They stepped on the threshold of the kitchen door left open the whole night and which led direct into the open, and they had to laugh as they now saw each other plainly. For the right cheek of Vreni and the left one of Sali, which in their sleep had been resting against each other, were both quite red from the pressure, while the pallor of the opposite cheeks was engrossed by the coolth of early morning. So then they rubbed vigorously the pale cheeks to bring them into consonance with the others, each performing that service for the other. The fresh morning air, the dewy peace lying over the whole landscape, and the ruddy tints of coming sunrise, all this together made them forget their griefs and made them merry and playful, and into Vreni especially a gay spirit of carelessness seemed to have passed. "To-morrow night then, I must leave this house," she said, "and find some other shelter. But before that happens I should love to be merry, real merry, just once, only once. And it is with thee, dear, that I want to enjoy myself. I should like to dance with you, really and truly, for a long, long time, till I could no longer move a foot. For it is that dance in my dream that I have to think of steadily. That dream was too fine, let us realize it." "At all events I must be present when you dance," said Sali, "and see what becomes of you, and to dance with you as long as you like is just what I myself would love to do, you charming wild thing. But where?" "Ah, Sali, to-morrow there will be kermess in a number of places near by. Of two of these I know. On such occasions we should not be spied upon and could enjoy ourselves to our heart's content. Below at the river front I could await you, and then we can go wherever we like, to laugh and be merry--just once, only once. But stop--we have no money." And Vreni's face clouded with the sad thought, and she added blankly: "What a pity! Nothing can come of it." "Let be," smilingly said Sali, "I shall have money enough when I meet you." But Vreni flushed and said haltingly: "But how--not from your father, not stolen money?" "No, Vreni. I still have my silver watch, and I will sell that." "Then that is arranged," said Vreni, and she flushed once more. "In fact, I think I should die if I could not dance with you to-morrow." "Probably the best for us," said Sali, "if we both could die." They embraced with tearful smiles, and bade each other good-by, but at the moment of parting they again laughed at each other, in the sure hope of meeting again next day. "But when shall we meet?" asked Vreni. "At eleven at latest," answered Sali. "Then we can eat a good noon meal together somewhere." "Fine, fine," Vreni cried after him, "come half an hour earlier then."