“You talk as if you had not lived at all until now, and as if you had always been obliged to eat your food without salt or seasoning!”

And then John told them that Amrei was also called the Salt Countess, and he related the story of the King and his Daughter.

It was a happy family—­in the parlor, in the yard, in the field.  The Farmer often said that his food for years had not tasted so good to him as it did now; and he used to get Amrei to prepare things for him three or four times a day, at quite irregular hours.  And he made her sit with him while he ate it.

The wife, with a feeling of proud satisfaction, took Amrei into the dairy, and then into the store-rooms.  In the latter place she opened a large, gaily-painted chest, full of fine, bleached linen, and said: 

“This is your outfit—­nothing is lacking but shoes.  I am very glad that you kept the shoes you got with your wages, for I have a superstition about that.”

When Amrei questioned her about the way things had been done in the house hitherto, she nodded approvingly.  She did not, however, express any approval in words, but the confidential tone in which she discussed ordinary matters made it quite evident that she felt it.  The very supremity of satisfaction lay in her words.  And when she began to depute certain matters in the household management to Barefoot, she said: 

“Child, let me tell you something; if there is anything about our ways of doing things in the house that doesn’t please you, you needn’t be afraid to alter it so that it suits you.  I am not one of those who think that things must always remain just as they were originally arranged, and that no changes should be made.  You have a perfect right to do as you think best, and I shall be glad to see a fresh hand at work.  Only if you’ll listen to me—­I advise you, for your own sake, to do it gradually.”

It was pleasant, indeed, to see old experience and young strength joining hands, physically and mentally.  Amrei declared with heartfelt sincerity that she found everything capitally arranged, and that she should be only too glad if one day, when she was old, the household was in as good order as it was now.

“You look far ahead,” said the old woman.  “And that is a good thing; for whosoever thinks of the future thinks of the past as well, and so you will not forget me when I am gone.”

Messengers had been sent out to announce the family event to the sons and sons-in-law of the house, and to invite them to Zumarshofen the following Sunday.  After that the old man trotted about after Amrei more than ever; he seemed to have something on his mind which he wanted to say, but could not express.

There is a saying about buried treasures to the effect that a black monster squats over them, and that on holy nights a blue flame appears over the spot where the rich treasures lie buried; furthermore that children, born on Sunday, can see this flame, and if they remain calm and unmoved, they can secure the treasure.  One would never have thought that such a treasure was hidden in old Farmer Landfried, and that squatting over it was black obstinacy and contempt for humankind.  But Amrei saw the little blue flame hovering above him, and knew how to conduct herself in such a way as to release the treasure.