"So much the worse, then, for I shall run away; I shall run after you. The cold, indeed! What do I care for the cold? And if you are wounded, and if you ask to see your little Louise for the last time, and she is not there close to you, to tend you, to love you to the last? Oh! you must think me very hard-hearted!"
She sobbed and cried. Hullin could restrain himself no longer.
"Is it really true that Mother Lefévre consents?" he asked.
"Oh! yes; oh! yes; she told me so. She said, 'Try to persuade Papa Jean-Claude; for my part, I ask no better; I am quite willing.'"
"In that case, what can I do against you both? You shall come with us. It is settled."
There was then a shriek of joy that made the whole house echo.
"Oh! how good and kind you are!" and with a brush of the hand the tears were dried up.
"We are going away, to ramble over the mountains, and make war," was now the joyful cry.
"Ha!" said Hullin, with a shake of the head; "I see now you are still the same little heimathslôs as ever. As well try and tame a swallow." Then, drawing her to his knee: "Ah! Louise," said he, "it is now twelve years since I found you in the snow; you were quite blue with the cold, poor little thing! And when we got home to the little cabin, and the warm fire brought you gently round, the first thing you did was to smile upon me. And from that time I have always done whatever you wanted. With that smile you have led me by the nose."
Then Louise began to smile upon him again, and they embraced each other very lovingly.