.

MILLER (after a pause; addressing him with emotion). Noble sir, I am a
plain, straightforward man--do you wish to tempt me to some piece of
knavery?--for, heaven knows, that so much gold cannot be got honestly!

FERDINAND (moved). Make yourself quite easy, dear Miller! You have well
earned the money. God forbid that I should use it to the corruption of
your conscience!

MILLER (jumping about like a madman). It is mine, then! Mine indeed!
Mine with the knowledge and consent of God! (Hastening to the door.)
Daughter, wife, hurrah, come hither! (Returning.) But, for heaven's
sake, how have I all at once deserved this awful treasure? How am I to
earn it? How repay it, eh?

FERDINAND. Not by your music lessons, Miller! With this gold do I pay
you for (stops suddenly, and shudders)--I pay you--(after a pause, with
emotion)--for my three months' unhappy dream of your daughter!

MILLER (taking his hand and pressing it affectionately). Most gracious
sir! were you some poor and low-born citizen, and my daughter refused
your love, I would pierce her heart with my own hands. (Returning to the
gold in a sorrowful tone.) But then I shall have all, and you nothing--
and I should have to give up all this glorious heap again, eh?

FERDINAND. Let not that thought distress you, friend. I am about to
quit this country, and in that to which I am journeying such coin is not
current.

MILLER (still fixing his eyes in transport on the money). Mine, then, it
remains? Mine? Yet it grieves me that you are going to leave us. Only
just wait a little and you shall see how I'll come out! I'll hold up my
head with the best of them. (Puts on his hat with an air, and struts up
and down the room.) I'll give my lessons in the great concert-room, and
won't I smoke away at the best puyke varinas--and, when you catch me
again fiddling at the penny-hop, may the devil take me!

FERDINAND. Stay, Miller! Be silent, and gather up your gold.
(Mysteriously.) Keep silence only for this one evening, and do me the
favor henceforward to give no more music lessons.

MILLER (still more vehemently grasping his hand, full of inward joy).
And my daughter, baron! my daughter! (Letting go.) No, no! Money does
not make the man--whether I feed on vegetables or on partridges, enough
is enough, and this coat will do very well as long as the sunbeams don't
peep in at the elbows. To me money is mere dross. But my girl shall
benefit by the blessing; whatever wish I can