Mrs. Rosel, confounded at the unceremonious conduct of her sister-in-law before such an august audience, checked her loquacity by saying, "I most humbly beg pardon of your grace, for having brought these people here,--they are the wife and daughter of the fifer of Hardt; pray do not take it ill, your highness, the woman means well, I assure you."
The Duke was more amused with the excuses of Mrs. Rosel than with the blunt language of her sister. "How is your husband?" said he to the countrywoman, "will he visit us soon? why did he not come with you?"
"He has his reasons, sir," she replied; "if war breaks out, he'll certainly not stay at home, for then he may be of some use; but in peaceable times, why he thinks it is not becoming to eat cherries with great folks."
The naïveté of the plump matron almost drove Mrs. Rosel to desperation: she pulled her by the petticoat, and by the long tails of hair, but to no purpose. The wife of the fifer went on talking, to the great amusement of the Duke and his guests, whose irresistible laughter, which her answers elicited, appeared only to increase her happiness and good humour. Barbelle in the meantime, playing with the handle of a little basket she held in her hand, scarcely ventured occasionally to raise her eyes to look at that face which she had beheld with such tender sympathy when she nursed Albert during the long period of his fever. The impression which those days had left on her mind still remained in all its vigour, and the sight of him who had unawares made an inroad into the recesses of her heart, made her fearful of meeting his eye. She heard him say to his wife, "That is the kind girl who nursed me when I lay ill in her father's house, and who conducted me part of the way to Lichtenstein."
Bertha turned to her, and took her hand with great kindness. The girl trembled, and her cheeks assumed a deep blush. She opened her little basket, and presented a piece of beautiful linen, with a few bundles of flax, as fine and soft as silk. She attempted in vain to speak, but kissing the hand of the young bride, a tear fell upon her nuptial ring.
"Eh, Barbelle!" scolded Mrs. Rosel, "don't be so timid and nervous. Gracious young lady,--I would say gracious madame,--have compassion on her; she comes but seldom into the presence of quality folks. There is no one so good who has not two dispositions, says the proverb; the girl can be otherwise as merry and cheerful as larks in spring."
"I thank you, Barbelle," said Bertha: "your linen is very acceptable and very fine. Did you spin it yourself?"
The girl smiled through her tears, and nodded a yes! to speak at that moment appeared to her impossible. The Duke liberated her from this embarrassment only to place her in another still greater. "The fifer of Hardt has truly a very pretty child," he cried, and beckoned to her to approach nearer, "well grown and lovely to behold! only look, chancellor, how well the red bodice and short petticoat become her. Could not we, Ambrosius Bolland, issue an edict for all the beauties in Stuttgardt to adopt this neat dress?"
The chancellor's countenance became distorted into a hideous smile: he examined the blushing maiden from head to foot with his little green eyes; and said, "Certainly, a very good reason could be given, by which an ell might be spared in the length of petticoats, for, as your grace a few years back ordered the weights and measures to be reduced, you have also the right, by all the rules of logic, to shorten the dress of females. But nothing would be gained by it, for--hi! hi! hi! you would see that what was cut off from the bottom, our beauties would be obliged to add above. And who knows whether the ladies would willingly agree to that? They belong to the genus of peacocks, who, you know, don't like to shew their legs."
"You are right, Ambrosius;" the Duke laughed; "nothing escapes a learned man! But tell me, my dear, have you got a sweetheart?"