He's a little awkward--I mean unhandy,--but only when others are about.
He's never been much among people. He grew up in a one-storied house
and until he was twenty-two years old had seen nothing but trees; but
no work's too hard for him and whatever you put him to, he does his
duty. He's not so dull, either; but he doesn't show it to the world;
with me, he can talk well enough, and he's satisfied as long as I know
he's the right sort of man. It takes my Hansei a long while to make up
his mind, but when he's made it up, he's always right. You see, dear
queen, I might have got a much cleverer husband; my playmate has a
hunter, and his comrade was after me for a long while; but I didn't
want to have anything to do with him, for he's too much in love with
himself. He once rowed over the lake with me, and was all the time
looking at himself in the water, and twisting his mustache and making
mouths, and so thought I to myself: If your clothes were made of gold,
I wouldn't have you. And when father was drowned in the lake, Hansei
was at hand and did everything about the house. He'd go out in his
skiff and bring in fish, and while I and mother would sell 'em, he'd
work in the forest. Father was also woodcutter and fisherman, at the
same time. And so Hansei was there a full half year; no one bid him
come and no one told him to go, for he was there and was honest and
good and never gave me an unkind word; and so we were married, and,
thank God, we're happy and, through our good prince, we'll have
something of our own. We've got it already, and it's no easy matter for
a husband to give his wife away for a year. But Hansei didn't waste
many words over it. If a thing's right and must be, he only nods--this
way--and then it's done. Forgive me, dear queen, for telling you all
this silly stuff, but you asked me."

"No, I am heartily glad that there are simple-minded, happy beings in
this world. The worldly-wise think they prove their infinite wisdom
when they say: 'There are no simple-minded, happy people, and the
country folk are not nearly so good as we imagine.'"

"No more they are," said Walpurga, eagerly; "there aren't any worse
people than some of those out our way. There are good ones, of
course; but there are wicked and envious and thieving and lazy and
good-for-nothing and godless creatures besides; and Zenza and Thomas
are among the worst, but I can't help it."

Walpurga imagined that the queen must know of the pardon, and