Barefoot gathered up her shoes, while John took the sack upon his back, and thus they went together to the inn. The moon shone as clear as day, and the village lay quiet in the moonlight. Barefoot would not remain in the inn.
“I would much rather go on,” said John.
“I will remain with Mariann,” said Amrie. “It is my parents’ house, and you will leave your dog with me. Come, Lux, you will stay with me? I fear, to-night, they may do me some mischief.”
“I will watch before the house,” said John, “but it were better that we went on immediately; why would you remain here?”
“Oh! above all, I must go to Mariann. She has been a mother to me, and I have not seen her this whole day. I have done nothing for her to-day, and she is very ill. Ah, it is cruel that I must leave her all alone! But what can I do? come with me to her.”
They went hand in hand together, through the sleeping moonshine. Not many steps from her parents’ house, Amrie stood still and said, “Look! here thy mother gave me the necklace and a kiss.”
“Ah! here is another, and another!” Blessedly the lovers embraced each other. The service-tree rustled all its leaves above them, and from the forest the nightingales’ sweetest tones joined in the harmony.
“Ah! that is enough. Now you must go with me to Mariann. Oh, how she will rejoice, as from the seventh heaven!”
They went into the house together. When Amrie opened the door of the room, the moonbeam as the sun once before shone upon the head of the angel upon the stove, and it appeared to smile upon them. Barefoot cried with loud joyful voice: “Mariann! Mariann! Wake up! Here is joy—blessing and joy—Wake up! Wake up!”
The old woman arose in her bed. The moonbeam fell upon her face and neck. She opened her eyes wide and asked, “What is it? What is it? Who calls?”