The moon was shining brightly, and the whole village was already asleep.
Barefoot would not stay at the tavern.
"Then I should like to go home this very night," said John.
"Before I do anything else," replied Barefoot, "I must go to Black Marianne. She has filled a mother's place for me, and I have not seen her today, and have not been able to do anything for her. And besides that, she's ill. Alas! It is too bad that I shall have to leave her; but what am I to do? Come, go with me to her."
They went together to the house. When Barefoot opened the inside door a moonbeam fell upon the angel on the stove, just as a sunbeam had fallen on that day of long ago. And it seemed to smile and dance more merrily.
Barefoot cried with a loud voice:
"Marianne! Marianne! Wake up, Marianne! Happiness and blessing are here!
Wake up!"
The old woman sat up in bed; the moonlight fell upon her face and neck.
She opened her eyes wide and said:
"What is it? What is it? Who calls?"
"Rejoice! Here I bring you my John!"
"My John!" screamed the old woman, "Good God, my John! How long—how long—I have thee—I have thee! Oh God, I thank thee a thousand and a thousand times! Oh, my child, my boy! I see thee with a thousand eyes, and a thousandfold—No, there—there—thy hand! Come here—there—there in the chest is thy dowry! Take the cloth! My son! my boy! Yes, yes, she is thine! John, my son, my son! my—"