Kate. And Mrs. Ulrica hid me hold my tongue.
Christiern. My Ulric! my little Kate!
Mrs. Ulrica. Ay, my little Kate, you may speak now as much as you will.—(Their father kisses them eagerly.)—Ay, kiss them, kiss them; they are as good children as ever were born—and as honest: Kate, show him the purse, and ask him if it be his.
Kate. Is it yours, father?—(holds up the purse).
Christiern. ‘Tis mine; ‘twas in my knapsack; but how it came here, Heaven knows.
Ulric. We found it in the wood, father, as we were going home, just at the foot of a tree.
Charles (comes forward). Why, mayhap, now I recollect, I might have dropped it there—more shame for me, or rather more shame for them—(looking back at his companions)—that were playing the fool with me, and tumbled out all the things on the ground. Master, I hope there’s no harm done: we poor peasant fellows have brought home all the other knapsacks safe and sound to the relations of them that died; and yours came by mistake, it seems.
Christiern. It’s a very lucky mistake; for I wouldn’t have lost a waistcoat which there is in that knapsack for all the waistcoats in Sweden. My Catherine, ‘twas that which you gave me the day before I went abroad—do you remember it?
Charles. Ay, that she does; it had like to have been the death of her—for she thought you must be dead for certain when he saw it brought home without you—but I knew he was not ead, mistress—did not I tell you, mistress, not to give way to sorrow while there was hope left?
Cath. O joy! joy!—too much joy!