“Just wait a moment,” said Hansei to Walpurga when he found himself alone with her.  “Before we cross this threshold for the last time, I’ve something to tell you.  I must tell it.  I mean to be a righteous man and to keep nothing concealed from you.  I must tell you this, Walpurga.  While you were away and Black Esther lived up yonder, I once came very near being wicked—­and unfaithful—­thank God, I wasn’t.  But it torments me to think that I ever wanted to be bad; and now, Walpurga, forgive me and God will forgive me, too.  Now I’ve told you, and have nothing more to tell.  If I were to appear before God this moment, I’d know of nothing more.”

Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, “You’re my dear good husband!” and they crossed the threshold for the last time.

When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at the cherry-tree, and said:—­

“And so you remain here.  Won’t you come with us?  We’ve always been good friends, and spent many an hour together.  But wait!  I’ll take you with me, after all,” cried he, joyfully, “and I’ll plant you in my new home.”

He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one of the roots of the tree.  He stuck it in his hat-band, and went to join his wife at the boat.

From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry sounds of fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets.

Hansei hastened to the landing-place.  The whole village had congregated there, and with it the full band of music.  Tailor Schneck’s son, he who had been one of, the cuirassiers at the christening of the crown prince, had arranged and was now conducting the parting ceremonies.  Schneck, who was scraping his bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out in the midst of the music:—­

“Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best!  Hip, hip, hurrah!”

The early dawn resounded with their cheers.  There was a flourish of trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small mortars were echoed back from the mountains.  The large boat in which their household furniture, the two cows, and the fowls were placed, was adorned with wreaths of fir and oak.  Walpurga was standing in the middle of the boat, and with both hands held the child aloft, so that it might see the great crowd of friends and the lake sparkling in the rosy dawn.

“My master’s best respects,” said one of Grubersepp’s servants, leading a snow-white colt by the halter:  “he sends you this to remember him by.”

Grubersepp was not present.  He disliked noise and crowds.  He was of a solitary and self-contained temperament.  Nevertheless he sent a present which was not only of intrinsic value, but was also a most flattering souvenir; for a colt is usually given by a rich farmer to a younger brother when about to depart.  In the eyes of all the world—­that is to say, the whole village—­Hansei appeared as the younger brother of Grubersepp.

Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the snow-white foal into the boat.  Gruberwaldl, who was but six years old, stood by the whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking kindly to it.