One evening Athalie said to Timéa, as she was going to bed, "I say, Timéa, the captain has proposed for you. Will you accept him?"
The child looked at Athalie quite frightened, ran to her couch, and drew the covering over her head, so that no one should see her.
Athalie was highly entertained that the girl could not sleep on account of these words—that she should toss restlessly on her bed, and sigh wakefully all night. The delicate jest had succeeded.
The next day Timéa was unusually quiet. She laid aside her childish manner; thoughtful melancholy lay on her features; and she became monosyllabic. The philter had done its work.
Athalie let the whole household into the secret. They were to treat Timéa henceforward as a future bride—as the betrothed of Herr Katschuka. The servants, the mistress, all took part in the comedy.
Let no one say this was a heathenish jest; on the contrary, it was a Christian one.
Athalie said to Timéa:
"Here, see, the captain has sent you an engagement-ring; but you must not put it on your finger as long as you are a heretic. You must first become a Christian. Will you be baptized?"
Timéa crossed her hands on her breast and bowed her head.
"Then you shall be baptized first. That this may be done, you must learn the articles of faith, the catechism, the Bible history, psalms, and prayers; you must go to the priest and to the schoolmaster to be instructed. Will you do that?"