Jella blushed, not knowing what to answer to so polite a youth.
They, therefore, went off together, and in no time they reached her house. Jella then bid the stranger good-bye, and, standing on the door-step, she saw him disappear in the darkness of the night.
Whither had he gone? Which turning had he taken? She did not know.
A feeling of deep sadness came over her; for the first time in her life she felt a sense of bereavement and loneliness.
Would this handsome young man come back again? She almost felt like running after the stranger to ask him if they would meet on the morrow, or, at least, after some days. Being a modest girl, she, of course, could not do so; moreover, the youth had already disappeared.
"Did you bring me any cakes?" was the mother's first question, peevish at being awakened in her first sleep.
"Oh, no! mati; I never ate a crumb of a cake myself."
"And you enjoyed yourself?"
"Oh! very much so; far more than I ever thought."
Thereupon she began to relate all that had happened, and would have made a long description of the young man who had danced with her, but her father woke in the midst of a tough snore and bade her hold her tongue.