Farmer Rodel's foreman now came toward Amrei, and she felt a thrill of expectation. But the foreman said: "Here, Barefoot, take care of my pipe for me while I am dancing." And after that several young girls from her village also came; from one she received a jacket, from another a cap, or a neckerchief, or a door-key. She let them hand it all over to her, and stood there with an ever-increasing load as one dance followed another. All the time she smiled quietly to herself, but nobody came to ask her to dance. Now a waltz was being played, so smoothly that one could have swum to it. And then a wild and furious galop; hurrah! now they are all hopping and stamping and jumping and panting in supreme delight. And how their eyes glitter! The old women who are sitting in the corner where Amrei is standing, complain of the dust and heat; but still, they don't go home. Then--suddenly Amrei starts; her eyes are fixed upon a handsome young man who is walking proudly to and fro among the crowd. It is the rider who had met her that morning, and whom she had snubbed in such a pert way. All eyes are fastened upon him as he comes forward, his right hand behind him, and his left holding a silver-mounted pipe. His silver watch-chain bobs up and down, and how beautiful is his black velvet jacket, and his loose black velvet trousers, and his red waistcoat! But more beautiful still is his round head with its curly, brown hair. His brow is white as snow; but from the eyes down his face is sunburnt, and a light, full beard covers his chin and cheeks. "That's a bonny fellow," said one of the old women. "And what heavenly blue eyes he has!" added another; "they are at once so roguish and so kind." "Where can he be from? He's not from this neighborhood," said a third. And a fourth observed: "I'll wager he's another suitor for Amrei." Barefoot started. What did this mean? What was that she said? But she soon found out the meaning of it, for the first old lady resumed: "Then I'm sorry for him; for the Butter Countess makes fools of all the men." And so the Butter Countess's name was also Amrei. The young stranger had passed through the room several times, turning his eyes from one side to the other. Then he suddenly stopped not far from Barefoot and beckoned to her. A hot flush overspread her face; she stood riveted to the spot and did not move a muscle. No, he certainly beckoned to somebody behind you; he cannot mean you. The stranger pressed forward and Amrei made way for him. He must be looking for some one else. "No, it's you I want," said the lad, taking Barefoot's hand. "Will you dance?"