"Will you promise not to speak of it?"
"Yes, I promise."
"To no one?"
"To no one."
"Not even to the paroquette Fritz gave you?"
"No, not even to my paroquette."
"Well, it is very likely I shall speak about it in my dreams—you listen and find it out."
"Slyboots!"
"Curiosity!"
Like those delicate flowers that shrink when they are touched, each then turned to her own side; but it would have cost both too much not to have fallen asleep as usual, with their arms round each other's necks;—consequently this tiff soon blew over, and, after a prolonged chat, their lips finally joined in the concluding "Good-night."