Address:  “To Her, the only woman I adore. 
  Inscription:  “Soul of my existence!!

“We are surrounded by pitfalls; I am aware that our foe watches my every step.  Cowardly spy, I scorn you!  Have no fear, Beloved, I will conquer all difficulties.  One bold deed will bring our love recognition. At two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, when the Dragon is asleep that guards my treasure, I shall expect to See your signal with the pocket-handkerchief.  As for myself, I shall then be hidden behind the manure heap on the bank beside the large ditch, and shall whistle three times on the crook of my stick to entice you to come to me.  And—­even though the powers of hell should fight against me—­I have sworn to be ever

THINE”

Mrs. Behrens was furious when she read this letter.  “The * * *!  The * * *!  Oh you young rascal!  ‘When the dragon is asleep!’ The wretch means me by that!  But wait a bit!  I’ll entice you to come to me, and though the powers of hell won’t touch you, if once I get hold of you, I’ll give you such a box on the ear as you never had before!”

About two o’clock next day, Mrs. Behrens rose from her sofa and went into the garden.  The parlor-door creaked and the garden-door banged as she went out, and the parson, hearing the noise, looked out at the window to see what it was that took his wife out at that unusual hour, for as a general rule she did not move from her sofa till three had struck.  He saw her go behind a bush and wave her pocket-handkerchief.  “She’s making signs to Hawermann, of course,” said he, and then he went and lay down again.  But the fact of the matter is that she only wanted to show her sister’s son how much she longed to get within reach of his ears.  But he did not come, nor yet were his three whistles to be heard.  She returned to her room very crossly, and when her husband asked her at coffee time to whom she had been making signals in the garden, she was so overwhelmed with confusion that in spite of being a clergyman’s wife—­I am sorry to have to confess it—­she told a lie, and said that she had found it so frightfully close she had been fanning herself a little.

On the third day after that she found another letter: 

  Address:  “To Her who is intended for me by Fate.
  Inscription:  “Sun of my dark existence!!

“Have you ever suffered the pains of hell? I have been enduring them since two o’clock in the afternoon of the day before yesterday when I was hidden behind the manure-heap.  The weather was lovely, our foe was busy in the clover-field, and your handkerchief was waving in the perfumed air like one of those tumbler pigeons I used to have long ago.  I was just about to utter the three whistles we had agreed upon, when that stupid old ass Braesig came up to me, and talked to me for a whole hour by the clock about the farm.  As soon