where we must go, and what you must take leave of; for even if you are going only a couple of miles away, still you are going away from the village, and you must bid it good-by.  It’s hard enough for me that I am not to have you with me any longer—­no, I mean that I am not to be with you any longer, for I don’t want to rule over you, as people say I do.  Yes, yes,—­old Marianne was right; alone is a great word; one can’t possibly learn all that it means.  As long as you were living on the other side of the street, even if I did not see you for a week at a time, it did not matter; for I could have you at any moment, and that was as good as living together.  But now—­well, it’s not out of the world, after all.  But remember, don’t try to lift too much, or hurt yourself in your work.  And when any of your things are torn, send them to me—­I’ll mend them for you, and continue to knit for you.  And now, come, let us go to the churchyard.”

Damie objected to this plan, making the plea that he felt the parting heavy enough, and did not want to make it any heavier.  His sister gave in.  He took off his father’s clothes again, and Barefoot packed them in the sack she had once worn as a cloak in the days when she kept the geese.  This sack still bore her father’s name upon it, and she charged Damie specially to send her back the sack at the first opportunity.

The brother and sister went out together.  A cart belonging to Hirlingen was passing through the village; Damie hailed it, and quickly loaded his possessions on it.  Then he walked with his sister, hand in hand, out of the village, and Barefoot sought to cheer him up by saying: 

“Do you remember the riddle I asked you there by the oven?”

“No.”

“Think:  What is best about the oven?”

“No.”

  “Of the oven this is best, ’tis said,
  That it never itself doth eat the bread.”

“Yes, you can be cheerful—­you’re going to stay home.”

“But it was your own wish to go away.  And you can be cheerful, too, if you only try hard enough.”

In silence she walked on with her brother to the Holderwasen.  There, under the wild pear-tree, she said: 

“Here we will say good-by.  God bless you, and don’t be afraid of anything!”

They shook hands warmly, and then Damie walked on toward Hirlingen, and Barefoot turned back toward the village.  Not until she got to the foot of the hill, where Damie could not see her, did she venture to lift up her apron and wipe away the tears that were running down her cheeks.

[Amrei and Damie were separated for three years.  During this time the girl made herself more and more liked and respected by everybody, not only on account of her pleasant ways and general helpfulness, but also on account of her self-sacrificing devotion to her unappreciative brother.  While her going barefoot and having been a goose-girl caused her to be the victim of more or less raillery, still nobody meant it at all seriously unless it was Rose, Farmer Rodel’s youngest daughter, who was jealous of Amrei’s popularity.  One day when Amrei was standing by her window, she heard the fire-bell ringing.]