So they plighted troth to one another. But soon after that there came a gentleman to make a last request for the hand of the lady shepherdess, and who said he would marry her if she were only dressed in the manner becoming her station without any other portion. Her brother would have willingly listened to this demand, and tried to persuade his sister to give her consent, pointing out to her what her duty was in such a case; but he could not succeed, at which he was much displeased.
When she saw that he was angry with her, she took him on one side, and said;
“Brother, you have long lectured me, and pressed me to marry such and such a man, and I would never consent. Now I beg of you not to be angry with or bear any resentment towards me, and I will tell you what has prevented my acceding to any of these requests, if you will promise not to be still more enraged against me.”
Her brother willingly promised. When she had obtained this assurance, she told him that she was as good as married already, and that as long as she lived she would never have for husband any other man than the one she would show him that night if he wished.
“I should much like to see him,” replied her brother, “but who is he?”
“You will see in good time,” she said.
At the accustomed hour the shepherd came, and climbed to the lady’s chamber, God knows how wet from having crossed the river. The brother looked at him, and saw it was his neighbour’s shepherd, and was in no small degree astonished; and still more so was the shepherd, who would have fled when he saw him.
“Stay! Stay!” said the gentleman, “there is nothing to fear.”
“Is this,” he added turning to his sister, “the man of whom you spoke to me?”
“Yes, truly, brother,” said she.