She sobbed and cried. Hullin could restrain himself no longer. "Is it really true that Mother Lefévre consents?" he asked. "Oh! yes; oh! yes; she told me so. She said, 'Try to persuade Papa Jean-Claude; for my part, I ask no better; I am quite willing.'" "In that case, what can I do against you both? You shall come with us. It is settled." There was then a shriek of joy that made the whole house echo. "Oh! how good and kind you are!" and with a brush of the hand the tears were dried up. "We are going away, to ramble over the mountains, and make war," was now the joyful cry. "Ha!" said Hullin, with a shake of the head; "I see now you are still the same little _heimathslôs_ as ever. As well try and tame a swallow." Then, drawing her to his knee: "Ah! Louise," said he, "it is now twelve years since I found you in the snow; you were quite blue with the cold, poor little thing! And when we got home to the little cabin, and the warm fire brought you gently round, the first thing you did was to smile upon me. And from that time I have always done whatever you wanted. With that smile you have led me by the nose." Then Louise began to smile upon him again, and they embraced each other very lovingly. "And now, then, let us look at the bundles," said the good man with a sigh. "Are they well packed up, eh, child?" He approached the bed, and stood quite surprised to see his warm clothing, his flannel waistcoats, all well brushed, well folded, and well packed up. Then came Louise's bundle, with her best frocks, her petticoats and thick shoes, all in good order. He could not help laughing at last, and exclaiming: "Oh! _heimathslôs, heimathslôs!_ there are none like you for packing up, when once you've set your mind upon it!" Louise smiled. "You are pleased?" "I must be so! But all this time, while you have been so busy about this work, you never thought, I suppose, of preparing my supper?" "Oh! that is soon done! I did not know, Papa Jean-Claude, that you were coming back this evening." "That is true, my child. Cook me, then, something--no matter what, but quickly, for I've a good appetite. In the meanwhile, I'll smoke a pipe." He seated himself in his old corner, and lit his pipe in an absent, thoughtful manner. Louise bustled about, right and left, like a frisky sprite, now stirring the fire, now breaking eggs into the pan, and tossing up an omelet in the twinkling of an eye. Never had she seemed so gay, so smiling, so pretty. Hullin, with his elbow on the table, his cheek in his hand, sat gravely watching her, and thinking what will, firmness, and resolution there was in that fragile creature, light as a fairy, and determined as a hussar. In another moment she had brought him his omelet on a large-patterned dish, along with the bread, a glass and bottle. "Now then, Papa Jean-Claude, feast away." She watched him fondly as he ate his meal.