"What? Fairly? Of course. But I can't talk about marrying yet. Don't you know the old student-song?--
"I will love thee, I will love thee;
But to marry, but to marry,
Is far, far, far, far above me."
"Then I must agree with Emmerence."
"Fiddle! No offence, but you don't know any thing about it. These girls must be content just to get sweethearts like me. The squire's Babbett would stretch out her ten fingers to get hold of me: but she couldn't represent the Church any more, as at Gregory's first mass, and I don't want her."
During this colloquy Peter and Florian had come up to where they were standing.
"Ah!" said the latter, "does the doctor give us the light of his countenance? I thought the like of us weren't worth his while to waste words in talking to."
"Yes," added Peter; "all the boys in the village say that the like of you was never seen, Ivo. You behave as if you were born in Stuttgard and not in Nordstetten."
"My goodness!" said poor Ivo, thus beset on all sides, "I never thought of such a thing as being proud. Come; let's go get a drink."
"That's the way to talk," said Florian. "It's my blowout, for I am going off to-morrow."
The villagers opened their eyes at seeing Ivo passing through the street in company with the trio. It was an extraordinary quartette.