"Bravo!" added in turn the druggist, with eagerness speaking "Had I but money to spare in my pocket, you surely should have it, Silver and gold alike; for your followers certainly need it. Yet I'll not leave you without a present, if only to show you My good will, and I hope you will take the will for the action." Thus he spoke, and pull'd out by the strings the leather embroider'd Pouch, in which he was wont his stock of tobacco to carry, Daintily open'd and shared its contents--some two or three pipes' full. "Small in truth is the gift," he added. The magistrate answered: "Good tobacco is always a welcome present to trav'llers." Then the druggist began his canister to praise very highly. But the pastor drew him away, and the magistrate left them. "Come, let us hasten!" exclaimed the sensible man, "for our young friend Anxiously waits; without further delay let him hear the good tidings." So they hasten'd and came, and found that the youngster was leaning 'Gainst his carriage under the lime-trees. The horses were pawing Wildly the turf; he held them in check and stood there all pensive, Silently gazing in front, and saw not his friends coming near him, Till, as they came, they called him and gave him signals of triumph. Some way off the druggist already began to address him, But they approach'd the youth still nearer, and then the good pastor Seized his hand and spoke and took the word from his comrade "Friend, I wish you joy! Your eye so true and your true heart Rightly have chosen! May you and the wife of your young days be happy! She is full worthy of you; so come and turn around the carriage, That we may reach without delay the end of the village, So as to woo her, and shortly escort the dear creature home with us." But the youth stood still, and without any token of pleasure Heard the words of the envoy, though sounding consoling and heav'nly, Deeply sigh'd and said:--"We came full speed in the carriage And shall probably go back home ashamed and but slowly; For, since I have been waiting care has fallen upon me, Doubt and suspicion and all that a heart full of love is exposed to. Do you suppose we have only to come, for the maiden to follow, Just because we are rich, and she poor and wandering in exile? Poverty, when undeserved, itself makes proud. The fair maiden Seems to be active and frugal; the world she may claim as her portion. Do you suppose that a woman of such great beauty and manners Can have grown up without exciting love in man's bosom? Do you suppose that her heart until now has to love been fast closed? Do not drive thither in haste, for perchance to our shame and confusion We shall have slowly to turn towards home the heads of our horses. Yes, some youth, I fear me, possesses her heart, and already She has doubtless promised her hand and her solemn troth plighted, And I shall stand all ashamed before her, When making my offer."