"Peter next began to give me counsels worthy of a patriarch.
"'My lady, I've only one thing to say. Go back to his lordship. God's my witness that nothing will befall you. Say now, Jutka—come, on your soul be honest—have I so much as touched you with my little finger since you came back? His lordship, too, knows all about it. He will close one eye. Let's look upon the matter as if he and I had been wrestling together, and first one had had a fall and then the other. One box on the ears deserves another. So it is among men of honour!'"
"Oh, don't make me laugh so, or I cannot go on sketching!" said I to Bessy, with the tears in my eyes.
"I don't know what you can find to laugh at, I could cry for vexation even now."
"Why, that of itself is enough to make one laugh!"
Bessy continued:—
"But then the woman began talking nicely to me, which was ever so much worse. 'Come, come, my dear, good, pretty lady, have respect for your nice, handsome, lawful lord. Why, what a fine gentleman it is! Why, if I hadn't my Peter ...'
"'You manage to forget that, though, pretty often!' intervened Peter.
"The long and short of it all was that I had to resume the clothes I had left behind me, and restore to Jutka the draggle-tail rags which she had charged me with spoiling. But what objection could I make? What belongs to another is his, so I began to strip off my frock and neckerchief before the pair of them straightaway.
"The other woman then got a bit ashamed on my account. 'Let us go into the inner room,' said she; and drew me into the little chamber, and took out of her wardrobe the lordly raiment I had left there, and then helped me to dress. And all the time she was so mild, so friendly, and quite lost herself in rustic caresses and flatteries: 'Why, what a nice slim waist! What a shame that a mere clown should clasp it round! What lovely white shoulders! What a sin to ruin them by carrying about heavy loads! And how swollen the little feet are from much walking! Why, they'll scarcely go into the old dress-boot, I do declare! Why fly into such tantrums about such trifles! Good gracious me! suppose every lady who caught her lord with a little milkmaid were to carry on with the first clown that fell in her way! Things like that should not be taken so seriously. A man is but a man, especially if he is a gentleman! Why, I've seen countesses even, whose husbands went on the loose. You expect too much, my dear! Chocolate is the nicest dish in the whole world; but if one were to give one's husband nothing but chocolate every day, he would soon loathe the very sight of it. Come, come! go home, dear heart, my darling ladykin, to your dear good lord and master, and you'll see how heartily he'll receive you!'