Laurine received them in the most charming manner, and so much pleased was the Goblin that he spent all day in practising his fiddle, so that the young people should be left together. In this manner two whole weeks went by. They spent a delightful time, and Swayn grew more hopeful every day. They strolled in the gardens, they hunted in the woods, and it was evident that Laurine looked upon him with great favour. One morning he and the Goblin were together on a terrace where there was a little green arbour. “Swayn,” said the Goblin, “it is high time that you asked Laurine to marry you. I think so well of you that I mean to leave you this house when I die, though you are not my nephew at all; and while I live you can stay here with me, whether you have a wife or not.” “Uncle Sackbut,” said Swayn, “I can hardly believe such good fortune! How little I thought when I threw away my drumstick and left the Baron’s castle what luck was in store for me!” At this moment there was a movement in the arbour, and Laurine, who was in it and had heard every word they said, came rushing out. “And so you are not the Goblin’s nephew at all?” she cried. “And you are one of those horrible musicians who came to play? I will go away at once!” she shrieked. “I will never see you again! I will not stay here another hour!” Then she turned to the Goblin. “Good-bye,” she said. “Never, never will I forgive you for deceiving me!” And, before they could stop her, she had rushed out of the garden into the wood. They ran after her, they shouted, they called, they implored—nothing was of any use. She fled so swiftly that they could not even see which path she had taken. At last, after a long time, they gave up the search. They felt very much crestfallen. “We shall never see her again, I fear,” said the Goblin; “she has gone back to the Baron’s castle, and the best thing we can do is to try and think of something else. We have made a terrible mess of it.” “As for me,” said Swayn, “it is not so easy to think of something else as you fancy. I shall go off and try to better my fortunes elsewhere. What I am to do I don’t know. It is a sad thing that I am a gentleman, for I have learnt no trade, and now, though I have every will to work, there is nothing I can do.” “I have a good mind to come with you,” remarked the Goblin. “I can always return here if I get tired of it, and we can pass for uncle and nephew still. I’ll take my fiddle, and we will make our living by it. You can play the drum.” “They won’t go well together,” said Swayn moodily. “What of that?” cried the Goblin. “Very few people have any ear for music. You’ll see—they’ll be delighted, and pay us well.” So next day the two comrades set out together. The Goblin locked up his house, put his fiddle in a bag, and when Swayn had procured a new drum, they left the wood by its farther edge and made for the boundary of the kingdom, which was not far off.