Farmer Rodel knew whom he had to deal with, and after he had written he said, “What do you think; shall I tell Rose about this?”
“Indeed, it were best, but she must not let it be known to any one in the place. We all have enemies. You and your sister no less than others. Take my advice; tell Rose to wear her every-day dress, and to milk the cows when he is here. I will introduce him to your house. You have read what Landfried writes—‘that he has his own peculiar notions, and would be off at once if he saw that any preparation had been made for him.’ This very evening, you must send to Lauterbach for your brother-in-law’s white horse. I will send the wooer with the broker to look at the horse. Take care that you do not betray yourself.”
As soon as Raven Zacky had gone, Rodel called his wife and sister into the back room, and told them, with strict orders to keep it secret, that in the morning a suitor would come for Rose; a man like a prince, who had a farm such as there was not a second in the country—in one word, the son of Farmer Landfried of Zusmarshofen. He then gave them the advice of Raven Zacky, and recommended the strictest secrecy.
After supper, Rose could not refrain from asking Barefoot if she would not go with her as a servant when she was married; she would double her wages, and then she need not go across the Rhine to work in a factory.
Barefoot gave an evasive answer, for she was little inclined to go with Rose. She knew, beside, that she had some other motive in asking the question. In the first place, she wanted to show her triumph, that she had a suitor in view, and then she wanted Barefoot to take charge of her housekeeping, with which she troubled herself very little. Barefoot would have willingly done this for a mistress she loved, but not for Rose; and if she once left her present service, she would go into a factory with her brother.
As Amrie was going to bed, her mistress called her and intrusted her with the secret, adding, “I know you have always been patient with Rose; but now be doubly so, that there may be no noise in the house while the expected suitor is here.”
“Yes, certainly, but I think it wrong that she should only this once milk the cows. That will be deceiving the young man—beside, she cannot milk.”
“Thou and I—we cannot alter the world,” said her mistress, “and I think you have trouble enough of your own. Let others do as they will.”
Barefoot laid down with heavy thoughts, that people should thus, without conscientious scruples, deceive each other. She knew not, indeed, who the deceived might be, but she pitied the poor young man, and it seemed still worse, when she thought, “Perhaps Rose will be as much deceived in him as he is in her.”
In the morning, when Barefoot looked early from her window, she started back as though she had suddenly received a blow. “Oh, heavens, what is that?” She rubbed hastily her eyes, and looked again—then asked herself whether she were not dreaming? “Ah, no! there is the horseman who was at the Endringen wedding. He is coming to the village! He is coming for me! No, he does not know me! But he shall know. Ah! no! no! What am I thinking of? He comes nearer and nearer! He is here! But he does not look up!” A full-blown pink falls from Amrie’s hand over the window-sill, and strikes upon the mantle-sack of his horse, but he does not see it—it fell upon the street, and Barefoot hastened down to recover the treacherous signal. And now the fearful thought struck her, that he is Rose’s suitor—that he it is whom she meant last evening. She did not mention his name, but it can be no other! None! He is the person to be deceived! In the stable, upon the green clover which she had gathered for the cows, she knelt down and prayed fervently to God, to save him from becoming the husband of Rose. That he should become her own, she ventured not the thought; she could not indulge the hope!