"No, indeed," answers Johannes with a somewhat uneasy laugh.
"Oh, my boy," growls Martin, scratching his bushy head, "what a lot of worry I have been through!--I tossed about in my bed a long night when I thought of you! I mean on account of the wrong I might be doing you."--Then after a time--"And yet when I look at her--she is so fair--so innocent--say yourself, my boy, could I possibly help loving her? When I saw her--ah--why it was all over with me.--In so many ways she reminded me of you--merry, and bright-eyed and full of mischief, just like you.--Of course she was a child and has remained one to the present day--Charmless and wild and playful as a child.--And I tell you--she wants holding in tighter--her spirits run away with her.--But that is just how I love her to be"--a tender look brightens his features--"and if I rightly think it over, I would not even miss one of her ridiculous doings. You know I always must have some one to watch over--formerly I had you, now she is the one."
After relieving his feelings in this manner, he once more becomes silent.
"And are you happy?" asks Johannes.
Martin hides himself in a thick cloud of smoke, and from out of that he mutters after a time:
"Well, that depends!"
"On what?"
"On your not being angry with her."
"I angry with her?"
"Well, well, you needn't make excuses!"