k, painfully agitated "Yes, yes, Rose
will be _yours_; how came I, unhappy wretch that I am, ever to hope for
such happiness?" "You are forgetting, my brother," Reinhold went on to
say; "you are forgetting that Rose herself has not confirmed this,
which our cunning Master Martin no doubt is well aware of. True it is
that Rose has always shown herself kind and charming towards me, but a
loving heart betrays itself in other ways. Promise me, brother, to
remain quiet for three days longer, and to go to your work in the shop
as usual. I also could now go to work again, but since I have been busy
with, and wrapt up in this picture, I feel an indescribable disgust at
that coarse rough work out yonder. And, what is more, I can never lay
hand upon mallet again, let come what will. On the third day I will
frankly tell you how matters stand between me and Rose. If I should
really be the lucky one to whom she has given her love, then you may go
your way and make trial of the experience that time can cure the
deepest wounds." Frederick promised to await his fate.

On the third day Frederick's heart beat with fear and anxious
expectation; he had in the meantime carefully avoided meeting Rose.
Like one in a dream he crept about the workshop, and his awkwardness
gave Master Martin, no doubt, just cause for his grumbling and
scolding, which was not by any means customary with him. Moreover, the
master seemed to have encountered something that completely spoilt all
his good spirits. He talked a great deal about base tricks and
ingratitude, without clearly expressing what he meant by it. When at
length evening came, and Frederick was returning towards the town, he
saw not far from the gate a horseman coming to meet him, whom he
recognised to be Reinhold. As soon as the latter caught sight of
Frederick he cried, "Ha! ha! I meet you just as I wanted." And leaping
from his horse, he slung the rein over his arm, and grasped his
friend's hand. "Let us walk along a space beside each other," he said.
"Now I can tell you what luck I have had with my suit." Frederick
observed that Reinhold wore the same clothes which he had worn when
they first met each other, and that the horse bore a portmanteau.
Reinhold looked pale and troubled. "Good luck to you, brother," he
began somewhat wildly; "good luck to you. You can now go and hammer
away lustily at your casks; I will yield the field to you. I have just
said adieu to pretty Rose and worthy Master Ma