"Then that is arranged," said Vreni, and she flushed once more. "In fact, I think I should die if I could not dance with you to-morrow."
"Probably the best for us," said Sali, "if we both could die."
They embraced with tearful smiles, and bade each other good-by, but at the moment of parting they again laughed at each other, in the sure hope of meeting again next day.
"But when shall we meet?" asked Vreni.
"At eleven at latest," answered Sali. "Then we can eat a good noon meal together somewhere."
"Fine, fine," Vreni cried after him, "come half an hour earlier then."
But the very moment of their parting Vreni summoned him back once more, and she showed suddenly a wholly changed and despairing face: "Nothing, after all, can come of our plans," she then said, weeping hard, "because I had forgotten I had no Sunday shoes any more. Even yesterday I had to put on these clumsy ones going to town, and I don't know where to find a pair I could wear."
Sali stood undecided and amazed.
"No shoes?" he repeated after her. "In that case you'll have to go in these."
"But no, no," she remonstrated. "In these I should never be able to dance."