nt to know what
you don't want to tell, and if any one in this world offers to harm
you, call me, and I'll defend you with my life. But it seems you
haven't been much among the mountains; so let me give you a piece of
advice. In climbing mountains, the rule is: Go right on, and never
stop."

They waited for the wagon. Hansei drew a long breath after his long
speech. He felt satisfied with himself, and looked about him with a
self-complacent air.

Irma sat down by the wayside. She was now on the heights which, on the
evening before, she had seen all aglow with the rosy sunset, and then
fading away in the pale mists. The giant peaks that she had beheld from
afar were now near, and seemed still vaster than before. Here and there
in the woods, there was a clearing of meadow and field, and now and
then, a house was visible. Looking down, she caught glimpses of the
foaming, sparkling forest stream, so far below them that they could
scarcely hear its roar.

Hansei walked at Irma's side without uttering a word.

The wagon overtook them. Irma got in again, Hansei assisting her quite
politely. He was about to lift his hat to her, when, with cheerful word
and glance, she thanked him.

"She's a very decent person," said Hansei to his wife, "and we've a nice
little room for her, too, if she isn't afraid of the old pensioner."

Walpurga felt happy that the great point was gained.

As Hansei had talked with the stranger, the little pitchman thought
himself entitled to say something, too; and, as the first sign of his
resolve, he cracked his whip so loudly that the sound was echoed back
from the valley and the mountains.

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" said the old woman.

"She--she's well again," replied the little pitchman. "Isn't it so?"
said he, addressing Irma. "The noise don't hurt you?"

Irma told him not to put himself out on her account, and, emboldened by
her answer, he inquired:

"What's your name?"

"Irmgard."

"Indeed! why, that was my wife's name, and, if you've no objection,
I'll marry an Irmgard again. I've got half of a house and a whole goat.
I owe something on the house, but the goat's paid for. Say! will you
have me?"

"Don't make such jokes, Peter," cried Beate, nothing loth, however, to
hear pleasantry from some quarter.

The little pitchman laughed heartily, and was well pleased with
himself. Yes, Hansei was now the freehold farmer, but still he couldn't
talk to people the way he could. The