"Ah!" a heavy sigh broke from Joseph. "You have all of you seen it?" he asked aloud--he bent down and pressed his mouth upon her hot and quivering lips. A loud hurrah filled the room. She got up and sank almost senseless on his breast. "Stay!" he said in a hard voice, and stepped back a little, "ONE kiss is enough--no need of more. Thou'st seen now that I can master thee--and no further will I go." Wally stared at him, as if she could not understand his words. She was of an ashy paleness. "Joseph," she stammered, "why then art thou come?" "Didst think I had come to woo thee?" he answered. "Lately at the procession thou'st said before everyone that Afra was my sweetheart, because she was so easy to be had,--and that Joseph the bear-slayer had not the heart to try and win the Vulture-Wally. Didst truly think a lad with any spirit in him would let such things be said of him and of an honest girl? I only wished to show thee that I can master thee as I can a bear, or a mad bull, and the kiss I have won from thee, that will I take to Afra, as a kiss of atonement for the wrong that thou hast done her. Now take heed to thyself another time when thy haughty temper moves thee. Henceforth, perhaps, thou'll forego the pleasure of holding up a poor and honest girl to scorn and derision--now that thou'st felt what it is to be a laughing-stock thyself." A shout of laughter from all sides closed Joseph's speech, but he turned with displeasure from the applause. "You have seen that I've kept my word," he said, "and now I must go to Zwieselstein to comfort Afra. The good soul wept to think that I should play the peasant-mistress such a shabby trick. God keep you all." He went, but they all ran after him; it had been too good a joke. Joseph was something like a man. He had shown the proud peasant-mistress that she had a master. "It will do her good!" "It will serve her right!" "Joseph, that's the best day's work thou's ever done." "No one'll have anything to do with her, when this is known." Thus laughed the chorus of rejected suitors, as they crowded joyfully round Joseph. The dancing-floor was deserted--only two persons remained with Wally, Vincenz and Benedict. Wally stood still in the same place and did not stir; it was as if she were lifeless. Vincenz watched her with folded arms. Benedict went up to her and took her gently by the arm. "Wally, don't take it so to heart--we are here, and we'll get satisfaction for thee. Wally--speak. What shall we do? we are all ready, only say what thou'd have us to do." Then she turned round, her large eyes had a ghostly gleam in them, her face was ghastly pale. She opened and closed her lips once or twice, one word there was she struggled to utter, but it seemed as if the breath to speak it failed her. At last she brought it out, as from the very depths of her being,--more a cry than a word: "DEAD would I have him!" Benedict drew back. "God forbid, Wally!" he said.