Wally looked at him in wonder. "I pity thee, Vincenz, but I cannot help thee--no more than I myself am helped. Keep thou the farm and all that belongs to it; my father left it to thee, and that remains the same, although thou hast torn up the will--I'll take nothing as a gift from thee. Everything here is hateful to me, even now--why should I wait? No one is any good to me, nor I to any one. I'll take my Hansl, and go up again to the mountain--that is where I belong. But if I might ask thee one thing--tell no one till I'm gone that the farm was never mine; for thou seest--there's one thing I cannot bear--that folk should make fun of me. That--that drives me mad. Think of the pointing, and the scorn when they know that the proud Wally Stromminger has been turned out of house and home like a maidservant--I couldn't live through it. Let me at least go forth as mistress." "Wally," cried Vincenz, "where thou goest, I will go. Thou cannot hinder me--the roads are free to all, and he who will, may run. If thou'rt resolved to leave--I go with thee." Wally looked at him with amazement, as he stood there raving before her, and she shuddered as though she had raised some evil spirit. "What will come of it all?" she murmured helplessly. At this moment the messenger from Sölden was seen coming across the meadows from the house straight towards Wally. He had a big nosegay in his hat and in his Sunday-coat, like a bridal messenger. "He's come to bid thee to Joseph and Afra's wedding," cried Vincenz with a wild laugh. Wally's foot stumbled against something; she caught hold of Vincenz, and he seized her round the waist and held her. Meanwhile the messenger came up, and took off his hat to Wally. "Good day to thee, Mistress. Joseph Hagenbach sends thee friendly greeting, and asks thee to the dance on St. Peter's Day. If it's thy pleasure, he will come up at noon and fetch thee down to the Stag. Thou'lt send an answer by me." If Heaven itself had opened before Wally, and Hell before Vincenz, it would have been much the same thing. Then it was not true about Afra! He had come to Wally--he had come after five years of sorrow and suffering--at last, at last! The word was spoken--the winds bore it triumphantly onwards, the breezes echoed it back again, the white glaciers smiled at it in the evening sunshine; Joseph the Bear-hunter bade the Vulture-maiden to the dance! The labourers in the field shouted, the waggons swayed beneath their loads, the vulture on the roof flapped his wings for joy--the two who belonged to one another were come together at last! Joy to all mankind: the race of giants would live again in this one pair. And smiling graciously, like a Queen beneath the myrtle crown, Wally bowed her beautiful head and told the messenger, half-bashfully, that she should expect Joseph. Vincenz leaned against a tree, distorted, faded, mute--a ghost of the past.