Before the young master of the castle partook of either rest or refreshment, he inspected the whole arrangements. He found everything in the best order, and prepared sumptuously to receive the king and his train. Drost Peter's old nurse, the careful Dorothy, with a broom and dish-cloth in her hand, bustled towards him from the kitchen, and, in her extreme joy, would have embraced him. She was not a little proud of having been entrusted with the entire management of the domestic affairs of the castle. She wept with joy at the proud thought that she should be hostess to the royal party; and it was to her an honour without parallel, to be reigning queen of the kitchen and pantry on so important an occasion--the crowning event of her life. She dragged her young master about with her everywhere, to show him all the choice arrangements she had made for the convenience of the king and his great lords, and was inexhaustible in explaining to him how she had prepared for every hour of the day, so long as the royal visit should last. "Good, good, my dear Dorothy," said Drost Peter, at length, somewhat impatiently, and patting her kindly on the shoulder: "you have done everything excellently. I do not understand these matters, but I well know that you care for the honour of the house, as much as if you were my wife." "Ah, dear young master," replied Dorothy, kissing his hand, "when shall I have the heart's joy of seeing you cared for and received by a pious and handsome young housewife in the castle here? You truly deserve that one of God's dear angels should come to you. God's blessing rests here, and, like the prosperous Joseph, you are, next to the king, the first man in the land; and, I dare be sworn, should Potiphar's wife tempt you--" "Enough, enough, Dorothy," exclaimed Drost Peter, interrupting her, and blushing. "I do not doubt your good opinion of me." "Ah!" continued Dorothy, "but what avail you honour and fortune, my dear young master, when you live in this way, like a lonely bird in the world. Trow me, fair sir, it is not good for man to be alone. So my blessed husband always said, God gladden his soul! He banged me well at times, the blessed creature, when he did not get warm hashed meat to supper--it was always a favourite dish of his--and every mortal has his weakness; but he was still a good sort of man, and as pious as an angel, after he had his supper. Ay, ay; everything in the world is transitory. My happy days have gone by; and now I have no greater joy than to see you comfortable, my dearest young master; and could I once see my good Peter Hessel married, and rock his children and his children's children in my arms, I should willingly close my old eyes, and bid this weary world good night." So saying, she wiped a few tears from her withered cheeks with her kitchen-apron, without noticing warden Tygé's dry remark how much she would be beyond a hundred years of age before all her wishes were fulfilled.