are fastened upon him as he comes forward, his right hand behind him, and his left holding a silver-mounted pipe.  His silver watch-chain bobs up and down, and how beautiful is his black velvet jacket, and his loose black velvet trousers, and his red waistcoat!  But more beautiful still is his round head with its curly, brown hair.  His brow is white as snow; but from the eyes down his face is sunburnt, and a light, full beard covers his chin and cheeks.

“That’s a bonny fellow,” said one of the old women.

“And what heavenly blue eyes he has!” added another; “they are at once so roguish and so kind.”

“Where can he be from?  He’s not from this neighborhood,” said a third.

And a fourth observed: 

“I’ll wager he’s another suitor for Amrei.”

Barefoot started.  What did this mean?  What was that she said?  But she soon found out the meaning of it, for the first old lady resumed: 

“Then I’m sorry for him; for the Butter Countess makes fools of all the men.”

And so the Butter Countess’s name was also Amrei.

The young stranger had passed through the room several times, turning his eyes from one side to the other.  Then he suddenly stopped not far from Barefoot and beckoned to her.  A hot flush overspread her face; she stood riveted to the spot and did not move a muscle.  No, he certainly beckoned to somebody behind you; he cannot mean you.  The stranger pressed forward and Amrei made way for him.  He must be looking for some one else.

“No, it’s you I want,” said the lad, taking Barefoot’s hand.  “Will you dance?”

Amrei could not speak.  But what need was there to speak?  She threw everything she had in her arms down into a corner—­jackets, neckerchiefs, caps, pipes, and door-keys—­and stood there ready.  The lad threw a dollar up to the musicians; and when Crappy Zachy saw Amrei on the arm of the stranger, he blew his trumpet until the very walls trembled.  And to the blessed souls above no music can sound more beautiful than did this to Amrei.  She danced she knew not how; she felt as if she were being carried in the stranger’s arms, as if she were floating in the air, and there seemed to be no one else there.  And, indeed, they both danced so well, that everybody involuntarily stopped to look at them.

“We are alone,” said Amrei during the dance; and then she felt the warm breath of her partner as he answered: 

“Oh that we were alone—­alone in the world!  Why cannot one go on dancing thus—­on and on to the end of time.”

“I feel,” said Amrei, “just as if we were two doves flying through the air.  Juhu! away into the heavens!” And “Juhu!” cried the lad gleefully, “Juhu!” And the sound shot up heavenward like a fiery rocket.  “Juhu!” cried Amrei, rejoicing with him.  And on they danced with ever-increasing joy.  Finally Amrei said: 

“Tell me—­is the music going on?  Are the musicians still playing?  I don’t hear them any more.”