"Let Knuslingen sleep on it in peace," answered Pilgrim; "make a footstool of your pillow, and leave all the rest." "Must I leave my hens and my geese here too? They are my own, they all belong to me; and my beautiful gold speckled hen has been laying for the last six weeks." The bepraised lady stuck her head out, between the bars of the coop, and showed her red comb. Pilgrim said that hens and geese all ran after the veritable Cinderella of their own accord; and that if these chose to do the same, no one wished to prevent them, but that they certainly would not be taken in the sledge. Franzl now charged her sister-in-law to pay the greatest attention to the cherished creatures she left behind: she was to take care of them, to feed them well, and to send them to her when a man came for them. When Franzl was leaving the room, the hens began to cackle uneasily in their coop, and even the geese said a friendly word of regret as she passed them. It was a fine, bright winter night when Franzl drove off with Pilgrim; the stars glittered above, and a heaven filled with shining stars arose within Franzl's soul. She often laid hold of her bundle, and pressed it till she felt her shoe was safe there; and often, as they dashed along, she thought it was all a dream. "Look! there is my little patch of potato ground that I bought," said Franzl; "it was only a heap of stones, and I have cultivated it so well during the four years I have had it, that it is worth double, and the potatoes it grows are like flour." "Potatoes may be very precious in the sight of the Knuslingers, but you shall get something better now," answered Pilgrim. He then detailed to her every particular, with regard to the rescue of the inhabitants of the house on the Morgenhalde, and told her that they all were now to live with old Petrowitsch, and that they were the best of friends; the old miser seemed entirely changed, and Annele's first request was, that Franzl should be sent for. Franzl sobbed aloud when Pilgrim told her that Annele's hair was now snow white. At every house they passed, where lights were visible, Franzl would fain have stopped and told them the famous news. "There lives so and so, such good kind people! and they all deplored poor Lenz's fate; and it is hard that they should go on lamenting, when there is no longer any occasion for it. And they will jump sky high for joy, when they hear that the first thing they did was to send for old Franzl; and who knows if I may ever see them again to say good bye to them?" Pilgrim, however, drove pitilessly past all these good men, and would not stop anywhere. When any one opened a window, and looked out at the sledge, then Franzl called out as loud as she could: "Good bye, and God bless you!" And although, from the ringing of the bells, no one heard a word she said, still she had the satisfaction of having shouted a kind word to the good souls; for who knows when she might come back to Knuslingen?--perhaps never!