“Oh, so she has come to it at last, has she?  I have been expecting it.  You go back and tell her that I can give her all the information she wants; but she must come to me for it, herself, and speak pleasantly to me, as I do to her.  Tell her that she will never see him again, as long as she lives; he is too far off.  But if she wants to send him a message, she has but to come to me and ask, and I will do her that favor, and she can do me one in return.  Go now, Blasi, and tell her this from me.  I’ll pay for the beer myself.”

Blasi felt stunned.  Jost had seen through his little game at a glance, and treated it with contempt.  How could he carry such a message to Veronica?  It might bring the tears into her eyes again, and that was altogether too painful to see.  There was no use in remonstrating with Jost, who sat there smiling scornfully without farther words.  For the first time in his life, Blasi left his glass unfinished.  He pulled his cap down over his eyes and left the inn.  When he entered the widow’s cottage, Veronica sat by the table, stitching away at the old mail-bag.  She put it down as he came in, and looked up anxiously into his face.

“It’s no use; he is just splitting with rage and fury;” and Blasi threw his cap across into the farthest corner of the room.  He related the whole conversation and it was plain enough that it was useless for him to try to get anything out of Jost.

She was silent for a time; thinking over Jost’s words.  “He wants to humble me!  I am to go and beseech him to tell me; and I must be friendly and do him a favor.  What favor?  No, I will have nothing to do with him.”

She took up the bag again, stitched up the last hole, and folded the work.  Then she said,

“May I ask one thing more of you, Blasi?  I hope I shall be able to repay you some day for all your kindness.”

“Only speak, Veronica,” said Blasi, “I will do anything you ask.  If you want me to, I will go to find Dietrich, even if I have to go on foot all the way to Australia.”

“Oh, it is no such long journey as that.  I am sorry to ask you to do a disagreeable errand, but you see Mother is much disturbed because this mail-bag has not been sent back.  She seems to be in a hurry to have everything finished and settled up—­as if she had no time to lose.”  Veronica paused, and the tears that it so troubled Blasi to see, filled her eyes to overflowing.  “I promised mother that the bag should be sent home early tomorrow morning, and you see I have no one but you to ask.  You can’t leave your work in the daytime and at evening you have to go to meet me; so there is no time but the very early morning before work hours.”

“I will take it if it snows cats and dogs; but where is it to go?”

“It is not a pleasant walk, unless you go a long way round by the high-road.  The bag belongs at the post-office at the Valley bridge.  Do you think you could get down the steep foot-path in this deep snow?  I should feel dreadfully if anything were to happen to you, Blasi.”