Father and son shook hands, and the mother said:
"I'll escort you part of the way."
The young man, leading his horse by the bridle, then walked quietly beside his mother until they were out in front of the yard, and it was not until they reached the turn in the road that the mother said, hesitatingly:
"I should like to give you some good advice."
"Yes, yes, let me have it—I'll listen to it gladly."
The mother then took her son's hand, and began:
"You must stand still—I can't talk while I am walking. Look; that she should please you is, of course, the first thing—there's no happiness without love. Well, I am an old woman, and so I may say what I think to you, may I not?"
"Yes, surely."
"Well, if it doesn't make you happy, if it doesn't make you feel as if it were a boon from heaven to kiss her, then it's not the right kind of love. But—why don't you stand still—but that kind of love is not enough; there may be something else concealed beneath it, believe me." Here the old woman blushed crimson and hesitated. "Look you," she went on, "where there is not the right feeling of respect, when a man does not feel rejoiced that a woman takes a thing in hand in just one way, and not in another, and does it just in this way, and not in that—it's a bad sign. And above all things, notice how she treats her servants."
"I'll take what you have to say, and change it into small coin for you; for talking is hard for you. What you have just said, I understand; she must not be too proud, and not too familiar."