"'Francis.
"'Scharding, April 18, 1809.'"
"Dear, dear, dear, only think of an emperor like him to write in that way to a poor man like thee, Anderl," said Anna.
"Not to me in particular," said Hofer; "to all my weapon-brothers as well."
"At any rate, he could not speak more fair, nor more handsome—dear Franzel! Do let me look close at his letter with my very own eyes. Why, now, the dear Emperor spells Tyrol with two l's, as you do, Anderl, sometimes; but he writes a deal better," nudging him with her elbow.
"As an emperor is likely to do," said Hofer, his good white teeth gleaming right merrily through his black beard. "Why, now, I copied that letter myself, and it's my own handwriting: so a precious one you are to have a cut at me!"
"You? Why, you told me it was the Emperor's!"
"Aye, his words, but not his penmanship. Why, think you there was a man of us all that would not get a copy of it, if he could?"
"Oh well, I thought his hand wondrous like thine, man. Don't you believe you took me in! Why, didn't I find out the two l's?"
"Aye, but you thought them the emperor's!"