The beautiful April night passed pleasantly away.  When Maria was braiding black velvet into her hair the next morning, she was full of grateful emotion, for she had found courage to tell Peter that she desired to have a larger share in his anxieties than before, and received a kind assent.  A worthier, richer life, she hoped, would now begin.  He was to tell her this very day what he had discussed and accomplished with the Prince and at Dortrecht, for hitherto no word of all this had escaped his lips.

Barbara, who was moving about in the kitchen and just on the point of catching three chickens to kill them, let them live a little longer, and even tossed half a handful of barley into their coop, as she heard her sister-in-law come singing down-stairs.  The broken bars of Wilhelm’s last madrigal sounded as sweet and full of promise as the first notes of the nightingale, which the gardener hears at the end of a long winter.  It was spring again in the house, and her pleasant round face, in its large cap, looked as bright and unclouded as a sunflower amid its green leaves, as she called to Maria: 

“This is a good day for you, child; we’ll melt down the butter and salt the hams.”

The words sounded as joyous as if she had offered her an invitation to Paradise, and Maria willingly helped in the work, which began at once.  When the widow moved her hands, tongues could not remain silent, and the conversation that had probably taken place between Peter and his wife excited her curiosity not a little.

She turned the conversation upon him cleverly enough, and, as if accidentally, asked the question: 

“Did he apologize for his departure on the anniversary of your wedding-day?”

“I know the reason; he could not stay.”

“Of course not, of course not; but whoever is green the goats eat.  We mustn’t allow the men to go too far.  Give, but take also.  An injustice endured is a florin, for which in marriage a calf can be bought.”

“I will not bargain with Peter, and if anything weighed heavily on my mind, I have willingly forgotten it after so long a separation.”

“Wet hay may destroy a barn, and any one to whom the hare runs can catch him!  People ought not to keep their troubles to themselves, but tell them; that’s why they have tongues, and yesterday was the right time to make a clean breast of everything that grieves you.”

“He was in such a joyous mood when he came home, and then:  Why do you think I feel unhappy?”

“Unhappy.  Who said so?”

Maria blushed, but the widow seized the knife and opened the hen-coop.

Trautchen was helping the two ladies in the kitchen, but she was frequently interrupted in her work, for this morning the knocker on the door had no rest, and those who entered must have brought the burgomaster no pleasant news, for his deep, angry voice was often audible.

His longest discussion was with Herr Van Hout, who had come to him, not only to ask questions and tell what occurred, but also to make complaints.