“Very well—­then take her out of this house at once!” roared Farmer Rodel, foaming with rage.

“Yes, you need not tell me to do that.  I thank you for your good reception, cousin.  When you come to us some day, we’ll make it quits,” replied John.  He put both hands up to his head, and cried:  “Good heavens!  Mother, mother, how glad you will be!”

“Go up, Barefoot, and take your box away at once; for nothing belonging to you shall remain in my house!” commanded Farmer Rodel.

“Very well,” replied John; “but that can be done with less noise.  Come, Barefoot, I’ll go with you.  But tell me what your real name is.”

“Amrei.”

“I was once to have married an Amrei—­she is the ’Butter Countess!’—­you are my Salt Countess!  Hurrah!  Now come; I should like to see your room, where you have lived so long.  Now you shall have a large house!”

The dog, with the hairs on his back standing up like bristles, kept walking around Farmer Rodel; he saw that the latter would have been glad to choke John.  Only when John and Barefoot were at the top of the stairs did the dog come running after them.

John let the box stand, because he could not take it on his horse.  But they packed Barefoot’s possessions into the sack which she had inherited from her father.

As they were descending the stairs together on their way out, Barefoot felt somebody quietly press her hand in the dark—­it was her mistress who was thus taking leave of her.  At the threshold, with her hand upon the door-post against which she had so often leaned, she said sadly: 

“May God reward this house for all good, and forgive it for all evil!”

They had gone but a few paces when Barefoot called out:  “Good heavens!  I have forgotten all my shoes!  They are upstairs on the shelf!”

Scarcely had she spoken the words, when the shoes, as if they were running after their owner, came flying out of the window and down into the street.

“Run to the devil in them!” cried a voice from the garret window.  The voice sounded masculine, and yet it belonged to Rose.

Barefoot collected the shoes and took them to the tavern with John, who carried the sack on his back.

The moon was shining brightly, and the whole village was already asleep.  Barefoot would not stay at the tavern.

“Then I should like to go home this very night,” said John.

“Before I do anything else,” replied Barefoot, “I must go to Black Marianne.  She has filled a mother’s place for me, and I have not seen her today, and have not been able to do anything for her.  And besides that, she’s ill.  Alas!  It is too bad that I shall have to leave her; but what am I to do?  Come, go with me to her.”

They went together to the house.  When Barefoot opened the inside door a moonbeam fell upon the angel on the stove, just as a sunbeam had fallen on that day of long ago.  And it seemed to smile and dance more merrily.