple in peace and happiness.