“Nay, that would be much more fitting,” cried Kesta, “and from the first I thought you would be much more suitable to be my husband than any of the others I have met; but I must go down the town first, so I will come in here on my way back.” So she went on till she came to a great square in front of the barracks where the soldiers were drilling, with their helmets and swords glittering in the sun, and at their head rode the General of the army. His voice was hoarse with shouting at his men, and he swore dreadfully, but he was covered with gold, and looked very grand. “Now supposing he has no wife,” thought Kesta, “it would be a really fine thing to marry him: I can but try.” So she waited till the soldiers were marching into the barracks, and then, when he was riding away, she went so close under the horse’s feet that he shouted to her in case she should be run over. “Alas! what a life is mine,” she cried very loud that he might hear, “hunted here and there till I don’t know where I go!” “Why, who hunts you?” cried the General angrily; “what nonsense you talk, my good girl.” “How dare you say I talk nonsense,” cried Kesta, “when it is as much as I can do to get through your town for the men who want me to stop and marry them!” “And why do they want you to marry them?” asked the General. “Because I’m so pretty, of course,” said Kesta promptly, and she took off her hat and looked up at the General. “I don’t think you are so pretty,” he said. “But I am,” cried Kesta angrily, “and it’s only stupid people who don’t see it. Go and ask the men in the town. First it was a man at the farm, then the miller, then the duke’s bailiff, then the banker—they all wanted to marry me, and I am much too good for any of them!” “If this is all true,” said the General, “of course you must be exceedingly pretty, and as you say you are much too good for them, perhaps you might suit me. How would you like that?”