"You make arrangements far in advance; it's a long time from now to the middle of July; but never mind. We thank you for the honor, but we cannot join you," said Landolin, with decision.

"All right, we need go only one house farther," quickly answered the mountain prince, his face reddening. He was about turning away, when Anton interrupted:

"Pardon me; but if I have rightly understood the ex-bailiff, he is going to leave the decision to his daughter."

The farmer compressed his lips craftily, then said:

"Yes, yes; you are right. And mind you, I shall not say a word to her, and you shall find that she will give you the same answer that I gave."

"May I ask why?" inquired the mountain prince.

"You may ask," answered the peasant, going to the door and calling to Thoma to bring wine and something to eat. It seemed as if Thoma had already prepared this, for she came immediately, the young men following her movements with admiring eyes. She poured the wine, they touched their gla.s.ses, and Anton had begun to repeat his request, when she interrupted him:

"Say no more!"

Anton turned pale, and Thoma blushed; their eyes met, and Thoma's eyelids dropped. In a moment, however, she looked up frankly, and continued:

"I have heard all that has been said."

"Bravo! that's splendid!" cried Anton; "pardon me, but I imagine there are few who would so honestly confess that they had been listening."

"I thank you for your praise, but it is nothing--that is, I mean being honest deserves no praise."

The farmer shrugged his shoulders, and opened his mouth with delight.

"He's getting it now," thought he, "she pays in good coin."

Turning to her father, Thoma continued:

"Father, did you really mean that I should do as I choose?"

"Certainly! Whatever you say will be right."

"Then I say yes; I accept the honor with thanks."

Fidelis, who was standing at the door, bit his lip to keep from laughing aloud; and an expression of astonishment spread itself over the faces of the farmer and the three young men. The mountain-prince and the other farmer's son thanked Thoma and shook hands with her, but when Anton offered his hand she turned quickly away, and busied herself with the plates and gla.s.ses.

Meanwhile the farmer's wife had entered, unnoticed, and now, whilst they were enjoying the refreshment, spoke to them all, for she knew their mothers. Turning to Anton, she expressed her sympathy at his mother's death, saying that she was a most excellent woman, and that her happiness must have been great indeed when her only son returned from the war, safe and with honor.

After the three young men had gone, the farmer's wife said:

"Anton's a splendid fellow, he pleases me best of them all."

"Do you think so too?" the farmer was about to ask his daughter, but he refrained, and only answered:

"He has a tongue like a lawyer's; the only real substantial farmer is t.i.tus's son and heir."

Thoma left the room without a word, and that which Landolin dreaded came to pa.s.s. From this time Thoma and Anton met often, in public and alone, in the bright day time and the quiet evening. And when at length Thoma told her father of her love, he calmly endeavored to show her that this would be an unequal marriage, and that he had always had confidence that her pride would not allow her to throw herself away; as, however, he found that Thoma never wavered in her decision, he was wise enough to give his consent, thereby securing their grat.i.tude instead of having to yield without it; for above all else he valued Thoma's love and respect.

So it came to pa.s.s, that to-day was to take place the betrothal of the haughty Landolin's proud daughter with her honest, but not quite so well-born lover, Anton.

CHAPTER VI.

"Mother!" said Thoma, during the drive, "when father was young he must have been the handsomest man in the country."

"He was, indeed, but wild and unruly, very wild; you will have a more gentle husband. It will be just the opposite with you to what it was with us."

Thoma looked up wonderingly; it was unusual for her mother either to think or speak so much; and her astonishment increased when her mother added:

"If your father had been a soldier like Anton, he too would have learned to give way to others, and not always think himself the only person in the world. Heaven forgive me, I was not going to speak of your father at all, I only meant to tell you that you must now learn to give up to others; with marriage willfulness must end."

The deference with which Thoma had listened at first, disappeared now that her mother concluded with advice and censure. She moved her lips impatiently, but said nothing.

From the valley could be heard the din of the fair; the drums and trumpets in the show booths, the lowing of the cows and oxen, and the whinnying of the horses in the broad meadow by the river side.

At the foot of the mountain, where the signpost is, Thoma beckoned to her a beggar, who sat by the roadside, holding out his handless arm, and gave him a bright, new mark.

"That pleases me," said the mother, as they drove on.

Thoma answered with a voice clear as the morning:

"Yes, mother, on this, my day of happiness, I cannot pa.s.s the first beggar I meet without giving him something; and see," she cried, looking back, "see, he is making signs to us; he has just found out how much he received, and is showing it to the others. If I could only make the whole world happy, as happy as I am! O mother, it must be terrible!

There sits a poor man appealing with such pitiful glances; men pa.s.s by, one gives nothing, the others give nothing, it is too much trouble to put their hands into their pockets and open their purses, and the poor man begs with empty mouth."

The mother nodded with a happy face, and wanted to say: "You do not take after your father in everything, in some things you are like me,"

but she suppressed the words. She was still vexed for having so far forgotten herself as to say anything against her husband.

"Good morning, Thoma! Good morning, mother!" suddenly sounded in greeting the clear voice of Anton; he held out his hand and continued:

"Come, jump out and walk with me."

"No, you ride with us."

"I'll walk beside you," replied Anton, and rested his hand upon the railing of the wagon, as he walked along.

The mother made excuses for having kept him waiting, and said that the farmer was following on foot.

CHAPTER VII.

Upon entering the fair ground, Landolin was immediately greeted by the farmer t.i.tus, called the Mountain-king, whose estate lay on the other side of the plateau. t.i.tus offered him a large sum for the prize cow, which Landolin haughtily refused. He was soon surrounded by a crowd of farmers, who, partly in earnest, and partly in jest, charged him with having ruined the fair by exhibiting her, for the other cattle looked small and poor in comparison. Landolin smiled; he had brought her merely to gratify his pride, but he was very well pleased to find that he had been able to arouse the envy of others; and the annoyance of the Mountain-king especially pleased him, as they had long been rivals. The other farmers had really no ambition, their thoughts and efforts were centered on gain. This was the case with the rivals, too, but in addition to this, they desired a special recognition of their superior importance.