"I have not now to learn that," said Hofer, laughing and shaking him off; "but you had better think of something else, my lad--you and she have nothing in common." "Oh, I'm aware I am not common," said Giuseppe, "but any little advantage I may have of birth--" "Hold, there, my boy. We Hofers have been Sandwirths of repute for many generations. Good night, now. I am very tired, and am going to bed; and I advise you to do the same." Eisenstecken stared, shrugged his shoulders, and walked off to the theatre. When the news of the victory of Berg Isel spread through the valleys, which it did like wildfire, much rejoicing and festivity ensued. The darling passion of the mountaineers is for music and dancing. Every cottage has its violin or guitar; and the Tyrolese not only sing, but have a gift of improvising verses, rough indeed, and with little pretension to polish or harmony, but not destitute of wit and satire, nor without occasional touches of pathos. These accomplishments were brought into play at a national festival given in honour of the victory of Berg Isel. The chief merit attained or aimed at, is a quickness at repartee; each party in the impromptu dialogue striving to make the other ridiculous. Sometimes when the cut is very unexpected, the person assailed is bereft of presence of mind; and his or her confusion affords abundant amusement to the audience. Theresa, Rudolf, and Franz were all good at this pastime--Rudolf the best, because Theresa's bashfulness often restrained her, and Franz's satire scarcely ever rose to the value of wit. At the rustic merry-making at _am Sand_, all three were present; and Franz, nettled by Theresa's rejection of him, assailed her with several such stinging impromptus, that were no impromptus at all, having been prepared beforehand, that Theresa turned the tables on him, with a true woman's malice, for cowardice on the day of battle, and invented such a number of absurd reasons for his keeping out of harm's way, that hearty laughter resounded on all sides; and Franz, smarting more than he showed, secretly resolved to have his day of revenge. Meanwhile, the ground was clearing for wrestlers. Almost every Tyrolese wears a thick silver or iron ring on the little finger of the right hand, to use in the pugilistic encounters they call _robeln_; and a fist so armed can inflict cruel wounds. Franz, irritated by Theresa's sarcasms, felt a burning desire to inflict some disfiguring hurt on Rudolf; and, though rather afraid of trying his strength with him, the evil desire predominated, and he challenged him to a match. But Rudolf happened to have no mind for it; and as soon as Franz clearly made out this, he never ceased pestering Rudolf, and twitting him with his backwardness, till Rudolf, at length losing patience, told him that if he did not desist, he would pitch him into the Passeyr.