"Nothing."
"Then, at least give me your hand that I may with it wipe away the tears that scald my eyes. I am a weak, a tender hearted man, and must weep when I am scoffed at. But never mind, give me your hand, a moment."
"It is impossible."
"Give me but your little finger."
In lieu of a reply, Magde endeavored to close the window; but her admirer prevented her from doing so.
"Ah!" exclaimed he furious at his defeat. "You wish to enjoy a boon, and not reward the donor. Then listen, the old man shall remain where he is. If I do not interest myself for him no one else will."
"That remains to be seen. Mr. Gottlieb has returned—"
"Ah! then, he has returned. Well, what can he do?"
"Not much, my dear uncle," exclaimed Gottlieb advancing towards Mr. Fabian, "except to give my dear aunt Ulrica, a full account of the interesting conversation I have accidentally overheard."
"Without replying Mr. Fabian stared a moment in bewildered surprise, at the intruder, and then rushing wildly to his horse, he mounted and urged the animal to a furious speed.