So Kesta sat by his side and watched him fishing with his long rod, but after a time she grew tired of being silent, and said, “What have you caught?” “Nothing yet,” said the Duke. “Then why do you go on?” asked she. “Because I’m sure to catch something soon, and it’s amusing. Wouldn’t you like to hold the rod a little?” “Yes, very much,” answered Kesta, who was afraid of offending him. So she put out her hand to take the rod, and as she did so the basket fell from her arm and the cheeses rolled out. “What are those round balls?” asked the Duke, “and what an odd smell they have.” “They are my cheeses,” cried Kesta; “I made them yesterday, and was taking them to sell, when——” “Good gracious, you made them!” cried the Duke with a scream. “Then you must be a common dairy-maid, and your hands are quite rough. How terrible! And I was just going to marry you. How dare you think yourself good enough to marry me!” and he sprang to his feet in a towering passion, and seizing his horn blew it so loudly that the four pages ran up in great alarm. “Hunt her away,” cried the Duke, “she is an impostor—a common farm wench and makes cheeses. She thought herself good enough to be the Duchess!” Away flew Kesta, with the pages after her hooting and shouting, “Down with the impertinent hussy who wanted to marry the Duke, a common dairy-maid who makes cheeses.” On rushed Kesta till she came to the General’s house, and at his window he sat in his fine uniform. He sat waiting for her, but when he saw the pages behind her he called, “Hey-dey, what is all this fuss about?” “It is nothing,” said Kesta. “See, I have come back to marry you as I promised.” But here the pages shouted, “Away with the impertinent dairy-maid, who thought herself good enough to marry the Duke.” “And wouldn’t the Duke marry her?” asked the General. “Of course not; she is nothing but a farm wench,” cried the pages, “and she is to be chased from the town for her impertinence.” “And so she shall,” cried the General; “she thought she was fit for me too—it is disgraceful!” and he cried to some soldiers who stood by his door, “Here, my men, help to chase this good-for-nothing hussy out of the town.” But before he had finished Kesta was running down the street with all her might to the banker’s. At last she came to the banker’s big square house standing beside the bank, and on the steps was the banker himself in his shiny black clothes with gold rings on his hands. “Here I am,” cried Kesta; “and let me in quickly, for I am out of breath with running.” “Why have you hurried so?” cried the banker, and as he spoke the pages and the soldiers came round the corner, “and what is all this shouting for?” “Nay, how should I know?” cried Kesta, running into the house. But up came her pursuers, crying, “Away with her! down with her!” “Who is it you are calling after?” asked the banker. “That wench in the yellow dress who has gone into your house.” “Why, what has she done?” he asked.