'Ah! I've not brought the goose, for I took a rooster in his stead.'
'Good husband!' said the wife, 'you're wiser than I would have been. A rooster! splendid!—why, a rooster's better than an eight-day clock. The rooster will crow every morning, at four, and tell us when it is time to pray to God and set about our work. What would we have done with a goose? I don't know how to cook one, and as for the quilt, Heaven be praised, there's no lack of moss a great deal softer than down. So, let us put the rooster in the corn-yard!'
'I have not brought even the rooster,' murmured Gudbrand, 'for, at sundown, I felt very hungry, and had to sell my rooster for a shilling to buy something to eat. If it hadn't been for that I must have starved to death.'
'God be thanked for giving you that lucky thought,' replied the wife. 'All that you do, Gudbrand, is just after my own heart. What need we of a rooster? We are our own masters, I think; there is no one to give us orders, and we can stay in bed just as long as we please. Here you are, my dear husband, safe and sound. I am perfectly satisfied, and have need of nothing more than your presence to make me happy.'
Upon this, Gudbrand opened the door;—'Well! neighbor Peter, what do you say to that? Go, now, and bring me your twenty crowns!' So saying, Gudbrand hugged and kissed his wife with as much fervor and heartiness as though he and she had just been wedded, in the bloom of youth.
Part III.
But the narrative does not end with the events described in the last chapter. There is a reverse to every medal, and even daylight would not be so charming were it not followed by night. However good and perfect woman may, generally, be, there are some who by no means share the easy disposition of Gudbrand's better half. Need I say that the fault is, usually, in the husband? If he were only to yield, on all occasions, would he be troubled? Yield? exclaim some fierce moustachioed individuals. Yes, indeed, yield, or hear the penalty that awaits you.