And with this, he disengaged a locket from his watch-chain, opened it, and showed me the portrait of a golden-haired girl, who, without being actually handsome, had a face as pleasant to look upon as his own.
"Well?" he said anxiously. "What do you say?"
"I say that she has a charming expression," I replied.
"But you do not think her pretty?"
"Nay, she is better than pretty. She has the beauty of real goodness."
His face glowed with pleasure.
"It is true," he said, kissing the portrait, and replacing it upon his chain. "She is an angel! We are to be married in the Spring."
Just at this moment, a sturdy peasant came trudging up from the direction of Niedersdorf, under the shade of a huge red cotton umbrella. He had taken his coat off; probably for coolness, or it might be for economy, and was carrying it, neatly folded up, in a large, new wooden bucket. He saluted us with the usual "Guten Abend" as he approached.
To which Bergheim laughingly replied by asking if the bucket was a love-token from his sweetheart.
"Nein, nein," he answered stolidly; "I bought it at the Kermess[A] up yonder."