“Ha! ha! ha!—a good, joke!” he cried; “you’ll never change, Coucou Peter!—you’ll never change; nobody makes me laugh like you!”
Night had closed in, and the shadows of the neighbouring houses had spread themselves in the large sitting-room, when Gredel brought in lights. She was about to serve up the supper, and quickly spread a cloth upon the table, arranged the covers, and distributed the plates in proper order. Coucou Peter looked at her admiringly; never had he seen her looking so fresh, plump, and attractive; he was astonished at himself for not having before discovered all the merits of his wife, and, suddenly rising, as if transported with enthusiasm, he passed his arm round her waist, and began to waltz with her, crying—
“Hey, Gredel! hey!—off we go!”
“Don’t play the fool!—don’t play the fool!” she cried.
But he paid no attention to what she said, and went on twirling her round and calling out—
“Hey, Gredel! off we go!” Finally, he gave her a sounding kiss on the neck, and exclaimed—
“You are my little Gredel—always my good little Gredel—the prettiest little Gredel I have ever met with in my life!”
He then returned to his seat, gravely crossed his legs, and appeared greatly contented with himself for what he had done.
The children rushed in, crying—