He described everything minutely, and with such evident happiness, that the old people were almost at once carried away by his story. And when he came to yesterday--to the forced march Beret had made in search of him because Mildrid was plunged in anguish of mind on her parents' account--and then came to Mildrid herself, and told of her ever-increasing remorse because her parents knew nothing; told of her flight down to them, and how, worn-out in soul and body, she had had to sit down and rest and had fallen asleep, alone and unhappy--then the old people felt that they recognised their child again. And the mother especially began to feel that she had perhaps been too hard with her. While the young man was telling about Mildrid, he was telling too, without being aware of it, about himself; for his love to Mildrid showed clearly in every word, and made her parents glad. He felt this himself at last, and was glad too--and the old couple, unaccustomed to such quiet self-reliance and strength, felt real happiness. This went on increasing, till the mother at last, without thinking, said smilingly: "I suppose you've arranged everything right up to the wedding, you two--before asking either of us?" The father laughed too, and Hans answered, just as it occurred to him at the moment, by softly singing a single line of the Wedding March, "Play away! speed us on! we're in haste, I and you!" and laughed; but was modest enough at once to turn to something else. He happened accidentally to look at Randi, and saw that she was quite pale. He felt in an instant that he had made a mistake in recalling that tune to her. Endrid looked apprehensively at his wife, whose emotion grew till it became so strong that she could not stay in the room; she got up and went out. "I know I have done something wrong," said Hans anxiously. Endrid made no reply. Hans, feeling very unhappy, got up to go after Randi and excuse himself, but sat down again, declaring that he had meant no harm at all. "No, you could hardly be expected to understand rightly about that," said Endrid. "Can't _you_ go after her and put it right again!" He had already such confidence in this man that he dared ask him anything. But Endrid said: "No; rather leave her alone just now; I know her." Hans, who a few minutes before had felt himself at the very goal of his desires, now felt himself cast into the depths of despair, and would not be cheered up, though Endrid strove patiently to do it. The dog helped by coming forward to them; for Endrid went on asking questions about him, and afterwards told with real pleasure about a dog he himself had had, and had taken much interest in, as is generally the way with people leading a lonely life.