Well, at last it was understood that Amina and Elvino were to be married, and the very night came when the contract of marriage was to be signed. ’Twas summer time, so the contract was signed in the broad street itself, just opposite Liza’s house, behind which stood the old mill, the unused bridge, and Amina’s cot, or, to be honest, Teresa’s cot, though for that matter, everything that belonged to Teresa was Amina’s. Elvino endowed Amina with all his wealth. Amina said she could only endow Elvino with her love, and that youth was perfectly satisfied. Liza signed the contract, and very spitefully she signed it too. The good-tempered fool of the village, Alesso, was rather fond of Liza, and he offered her the pen, but she took it with such a snatch, that he regretted his politeness. “Never mind, never mind,” said Amina, patting the disconsolate fool on the back; “‘tis a way she hath of shewing her love for thee.” “Then I should like to know, Mam’selle Amina, how she would show her dislike for me.” All having signed the contract, the bridegroom presented his bride with the ring--a plain little fillet of gold, but how great a treasure when given between a couple, whose only difference of opinion is which loves the other the best. “Take now this ring, I pray thee, In assurance that I wed She who once nobly wore it Was my mother, who is dead. “O! sacred be the gift, love, Let it aid thee in thy vow; And ever, ever bid us Love, dear wife, as we love now.” It need not be said that the word “wife” applied by Elvino was hardly right; for the church had to bless the couple before he could fairly use the tender term, and the church would not do that till the next day. Well, the ring had hardly been given, when, with a great smacking of a whip, a travelling carriage drove into the village, up to the inn, and, as a consequence, right into the heart of the contract-signing party. From this carriage alighted a fine-looking gentleman. “How weary the road is,” said the stranger to his postillion; “how many miles to the castle?” “So please you three, monsieur, and a _dreadful_ road;--have a delightful inn, monsieur--my inn--if monsieur would do me the honor to walk in.” “True,” said the handsome gentleman, smiling; “seeing your face, I recollect you and also the inn.” Alesso heard this admission, and immediately began to puzzle his brains to find out who this new arrival was, and for that purpose he went peering amongst the boxes and portmanteaux. “And pray, good people, do you ever think of this new lord, whom you have not seen since he was a boy?” The villagers immediately began talking about this lord with great force; would he come? why had he not come before? pray did the good monsieur know him? &c., &c.