When Gotz had ended these great and comforting tidings, and I enquired of him what then had at last brought him homewards, he freely confessed that my brothers’ discourse had recalled to him so plainly his fathers’ house, his parents, and all that was dear and that he had left, that he could no longer endure to stay away beyond seas.  Then he looked me in the eyes and whispered:  “The images of my sick mother and my grey-headed father drew me most strongly; yet was a third; a dear, sweet, childish face; the very same as now looks into mine so gladly and lovingly.  Yes, it is the very face I had hoped to find it; and when, erewhile, I saw your likeness in the red hood, and heard your speech as you poured forth your inmost soul to grandmother Pernhart, I knew my own mind.”

How dear the newcomer was, in truth, to all in the Pernhart household I might mark that evening.  The old grandam’s eyes rested on him as though he were a dear son, and Master Pernhart would come close to him now and again, and stroke his arm.  Twice only did he hastily turn away and privily wipe his eyes.  Nevertheless he saw our love-making with no jealousy; nay, when Gotz could scarce tear himself away from my picture, Master Pernhart whispered to him that if ever a maid should stand in his Gertrude’s place it should be Margery, and the grandam had cried Amen.

It was already midnight when horses’ hoofs were heard in the street, and when they stopped Gotz rose, and then presently all the others vanished from the chamber.  Yet were we not long suffered to enjoy each other’s fellowship, inasmuch as he himself had ordered his horse, to the end that he might ride forth spite of the lateness of the hour to the forest.  His servingman, himself the son of a forester, had been there already to desire Grubner, the headman, to bid my uncle to his dwelling early on the morrow, and the good son purposed there to gladden himself by meeting his father, after that he had greeted the house unseen in the darkness.

But how hard it was to part after so brief a meeting from this newly-found and best-beloved lover, and to see the weary traveller fare forth once more into the dark night.  And how few words in secret had we as yet spoken, how little had we discussed what might befall on the morrow, and how he should demean himself to his mother!

To my humble entreaty that he would set aside the unnatural and sinful oath which forbade him to enter his parents’ house he had turned a deaf ear.  Yet how lovingly had he given me to understand his stern refusal, which I justly deserved, inasmuch as I knew full well the meaning of an oath; and yet I besought him with all my heart to send away his horse, and bid me not farewell when welcome had scarce been spoken.  On the morrow it would be a joy to me to ride forth with him, and my uncle could never chafe at a few short hours’ delay.