Weeks went over, and at length she began again--"Hans, you wouldn't do any thing to injure me?" "Not for the world!" "Look ye--'tis only on account of the folks hereabouts. I would not bother you, but you know there's a talk----You can come back again after a month or two, and you'll be sure to find my door open to you." "Nay, nay, I'll not go away, and then I shall not want to come back." "No joking, Hans--I'm in earnest--you must go." "Well, there's one way to force me: go up into my room, pack my things into a bundle, and throw them into the road; otherwise I promise you I'll not budge from the spot." "You're a downright good-for-nothing fellow, and that's the truth; but what am I to do with you?" "Marry me!" The answer to this was another box on the ear; but this time it was administered much more gently than at the dance. As soon as the landlady's back was turned, Hans took his fiddle and struck up a lively tune. From time to time the hostess of the "Sun" recurred to the subject of Hans's removal, urging him to go; but his answer was always ready--always the same--"_Marry me!_" One day in conversation she told him that the police would be sure soon to interfere and forbid his remaining longer, as he had no proper certificate; and so forth. Hans answered not a word, but cocking his hat knowingly on the left side, he whistled a merry tune, and set out for the castle of the count, distant a few miles. The village at that time belonged to the Count von S----. That evening, as the landlady was standing by the kitchen fire, her cheeks glowing with the reflection from the hearth, Hans entered, and without moving a muscle of his face, handed to her a paper, and said, "Look ye, there's our marriage-license; the count dispenses with publishing the bans. This is Friday--Sunday is our wedding-day!' "What do you say, you saucy fellow? I hope"---- "Hollo, Mr. Schoolmaster!" interrupted Hans, as he saw that worthy functionary passing the window just at that instant "Do step in here, and read this paper." Hans held the landlady tight by the arm, while the schoolmaster read the document, and at the conclusion tendered his congratulations and good wishes. "Well, well--with all my heart!" said the landlady at length. "Since 'tis to be so, to tell the truth I've long had a liking for you, Hans; but 'twas only on account of the prate and gossip"---- "Sunday morning then?" "Ay, ay--you rogue." A merry scene was that, when on the following Sunday morning Hans the Fiddler--or, to give him his proper style, Johann Grubenmueller--paraded to church by the side of his betrothed, fiddling the wedding-march, partly for his self-gratification, partly to give the ceremony a certain solemn hilarity. For a short space he deposited his instrument on the baptismal font; but the ceremony being ended, he shouldered it again, struck up an unusually brisk tune, and played so marvellously, that the folks were fairly dying with laughter.