"What could I say, father, but that you were Father Joachim, of the Capuchin convent at Brixen, and that we all loved your reverence dearly?" said Johann.
"You told him my name, then," muttered Father Joachim.
"Did you say anything of Rudolf, Johann?" said Theresa softly, with a little pull at her brother's hair.
"I said he was a goodish sort of a fellow," said Johann doggedly; "and that I believed he came here to look after you."
"I'll pay you for it!" whispered she indignantly; and giving him a little push, she hastily went out; Rudolf furtively looking after her.
"My little lad," said the Capuchin gently, "you must learn more discretion, or you will be a child all your life. Well, Hofer, I think these will be enough?"
"Enough and to spare," said the Sandwirth; "with God's blessing."
"Children, let us ask it."
Every knee was bent in prayer, while Father Joachim fervently invoked the aid of the God of battles. This concluded the conference. Solemnized, and with burning hearts, they retired to rest; while the Bavarian traveller carried the very little he knew to the best market for it.
A lovely April morning succeeded this eventful night. Scarcely had the sun begun to gild the mountain-tops, when Theresa stood beside the river with her milk-pail on her head, inquiring of Rudolf, who was fishing in the shade, how many trout he had caught for Father Joachim's breakfast.