“Here it is! He gave it to me! Didn’t you, Maxie? Honest, Your Worship, sir! It was his! But he gave it to me as a token of his love, if you please, sir!” She ran to the platform, and then back again and caught Max’s hand and dragged him forward, too.

“I’ve had that since I was a tiny baby!” he said. “Does that mean I’m Count Karlstein?”

The lawyer bent down and took the chain from Eliza’s trembling hand. He and the Mayor held it up and compared it with the other. There was a pause of two or three seconds (and that’s a mighty long time!) and then the Mayor nodded, and Meister Haifisch said:

“Yes, it does. The two halves match exactly! You are the one!”

Sensation…Hats flew in the air, and Eliza threw her arms around Max’s neck, and the cheers were so loud that a flock of birds flew up in alarm from the trees across the green and added their squawking to the general tumult. As for Max, he didn’t know where to put himself. He scratched his head, he beamed, he blushed, he dug his toes into the ground, he kissed Eliza, he blushed again, he grinned, he whistled, he winked at the Mayor’s wife—and when the noise died away, he said:

“And all because of a plate of sausages…Well, thank you very much, Your Worship.”

He bowed to the lawyer, who bowed back at him, very low, and said, “Not at all, Count Karlstein. I am delighted to be of service.”

“Count Karlstein…” Max said it slowly, still unable to believe it. “But wait a minute. If I’m Count Karlstein, don’t that mean that these girls is my relations, in a manner of speaking?”

“Most certainly,” said Meister Haifisch, and he smiled at the two of them—sunshine; what a change in his dry old legal face!

“Then that’s simple,” said Max. “They don’t have to go to an orphanage after all. They can live with me!”

Lucy and Charlotte ran to him in delight. He patted them on the head, unsure just yet of how an uncle should behave toward his nieces (but he’d soon learn), and then turned toward the person who’d been holding his hand.

“And I can marry Eliza!” he said, and kissed her to prove it.

And again, that might have been all—and the village would have a new lord and lady, and good ones, too: just and decent and popular—and we’d all have gone home rejoicing. But it wasn’t quite over yet. For at that moment, Doctor Cadaverezzi came forward, with the chains still tightly around his wrists, and bowed very low—to Max, of course, as the lord.

“In view of the general happiness, your grace,” he said courteously, “may one request an amnesty?”