"Don't let that worry you. Your wife will be as well taken care of as the queen herself." "I don't know how it is, but when I look at this gentleman and hear him talk," said Hansei, looking Baum straight in the face, "I feel ever so queer." "How so? Do I look so terrible?" "God forbid! No, indeed! But the one I'm thinking of was a good-for-nothing fellow. No offense, I assure you. But old Zenza--there she is at the garden gate, watching us--had twins. One is named Thomas and the other was Wolfgang, or Jangerl, as they say hereabouts. Well, Jangerl joined the soldiers and went to America. It must have been some thirteen or fourteen years ago, and no one has ever heard of him since, and really--but you won't think ill of what I say?" "Of course not! Go on." "Well, Jangerl looked just like you to the very hair. No, not the hair, for his was red and his face wasn't as fine as yours, either; but taking it altogether, just as the devil takes the farmers"--Hansei was delighted with his joke, and the lackey joined in his laughter--"one might say that you look like each other. But you're sure you're not angry at what I've said?" "Not at all," said Baum, looking at his watch. The clock in the church steeple was just striking five, and he said: "There's a difference of exactly one hour between your clock and that at the capital. Did this house belong to your parents?" "No, I got it with my wife. That's to say, we still owe a mortgage of two hundred florins on it, but the farmer who holds it, doesn't press us." "Your wife can buy you another house, and you ought to consider yourself lucky to have so good-looking a wife." "Yes, and that's what makes me sorry to give her up," complained Hansei. "However, there are only three hundred and sixty-five days in a year--but that's a good many, after all." "And as many nights in the bargain," said Baum, laughing. Poor Hansei shuddered. "Yes, indeed!" said he. He felt that politeness required an answer on his part. In the mean while, Walpurga had asked her mother and Stasi to leave her alone with the child. She was kneeling beside the cradle and wetted the pillow with her tears. She kissed the child, the coverlet, and cradle, and then, getting up, said: "Farewell! A thousand times, farewell!" She had dried her tears, and was about to leave the room, when the door opened from without and her mother entered. "I'll help you," said she. "You'll be either twice as happy, or twice as miserable, when you return, and will make us just as happy or as miserable as you are." Then she took Walpurga's left hand in hers, and, in a commanding voice, said: "Put your right hand on your child's head!" "What's that for, mother?" "Do as I bid you. Swear by your child's head and by the hand I hold in mine, that you'll remain good and pure, no matter what temptations may assail you. Remember you're a wife, a mother, a daughter! Do you swear this with all your heart?"