“Look you, cousin,” she said, “Hulda, too, gives you her blessing, and do not laugh at it, for God speaks in all that live; the flowers and beasts emanate from him as well as men.  And if man does not do his duty, and is not good and diligent, then God does not love him, and the flower which blooms and the cow that gives milk are dearer to him, for they do their duty.  But see, the milkmaid is ready, and now, Cousin Frederick William, now I must go to the milkroom and measure the milk into the pans, and I will tell you, but nobody else shall know, I secretly take a quart cup full of milk, and take it to the calves’ stable to the calf, from my Hulda.  It ought not, indeed, to drink milk any longer, but be an independent creature, eating hay and chewing the cud, but it will just feel that the milk comes from its own mother, and be glad.  Farewell, Cousin Frederick William, I must be gone.”

She was about to slip away, but the Electoral Prince held her fast.  “No,” he said, “not so cursory shall be our leave-taking, my darling little heavenly flower.  Who knows when we shall meet again?”

“You are not going away yet, cousin?” she asked, stroking his cheeks with both her little hands.  “Ah! they told me that your father would by no means allow you to remain here any longer, and I was so sorry that it made me cry.”

“Why did it make you sorry, Cousin Louisa?” asked the Electoral Prince, drawing the little maiden to himself.

She leaned her little head upon his shoulder.  “I do not know,” she said, looking at him with her great blue eyes.  “I believe I love you so much because you are always so good and friendly to me, and have often talked and played with me, and not laughed at me when I told you about my animals.  I thank you for it, my dear, good cousin, and I shall love you as long as I live.”

“And I, my dear, good cousin, I thank you for the motto which you have given me, and I shall think of it and of you as long as I live.  Yes, my dear child, I will be a good man, and do you know, little Louisa,” he continued, smiling, “whenever I am in trouble and danger, I shall think of you and pray, ’God and all ye innocent angels on high, have pity on the innocent and good!  Amen!’”

He pressed a fervent kiss on the child’s forehead, nodded smilingly to her, took the wreath from his head to conceal it in his bosom, and then strode away with light, quick steps.  The child looked thoughtfully after him with her large blue starry eyes, as if lost in thought, until the slender, athletic form of the young man had vanished behind the trees.  “How does he know my prayer?” she whispered softly, “and why did he smile as he repeated it?  Ah! surely Cousin Ludovicka has told him what a timid little coward I was last night.  But hark!  Hulda is lowing.  Yes, yes, I am coming now!”

And the little girl flew across the grassplot, and flung both her arms around the animal’s neck, and stroked and coaxed it, calling it pet names, and telling it of its beautiful calf, to which she would forthwith carry some milk.  And the cow lowed no more, but looked with its big intelligent eyes into the child’s face.