The lad laughed and said: 

“Mother, you ought to go about the world preaching, and give lectures for girls only.”

“Yes, I could do that,” replied the mother, also laughing.  “But I have brought out the last part first; you must, of course, notice how she behaves to her parents and to her brothers and sisters.  You are a good son yourself—­I need not tell you anything about that.  You know the Fourth Commandment.”

“Yes, mother, you may rest easy there—­I look out for a special sign in regard to that; where they make a big fuss about love for parents, it means nothing.  For filial love is best shown by deeds, and those who chatter very much about it, when the time comes for deeds, are tired and weary.”

“Why, how wise you are!” cried the mother; and she laid her hand on her bosom and looked up at her son.  “May I tell you something more?”

[Mother and son continue to discuss the qualifications of good wives for some time, until the son begins to show signs of impatience to be off.]

“Yes, yes,” said the mother, “I talk too much, and you need not remember it all.  It’s only to remind you, if it should come before you.  The gist of what I say is this:  the chief thing is not what a woman has or inherits, but what she uses.  And now, you know that I have always let you go your own way quietly; so then, open your heart to me, and tell me what it was that made you come back from the wedding at Endringen like a man bewitched, and why it is that you have never since then been the same lad that you were before.  Tell me, and perhaps I can help you.”

“Oh, mother, you cannot do that—­but I will tell you.  I saw some one there who would have been the right one, but she was the wrong one.”

“For heaven’s sake!  You did not fall in love with a married woman?”

“No, but still she was the wrong one.  Why should I make many words about it?  She was a servant-girl.”

The son drew a deep breath, and for some time both he and his mother were silent.  At last the mother laid her hand on his shoulder, and said: 

“Oh, you are good!  And I thank God that He has made you so.  You did well to put that out of your mind.  Your father would never have consented to it, and you know what a father’s blessing means.”

“No, mother, I will not make myself out better than I am.  I myself was annoyed that she was only a servant; I knew it would not do, and therefore I went away.  But it is even harder than I expected to get her out of my mind—­but now it’s over, it must be over.  I have promised myself not to make any inquiries about her, not to ask anybody where she is, or who she is, and, God willing, I shall bring you home a worthy farmer’s daughter.”

“Surely you acted fairly by the girl, and did not put any foolish notions into her head?”

“Mother, there’s my hand—­I have nothing to reproach myself for.”

“I believe you,” said the mother, and she pressed his hand repeatedly.  “And now, good luck, and my blessing go with you!”