'But dearest, dearest Hannè! my kiss--my million?'
'We will see about it to-morrow; you must give me credit this evening.'
'My dearest Hannè, to-morrow will be too late; for Heaven's sake, have compassion on me! I am going away to-night; there is no to-morrow for me here. Give me but half the million now--but the quarter--but the four marks' worth which you owe me! Dear Hannè, pay me but the smallest mite of my promised treasure.'
'Nonsense! we must make the best of our way home, or we shall be well scolded.'
Gustav and Jettè joined us at that moment. The gloves and the kiss were for ever lost!
'Why, children, what has become of you, all this time?' exclaimed the Justitsraad. 'Come in now, and have a country-dance with the good folks before we leave them and go to have some mulled claret. Stop, stop, Carl, you can't dance with Hannè; she is engaged to one of the young farmers. You must take another partner. There is poor Annie, the lame milkmaid, she has scarcely danced at all; it is a sin that she is to sit all the evening, because one leg is a little shorter than the other. Go, dance with her.'
'Don't turn the poor girl's head with your enormous fibs,' cried Hannè to me, as I was entering the summer-house. 'Have pity on her unsophisticated heart, and do not speculate upon a million there; the herdsman would probably not allow it.'
'A million? The herdsman? What is all that stuff you are talking?' asked her father.
'Ill-nature--downright ill-nature, uncle.'
'Fie! cousin; that is not a chivalrous mode of speaking. But do go and foot it merrily with lame Annie, and I promise you the dance shall last at least an hour.'